A writer sat at his desk, feverish.
"This fourth wall isn't going to break itself..."
That was when it happened. Lightbulbs flickered, curtains twitched, door slammed open and there he was, The Cosmic Poacher of Urquat IV.
"Aha!", he cried, in the language spoken only on Urquat IV, "Long have i sought your kind".
He stood in the doorway a while, grinning thirteen grins. His eight eyes twinkled and his antennae rotated, playfully.
After several minutes had passed, the writer opened his mouth.
"Oh.", he said.
"Oh." The Cosmic Poacher repeated, "Ohhh.", he cooed, "OH OH OH!", he spat, trying the syllable out for size. The writer, now duly ignored, returned to his work.
Grinning a twinkly grin, The Cosmic Poacher swept up his multi-faceted ceremonial petticoats and leapt up onto the writer's desk. He screamed, "OHHH!!!", and the writer gagged at the putrid smell of the long-haired fish native to Ingrid IX, which was really quite evident. "This won't do at all.", the writer thought, his concentration shattered. Casually, he drew a miniature death-spud launcher from his inside jacket pocket and blasted The Cosmic Poacher into a billion purple pieces.
Sighing with satisfaction, free from distraction, the writer focused on something very far away.