They need me in Space for 500 Days
You know what makes me sick? You know what makes me so mad I just wanna go to that Star Wars world… an’ beat the snot outta Yoda with a ball-bat?
For a second here… I got excited. The world space agency is looking for volunteers for a dangerous 500 day mission to Mars and back. Me – I always figured I had the right stuff. Or at least enough stuff to make a dang fine astronaut. An’ as long as Mars ain’t run by highly intelligent monkeys -I figured I could do the job.
Then you read a little bit more about what they’re looking for. They say you will be in a cramped space capsule the size of a RV – for a year and a half. I’m thinking, ‘hey – no yard work, right?’ You will eat dehydrated food for sixteen months. I always said I could live on beef jerky. An’ here’s the tough one… for 500 days – you will have to drink your own recycled, purified urine.
Yeah – all the TANG in the world ain’t gonna fix that. Here’s the deal NASA – I want to be an astronaut… not the dang Survivorman!!
But this is okay… on account of I read the rest of the story. They want two astronaut volunteers… a man and a woman. And I was thinking – that might be okay… with me and that Sigourney Weaver chick… or Princess Leah. Or, who am I kidding – 500 days in space with Judy Jetson would be fine with me. We’d probably end up having little space babies… that looked like Elroy.
Yeah – but then I read on – they are looking for a husband an’ wife team. Let me get this straight – you want me to be stuck in space… in a capsule the size of a tent-camper… eating beef jerky an’ drinking my own recycled urine for 500 days… with my old lady?!?!?!
I also wanted to be a fireman.
Wake up, America. That’s why they say in space… nobody can hear you scream. Because there would be plenty a’ that. Lord if that alien got on board… I’d drop my laser gun and dip my head in barbecue sauce… I’m Earl Pitts, American… Pitts Off.