What if someone named you the Protector of the Universe even though you'd never even left your own planet? Peter was an upfront sort of guy. So when this happened to him, he blinked at the galactic minister and said: “But I've never even been away from my own planet, surely there must be some mistake?”

The galactic minister smiled a big pasty smile at Peter and said: “No mistake Peter, we've done our homework. You have no personal enemies, your planet hasn't been involved in a war for decades and your political region doesn't have any sort of crisis that could lead to blackmail. You are the person we need for this job.”

“I understand you're concerned about doing things right but there's really nothing to worry about. The Protector of the Universe is more of a ceremonial title you see. Most of the time you'll be cutting ribbons to open new cultural buildings and such. Once people hear there's a new Protector the invitations will come streaming in. You'll have seen every quadrant in the universe before a galactic year has gone by.”

The minister made it sound very simple. But there was something in his face Peter didn't quite trust. Still, since they had dug up his past and actually looked into it before appointing him, he accepted the job.

It was true he got invited to attend all kinds of cultural activities. He cut a few ribbons here and there on his own planet until the intergalactic invitations started flooding in. He could never find words to describe his feelings on that very first trip to an unknown planet.

He sat in his chair with clenched cheeks and sweaty palms thinking he shouldn't sweat too hard or he would ruin the fresh look of his shirt. It was the firing of the engines that did it for him. A tingling in his stomach that disappeared as soon as the spaceship reached cruising altitude. Even after a hundred flights, that starting moment would always remain his favourite part of the journey.

However, the planet Vognag didn't do ribbons. Somehow, no one had thought it necessary to inform Peter beforehand. So when the planetary president presented him with a goat and a big knife, Peter stared at the woman and made a clumsy movement. “I'm sorry, but I've never been to Vognag before, I thought I was here to cut a ribbon and open this new building?”, he said apologetically.

The president smiled “I told them they should have warned you. The people of Vognag have no use for ribbons. We use goats. You must cut his throat and then the director of this establishment will come and build a fire to cook it. After the cutting of the meat, people can go inside and have a look if they want. But the barbeque will be outside and most people like meat better than architecture.”

Peter blinked but when he saw she was being serious he asked her to show him how to best kill the poor goat. The president was all smiles as she explained to the waiting crowd what was going on. Though he could not understand their communication, it seemed the crowd was making sympathetic noises.

Luckily there had been some assistants around with a bowl of water so the director had washed his hands. Well, sort of. Peter congratulated him and was rewarded with a heartfelt clap on the back. “Oh thank you very much. It is wonderful to have a new Protector here. One who killed his first goat today no less! This is an auspicious beginning for our new art institute.”, the director smiled.