Ruler of the Universe

Prologue

It was a rainy winters night, and in waiting for my garlic bread to cook, (contrary to popular belief, I DO enjoy garlic.) I went for a short walk. And so, there I was, strolling through the peaceful forest, minding my own un-gothic business, when there was a sudden puff of bright orange smoke, and a small green leprechaun appeared.
“Ah, ‘tis Miss Rosie!” said the leprechaun enthusiastically. “I’ve been looking all over far you, to be shar.” I looked at him for a few seconds, expectantly, and sure enough, he added “sharsharsharshar!” whilst performing a small jig. After a while, he finished his jig and looked up at me, silently, waiting. There was a very awkward silence.
“So, er, why exactly have you been looking for me?” I asked him, picking nervously at the edge of one of my NOT-black fingernails.
“Well lass, apparently yarve been voted into the position of ruler of the univarse, should you wish to take it.” replied the leprechaun.
“Oh I could never do that.” I said simply.
“Why on ‘arth not?” he said, surprised.
“Because the universe would perish if I controlled it,” I sighed, tugging a loose thread from my NOT-purple-and-black-striped socks.
“And how do yar figure that thar lass?” Asked the leprechaun, with polite curiosity.
“Well it’s a long and drawn out story,” I began. “You might as well make yourself comfortable.”
“Shar thing”, he said happily, pulling a Guinness from under his vibrant green hat and sitting himself down on a mossy log.

(Sort of hypothetical flash forward to the future thingy.)

Chapter 1. Rosie’s Word Becomes Law

It was a cold, misty day in Melbourne, and the streets were packed with enormous crowds of people, steam rising from their mouths and into the freezing air as they nervously discussed the appointment of their new universal ruler. Those unable to make it to Melbourne for the ceremony watched anxiously from their TV sets, listened intently to their radios, and attached their high-density proton powered information rays to their tenticles. On every planet, in every galaxy, families, friends and slime based alien creatures gathered, waiting for the announcement, the entire universe holding its breath. Even some corpselike teachers had stuck their heads out of the ground to witness this moment.
In some places, it was early in the morning or very late at night. In some places, high-density proton powered information rays were forbidden, and were used in stealth. In some places, fifty or sixty various life forms crowded around one tiny radio. But they were all united in one goal – to see their new leader announced.
As she walked out onto the balcony, there was ringing silence. Then, the people began to cheer madly, the roaring sound echoing across oceans and valleys, solar systems and deep dark graves.
“All hail Rosie!” boomed the voice of the announcer.
“ALL HAIL ROSIE!!!” screamed the universe.
“All hail Rosie!” cried the announcer a second time.
“ALL HAIL ROSIE!!!” screamed the universe.
“That’s enough.” Said Rosie, and universal silence fell once again.
“As my first official act as ruler of absolutely everything ever, there are a few laws I would like to put into place.”
“Number one. Chelsea, where are you?” Chelsea raised a trembling hand from below the balcony. “You will now make animal noises at regular intervals.” A few people on Mars laughed loudly at this.
“SILENCE MARTIANS”, bellowed the announcer. Rosie continued as though there had been no interruption.
“Number two. Laura, where are you?” Laura peered out from behind Chelsea. “You are to release flatulence every few words.” This went down extremely well in Germany, and on the planet Xerox IV. When the laughter died down, Rosie continued. “Rachael!”
“Y-yes oh great r-ruler of everything?” Came Rachael’s voice, also from behind Chelsea. “You are to constantly burn things for my amusement.” Rachael gave her a frightened look.
“B-but I already constantly burn things for your amu-“SILENCE!” Screeched Rosie. Rachael nodded, trembling, and took out her lighter.
“Let’s see… number four…KATRINA!” Katrina raised her black-clad hand into the air. “You will wear this now.” Rosie tossed her a bright pink floral maternity dress, which she slid over her head with a look of deep disgust.
“And finally, Brad…”
“YEAH?” he yelled back.
“At the request of my flatulent friend Laura, from now on, every time you yell, a mysterious green gas will come out of your mouth.”
“OK!” bellowed Brad. At this point, a mysterious green gas came out of his mouth, which caused a few people to turn inside out, or grow extra toes.
“Watch it!” Yelled a guy whose eyes had just liquefied.
“I think that’s enough torture on my schoolfriends…” Laughed Rosie, the resplendent ruler of everything there ever was and ever would be ever at all.
“Now… let us move on to the celebrities.” The following rules apply from this day onward:

“Jamie Cullum is to constantly follow Chelsea around asking (in a whiney tone) why she doesn’t like him anymore.”
“Aww… OINK!” muttered Chelsea.

“Jared Padala-watshisface and Jensen Ankles are to admit on public T.V that they are a gay couple and that Jared has changed his surname to ‘Straslecki’ because it tastes better.”
“Jensen’s surname is Ackles, not Ankles.” Pointed out Laura, farting as she spoke.
“THEN HE WILL CHANGE IT.”
A few audience members gasped, while others giggled quietly.

“Evanescence’s Amy Lee is now to swallow helium before all live concerts, recordings, interviews, public appearances, and whenever she has nothing better to do.”
A high-pitched curse came from the direction of northern America.

“Paris Hilton is to go on ‘Fear Factor’ every week.”
Several people cheered about this news.

“George Bush is to take a month off his role as president of the U.S.A in order to launch a singing career.”
There was a stunned silence. No-one knew quite how to react to this.

“The planet Neptune is to be renamed Artline 210.”
The crowd discussed this:
“Fair enough.”
“I’ve always thought it should be.”
“Hope it doesn’t change colour…”

“And finally, Avril Lavigne is hereby banned from EVER SINGING AGAIN.”
There was a huge explosion of cheering and clapping at this news – people threw their hats in the air and hugged one another. Fireworks began and streamers fell from every window. All over the universe, people celebrated long into the night, hugging each other and apologising for all they had ever done wrong, burning the offending CD’s and basking in the warmth of their united joy, now that Avril Lavigne’s horrible scratchy American voice had finally been silenced forever.

Chapter 2 – Tension in the Air

“And Avril Lavigne would be banned from singing ever again.”
“So what’s that got ta do with it now?” Asked the leprechaun.
“What’s it got to do with what?”
“Well how would that cause this here univarse to perish?
“Well,” I explained, “everything would be fine for a while. But then little things would start to go wrong…”

(Another flash-forward hooziwatsit.)

In a huge castle on the moon, through a large and highly impressive hall, up a flight of black diamond stairs, along a red velvet carpet, inside a magnificently decorated candlelit chamber on a throne of dazzling silver stones and black woodwork sat Rosie, her most fabulous glorious superior majesty highness thingy A.K.A Wonderful and Talented Ruler of the Universe. In front of her, Ms Ryan knelt as her footrest, on her left, that hot guy from 12 Stones fed her grapes, and on her right, the Queen of England served her Dr Pepper in a crystal glass.
Rosie sighed and adjusted her long, black, vampirish, unique, expensive and flattering in every way dress. “Oh how I would love it if KoRn would come and perform a live show right here in my throne-room…” (Rosie was as subtle as she was hardworking.)
Within twelve minutes, the dude with dreadlocks was screaming in her face, the loudness of the guitars cracking the walls and pulsing through her glass of Dr Pepper. “WOOOOOO!!!” screamed Rosie, all dignity forgotten as she jumped around like a metalhead maniac. The Queen joined in and the party really began!
Oh what a happy girl Rosie was!

Meanwhile, on Earth, her friends were sitting around feeling sorry for themselves, those selfish cows…

“MEOW! This sucks…” grumbled Chelsea. “While she sits on the moon being pampered, we have to QUACK do her homework.”
“Yeah,” said Laura.
“Laura, please stop talking…” said Rachael, urgently, whilst burning her own homework. “Who made you the boss?” said Laura, farting furiously.
At that moment, Brad blundered into the room, along with Jamie Cullum. “WOAH WHAT STINKS?” he screamed. The mysterious green gas escaped his mouth again, causing Jamie Cullum to grow a third nose.
“Cheeellseeaaa, why don’t you like me?” whined Jamie. “Why don’t you like me?” he repeated. He broke into song:
“Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me, why don’t you walk out the door?”
“SHUTUP!” yelled Brad, and the green gas targeted Jamie Cullum again, causing his leg to fall off. This didn’t crush his enthusiasm, however, and he continued to hop in circles singing “I’m all at sea sea sea sea sea sea sea sea sea sea” like a broken record.
“I’m bored,” said Laura, farting again. “What’s on TV?”
“Not RIBBIT much…” croaked Chelsea.
Rachael grabbed the remote, and began to flick between the channels. “Let’s see, Paris Hilton riding a tiger on Fear Factor… BORING… Supernatural… Nah, that’s sucked since they started going to gay bars every episode… George Bush’s latest music video… Eww he shouldn’t wear that bikini…” she sighed, and set the curtains on fire.

Meanwhile, touring North America, Evanescence were getting desperate. Amy was unable to sing without gulping helium, and for most fans, the novelty had warn off. The entire band had resorted to dancing for attention, wearing bright pink leotards, and black tophats. The press was having a field day. “POPULAR GOTH METAL BAND RESORTS TO CRUDE ATTENTION SEEKING AFTER LEAD SINGER IS FORCED TO TAKE HELIUM BY NEWLY APPOINTED RULER OF THE UNIVERSE” read the headline, taking up at least 3 pages. Rosie however, had ordered that all her hate mail be swapped for cookies, and thought the Evanescence fans were sending her delicious treats because they loved her.

Even more meanwhile, on planet Artline 210, the Neptunians (or as they were now called, the Artline 210ians) were not happy. They had only just finished painting all their signs and rewriting all their documents to say ‘Artline 210’, when they received an urgent telegram saying that Rosie had changed the planets name yet again, to ‘Paper Mate 0.4 Extra Fine’. They began to repaint their signs and retype their documents, muttering profusely.

At exactly that moment, in a small country town in Texas, Avril Lavigne walked down the street, humming to herself.
“HEY, YEW! SHUTUP!” yelled the sheriff, from the other side of the road, gesturing towards her.
“I wasn’t singing, I was humming.” Replied Avril indignantly. ]
“I DON’ CARE WAT YEW WERE DOIN’, AH SAID SHUTUP!” screamed the sheriff, loudly.
Poor Avril. She was unemployed, unloved and not allowed to sing. (Not that she was able to sing in the first place…)
Poor, poor, Avril…

Chapter 3 – Everyone Seems To Be Getting Over It

“And so nobody loved that poor little Avril Lavigne…” I continued, trying not to laugh.
“Would you stop makin fun o’ poor Avril Lavigne lass? I happen to be quite a fan a hars…” The leprechaun seemed annoyed.
“Sorry… Um, anyway, lets say things are starting to straighten out a bit in this universe I rule.”

(Flash forward to the future. You know the drill.)

A month had passed, and things were getting better in this Rosie-ruled universe. Laura and Chelsea had begun to see the humorous side of their speech difficulty, and as long as they didn’t talk too often, people accepted them as the freaks they were.
Rachael had got a job at the Baby Born factory, burning the unwanted Baby Borns, and laughing maniacally at their screams of “Mama” as they melted. This seemed to quench her slowly increasing thirst for the macabre.
Evanescence were slowly coming back onto the charts, by creating a new music genre called ‘chipmunk metal’ and a new album entitled ‘WAFGWCPLBTWUGGOPD’ (short for ‘We Are the Freaky Guitar Wielding Chipmunks in Pink Leotards and Black Tophats Who Used to be Gothic but Got Over Pain and Death’)
And Avril Lavigne had finally found a job, working as the host for ‘Fear Factor’ as she was about the only person who could tolerate Paris Hilton after all this time.
And so, Rosie sat in her pristine palace, thinking it was about time she caught up with the friends she had so severely and pointlessly reprimanded. She picked up her purple and black diamond-encrusted telephone off her new table (which was her friend Ashleigh, thoroughly engrossed in a book and covered with a black sheet) and called them up.
*RING RING, RING RING* “Hello?” Came Laura’s voice, and the sound of a fart.
“It’s me.” Said Rosie, in all her fabulous glory.
“Oh,” said Laura, farting quietly, “hello your most fabulous glorious superior majesty highness thingy.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but it was hard not to sound sarcastic with that mouthful. Rosie found herself wishing she’d chosen a shorter title.
“Yes, I am wonderful, aren’t I?” laughed Rosie, pompously.
“Are Chelsea and Rachael there too?” At that point, she heard a loud “BOKARK!” and maniacal laughter, which answered her question.
“What do you want with us, your most fabulous glorious superior majesty highness thingy?” Farted Laura.
“I thought you might all like to come to my magnificent palace on the moon!” sang Rosie; to a tune obviously no one but her knew. “The spaceship will be there in 5 minutes, so dress up dead.”
“Dress up what?” Yelled the flatulent Laura, but Rosie had hung up the phone.
“Guys, yelled Laura, “we’re going to see Rosie!”

***

Five nervous minutes later, Laura, Chelsea and Rachael were waiting outside, Chelsea squeaking nervously. Rachael was playing with her lighter, and Laura was farting even without talking.
There was a sudden ZVROOOOMM!!! And a small spaceship appeared in front of them. It was black and purple and hearselike, and looked (if possible for a spaceship) somewhat gothic. The door opened, and somebody emerged…
The woman who stepped out wasn’t Rosie. She had a droopy pot-belly, and was dressed in a knee-length black dress with a silver laceup front. She also wasn’t a woman.
“Well hello girls…” said Rosie’s dad in a rather disapproving voice.
“Uh, why are you dressed like that?” asked Rachael, fighting the urge to wretch.
“Rosie’s orders. Well, what are you waiting for, lets go!”
They boarded the ship, and looked awkwardly around. “You’re all dressed in pink, I see…” said Rosie’s dad. “We can’t have that.”
“Why not?” said Laura, farting angrily. “Oh you’ll see…” he replied smugly.

They arrived at the palace and stared in shock. It was entirely black, and looked like a cross between the stereotypical underworld, an evil castle from a fairy tale, and some sort of haunted mansion.
“Oh Rosie…” sighed Chelsea, exasperatedly.
Eyeing the security patrollers nervously (some had several heads) they crossed the threshold, and walked into the dark entrance hall. The Interior looked like something out of the Addams Family, but a bit more ‘grand’. They were just marvelling horror-stuck at Rosie’s choice of black batwing-shaped curtains, when a trapdoor opened underneath them and swallowed them up.
A minute later, they found themselves outside Rosie’s chamber door, wearing completely different clothes, which were obviously ones Rosie approved of. Rachael was in a Seether T-shirt and combat pants. Chelsea was in a long red and black vampire dress. But Laura, strangely, was in a bright orange “I’m With Stupid” nightie, the arrow pointing to Rachael. “Ok…” they muttered, and entered the chamber.  

Chapter 4 – Laura’s Wish Unknowingly Destroys the Universe

Rosie sat on a large lacy black beanbag, surrounded by little servants, who she had dressed like the living dead. She was wearing a purple and black scary scary dress, with a tie-up black silk cape. Her hair seemed to have gotten longer, and redder. “Well hello there puny mortals, she said, darkly.
“OMG get a life your most fabulous glorious superior majesty highness thingy” said Rachael, bravely. A bolt of lightning came from the floor and singed her.
“No need to be rude.” Said the Goth wannabe empress of the universe and everything in it.
“I will grant you each a wish.” Said Rosie, importantly. “Laura, you may go first, because your nightie states the obvious.”
“But you chose-” began Laura, but Rosie gave her the look, which shut her up instantly.
“Ok, I wish Hudson would stop drinking V!” Said Laura, in a caring tone.
“AN ACHEIVABLE WISH IDIOT!” yelled Rosie.
“Fine, er… I wish we could all go to America right now for a big holiday!” Rosie snapped her fingers (she had decided to be magic that morning) and it was done.

***

It was a bright happy day in America. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and
Jamie Cullum (having lost Chelsea when she went to the moon) was following Amy Lee. “Why don’t you like me anymorrrrre?” He whined.
“I never liked you in the first place,” replied the goddess of chipmunk rock.
Jamie blinked, stared, shrugged and said “Why don’t you like me anymorrrrre?” At that point, there was a loud bang, and Chelsea, Laura, Rachael and Rosie appeared. “Chelsea!” screamed Jamie, jumping on her instantly.
“Get off me, I don’t like you!” snapped Chelsea. At this moment, she made a loud noise like an elephant. Chelsea didn’t realise it at the time, but this elephant noise would create a chain reaction of events that would lead to the destruction of the universe.
Amy Lee (who had a secret fear of elephants) screamed loudly, and flew (she CAN fly) all the way to the White House Recording Studio, where George Bush was recording his new hit, entitled ‘Ya Mum’s a Flying Monkey From The Wizard of Oz’.
Amy begged to do guest vocals, and George (who had been in her Pictionary team at Satan’s last birthday party) agreed happily.

And so, two weeks later, Rachael having wished for a meatless-steak, and Chelsea a talking flower named Brandon, they were all walking down the street together, when they ran into Avril Lavigne.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were MOO still alive!” said Chelsea.
“Oh yeah, I host ‘Fear Factor’ now, said Avril.
“Got any ideas to torture Paris?” asked Rachael?
“Not really” sighed Avril, I’m too much of a punk-wannabe blondeface to think of any.
“Haha you torture as bad as you sing!” pointed out Laura, to a ‘don’t-be-rude’ thump from Chelsea. Chelsea changed the subject. “Have you heard that song by George Bush and Amy Lee?” asked Chelsea. “Ya Mum’s a Flying Monkey From The Wizard of Oz?”
“No, said Avril, but you’ve given me an idea…”

***

And so, the next week on Fear Factor, Paris Hilton was placed into a cage full of flying monkeys from the wizard of Oz, which proceeded in chewing off her face.
“Wow, that face eating stuff sure is neat!” said Phil, scriptwriter for the slowly crumbling TV show ‘Supernatural’. “We should get a face-eating monster in our next episode.”
And this they did, but it was to be a mistake.  
On day three of the filming, the face eating monster they had hired broke loose, and chased Jared and Jensen around and around until they took shelter by crawling into a hole, where they died.
Supernatural fans all over the universe were devastated. Laura was at Rach’s house helping her make a bonfire, when Chelsea called and told them the news. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” screamed Laura.
“Laura, whatever you do, DO NOT say another word”, said Rachael, urgently.
“Why?” – Too late, Laura had let of a huge fart, which ignited in the bonfire and turned half the country into a blazing inferno. At this point, Brad rushed in.
“HOLY CRAP WHAT WAS THAT? Yelled Brad. The green gas escaped his mouth, met with the fire, and BOOM!
Silence.

Chapter 5 – And That’s My Reason

“And that silence is because the whole universe blew up.” I told the little green leprechaun. “The mysterious green gas was the most flammable substance in the universe.” He had taken his hat off, and was staring at me in awe.
“Tis a sad tale”, he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “But I still don’t see how that’d be yar fault now…”
“Well maybe it’s just too much responsibility for one person,” I told him. “Who’s next in line?”
“Yar little friend Nardia.” He said. I looked at him.
“You’re joking…” He shook his head. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” I screamed.
“Well she can’t be warse than you now, can she?” “It’s not that,” I said, hurriedly, “my garlic bread’s still in the oven!”
I ran home, as fast as I could, to find my kitchen on fire. Brad was standing there, staring at it.
“ROSIE, YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE!” he stated, loudly. And remarkably, I swear I saw a mysterious green gas came from his mouth, and touch the fire. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. And then I woke up. And it was all a dream. And that’s the most annoying ending I could think of.

The End.