Home > 2012-13 Season, Ordeal of a Cosmonaut > The Ordeal of a Cosmonaut by “Nick”

The Ordeal of a Cosmonaut by “Nick”

The Lankville Small Messenger of Selected News Items is depressed to present a new series of dispatches from Pumpkin Tits GM and maligned “astronaut” “Nick”. The Messenger would like to note that we have been throwing these dispatches in the garbage for several weeks but are now bound legally to publish them. We hate them.

The last four months have been a cosmic ordeal. Many a night, as I have huddled in some lonely, mysterious culvert on the dark side of the orange planet, I have wondered why I ever became interested in space travel. I have thought back to my days as an exuberant youth at the Lankville Famous Astronaut House, under the tutelage of the great Dr. Ernwhitts, now my tormentor. Who would have thought that this firm but generous man would succumb to such evil?

Karl Saffran is dead. At least, I believe him to be dead. Our attack on Dr. Ernwhitts and the Being failed miserably and Karl was, at last sight, being whisked away in a space balloon. I have not seen him since nor have I ventured to the camp of Ernwhitts but instead, have made my way far to the other side of the orange planet– I believe myself to me hundreds of miles from my original landing spot but I cannot be sure.

Three months ago, a spacecraft began orbiting our planet. I kept watch on it by night using one of the few surviving tools from my original mission– an excellent pair of Peeper binoculars with extraordinary magnification powers. Finally, for reasons unknown, the spacecraft fell out of orbit and crashed into an orange hill several miles from my temporary camp. I hustled towards it, found it to be in relatively decent condition (though tiny and poorly-equipped) and began the long process of repairs. I hid the craft at night behind a perplexing copse of orange berry trees whose fruit hung low in the summer and bounced lewdly on their limbs despite a total lack of wind. The fruit proved to be edible and it sustained me through the long, lonely months.

Though I expected an ambush from Ernwhitts and the Being, I saw no one.

In September (or what I believe to be September– it is now hard to tell), I deemed the spacecraft ready. I slid into the control seat– it was like lying in a tight coffin– and started the space engines. They purred softly and for this I was grateful. I knew that any takeoff would be noted by Dr. Ernwhitts and the Being and that I would likely be killed before long. The mad Doctor wanted no part of anyone sharing his discovery and it was only his misnomer that I had been previously killed that had kept me alive. I kept the craft low for several hundred feet to test its efficacy. It appeared spaceworthy.

Then, I prepared for takeoff.

The lies will continue in further editions.

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