Whose wine is it, anyway?

Dear Earthling,  By the time you receive this, it might be too late. Late for me, not you. I’ve been incriminated for negligence and have been sentenced to the rest of my light years at Triangulum. In Galactic terms, the Australia of the outer space.  Nevertheless, as Earth’s caretaker for the last 2.5 billion Earth years, I think I owe you an explanation.  For starters, I won’t call it Earth because that’s just informal and we’ve known each other way too long. Well I’ve known you anyway. Locally we call it the Blue Bobble and that’s what I’ll call it. I mean no disrespect, mind you. Only a sense of comradeship. My name is Universe, by the way. In case I haven’t mentioned that already. It’s just my name. Not my description. Universe is a pretty common name here in Andromeda. Anyway, I’m running out of time, so I better dive right into it.  On Andromeda, if you’re prodigy level genius, or if you’re related to someone in the System, you can get yourself a job as caretaker. I wasn’t a