Freestyle Writing/No, I'm not dead in a swamp in Cambodia.

Hello. I'm bored and have no homework, so I guess I'll post something. I'm going to write, completely out of my head, trying hard to avoid possible reader comprehension and always steering away from a plot. Here goes.
The woodpecker shuddered as a giant fireball careened off the magnetically sealed walls of the small condo in a suburb of Akron, Ohio. "Freedom!" he yelled with great conviction, as the alien skull-borer ray turned his brains into something resembling tapioca pudding. The faithful minotaur, Merv, seeing the contents of his friend's head dashed out on the sidewalk, was possessed with a determination and strength, and consequently resumed the brute for hoeing of his front lawn with vigor. Yes, all seemed lost, but the maxim of Merv's third cousin, thrice removed on his mother's side, came back to him through the red mist of anguish at the passing on of his dear companion: "Let your pancreas be your pair of galoshes." This memory gave him comfort in the dark world of hi-def TV, Little Debbie's, and electric toothbrushes.
The icky green stalk-eyed aliens shot five, 3.14-second bursts with their Freem Death Blasters, and he was reduced to a pile of thousand island dressing.