I was once the emperor of a small planet in the galaxy Ursa Major. It was within the Cigar Galaxy so of course we had a massive export of space cigars. Sentient creatures would come from the surrounding quadrants to visit our famous cigar factory moon. There were all sorts of rides and amusements to entertain the younglings while the adults would enjoy a nice relaxing smoke and take in some of the stellar scenery. We had the greatest little smoshmisha restaurant this side of the quasar anomaly. Shmerks, quishelberries, regale saturation enhancers, lust garkowakkas, and pork pies were just some of the things they served. It was the best job ever but then one day, when I was playing golf with the Merciless Unbound Hell Lord of the domesticated potato people of sub quadrant X-10032, I got a psychic telegram from my Floo Pop Tip Top (similar to your earth slave) saying that the Yarn pods of Creelax were waging war with the Feline Dominus race from the deep beyond. I checked the current sun cycle flag and it was Umber 0, 0.72, 0.657, 0.439, I laughed for I was almost fooled by this classic Umber 0, 0.72, 0.657, 0.439 fools flag joke! Suddenly a nearby star went supernova as a result of a high energy weapon being discharged within unsafe discharge range and wiped out the majority of the inhabitants of the surrounding planets, I barely had time to activate my essence relocation device. This was on January 21st of your earth year, a year and a few months ago. Tomorrow is April fools day, a day that is similar to Umber 0, 0.72, 0.657, 0.439 fools flag, and I will she a single tear, I was one hole away from beating that fucking Hell Lord, I've lost to him hundreds of times.