You’re lookin’ at one, matey.
Ye don’t become an evil intergalactic overlord by inheritin’ the job, ye know. (Actually, Blugnarsh the Bloody did actually take over from his father, Bloodwash the Blue, but he had to fight his way back from exile in the All-Coconut Center, Not-Assorted Nebula and lobotomize his dad with a blowtorch and a paring knife.) Anyway, I rose to power through the tried-and-true methodology.
I started out as a cabin-monkey with a savage cadre of space pirates known as the Chimpaneers. We practically ran the whole Tasti Fruit Sector. And under the guidance of our fearless leader, Snowball the Fungy, we did pretty well. But eventually, I got better at working my laser cutlass, and it was time for me to take over.
Of course, the first thing I did when I took over my home planet, Neecknaw, and got my hands on a proper space force — The Orangu-Bangers were the first to come over to my way of seeing things — was to purge the galaxy at hand with pirates.
Now, if the pirates in my intergalactic empire had been as colorful and flamboyant as your historical pirates were purported to be, then I might have been tempted to let a few survive.
But apart from being unwashed and overly fragrant, the Chimpaneers just caused a lot of trouble. And you have know idea how long it takes to clean up a space cutter after it has been peppered by a broadside of simian fecal matter.
Next time: If you could travel through time, would you prevent yourself from doing whatever it is you did to lose your empire? And if you’re going back in time, could you stop off at last Thursday and remind me NOT to call my boss a crapulent, festering sack of monkey droppings?
If the Carnival of the Insanities isn’t crazy enough for you, this story from Reuters puts the o-ran-dy into orang-utan:
Eugene Mirman is a