1 Et tu, Brute?

I closed my eyes, the light that briefly appeared when I opened them blinding in intensity, like spears of light stabbing into my eyes. Groggily I tried to find the alarm clock with my hand waving about in the air.

With a click I managed to turn it off. Letting out a sight I sat up in bed and opened my eyes.

"Fuck" cursing I immediately closed them again, baffled that the light was still there. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I squinted them open.

There ahead of me seemingly floating in air - stood a blue box with text inside.

At the top of the box I managed to barely make out "His Imperial Highness, Emperor of Everything, Presents the August Technology System".

"What?" Eloquent I know, sue me. It is not every day you wake up to a blue box in your bedroom.

I knew then of course - what had happened.

I had gone bloody wonkers. I am crazy. I went to bed sane and woke up insane. Logically then all I had to do was go back to sleep and I'd wake up sane.

Right. Right. Lets go with that. After all the first thing to try is to turn it off and on again. Lets do that, it's all going to be peachy. Not crazy. Nope. Not at all and with that ladies and gentlemen I went back to bed, plopping my glorious head on a pillow - falling into the land of dreams, a land yet to be conquered in my name.

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A moan escaped my lips as I stretched up after a nice nap, a quick glance at my clock showed that I had slept in - 13.05 PM.

Well whatever, it's the weekend and I am a teenager. It's only natural.

Pushing the bed-covers away from me I swung my legs to the bedside and stood up, half sleep walking to the kitchen, managing to navigate through my eternal enemies territory - the stairs of slippage. Down their treacherous steps I went in my dazed state not even slipping once, truly a sign of my immense prowess.

I barged into the kitchen like a boss. No, like a KING.

I stopped. A king would not fetch himself a glass of milk, that is what servants are for. Ah, well I guess in my magnanimosity I gave them all holidays, ah the woes of a kind king. First world problems indeed.

Scratching my chin, in thought, I dimly noticed that I needed to shave, a king needs to be presentable after all.

Meh, shrugging my shoulders I greeted my mom with a nonchalant wave. A king can not be shown to care for people - less they be used against them, I mused.

Taking in the appearance of my mother I saw that she was tilting her head, mouth slightly open, seemingly mumbling to herself. No doubt in awe of my stately self.

Nodding to myself, I signaled for the imaginary guards, to not execute her for her arrogance at daring to stare at my august self. Ones mother is allowed greater liberty than the peasants after all.

Astounded by my wisdom, I completely and totally missed my mothers words.

"Why is my son retarded?"

Truly in my extreme focus in creating the wisdom of legends I got so occupied that her words fell on deaf ears. Truly a blessing in her case - no one should have the kings ears, that would be dangerously treacherous.

Proceeding with the courtly affairs I moved towards the fridge, opening it I once again winced at the light that flooded out desperate as the light was to lay their illuminating rays on my perfect self. Perfection should after all be admired.

With an approving nod, I went to reach the milk.

"What the fuck is that" I yelled into the fridge, my mother startled in the back. Turning around, I saw her slam the cup in her hands down on the table with more force than is appropriate. I can forgive her. I am a wealthy man, but I might have to look into therapy for her. Anger issues are a potential source of danger.

Shaking away my thoughts I saw my mother, bless her, rush to my side. Her hand hoisted in the air readyp to engage any would be assassins hiding in the fridge.

Nodding approvingly I thought that her mother instincts must be great indeed, such ferocity triggered instantly when her son and more importantly king was in danger.

Therefore it came to my surprise when with a SMACK, her palm hit me across my face. Falling onto the ground I held my face tenderly with my arms, an expression of extreme distress and disbelief etched into my face as if Michelangelo himself carved them into my marble perfect skin.

"Guards! Seize my mother, SHE IS MAD!" I yelled in shock.

I saw my fathers head pop into the kitchen, eyes darting around - analyzing the situation, no doubt in how to best neutralize the my crazy mother.

"Adopted" I hear him say while shaking his head, "He has to be adopted or maybe we got the wrong baby, I should ask for a DNA test."

"Et tu, Brute?" I said, with a sorrow only Caesar himself can understand, at the betrayal of my father.