dreaming

sire, the humans have gathered in this large edifice, partaking in a strange ritual.
tell me, centurian, what do they call it?
it sounds something like bays-bowl, sire.
are they compelled to attend this religious rite?
it appears so, sire.
explain.
sometimes they stand and wave their upper tentacles.and they make loud noises out of their face holes.
hmmmm.
it has something to do with a small white spheroid.
that's odd.
it also appears that priests in black direct the activities.
well, it sounds like total nonsense to me. take a memo.
yes, sire?
contact base: the populace is ripe for plucking. fire the missles. immediately.
excellent, sire. while we await the carnage, would you care for a grub snack?
are they writhingly fresh and gooey?
just the way you like them, o master.
goody.