Drunk as a skunk, Rumba stood in the parking lot, staggering, freshly jilted. Arms raised in the air. Crying, screaming, and laughing maniacally, he urged all the magic showers of stone. They would pay. They would all pay. And he would pay too. But it seemed a small price. The stars begin to twinkle and to procure your passion. The moon, in its full glory tonight, grew by its third in just seconds.

The stars seemed to wink out of existence. First, a couple at a time, then in large swaths. They weren't gone, but obscured. A few minutes after the last star disappeared from the sky, it was replaced by something wonderful, something magical. Before its impending death, the earth would be subject to it's last and most amazing light show.

New stars seemed to faintly appear, but they were wrong, beautifully wrong. And they seemed to move, but as they did, they traced magnificent lines in the sky.

He grit his teeth shouldered the cosmic burden once more, as he also dug in his heels and pulled fantasitcally once more at the heavens, demanding the sky come. The lines turned into stripes. The stripes turned into an ever-increasing glow. But he didn't summon just enough gravel to end the earth. He summoned gravel for hundreds of thousands of miles. Soon, the moon would be just another layer in the crust, and still the gravel would fall. Long after humanity had breathed its last breath, the gravel would still fall. The inner planets and the sun would soon dance an intricate path, and they would eventually merge together with the sun itself. But still, the gravel would fall. Not until some centuries later, once the sun had increased to about 20 times its original mass, would the black hole form that would slowly engulf the rest of the known galaxy.