Some people say that I’m pretty special.

I just laugh. Me? I’m nothing! I’m just like any other guy of superior intelligence, better than average looks and awe‑inspiring charm, imagination and athletic ability.


Yet, there are still some people who insist on calling me “special.”

I hear you and I know what you are asking.

You’re asking, “What is the reason for all this hype over a seemingly average Joe?”

You’re thinking there must be something about me that causes everyone to stare at me with that glazy look in their eyes, some reason why people step aside out of respect whenever they see me enter their vicinity. “What could it possibly be?” you wonder.

Oh – did I neglect to mention that in addition to being so wonderfully average, I am also the Supreme Ruler of the Universe?

I guess I must have assumed you haven’t been living under a rock with your head in the sand and that, therefore, you simply knew.

Sorry. My bad.

So, I’m Supreme Ruler of the Universe. How do I know that, you ask? “Show me the proof!” you demand. Well, the proof is very simple, really.

You see, I’m great!

That’s it!

One would expect the Supreme Ruler of the Universe to be great, wouldn’t one? And I’m great. So, putting one and one together, it is easily recognized that since I am great, I am also the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. This fact is accepted throughout the Universe and is even on the internet, so it must, clearly, be true.

I must admit, however, that I am not the first Supreme Ruler of the Universe. I’m the second. But I’m definitely the best Supreme Ruler of the Universe this Universe has ever seen! My predecessor was a pretentious snob! He thought he was the star about which the entire Universe revolved. He was really full of himself. And he kept telling everyone about it. He just wouldn’t shut up about how wonderful he was. Thank goodness I’m not like that! There’s no denying that I’m one of the most wonderful people that has ever lived, but at least I don’t waste a lot of my time or anybody else’s time telling them about it. I have a bit of modesty. Besides, why should I just repeat the obvious?

Anyway, I realized my important place in the Universe at a relatively young age. My oldest memories are from the time I was a tiny baby. I couldn’t understand how anyone could expect the Supreme Ruler of the Universe to hold his own bottles. I mean, that’s what I hired the servants for. I even gave them a powerful‑sounding title, too. I called them “parents” in formal ceremonies around the Universe and for less formal situations I called them by my pet names for them, namely “mama” and “papa.”

You will note that most reputable languages that are spoken among the multitude of inhabited planets of the universe have adopted a word that either sounds like or is spelled like my cute pet names for the servants, much like they have all adopted the word “no” and the word for the sound people make when they find themselves speechless after being confronted with a suprising and inspiring situation, such as the revelation that I am the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. I have invented many words that have been adopted throughout the various languages, my gift to those folks who feel compelled to be multi-lingual….

But I digress.

The real issue I am trying to address is the fact that despite the tremendous honorifics I provided to my servants, they still expected me to hold my own bottle! And walking! They expected me to walk on my own, too! I was horrified when I realized this! I was four years old and my “parents” looked at me and said, “Son, you’re going to have to start walking on your own pretty soon. You’re getting too heavy for us to carry around all the time.” Oh, please. After all I’d done for them, they had the nerve to pull this kind of a stunt? I hired them, don’t forget. I took them off the streets and out of paying, stress‑filled jobs, and gave them the opportunity to take care of me, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe! I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t jump at an opportunity like that! Can you?

Besides ‑‑ I weighed a measly fifty‑seven pounds. I didn’t see King Tut or any of the other Egyptian Pharaohs walking around, soiling their pretty little sandals. No, their servants carried them around all the time! I’m sure they weighed a bit more than fifty‑seven pounds, especially when you factor in the big, heavy golden throne thingys they insisted on sitting on while being hauled around the desert! And the Pharaohs were mean to their servants. They called their servants “slaves,” which is derogatory, while, as you know, I called mine “parents,” which is an uplifting and ego‑building title! Yet, still the Pharaohs had the easy life while I was expected to struggle and toil, suffering through the physical labor and embarrasment of getting my shoes dirty. They weren’t even Supreme Ruler of the Universe! They were just Pharaohs. Pharaohs! A totally meaningless title. Not even close to as prestigious a title as my title, Supreme Ruler of the Universe!

Supreme Ruler of the Universe. That has a ring to it, don’t you think? Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Just feel the way it rolls off the tongue, the way it tickles the ears and the temporal lobes of the brain and just makes you feel so good all over. Supreme Ruler of the Universe. What a wonderful thing to be!

I know you’re thinking that I must have led a really cushy life. I must have had it so easy. You’re also probably extremely jealous of the fact that I am the Supreme Ruler of the Universe and you’re not. But let me tell you: growing up as the Supreme Ruler of the Universe was not easy. In fact, it was much more difficult than being a normal, snot‑nosed, pampered kid. I mean, imagine all the added stress that being the Supreme Ruler of the Universe must put into a person’s life! Only a really great person can handle the added pressures that everyday life holds for the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. That’s why I am the Supreme Ruler of the Universe ‑‑ I am really great.

Think about it. How would you be able to keep going if YOU were the Supreme Ruler of the Universe and had to cope with the knowledge that any small error in judgement, any incorrect movement, any slight flaw in your character, could cause devastation throughout the Universe. Or even total destruction of it all. Kaboom!!! The Universe ‑‑ gone in a flash – all because you forgot to cover your mouth when you sneezed or didn’t wash your hands well enough after using the toilet. Could you cope with the knowledge that if you make one single teeny‑tiny mistake, everybody you love would be gone? Could you cope with that?

Or if that wasn’t enough, could you cope with being the only one left in the wake of the universal destruction which you had caused? Well, besides cockroaches – cockroaches would survive, too. But nobody likes cockroaches, not even other cockroaches. But everybody likes the Supreme Ruler of the Universe! And let me assure you that I will always fight to protect you from your cockroach problems; I would never let such vile creatures bug you.

I’m sure there are still some of you who just do not believe that I was not just another pampered, spoiled rotten, good‑for‑nothing kid. I must try to dispel this disastrously incorrect belief before it turns into a plague on this society and causes people to lose sight of what is important — specifically, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe.

Honestly, I had a really difficult childhood. Children aren’t meant to handle the pressures that the position of Supreme Ruler of the Universe brings. They just aren’t developed enough emotionally to handle it. Luckily I am, and always was, extraordinary. I have an exceptionally well developed psyche and am extremely stable emotionally. I always have been. In fact, at the age of ten, I was just as developed emotionally as a normal twenty‑three year old. That really helped me to deal with the conflicting ideas I was getting from the world. Anyone else would have had a nervous breakdown or an identity crisis. I came through with flying colors. Seriously. I mean, look at me now… There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. I’m still just as great as I was when I was a kid. And I’m still Supreme Ruler of the Universe.

Those conflicting stories, though. They’re tough to get past. Let me give you an example…

The average kid spends six hours a day, five days a week, one hundred eighty days a year in school. Why? Because the average kid doesn’t know anything. Kids go to school to learn about life… to learn about the world they will eventually have to become a part of. But that’s the average kid.

Although it has already been established that I am just an average guy, let me tell you that I was also an average kid. I liked to run and play and make disgusting noises when girls were around. I was just like any other cute, charming, imaginative child prodigy.

However, I was also Supreme Ruler of the Universe, as I still am now. And since I was Supreme Ruler of the Universe, I knew everything there was to know. Everything. There was absolutely no point in me going to school. What can school teach a kid who knows more than all of the teachers in all the schools of the world combined?

Yet, my parents insisted that I go. Imagine that — mere servants telling me, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, what to do! I kept telling them I didn’t need to go to school. “The Supreme Ruler of the Universe has no need for a school,” I’d say. “There is more knowledge in my little finger than in that school,” I would declare. Yet, they continued to insist that I go and they even got some government flunky with a badge to harrass me about it. But, as the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, I have Supreme Resolve and I stood my ground. There was absolutely no way I was going to walk to that school. They could tell the Supreme Ruler of the Universe that he had to walk, but they could not tell him where to walk.

So, they started carrying me again.

It would have been a totally enjoyable experience, except that they carried me to school. Then they said, “The Supreme Ruler of the Universe is not allowed to walk. The position demands that the Supreme Ruler of the Universe cannot be forced to be on the same level as menial common people.”

And with that, they handcuffed me to the desk.

To this day I still like handcuffs… but that’s a different story for a different time.

Anyway, this went on for several years. Eventually my parents grew tired of carrying my desk and me back and forth everywhere. But that was okay. I told them I would go on my own. I was actually starting to enjoy all my classroom activities. I found it quite exciting to spend the day in class passing notes to people, telling jokes and using the long blond hair of the girl who sat in front of me as a storage locker for my used-but-not-finished bubble gum, stray lumps of paste and peanut butter (chunky, of course, because much like cockroaches, nobody likes chunky peanut butter). It was great fun to see her react with loud excitement at having been selected for such a great honor! But what kind of fun do you expect the Supreme Ruler of the Universe to have? Since he is great, his fun must be great, too.

The teachers could not begin to understand it. I would always get the highest grades on tests and quizzes and everything, but I never paid the slightest bit of attention in class. I never opened a text book. I never took notes. But, when they tried to pull a fast one and call on me to give them an answer to some inane question, I’d give it. And it would be totally correct, even though I hadn’t heard the question. The Supreme Ruler of the Universe can do that, you know. He knows everything, though not necessarily at the same time.

Still, no one believed me when I would tell them that I was the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. No one. So I just continued to astonish them with my ability to know everything.

Every college in the world tried to get me to go to their institution for higher learning. They praised my outstanding grades, my wondrous athletic capabilities and my phenomenal talents in the creative arts. But I knew why they wanted me to go to their school: because I was Supreme Ruler of the Universe. That’s why. Who wouldn’t want to have as their recruitment slogan, “Come to our school — The Supreme Ruler of the Universe did!”?

I eventually picked out one school and attended it. I graduated from there with highest honors and a stunning, never-before-seen 13.0 grade point average. People asked how I did it. I just said, “No sweat. I’m the Supreme Ruler of the Universe…”

After I graduated from college, I got a job as the lead technologist at Marty’s Fish and Shoe Mart, where we provided freshly caught shad to our freshly shod clients. I did this basically because it was the best way for me to mingle with my Earthly subjects. I did the job well, but I kept pointing out to my boss that the Supreme Ruler of the Universe should not have to do any work and certainly should not have to lower himself into sitting through all of the mind-numbing meetings — that’s what his servants are for. I also let him know that I was onto him and his sinister plans to take his radical vegetarianism and attempt to bring about total Vegetarian World Domination.

One day, while my boss had us trapped in another meaningless meeting about how to hold more effective meetings, my wife showed up to take me to a doctor. I asked her why she was taking me to the doctor, even though I felt fine (the one thing the Supreme Ruler of the Universe is lacking is the ability to read minds). She told me that it was a new kind of check‑up, one to make sure that the stress of the job was not affecting me in an adverse way. She said that soon everyone would need to get this kind of check‑up.

So, I went to the psychiatrist. Psychiatrist is one of those terms that exists across most of the reputable languages of the universe, a fancy term which means “creative note taker who wears glasses and interesting sweaters while taking bets about what you might say when he implies that your relationship with your mother is unhealthy.” In an attempt to be completely honest, I’ll say that there is one reputable language, spoken only on one planet on the outskirts of one of the most distant arms of the galaxy, where the word “psychiatrist” actually means “fiction writer who likes fancy couches and notebooks,” but that is the only exception.

Anyway, the psychiatrist asked me a lot of questions. I answered them. I also told him that the Supreme Ruler of the Universe should not have to answer those kinds of questions. He asked me about my childhood, about the demands made of the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. He asked me to detail my boss’ plan to take over the world and suppress it under some freak vegetarian dietary totalitarianism. I told him everything he wanted to know, even when he asked about my mother and her dislike of vegetables.

A few days later, the doctor and my wife told me that they felt it would be best to have me move somewhere safe. They told me that it was clearly wrong to ask me to sell bad fish to innocent people as a means of bringing forth a meat-free economy. I wasn’t convinced until they promised me that I wouldn’t have to work anymore because people would do everything for me. Everything!!! Let me emphasize this… there would be servants who would actually do everything for me, just like they should be doing! I was ecstatic. We went to my new palace right away. It was fabulous, just like she said it would be. Everyone was dressed in formal, white suits. It was so professional.

After I got established there, she left and let the servants take over. I was happy. Finally, someone was treating me the way the Supreme Ruler of the Universe was supposed to be treated! Well, except for the daily meals of fish and brocolli. But I learned to tolerate those, too.

I’ve lived in this palace for several years now. It’s called “Royal Valley Palace.” However, in an effort to protect my identity and to keep my curious subjects from constantly pestering me, the sign on the wall outside says, “Happy Valley Institute for Exotic Minded Individuals.” So far the sign has worked and almost none of my subjects have been in here to bother me. I haven’t seen my “parents” since I came to my palace. They were probably led astray by the sign, too.

Yesterday I was going to write them a letter on my Royal Valley Palace stationary, but my responsibilities called me away from that task. The Universe was thrown into a giant upheaval when Venitia 7, a small group of planets on the outer edges of the elliptical galaxy M‑63, declared that they were seceding from the Universal Federation of Planets. Of course, the Federation is headed by none other than your’s truly, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. So, I had to deal with this obvious tragedy. I took my Intergalactic Communication Device into the Round Office, you know, the one with the nice soft walls and no corners for dust balls to get stuck in — yes, I do have first class accommodations! Anyway, I dialed up the code for the capital of Venitia 7 (thirteen thirteens, followed by the pound sign) and was in direct contact with my servant there, the President of that star system.

I asked her why her system wanted to secede from the Federation, even though I knew the reason (remember, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe knows everything). She said it was because she felt the Supreme Ruler of the Universe did not care enough about the planets in the Federation. She said there was no possible way that he could, because he spent all of his time sitting in his palace on Earth.

I explained in my charismatic, Supreme‑Ruler‑of‑the‑ Universe‑ly manner, that Earth needed me more than the other planets. I told her of the millions and millions of people on the small little ball of clay on which I reside who still do not believe in the awesome power and infinite knowledge which I, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, posses. I discussed with her the devastating effects that the existence of a single wayward world such as Earth could have. I told her that until the people of this planet, this little pebble in her sky, were united under my rule, there was no way that I could safely leave the planet without endangering the entire population of the Universe.

In this slow and careful manner I convinced her to keep her planets from seceding from the Federation. If this had not worked, of course, there was Plan W. The Supreme Ruler of the Universe must always be prepared, you know, and so I had several different methods of convincing the President of Venitia 7. Plan W was the first, and I think easiest alternative. As easily as I called her over the Communications Device, I could have destroyed her and her entire system, with a single sneeze. There is no defense strong enough to halt the advance of a Supreme Sneeze! But, luckily I did not have to resort to such brutal tactics to convince her that, yes, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe loves her and her people.

So, that is my real purpose: love. I am trying to bring the joys of love, peace and happiness to all peoples of the Universe. I mean, what is more important than love? It makes the world go round. It makes the Galaxies turn. It makes the currents of space flow smoothly and gets rid of those awful ripples in time. And besides, it makes the Supreme Ruler of the Universe happy. Somehow everything seems more worthwhile when it pleases the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, doesn’t it?

So, people of Earth, love each other. Be happy. Remember that it is only logical that if everyone loves someone, then everybody loves everybody. So, why not love me? I’m cute, I’m charming, I’m modest, and I’m the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Who could ask for anything more?