Chapter 1
Though no one knew for sure where Galaxy-Man came from, he now resided on a planet of wheat called The Breadbasket. It orbited a red hypergiant called The Colossus, named for its incredible size. What'd ya think it was named for? For comparison, it was about 9 billion times the size of Earth's sun. You'd think the solar system would be truly enormous, but no. A grand total of three planets orbited The Colossus: Charbraxis, the coldest, most distant planet, Beaverball, the solar capital and awkward middle planet, and lastly, The Breadbasket, the innermost planet, though it still orbited at an incredible distance from The Colossus. Because the planet orbited so far away from its star, seasons lasted roughly 1,500 years there, so its northern hemisphere was in a sort of perpetual state of summer. It was a perfect place to grow wheat, but beyond that it was a pretty uninteresting planet. Galaxy-Man lived amidst amber waves of boring unfortunately. It was like Kansas if it were a planet, but somehow even more monotonous and uneventful. Living there was about as exciting as playing a text-based waiting room simulator in slow motion.
The entire world was owned by only a handful of people. There were shareowners, and there laborers. The shareowners didn't actually have any involvement in the wheat itself, but collected big checks each month simply for owning the land. Most of the shareowners didn't actually live on the planet itself, but those that did lived in luxurious vast mansions. The laborers lived nomadic lives endlessly circling the planet, harvesting and replanting crops.
Galaxy-Man's estranged father was a particularly wealthy shareowner who resided on the planet. He lived in a small town called Spunky Hollow. He had the nicest house in the whole world and he took care of it. He was also a collector of antiques and other finery. He owned vast collections of vintage items, books and anything else considered valuable. One day he had the bright idea to see just how the wheat was harvested, so he packed his bags and traveled with the laborers. After 6 days, 12 hours and 18 minutes, he died of boredom, and also he had a heart attack. Having never written a will, his next of kin inherited his vast fortune, his next of ken being his son, Galaxy-Man, otherwise he'd of never left him anything.
For the past few years Galaxy-Man had lived with his cat in Spunky Hollow with stuck-up neighbors who absolutely despised him. His neighbors were always comparing him to his father, whom they saw as a great man. Galaxy-Man was not his father's son, they were nothing alike, never were. He saw him as nothing more than a greedy business person with no style. Galaxy-Man found that having a lot of money made life boring as he never had to work for anything. He quickly gave his crop shares to his money-grubbing neighbors and gave most of his vast fortune away to his best friend, Hamilton, as he wanted nothing to do with it. He was now a poor man who just happened to live in a house with 15 bathrooms.
Today was a very special day indeed for Galaxy-Man. The long-awaited StarFighter Episode VII had just hit theaters and it's a pretty big deal for Galaxy-Man. He was as happy as a dog with two tails. He had been ready for this movie for quite some time. He woke up with a big stupid grin on his face, took a quick shower, ate the world's fastest bowl of Cap'n Crunch, and exploded out of the mahogany double-doors of his abode. Galaxy-Man had always-messy, medium bushy black hair that had never once been brushed, and his skin was pasty pale and white as a toilet. He wore his usual, superhero-like getup that day: his trademarked red headband with circular yellow “G” emblem, a bright silver necklace, his padded red vest with black thermal long sleeve undershirt, a cape that was red on the inside and black on the outside, a thick brown belt with circular belt buckle with the Galaxy-Man logo which is a minimalist black and yellow image of a barred spiral galaxy, black bell-bottom pants and shiny black leather boots. His most prominent feature however were his legendary jet black sun shades which he has never once been seen without, not even one time.
He stood on his porch and smiled big as he thought about the wonderful day ahead of him. There was one problem though, he had no money to buy a ticket, but that's okay, he had a plan.
He started strolling across the street. Along the way he saw his neighbor, Dr. Etsuka Fukunaga, an historian and curator at the Spunky Hollow museum of history, checking her mail. “Good morning, Ms E.!” said Galaxy-Man with a cool grin. “You're lookin' lovely today. Makin' me feel basic.'”
Galaxy-Man always called her Ms. E. as a term of endearment, though she never really liked that name.
She gave him a sort of sneer. “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed,” she said somewhat coldly. Whenever she spoke you could tell English wasn't her first language. No, she spoke much too clearly. Every letter was clearly enunciated, like an Asian automated phone line.
Etsuka was a very intelligent and knowledgeable woman, but also snobby and conceited. Still, Galaxy-Man usually treated her with respect and kindness. Having been close friends with Galaxy-Man's prestigious father, she despised Galaxy-Man with a passion and wanted nothing but to see him fail. She, along with most of the town, saw Galaxy-Man as nothing more than a delinquent who'd never amount to anything.
“I'd love to stay and gab with ya,” said Galaxy-Man, “but I've got a movie to catch.”
“Have fun,” said Etsuka very insincerely.
Galaxy-Man had no time to dawdle. He was on his way over to his best friend's house across the street. His friend's name was Hamilton Beach of all names, no relation to any kitchen appliance moguls. He was the nicest, sweetest person in the world and never did anything wrong. Never once did Galaxy-Man ever see him angry or raise his voice. His parents were both deaf and could only communicate with sign language, so as a kid they used to let him spend time with Galaxy-Man, who is about 10 years older than him, to be around spoken language more, and the two quickly became inseparable, though, Hamilton doesn't like leaving the planet with Galaxy-Man when he goes adventuring. Not being able to speak with Galaxy-Man directly, Hamilton's parents didn't see him like everyone else did. They thought he was weird, but ultimately a nice guy, if a little on the silly side. In hindsight, Galaxy-Man wasn't the best person to leave your kids with. From a young age he smoked pot, took pills, he drank heavily, he was lazy and unreliable, he frequently stole things he didn't need like sticker machines and item divider bars. He and Hamilton were two completely different people, and yet they were the best of friends. Hamilton was a very devout Christian and strongly believed in God, which is interesting because Galaxy-Man was an unwavering atheist. Hamilton went to church every single day as if he were Ned Flanders or something, and though he was Christian, he kept it to himself and had never once asked Galaxy-Man to come to church. He had different beliefs than Galaxy-Man, but was also very understanding and respectful to others who didn't think the same way as him. Galaxy-Man was lucky to have such a good person like Hamilton as a friend. Even so, Galaxy-Man constantly teased and pranked him. He once broke into his house and stole all the marshmallows from his Lucky Charms, he once replaced the wicks of his dinner candles with firecrackers, he frequently stole his mailbox, and on one occasion he even put cat poop on the blades of all his ceiling fans. It was amazing that they were friends at all with all the things Galaxy-Man did to him. Galaxy-Man always made up for it though. He knew Hamilton better than anyone and always knew just how to make him smile.
Galaxy-Man walked up to Hamilton's porch and knocked on the door, but no one was home sadly. Galaxy-Man beat on the door like it owed him money.
“Yo, Hamilton! I need money for the 'Sode VII! Where you at, man? This is important stuff!” There was no answer. “Guess Godboy went to church early today,” he said to no one in particular.
He stepped off the porch, grabbing Hamilton's hummingbird feeder on his way down. He started chugging it down like someone dared him to as he strolled around to the side of the house. “Mmm, sweet like Paula Deen's blood,” he said in a laid-back voice.
He came to some garbage cans and threw Hamilton's homemade bird feeder in the trash after he drank the last bit of his sugar water like the wild savage he was. He climbed onto the can and pulled himself up to the roof. From the roof he hobbled his way over to Hamilton's bedroom window. He gently opened it and crawled inside.
Upon entering he stumbled slightly and fell over, putting his foot through Hamilton's pricey Ikea nightstand and breaking it along with a lamp and little totem pole that sat on top of it. He freed the table from his boot and made his way to Hamilton's chest of drawers. He opened the top drawer. Inside were fresh socks, loose change, store brand antacid tablets, peppermints, keys, gloves, a Swiss army knife, SPF 60, an empty prescription allergy medication bottle, a photo of Galaxy-Man and Hamilton together at a Christmas party, and also a “The Best of Bread” CD case that Hamilton kept his money in. The universal currency of this time being 2x4 Lego bricks called “profit.” There's quite a story behind that actually, but I won't be going too deep into that I'm afraid. One profit, depending on where you go, has about as much buying power of a Euro.
Galaxy-Man helped himself to 300 profit, which was way more than he actually needed. He left a note simply reading “New StarFighter. That is all. I'll pay you back when I can... unless I forget. Er, what were we talking about again?”
Galaxy-Man then walked down stairs and out of the house, leaving Hamilton's front door wide open. He headed back across the street and into his backyard, which was a complete disaster compared to everyone else's. Galaxy-Man's two biggest fears were centaurs and lawnmowers. The latter of which made him very anti-cutting-the-grass and thus his yard was as wild and overgrown as the jungles of Madagascar used to be. Stevie, his cat, was sleeping in the sun inside an old plastic shopping basket. She didn't have a care in the world. She was lazy even by cat standards, but accompanied Galaxy-Man on all his wacky misadventures throughout the galaxy.
“Wake up, Stevie,” said Galaxy-Man, “Episode VII!”
She crawled out of her cozy basket and let out a very big yawn.
The two trudged through the tall grass over to Galaxy-Man's most prized possession (after his beloved sunshades of course,) his legendary spaceship, the Star Whomper. It was roughly as big as a double-wide trailer and about as luxurious. It resembled an old timey wooden pirate ship, though, the masts and sails didn't serve much of a purpose out in the vacuum of space. It had certainly seen its fair share of action. It was covered in dents and scratches; it was a miracle it worked at all. Though the inside and outside were made of some sort of dense wood, it was also layered with another material to withstand the harshness of space. The two walked up a wooden gangplank up to a old screen door and sort of a metal sliding door behind it.
He walked inside and sat in a red and gold throne at the captain's helm, which was in a small wooden room piled with odd treasures and trinkets. All the dials, buttons and computers looked rather intimidating, but he seemed to know what he was doing... somewhat. He hooked up his Walkman into the ship's stereo system and played the original Star Trek opening theme song on his mixtape. Stevie quickly walked over to the nearest cardboard box for a nap. Galaxy-Man let out a loud excited yelp as he set sail for the wild black yonder.