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The Ordeal of a Cosmonaut by “Nick”

January 8, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

A runny sack of bullshit from the very end of a donkey’s ass.

The implosion has left the small craft reeling through a field of debris. I am hit several times in the tail but somehow continue on. Finally, an enormous chunk of matter, encircled by a giant flame of fire, strikes the cockpit directly. I am knocked out and remember nothing after that.

The next thing I can recall is being shoved repeatedly in the shoulder, then having a bucket of water tossed into my face. I can hear something but cannot yet make it out. Another bucket of water stings my face and I realize suddenly that my helmet is gone. I panic briefly and open my eyes.

There is a round, red face staring back at me. He is an older man, perhaps 50 or so and he wears unfashionable aviator spectacles and a fishing hat. He says something but nothing registers. I have a tremendous headache.

I am placed in a wagon and the man begins hauling me across what appears to be an arid, desert-like landscape. The sky above is of a yellow tinge and it is terribly hot and humid.

After several hours, we seem to suddenly come upon a mean tin hut of diminutive size. There are a couple of lawnchairs on a small concrete patio and a clothesline off in the distance.

The old man sits down in a chair and begins panting. He has grown shockingly red and he suddenly removes his shirt revealing a round hairless belly and a strange green object over his breast. He removes the object and casts it aside. I become aware then that I too am wearing a similar object but I make no move to discard it.

Minutes pass until the man finally resumes normal respiration. “I’ve been traveling for weeks, trying to find you,” he says. There is a pause. “You can remove the Tibbs Device now if you like. We are within the protective inhalation sphere. The Tibbs Device can cause massive skin irritation to the nipples, the only reason I mention it.”

The man disappears momentarily inside the hut and I remove the device, looking it over carefully. There are a couple of small meters, a digital clock and a small slot for business cards on its surface. The man returns then with some waters in silver canisters and begs me to drink.

“You can probably get out of the wagon now if you like,” he suggests.

We sit in the chairs and look out at the sterile landscape.

“Is this another planet?” I finally get around to asking.

“Yes, this is Freebis. Third planet from Volks, in the South Hoisted Galaxy.”

I stare dumbly. “I’ve not heard of any of this.”

“I’ve been here for 18 years,” he says. “I am the only inhabitant of Freebis. It would take me all afternoon to explain the circumstances…”

I interrupt to outline the events of my past six months. The man listens quietly. It is not until I am finished that he offers a comment.

“It sounds to me like you were in the North Hoisted Galaxy, which is, of course, uncharted territory. But even here, in the south, I am afraid to tell you that you are absolutely stranded. Fortunately, there is a lot of candy. They left a lot of candy here. There is an unlimited supply of candy.”

I have no idea what to say.

“I’ll get you some candy, if you’re hungry,” he offers after some time. “I’ve tried to figure out ingenious ways to prepare candy but there really aren’t any. You just eat the candy for sustenance at this point.”

I nod stupidly.

The light begins to dim.

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