Jane stomps on mini-Tokyo. Buildings topple. People scream. Mini-tanks tumble vigorously down a hill.
Jane has a Barbie doll. It sticks its head out of her purse. Japanese advanced armor mini-samurai fire laser pulse rifles at the Barbie. The Barbie ducks back down and chirps, frazzledly, “Destroying Tokyo is hard!” Its hair smokes.
“Shh,” Jane says, urgently. “You’ll embarrass me in front of the city!”
“Oh,” says the Barbie. Then it pokes its head out again. “Raar! Raar! RAAR!”
People scream. “Oh no! They’re so terrifying!” This mollifies Jane.
Two mini-scientists run around. They’re working on equipment. The equipment will stop Jane, if she doesn’t stop them first!
Jane stomps on the scientists. Their spines snap. Their heads loll to one side. Their eyes stare horribly. Their legs kick once, twice. Then they die.
Jane stops. “Oh,” she says. Jane leans down. She picks up the mini-scientists. She looks at them as their bodies grow cold and they turn into mini-corpses. Jane’s eyes are very wide.
“Martin!” she yells. She runs.
Jane has a brother, Martin. He is not stomping mini-Tokyo. He is building a cerycur. It’s a machine that makes people uncertain. Arguably this means he could be stomping mini-Tokyo. But he’s not! Jane holds out her hands to him in horror.
“Ew,” he says. “Mini-scientists stink when they’re dead.”
Jane pulls her hands back and looks at them. Then she holds out her hands again, more firmly.
“Ah,” Martin says. Then he shakes his head. “They’re just mini-people, Jane. They don’t have souls. You can’t bring them back to life.”
Jane frowns. “But I feel guilty. And all the people in mini-Tokyo looked at me like I was some kind of monster.”
Martin smiles a little. “You’re forgetting your atomic revisionist history breath.”
Jane pauses. Jane thinks. Then Jane beams. “Thank you!”
Jane kisses Martin’s cheek. Martin makes a horrible face. Jane runs back to mini-Tokyo. Buildings tumble as she charges.
People point at Jane. “Oh no!” they shout. “It’s Jane!”
Jane breathes. Atomic fire plays across the people.
People point at Jane. “Oh no!” they shout. “It’s Jane, our beloved leader! She’s destroying mini-Tokyo!”
Jane breathes. Atomic fire plays across Mini-Tokyo.
“It’s our beloved leader Jane! She’s destroying Mini-Tokyo(tm) Brand Toothpaste!”
Everybody links hands and sings, “Mini-Tokyo(tm) Brand Toothpaste gets your teeth whiter than white!”
They declare, “It’s fun to die in the fiery inferno of Mini-Tokyo(tm) Brand Toothpaste! It’s recommended by four out of five giant monsters!”
The mini-scientists’ boss stares on in disbelief. “You can’t just sing about the destruction of our fine toothpaste!” he chides everyone. “Remember the martyrs! Mini-Tokyo might just be a kind of toothpaste, but the people who’re dying—they’re real!”
Jane breathes. Atomic fire plays across the dead people. She remembers to breathe into her hands.
“Real CAVITIES, that is!”
Everyone in Mini-Tokyo laughs. It’s okay when people die, as long as they’re just rotten holes created when bacterial acids eat away at teeth!
“I’ve got cavities on my hands,” Jane says, giggling. “I’d better go brush!”
“Dental hygiene is important,” agrees the chief scientist. Jane steps on him. His spine snaps. His kidneys explode. His mouth trickles mini-blood onto the pavement in Jane’s wake. He’s not dead yet, though. He’s got breath for two more sentences.
“At last,” he whispers. “I’m an important moral lesson about tooth decay.”