Maintaining my grades has always been a struggle as a student at SFU. It’s not that I lack commitment to my English major and History minor, it’s that something hovers over me that provides me with great anxiety. It’s not mental illness, work, or family issues, but rather something much greater. You see, what I really fear is the coming of Galactus.
Yes, that’s right: the great world destroyer of the cosmos, who eats up planets like Cookie Monster does a box of Chips Ahoy! Just knowing Galactus is out there and could pounce upon the Earth at any moment absolutely terrifies me. I mean, the Fantastic Four can only stop him so many times — eventually he’s going to succeed at one point and just eat us up. Galactus consumed my thoughts to the point that anytime I saw anyone wearing a purple helmet, I started screaming.
I realized I needed help for my issues, but no psychiatrist was qualified in helping me resolve my issues with intergalactic world-eaters. There was only one known professional in the galaxy who might understand me. So I set out to contact an ex-employee of Galactus, Norrin Radd aka The Silver Surfer.
Mr. Radd told me that “fearing Galactus, much like the cosmos themselves, is meaningless.” After a long discussion in which he described to me a lot of random shit I didn’t understand about the nature of the universe and some dude named Uatu who watches shit, I left feeling dissatisfied. Ultimately it seemed I was doomed to never feel any comfort whatsoever, and that I would have to resign myself to a lifetime of worrying about the destruction of the Earth.
That was until I saw an offer in the paper for a job serving as a translator for an intergalactic entity hoping to communicate with various planets. I figured it had been a while since my last job in telemarketing and that I enjoyed talking with people enough that I might as well apply. When I arrived at the office, I was teleported into space where, face-to-face, I finally met Galactus himself.
I screamed for a solid three minutes until Galactus yelled at me to be silent. He explained he wanted me as a herald for him to devour other worlds across the galaxy. In return for my service, he would not destroy Earth, but he also demanded I make a great sacrifice.
Yes, dear reader: he demanded that I drop out of SFU.
I told him that I couldn’t after spending so much money on my BA and investing so much time in school. At first, he scoffed at the notion until I told him what my fees were, which according to him were “cruel even in the eyes of a world eater.” His promise to pay for my tuition in return for part-time work helping him decimate civilizations across the galaxy was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
And that, dear reader, is how I learned to stop worrying and love Galactus. Sure, I’m now an accessory to the genocide of multiple alien races, but this bachelor’s degree wasn’t going to pay for itself. Now I must bid you farewell, as Galactus told me to quit this Peak crap because it was making me late for world consumption work.
