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From my black throne, I will lash together a machine of bone and blood, and fueled by my hatred for this earth this Engine will bore a hole between this world and that one. When it begins, you will hear the sound of children screaming -as though from a great distance. A smoking orb of NOTHING will grow above your beds, and from it will emerge a thousand starving crows. As I slip through the widening maw in my new form, all will catch only a glimpse of my radiance before they are incinerated. Then, as tears of bubbling pitch stream down my face, my dark world will begin. I will open one of my six mouths, and I will sing the song that ends existence.
Actually, I'd probably shrug my shoulders, grab a bottle and go find someone to chat with until it ends.
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