Gr’aok sat on a throne made of the skulls of his past conquests. On a screen in the far end of the room played the deaths of thousands of worlds. Gr’aok nodded in satisfaction. The footage ended then was replaced by footage of his next target. It was a small planet, orbited by a lone moon and composed of two-thirds water.

“Data,” Gr’aok muttered to the ship’s AI. “Give me all the data!” At once, Gr’aok almost fell off of his throne as the AI interpreted his request rather liberally.

“Why the hell did I need the entire history of this planet beamed into my brain?!“ He yelled. There was no response.

Slowly, as he began to understand what he was processing, he smiled, showing two rows of jagged teeth. “Ha! Nothing but kittens!” He laughed, the sound echoing across the room. “This conquest shall be trivial.”

Suddenly, a klaxon sounded in the room. The AI had decided that a visitor was needed. In the center of the room, Gr’aok watched as a two-legged creature materialised; it yawned as it dropped a can with ‘BUD’ on the side of it, then scratched at an appendage on its rear with one of its limbs.

Gr’aok was incensed. “I am Gr’aok, destroyer of worlds, subjugator of countless species. Identify yourself, interloper!” His voice was loud enough to rattle bone.

The human, dressed in underwear and a stained dressing gown, looked around, appearing confused. “Uhhhh…” he replied, “I’m Dave. Damn... I may have drunk too much… What’s this place??” Dave, eyes half-lidded, yawned, a piece of drool hanging from his mouth; he stuck his hands into his pockets. One hand re-emerged holding a spoon.

“Weep, Human. I am your conqueror. Your puny race does not- do you not realise who you stand before? How impertinent! I should cut you down where you stand! What in the Ten Rings are you doing?!” Gr’aok roared, the room shaking from the baritone of his voice.

Dave appeared to ignore him, swaying from the effects of the empty can and from the movement of the floor. From his other pocket, he pulled out a jar. “Huuuuh...” he muttered. “Weird dream.” Dave stumbled a few steps forward until he banged his shin on a table — though he did not react to the pain — then glanced round the room, taking in the bones adorning the walls. “Weeeeeeird.”

“HUMAN!” Gr’aok’s fury was reaching new heights; a vein on his forehead bulged. “Do you realise the seriousness of the situation you’re in?” He jumped to his feet as he grabbed a sword that had been lying on top of the pile of skulls.

Dave yawned again and replied, “I’m getting a snack, Gock.” He proceeded to unscrew the lid of the jar, dip in the spoon, and lift out a portion of its contents. The contents jiggled, wet and glistening with fat, as Dave lifted it to his mouth.

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“Human? What are you consuming?” Gr’aok, discombobulated by Dave’s actions, took a step forward, and strained his eyes in order to read what was written on the side of the jar.

“Mrrao,” Dave mumbled, then swallowed, coughed, and tried again. “Mayo.”

At this, Gr’aok took a step away from the human. Gr’aok realized somewhere in the massive amount of data his AI had pulled that there were hours of video on how this ‘MAYO’ substance was made. His eyes widened from a mixture of shock and horror. “Impossible! My data from your world indicates that mayonnaise should only be ingested as part of a healthy, balanced diet!” His sword arm was pointed towards Dave, but his grip on the weapon was slack, and his arm was unsteady. Suddenly, he was being flooded with images of mayonnaise factories and eating challenges.

Dave rolled his eyes. “It’s 3am, Grok. You try making a sandwich at this time.”

“Dave, my name is Gr’aok… Uhm, what’s a sandwich?” At once, his mind was filled with images of sliced bread. This did not answer his query.

“Whatever, Groot.”

Gr’aok shook his head in disbelief at this alien, Dave, who rather than showing the customary fear instead insisted on eating another tablespoon of mayonnaise. “Such digestive power…” Gr’aok said. The sentence trailed off as Dave dipped the spoon into the jar a third time, then a fourth, and then a fifth. “Are all humans as strong as you, Dave?”

Dave shrugged. “Dunno. We got some interesting food… You should google ‘Surströmming’...” Despite Dave’s inebriated state, his pronunciation of the Swedish word was, rather inexplicably, perfect. “I had a pal that ate a packet of cinnamon once. Does that count?”

Gr’aok’s mouth fell open in shock. The mere mention of Surströmming had instantly pulled images of humans eating it into his mind. “Incredible! Dave, I wish to visit your planet. Not as a conqueror, but as a friend. I have underestimated your species’ ability to produce warriors as strong as yourself.”

“Uh, sure, I guess. Ugh…” Dave clutched his stomach. “Gork, I’m gonna be sick.” He glanced around the room, saw that there was no bin to be found amongst the skulls and general viscera, which left him with but one option. So he threw up, covering the nearby table in mayonnaise-infused barf.

Gr’aok jumped backward to save his clawed feet from the splash, and put a claw to his face in exasperation. “Dave! That table was forged using the heat of a dying sun! It’s irreplaceable!!”

Dave, still clutching his stomach, groaned. “Ugh… sorry, Grop. I think I’ve seen a similar one in IKEA?”

Gr’aok raised an eyebrow. “Then we must go at once. Which star system is this ‘IKEA’ in?”

“It’s 3.04am, Gurt. They’re closed.”

At this, Gr’aok screamed in frustration, and threw his sword so hard that it jammed itself into the nearest wall. “I regret ever thinking of conquering your planet, you mayonnaise-infested fiends!