Lol! Well done, that is imaginative.

Indeed. Now we need a suitable rewrite of 'The Conqueror Worm'.

EDIT:

The Conqueror Worms Armageddon
‘lo! 'tis Ventrilo night
Within our lonesome teenage years!
A sausage tong, be-spiced, but might,
See Toenails drowned in tears,
Sit in a channel, to see
A game of Worms and fears,
That the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of your peers.

Mines, in the form of God on high,
Flutter and tumble low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets Worms, who come and go
At bidding of vast gormless things
That blast the scenery to and fro,
Hiding within their chicken wings
Invisible - Woe!

That motley shotgun- oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its user chased for evermore,
By the Worms that like it not,
Through a tunnel that safely returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of mole bombs, and more of sheep,
And bananas - soul of the plot.

But see, amid the sheep strike rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A bright pink thing that writhes from out
The safety solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with double time!
The toolbox is its food,
And Toenails sobs whilst holding lime
His team is truly screwed.

Out- out are his Worms- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The air-strike, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the lurkers, all pallid and bent,
Non-speaking, just listening, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Vent,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

In the spirit of copy and pasting from the senior members board;

On terrain obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill skunks only,
Where a spectre named Elton John,
On a grey girder stands upon,
I have reached these lands but newly,
From my teleporter, truly,
From a wasteland filled with mine',
Out of SPACE - out of TIME.