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Beings across the galaxy fall into two main and easily recognisable categories, two-legged ape descendants and everybody else. This second category is variously furry, tentacled, psychic, bright blue and so thoroughly alien that the majority of the civilised races have a really hard time relating to them when they say, show up for a job interview, marry their daughters or run for elected office.
However, due to the prevalence of cheap spacial and trans-dimensional travel, the chances of meeting anyone that remotely resembles the two-legged standard becomes increasingly remote the further (and more boldly) you go.
We are all, or so we are led to believe, just one big happy family, living together in groovy, alcohol soaked harmony beneath the warming light of a billion suns. This was an accepted truth that bore (or deserved) little scrutiny and kept all the endless races happy with their imagined place in the galaxy.
That was before Runn-berr, a plucky little being from the farming colonies of Vegan-Siluri decided that the farming community wasn’t getting the credit it deserved for feeding trillions of souls and decided to run for president.
The role of president had long ago been dissolved due to the inability of anybody trustworthy to present a suitable candidate – but this naïve little being changed all that by pointing out that if a president was merely appointed to preserve and protect the interests of a low paid but essential portion of society then nothing could possibly go wrong.
All those of you reading this who are in proud possession of a history degree please feel free to groan and mutter amongst yourselves.
Runn-berr appeared on chat shows and impressed upon the audience the vital importance of carrots, the regular supply of grain from the agri-planets to the galactic centre and the gratitude that should be expressed so that this arrangement continued and didn’t, to pick a random and non-threatening example, suddenly stop.
Within two weeks Runn-berr had everyone’s attention, without lifting a paw he had single handedly held an entire galaxy to ransom, given control of the agricultural industry to the farmers who grew the produce and generally caught every politician napping.
He was immediately made president. For life. The other politicians had searched in vain for any possible opponent and had found none that were so cute and at the same time projected a statesmanlike calm that inspired trust and leadership. It also didn’t hurt that everyone who ever saw Runn-berr just wanted to pick him up and give him a cuddle.
Then there was the campaign poster. Never has a presidential campaign been over so quickly. Here lies a lesson for us all.
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