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Ordeal of a Cosmonaut

September 22, 2015 Leave a comment Go to comments

Nick Del Rio Space2

By Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole

By Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole

A stupid ongoing saga by an insufferable space cock.

I find the Repelletron Skywalk in the pod, buried beneath a mound of empty packages of space ice cream. Night has fallen on the orange planet and the light is a bland greenish color. Curiously, there are no stars but far above I spot a whirling red planet unknown to me. The friction kicks off a series of distant sparks.

I set up the Repelletron Skywalk by the Satellite Econo-Beam. Immediately, two beams bolt outward, creating a walkway above the savannah, disappearing over the horizon. This walkway will lead me directly to the mysterious camp of my fallen robot. I thank him silently for his efforts.

The journey takes hours. Normally, the Repelletron Skywalk will shove the traveler along at speeds exceeding 30MPH, but tonight, it is weak and limpid. I conclude that it must have something to do with different air streams here or perhaps a surfeit of gravity. I notice that I am bloated.

The Skywalk begins to descend. The topography has changed now– the savannah has given way to a series of flat rocks, surrounded by swamps. The flora here is large and threatening and moves with an eerie cadence. I take a space pill designed for gas and bloating by the inimitable Dr. Phoebus-Grotts. Afflicted with permanent bloat while touring Jupiter, the good doctor sought to help others. He died shortly after its release to the space market; beheaded with an adz by persons unknown.

The pill instantly provides relief. And then, the skywalk ends. I have come upon a seemingly abandoned camp– a dilapidated temporary quonset hut, dim and unpainted in the distance.

I know instantly that Dr. Ernwhitts is inside.

Perhaps you’re asking yourself, how? How did I know? (editor’s note: we’re not, asshole).

Dr. Ernwhitts

Dr. Ernwhitts

I have to take you back to 1997. It was then that I was a fresh-faced young student at the prestigious Cust-Heaves Aeronautical Center, completing my doctoral thesis. Dr. Ernwhitts had come for just one semester; indeed, he was too great a man to be in the employ of one institution for long and it was my fortuitous fortune of mentoring under him.

I will never forget the first time I made my way to his office. It was on the fourth floor of the Danius Zubrus Building, located off a distant corridor beyond some abandoned classrooms. The office itself was spare– only a metal desk and file cabinet and folding chair. There was a pennant tacked to the wall by means of the only decoration and Dr. Ernwhitts’ wife’s picture had been printed directly onto the felt with her name– SLOBOTKA fanning out towards the tip in an attractive cursive font.

There being nowhere to stand, I leaned against the wall. Dr. Ernwhitts looked over the top of his eyeglasses at me for what seemed like twenty minutes. Indeed, the light outside his small window had changed.

“I just stared at you for twenty minutes without speaking. Do you realize that?” he finally said. His voice was soft and low but seemed concussively jarring after the interminable silence.

“Yes.”
“You will have such periods of silence in the outer limits. Do you realize that?”
“Yes.”
“Then, let’s begin. Sit down and I’ll show you some pamphlets of different models of quonset huts”.

A chair was produced from somewhere and that was how we spent the next two hours. And it was from that strange encounter that I took away the great man’s penchant for a particular type of quonset hut. And it was precisely that type (a rare type indeed) that I found in the clearing upon my orange planet.

I headed towards it.

  1. September 29, 2015 at 1:34 pm

    Fucking piece of shit asshole astronaut.

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