It was a cold Tuesday afternoon when Bartley Winkles, a completely average 33-year-old man, found himself staring into a portal in his living room. But, let’s backtrack for a second. Bartley wasn’t exactly what you’d call a “man of action.” His days consisted of staring at spreadsheets, eating microwavable meals, and occasionally chatting with his plants, which, surprisingly, never judged him for it.

He had a job as an office clerk in a nondescript company that sold inconspicuous office supplies. The highlight of his week was the office coffee machine that made surprisingly decent lattes for a machine that clearly hadn’t been cleaned in months. It was mundane. It was predictable. And Bartley was perfectly fine with that.

Until today.

Bartley had just returned home from his job, which, for the record, was not nearly as exciting as it sounds. He worked with Gary, who never got any of the office gossip right, and Janet, who only ever talked about her cats. Bartley walked in the front door, closed it behind him, and was about to toss his jacket over the back of the couch when he saw it.

A swirling, pulsing, neon-orange portal floating right in the middle of his living room.

His first instinct was to call the police, but then he realized two things: first, he had no idea what he would say. “Hello, police? I have a portal in my living room.” Second, he didn’t even know how to handle emergencies. His previous experience with emergencies included accidentally setting off the fire alarm when he burnt toast. So, he did what any reasonable person would do in his position—he stood there and stared at it.

“Uh, what the heck?” Bartley said aloud, just to confirm that this was, in fact, happening.

The portal made a noise, almost like a loud, confused fart. Bartley flinched.

“Okay,” he muttered, “it’s fine. No need to panic. I’ll just… touch it.”

He reached out cautiously, but before his fingers could make contact, a voice bellowed from the other side. “HOLD ON, FELLOW EARTH-DWELLER!”

Bartley stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his shoelaces. A muscular, seven-foot-tall figure with glowing eyes stepped through the portal. It wore nothing but what appeared to be a gladiator’s helmet and a pair of neon-green cargo shorts.

“What the hell is going on?” Bartley exclaimed, his heart racing.

“Fear not, human!” the creature shouted, its voice booming like a thousand rock concerts. “I am Zorvok, the Conqueror of Galaxies, Destroyer of Enemies, and the Best Burger Flipper in the Quadrant!”

Bartley blinked. “You… flip burgers?”

“Indeed!” Zorvok replied proudly. “I once flipped a burger so perfectly that the universe itself trembled in awe.”

Bartley didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just stared. This was the last thing he expected to happen on a Tuesday. “Okay, but… why is there a portal in my living room?”

Zorvok looked at him like he had asked the dumbest question in the history of questions. “Ah, you see, this portal is not for mere mortal beings like you to understand. It connects the most epic battlefields across the cosmos. In fact, I’ve been summoned to fight a great battle for universal dominance!”

Bartley scratched his head. “I’m pretty sure you’re in the wrong place.”

Zorvok looked at the couch, then the coffee table, and his frown deepened. “This… this is not the arena I envisioned.” He squinted at the remote control that lay on the coffee table. “What manner of weapon is this?”

Bartley sighed. “That’s a remote control. It’s for the TV.”

Zorvok held it up to his face, peering into it like it was some kind of alien artifact. “Fascinating… but no matter. I shall conquer this strange world, starting with your snacks. What do you have?”

Bartley glanced around the living room. “Uh, a bag of chips and some leftover pizza from last night. Help yourself.”

Zorvok grinned. “You have truly chosen wisely.” He grabbed the pizza with one hand and ripped a chunk out of it like a wild animal. “This food will sustain me in my quest!”

Bartley watched, unsure whether to be impressed or concerned. “You know, if you’re not busy conquering anything, I could use some help. I have a deadline tomorrow for a report, and I’m really not feeling it.”

Zorvok looked at him in confusion. “You… need help with… paperwork?”

Bartley nodded solemnly. “It’s the most important part of my life right now. My report on staplers. I need to compare different models and discuss their efficiency.”

Zorvok looked at him like he had just asked for help writing a book on watching paint dry. But then his face softened, and he put a hand on Bartley’s shoulder. “Fear not, fellow Earth-dweller. For I, Zorvok, shall conquer your report for you.”

Bartley blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes! Give me the papers!” Zorvok said dramatically. “I will conquer them with the might of a thousand laser beams.”

“Okay, uh, sure.” Bartley handed over the report. He wasn’t sure why he was trusting this giant space barbarian to help him, but something about the absurdity of the situation made him go along with it.

Zorvok grabbed the stapler and began punching it down repeatedly. “This… device is magnificent!” he bellowed. “I can feel the power flowing through me!”

Bartley stared as Zorvok stamped the stapler with impressive fury, as though he were slaying an ancient dragon. But then, with a mighty roar, he tossed the stapler aside and stood triumphantly. “The task is complete!”

Bartley glanced at the report. To his surprise, Zorvok had indeed done something… spectacular. The pages were stacked perfectly, bound with a golden ribbon, and stamped with the words “Supreme Quality.”

“You’re… actually pretty good at this,” Bartley said slowly.

“I am Zorvok, the Best at Everything!” Zorvok declared. “Whether it’s flipping burgers or conquering paperwork, there is nothing I cannot do!”

Bartley could barely believe it. “Okay, but, uh… about that battle you were talking about?”

Zorvok’s eyes glazed over as he thought for a moment. “Ah yes, the battle… I have no time for it. The universe shall have to wait. There are more pressing matters here.”

Bartley looked at him, half-expecting him to announce his resignation from intergalactic conquest. “What kind of pressing matters?”

Zorvok was silent for a moment, then his face lit up. “I have a new goal! I shall conquer… your snack supply!”

Bartley raised an eyebrow. “That’s… um, less impressive than conquering galaxies, but okay. Help yourself to whatever.”

Suddenly, Zorvok’s face twisted in horror. He peered through the portal and, with a voice of pure terror, shouted, “NO! The time has come! They have arrived!”

Bartley turned to look through the portal. For a brief moment, he thought he saw something—something big and menacing. But it wasn’t an army. No. It was… a delivery truck.

“Wait a second,” Bartley said, his brain catching up with the bizarre situation. “Is that… pizza delivery?”

Zorvok froze, his eyes wide. “Oh no. My greatest enemy… the Pizza Delivery Man. He always arrives just when I’m most vulnerable!”

Bartley laughed. “Are you serious? You’re scared of pizza delivery?”

Zorvok nodded solemnly. “It’s a never-ending cycle. Every time I defeat one, another one appears. This time, I shall conquer it!”

With that, Zorvok flung himself toward the door, flinging it open with such force that it shattered. Bartley blinked, rubbing his eyes, unsure whether he should stop him or just let the madness continue.

Outside, a man in a uniform stood, holding a large pizza box. “Delivery for Bartley Winkles?” he asked, confused.

“YES!” Zorvok screamed. “I SHALL CONQUER YOUR PIZZA!”

Bartley rushed outside just in time to see Zorvok wrestle the pizza from the delivery man’s hands. Zorvok took one look at it, then promptly chomped down on the entire pizza in a single bite.

The delivery guy stood frozen, mouth agape. Bartley just shrugged. “Welcome to my life.”

And with that, the universe continued to spin, blissfully unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded in Bartley’s living room.