Hello. My name is Kyalumpari Exmardicos Vincent Sequester Horatio
Tyler Jordan Muhammad van Toren Imendar Luquendar Marmalade Toro Gaita
Frederico Wallis Vernalum the 17th.
Yes, I know it's quite a name. How did I get stuck with it? Well, this
name is a family tradition. If you listened while I was reading it and
didn't fall asleep, you probably noticed the 17th at the end. You didn't?
Well, I can understand. I mean, it's not like it's so rare to have 16
relatives before you with the same name as you. I'm sure you have at least
You don't?! How did you ever manage to live this long with no number
after your name? Surely the Great Cheesecake Goddess the 10,097th would
have struck you down by now. What? You don't know what I'm talking about?
Where on Sp are you from, anyway?
Oh, you're from earth. Boy, what a boring place. I would hate to live
there. Where do I live? Do you have the time? The name of our planet is
2,744 words long. Ok, I'll tell you its nickname. We call our planet Sp.
Here we nickname everything by its first two letters. For example, my
nickname is Ky. You see, it's much simpler that way. What? You'd like me to
tell you about my planet? Ok, you asked for it! Here goes!
Sp is a very special planet. It's not made out of rock and ice, like
most other planets. Sp is made out of pajamas. There's a story as to that
happened. It involves a man named Blargh.
Blargh lived on the planet of P99-85GS. P99-85GS was a small planet,
about 1/20 the size of your moon. He owned 999,999,999,999,999 pairs of
pajamas, and every day he knit himself another pair. You see, his race
didn't have to eat, or sleep, or anything. He didn't need any money. He had
his sheep, for the wool, and his knitting set, and he was free to knit all
the pj's he wanted. What happened to the rest of his race? That's a sad
tale. What with Blargh and all his pajamas, they were pushed out into
space. As far as I know, to this day, they are still floating around out
there, ruing the day they first heard the word "pajama".
Meanwhile, Blargh was happy on P99-85GS until one day, disaster
struck. The sun his planet was revolving around died, forming a black hole.
He and his pajamas were sucked in. All of those pajamas got compressed,
forming a planet-sized lump of ex-pj's wandering around in space.
Eventually, it got pulled into orbit around a star. Time passed, and life
formed, that life being us.
And who are we? We are none other than the Grand Holy Multitude of
Devout Objecters. No, we don't object to everything. Actually, we do, but
that's not why we're called objecters. The reason we're called objecters is
because we worship objects. We have one god for every object in existence,
and each of them has a number. For example, there have been 8 Toothbrush
Gods, so the current one is the Toothbrush God the 8th. Our main God is the
Great Cheesecake Goddess the 10,097th, because we took a vote and
cheesecake was the most loved object. Everyone voted for it, except for one
old man who voted for a light bulb. Needless to say, we sent him off to be
Which brings me to the judiciary system of our society. We have three
types of punishments for three types of crimes. For petty offenses, like
wearing green and orange plaid, we make you smell the altar to the Stinky
Gym Shoe God the 1st (One is enough!).
For medium offenses, we make you eat from the altar of the Eggplant,
Ketchup, and Soda Casserole God the 81st. And for capital offenses, we make
you listen to the altar of the Tape of Earthsong12 Talking God the 2nd.
There's a story behind that too. One day, we found a cassette tape
lying on the ground. It was labeled "Earthsong12 Talking". We didn't have a
god for it yet, so we rushed to set up an altar for her that played the
tape endlessly. We soon had to move into a soundproof room, however,
because anyone who listened to it for more than a few minutes went insane.
We still don't know where it came from, but that must have been one crazy
Lastly, I'll tell you about our families. Every boy gets married to a
girl at age 18, right after they get out of school (I'll get to that
later). In order to get married, they each have to write an essay on the
topic of "What Marriage Means To Me". Needless to say, most people stay
single, which is why we don't have an overpopulation problem.
Those that do marry usually have somewhere between 0 and 100 children.
Less or more than that is very rare. The children live with their parents
for 12 years. At age 13, each child is sent off to God School. At God
School they are each assigned to a God that they are taught how to serve.
After they graduate at age 18, they serve that God for 40 years and then
they retire to a life of eating peas and rolling dice. Those are two of the
favored activities of seniors.
What's that, you ask? What God do I serve? Oh, I serve the Pencil
Eraser God the 39th. Every day I receive 300 or so pages of writing
prepared by the servers of the Pencil God the 776th. I then spend the day
erasing it while singing eraser hymns. Would you like to hear one? Here it
Oh, erasers are so fine
I wish they were all mine
I would erase all day
I wouldn't have to play
Thanks to the Pencil Eraser God 39.
At the end of the day, I send the blank paper to the servers of the
Shredder God the 45,985th. Then I go home to a nice meal before going to
Ok, that's about all I have to say. I'm glad I could teach you a
little about my culture. You're probably not as glad to learn about it, but
too bad! You already learned whether you wanted to or not. Ha! And if you
think that's bad, then you should come visit me someday. Just hop on a
spaceship, come to Sp, and ask for Ky.