I didn’t know what I expected to do once I’m up here. I guess I’ll enjoy the view?
Look outside and see the great expanse of the universe?
Good stuff. This trip has gone exactly as planned so far, and I always worry when a trip goes EXACTLY as planned… you don’t remember it.
There is a beauty when things go wrong because then there is a “crisis.”
We, people, recollect crisis better than moments of tranquility. Think about it, last time you spent the whole weekend chilling at home, and someone from the office, probably Frank, asks you what you were up to and all you said was, “Nothing…” Nothing. You were doing something… and it was awesome — and nothing went wrong.
You aim low and you achieve your goal and then there is nothing interesting to talk about.
See that’s the thing about stories, a good story needs to have a conflict. Man against man. Nature against man. Or my favourite, man against his inner self, like in that Woody Allen movie, you know, the one with the nervous guy. There needs to be a conflict in this trip, otherwise, I’m not going to remember it once I return to Earth.
Oh? I guess you’re right. I’m totally having a man vs self-conflict right now, aren’t I?
It’s not the celestial expanse that is against me nor my spaceship-mate, Astro. Yes, my partner on this trip is named Astro. Funny, huh?
Me? What’s my name? Oh equally or if not more space-related, my name is Flying Saucer. First name Flying, last name Saucer. It’s French, it’s pronounced Saucey-ée. Flying Saucer and my partner Astro. Anyways, back on topic, I’m most certainly having a conflict.
I’m unable to enjoy this trip because once I get back I’m not going to have anything to talk about. When my wife asks me how was it, I’ll say, “Oh it was wonderful, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about coming home and having nothing to talk about, so I stressed about it the whole time.”
Yeah, she’ll love that story, at least she’ll pretend to. I mean, our whole love is a sham anyway. She’s not fooling anyone. She’s a trooper though. She doesn’t complain or demand a divorce like some women. She hates me, but you know what she hates more? The mysterious abyss that is the dating scene. Ha! I’m so much more courageous than her. Here I am in space, and there she is living in my home, resenting me for my bravery. Either way, she couldn’t do this, the same way she couldn’t divorce me. To divorce me is like going into space, you just simply can’t be certain that you’ll get back — get me back. The dating scene is merciless. She never online dated a day in her life, she is not ready for this new world. This brave new world.
What was it like to be in space?
Oh, it’s cool, I spent a lot of time up there thinking about how my wife won’t divorce me, it was pretty awesome!
Yeah. That’s what I’ll tell the guys. They’ll love that nugget. Except for Johnson, who is still jealous that I’m more successful than him. He’ll never openly say it. Nobody ever admits they are jealous, you simply have to read it in their face. I can read it on Johnson’s face all right. I can read it all day. Flipping the pages back and forth. Highlighting the best passage, his dumb lips. Circling a good quote, his furrowed eyebrow. I will scribble little notes in the margin, his left dimple. Fuck him! Jealousy…. know what it is? Jealousy is like taking poison and hoping someone else will die. Yes. I like that. It’s so true about Johnson. He’s killing himself. I don’t need to worry about him at all. I can continue being me. Loveable ol’ me.
Who knows when I’ll get to hang out with those guys any more. Everybody is so busy these days. Even Johnson, to be honest. Me and Johnson used to be tight. I would wake up around noon, give him a shout, and we would meet up for coffee and then hang out in his parent’s basement. Can’t believe that used to be what I did. Chilling. Now look at me, I’m an astronaut in space. I’m literally in space. Still chilling, though. Different setting same shit.
All that hard work and I simply found a cooler place to chill. Not that much cooler, Johnson’s parent’s basement did have an infinite amount of snacks. Mrs. Johnson is unreal. I don’t get that woman, she was pretty much that wicked witch from Hansel and Gretel. I mean, she herself was not wicked. I mean, she was wicked cool, but not wicked as in wanting to fatten me up and eat me. Maybe she did want to eat me and I didn’t get fat enough, fast enough… My crazy metabolism. That is something to ponder about later. Not now.
I mean, I was pretty polite, I didn’t go over there and eat the snacks. I hung out with her son as well. Johnson. Good guy that Johnson. It’s just that we had a falling out. He became an accountant or something, and I became a man of space and wonder and imagination and hope for the future. He makes sure that the government of one of those little countries on that little planet gets 30% of some hard working freelancer’s money. I get it. I get it. No, you’re right, I shouldn’t diss accountants. Taxes are unavoidable. I’m not angry at accountants. I’m cool with them. They’re an awesome occupation, and totally a job I couldn’t do.
See, I’m good with numbers, of course, I’m an astronaut. You think I used the calculator app on my iPhone to get me up here? Ha! Good one. No. I did some math and calculated the exact fuel and trajectory to get me into this orbit without blowing Astro and myself up. Blowing Astro (say that out loud, if you are reading in your head). Ha! Didn’t mean for those two words to come so close together. That can be dangerous if you know what I mean.
Anyways, I’m technically skilled enough to be an accountant, I just can’t stand the business culture. Wearing a suit and having small talk with your colleagues. Oh, small talk is a nightmare. I hate having small talk, I never have anything to say. “What did you get up to last weekend?”
“Oh, I was in space?”
“Really? How was that?”
“Oh you know, just spent a lot of time up there thinking about how my wife won’t divorce me, it was pretty awesome!”
What you’ve just read is the seventh post in a series entitled “A Fan Fiction of My Life by My Number One Fan, Me.” Please check out the first six posts from the series:
Me, A Doctor
I Am A Controversial Artist, AMA
A Well-Respected Elderly Man, It’s Me
Bringer of Bad News, I’m the One
Yes, I Am Blind with a Broken Heart
I Drive a $160 Million Ride