Do you remember The Transformers Show, which had characters such as Optimus Prime and Megatron, plus a robot boombox named Soundwave? That animated cartoon series was highly respected by my community, when I was a bachelor. The show depicted battles between two species of androids: the Decepticons and the Autobots. This essay is dedicated to the Decepticon who was christened Starscream.
Oh Starscream, you big white airplane that twirls around and rebukes everyone fiercely, you make transforming back and forth from humanoid-state to machine-state look so stressful. You are always enraged and emotional: it’s as though you’re stuck in that span of the fiscal quarter when all the robots shed their uterus blood. You are the second-in-command of the bad guys’ side. Your main enemy, the Autobot leader Optimus Prime, looks righteously dangerous: he has a rack-mountable laser-shooting cannon, which he stores inside his trailer, and a very forbidding blue-and-silver face.
Mr. Prime once hit you, dear Starscream, when the two of you were fighting. Remember that? I bet you do. The impact of his fist made your metal frame rattle. But, thankfully, you have a rocket blaster permanently fused on one of your arms, so I’m sure that you will be able to get your revenge.
You’re a strange cat: you speak with a scratchy high-pitched voice, unlike most other tough-guy villains I’ve known. And you’re always in a crabby mood, very whiny and upset. It’s rather annoying. You’re also sometimes sad for no reason.
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