"Fly Me to the Moon Maybe"

“T minus twelve seconds and counting . . . eleven, ten, . . .”

“Did you ever wonder why they count all those numbers before a launch?”

“Actually no, I’ve never wondered that. But feel free to tell us all . . .”

“Three, two, one, ignition lift-off . . .”

“Whoa . . . fuuuuck meeeeee! That absolutely blows my friggin' mind every time it happens.”

“Don’t you feel like you are just going to be pushed right through the seat you’re sitting in when we take off?”

“Amazing! It does feel like that.”

“So, now that we are really up here, what should we talk about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should play I Spy or something.”

“O.K. Captain, you almost outrank the rest of us. Why don’t you go first?”

“Alright, I’ll go. I spy with my little eye, something that is red and flashing and making a siren-type noise and has smoke coming out of it.”

“I know. I know. I know.”

“Is it the mini-bar fridge on the port side of the cabin?”

“I know. I know. I know.”

“Is it the elimination release valve?”

“I know – is it the oxygen control switch that governs the release of breathable air for everyone inside the cabin?”

“Yep! You got it. Somebody else’s turn now. I have to try and fix this thing before it explodes. Hey, my seatbelt won’t release. Colonel, float me that Phillips head screw driver over there will you.”

“Red one?”

“Yeh, the red one.”

“Let’s not play I Spy anymore. It’s such a lame game. How about Truth or Dare?”

“I love Truth or Dare. I’ll go first. I pick Dare.”

“O.K. I dare you to flick the switch to roll down the captain-side window for one second.”

“Good one – here it goes . . . Whoa!!! Was that the red Phillips-head screw driver that just got sucked out past my cornea at the speed of light?”

“Close the damn window man. What are you trying to do, get us all killed before we even get out of the earth’s atmosphere? Jeez! We’ve got a really important, top-secret mission to complete while we’re up here. We can’t go jeopardizing things before we even hear what it is.”

“My turn – I pick Truth.”

“Alright so tell the truth – did you just fart?”

“Oooohh!”

“God, that is so rotten!”

“Man, what did you eat for lunch?”

“Pickled Eggs – but I only had three of them. What’s the problem?”

“Hey, somebody put on some music eh.”

“What do you want – Country or Western?”

“Please, do not play that corny, twangy, broken heart, flat tire, busted pick-up excuse for music. I swear – I will puke and you all know what happens when someone pukes up here.”

“Perhaps some rock ‘n’ roll then?”

“I packed my bags last night, pre-flight. Zero hour, nine a.m. Gonna be hi – igh as a kite by then . . . “

“Good one sir. I was totally expecting ‘Space Odyssey’ – Ground Control to Major Tom . . .”

“By the way sir, what is our mission up here in the final frontier?”

“I’m not sure of that yet boys. Houston is supposed to fill us in on the details once we get beyond the stratosphere. They should be letting us know shortly. Can I trust you fellows to look after things for a minute while I slip back to the head for the elimination of some hazardous waste?”

“Sure boss, no troubles. Nyuk nyuk nyuk. We are a well-trained group of individuals. We will not let you down.”

“Houston to Command Module. Houston to Command Module. Come in please.”

“Whoa, tell ‘em I’m not here!”

“Don’t answer that. We’ll have to work or do some math or something. Make ‘em think we’re outside being busy with the payload bay equipment.”

“Houston to Command Module. Do you read me? Come in please. Over.”

“Oh shit, we’re on the monitors on a zoom call. Answer it. Pretend we didn’t hear it the first time.”

“Yes, Houston, is that you?”

“What are you guys doing up there? Do you all realize how much you get paid to fly up into space for a couple of days so you can fool around and play stupid space-craft games?”

“Well Houston, If I had to venture a guess, I would say on the north side of two million a trip. Anyway, it’s not enough. The boys and I just took a vote and we’re going on strike if all of our labor demands are not met immediately.”

“Who am I talking to up there?”

"Say it's the maid."

"Tell 'em, Dave's not here man."

“This is your captain speaking. I am tired of working with the riff-raff that gets hired by you guys on the ground. You think you can just throw any bunch of idiots into a space ship and have it fly itself? Well, think again.”

“Seriously, who am I talking to up there? Let me speak to the Colonel.”

“The Colonel’s not here man. Whoa, this shit’s not bad man!!”

“What? What shit . . .? What are you guys doing up there? We’ve got a serious mission to complete and we only have a window of two days in which to get it done.”

“Whoa! Two days man . . . far out. That’s like an eternity up here in space.”

"It's like an hour in dog years man!"

“Uh-oh, the Colonel’s back. Act straight you guys. It’s a call for you sir, Colonel, sir . . .”

“This is the Colonel speaking . . . who am I talking to?”

“Houston control.”

“Go ahead Houston. What’s the scoop on the mission? Yes . . . uh huh . . . OK . . . right. Roger that. Over and out.”

“What did they want sir?”

“They wanted us to get some rest. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. We all have to go outside and do some work on that new space telescope. Apparently, it’s broken and pointing directly at a nude beach in a college vacation spot in the Mediterranean.”

“Uh-oh, that’s a biggy.”

“How long do we have to get it pointed back into space?”

“Get it pointed back into space? No, no, no, you have it all wrong. All they want us to do is to get it back into FOCUS!!”