I'm on a spaceship. Not one that I would have expected. I look down, and I'm wearing NASA patches, one of which says Apollo 23. Obama must have sent us back to the Moon instead of Mars. I look at my crew mates. Random guy I've never seen before, and... George W. Bush? Oh fuck, he's the mission commander.
The random guy stays in the lunar orbiter while Commander Bush and I take the module down to the moon. We stay there for awhile going over the mission. Take some photos, collect some samples, continue erecting structures for the lunar science station, rescue the survivors of Apollo 22.
We suit up and start exploring. I keep telling myself not to jump because I'll go very high and have to piss in my spacesuit. We take our photos, and start putting up some of the automated stuff that can be controlled from earth, helping make observations about space before the moon lab is complete, as well as continue unmanned construction. A second lunar module is going to be permanently left here for the purpose of building the base around.
W isn't looking so well when we return to the module. He starts telling me about this old injury he got back in his Yale days. He's drinking whiskey. A lot of whiskey. The former president is the first drunk on the moon. I start thinking about his qualifications about this. Well, he did pilot that fighter jet onto the USS Mission Accomplished. The other guy is a pilot I guess. And I... know nothing about how to fly. Matter of fact I am entirely un-qualified for this mission. What the fuck am I doing here? Bush continues to drink, and his face begins to swell on one side. "I can't complete the mission right now, you'll have to go out there on your own."
Fuck. I'm outside the module again. Doing various tasks. Then I hear gunfire. There are Chinese soldiers on the moon, and they're pissed off and I don't have any weapons. I guess I know what happened to Apollo 22.
Wait, fuckin' frat boy brought some sais with him. Damned if I know why, but they'll come in handy right about now.
I sneak back to the module, and W is still drinking and getting face bloat. I grab his sais, return outside and throw them at the Chinese soldiers, smashing their face visors and causing them to asphyxiate.
I see the survivors now, they're lying down on the ground. I crawl on over to them, in case there are more Chinese soldiers. I'm using 10 lb dumbbells to keep myself weighted down, even though I'm still heavy enough not to accidentally push myself into orbit.
I grab the two survivors, put the dumbbells into my backpack, as well as the sais and a pair of earrings, and head back to the module. THe survivors are grateful for the food and a place to stay indoors, and a chance to go home. The mission isn't done yet though. Still have to get some samples.
I go back outside, grab a couple of samples, keep an extra one for a keepsake, and pull a bottle of wine out of my back pack. I make some invocations and pour the wine onto the ground.
Returning to the module it's time to get back to the orbiter and head home. Arriving back on Earth, I think, man people aren't going to believe this! I'm going to have to tell everyone I just got back from the Moon and shit. Update my facebook status, start a new thread on PD, go to the bar and get free drinks... I'm a fucking hero dammit, pulling off the first lunar rescue mission. I'm going to get the Congressional Medal of Honor and shit. But do people know about it? Wasn't I only gone for a day? It takes like, 3 days or something to get to the Moon. It's July 2011. I don't even know when I left, but I think I was gone for a week and a half. I try googling Apollo 23, and nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing about Apollo 22... or 21.... or 20....
Obama's been secretly sending people to the Moon. Considering there were Chinese soldiers and the Mission Commander was one of the worst presidents in history (even though he and I became friends during the course of the mission, drunken face bloating aside), I can only assume that Obama was sending expendibles on clandestine missions to the moon for the purpose of removing the Chinese presence.
That bastard.
I open my eyes. I'm on the couch again. It's a good couch, by the way.
I must have been asleep. That noted, for a brief minute, I still believed that I had just returned from the moon.
