Lord Pickleshine of The Euphoric Realms had been observing from his seat in the Gushing Gardens, watching over the inhabitants of the lowly mortal planet. He had been dreading this day; the arrival of Cockthulu, and its not-so-kawai brethren into the world. With its siblings, Cockthulu would ravage the planet, repeatedly, in a vicious, slavishly-repeated motion. It would be a cycle of death, then rest, then death; back and forth, back and forth. When he was ascended to his seat as a Godly king for his totally righteous adventures, Pickleshine had taken the role as Guardian of the realm. And whilst his Ambassador on Earth, Boopsy Seymor, had been dispatched to deal with Cockthulu, he feared it would not be enough.
Which meant action must be taken. A choice of deep consequences.

After millenia, he would have to intervene.

Pickleshine came shattering down to Earth; a shining, white light that seemed to leave a hazy tail in its wake.

"COCKTHULU!" he roared, pulling out his long, hot, flaming sword, harder than any metal on Earth. "FOUL MONSTER!"

He plunged into the writhing mass, slipping his rod into the soft flesh repeatedly, in and out, feeling the moist, sticky slime oozing from its body, covering his hands and chest.