So today was orientation at the astronaut training center.

The building itself i

s on the small side, like a three story house, with a five story silo around bac
k. The grounds are modest, but well-maintained.
I arrived early, and since there appeared to be no one else around, I decided to
give myself a tour. The parking lot seems to be a scale model of the surface of
the moon, complete with miniature craters and peaks. There is a small courtyard
just beyond the silo, filled with various expensive looking scientific devices,
including a huge balance scale, loaded on the one side with bricks, the other w
ith feathers.
While looking at what appeared to me to be a large satellite dish with a curious
dial marked from One to Certain Death, I heard the unmistakable screams of someone
removing their hair with hot wax, coming from the vicinity of the parking lot. I
turned to investigate when I heard a small voice.
Do not trust them.

it said.

Do not trust her.

I looked around, but saw no one.

Excuse me?

I asked.

Crackers in a tube, crackers on the bed, cheese is on the moon, The moon may hous
e the dead. said the sing-song voice. Also, you should buy used textbooks online,
because the bookstore is a total effing rip-off.
Who are you? I said louder, looking under a replica moon lander. Just then I was d
istracted by more yelling from the parking lot, which this time I recognized as
the voice of Lar. Turning back, I thought I saw a white flash in the corner of m
y eye, and heard a gentle flutter, but there was no other sign of the voice s sour
ce. I looked and called for another minute or so, but finally gave up and headed
back to the entrance.
Quite a group had assembled by this point, and the doors having just been unlock
ed, everyone was heading inside to the lobby, a large-ish room with tile floors
and except for a reception desk, furnished only with bean bags and inspirational
posters.

Lar was greeting everyone and assisting Jer with the head count, mostly by providi
ng a little riff on each new cadet s name after they introduced themselves. There
was Margaret Roof ( Margie singin from the rooftops ), Mohammed Von Braun ( Big Mo! ), Te
rrence Jakobsen ( T. J. ), Tom and Jerry Ringling ( The Ring-a-ding-dings ), Melissa Sis
sabobissa ( Melanie ), Banana Henry ( Banana-nana-fo-fana ), and Tiny George ( Lil Sissy )
hen there was me, and three others who had apparently not yet arrived. Besides L
ar and Jer, there appeared to be two other teachers present, the tall and bearde
d dean of the school, Charles Manson, and a familiar looking and remarkably smoo
th faced blonde woman, Liberty Pie. Liberty, I was told, was the English teacher
.
We appeared to have some time before the scheduled start, so I milled about and
talked to some of my fellow students. The Ringling brothers were pleasant if som
ewhat shy, Ms. Sissabobissa was showing off a handgun which she apparently took
everywhere with her and had nick-named Shirley , while Big Mo shared his impressive
soprano by leading everyone in a chorus of Spirit in the Sky.
We had just sung that we d never been a sinner, I never sinned, I got a friend in J
esus when the first of what were to be two major shocks walked through the door.
It was none other than that notorious sinner, Mr Chris Mendeleev. (Accompanying
him was his dim-witted henchman Clyde, which was not especially shocking, as Cly
de has a Ph.D. in rocket science; not to mention he follows Chris everywhere lik
e a particularly distorted and horrifying shadow.) Imagine my surprise when Lar
and Jer approached them, and rather than knocking them unconscious and/or ejecti

ng them from the premises as they might naturally be expected to do, they actual
ly signed them in as students!
At last, Mendeleev s true motives in resigning from the NETBL became clear. The ma
n would stop at nothing to pursue his vendetta against me, even into the depths
of space. I, however, determined to make the best of the situation, and would no
t allow these vermin to drive me from my new career/hobby. They spotted me right
off.
Hello, Jonathan. the detestable little vole sneered. I didn t expect to see the likes
of you here. I guess they ll let in just about anyone these days.
Standards have lowered, especially in recent months, Clyde managed to concur, prac
tically drooling on himself. I myself was astonished to find my score of 93 was c
onsidered acceptable.
The true test comes later,
kes the cut.

I ventured.

I guess we ll just have to wait and see who ma

The final teacher, a Mrs Vera Cancer arrived shortly thereafter, and papers were
handed out, social security numbers were written down, and more introductions w
ere made. At last Mr Manson rose to address those gathered.
I will keep this brief, he began, leading to the distressing thought that he proba
bly would not. You have all gathered here for a common purpose, to become astrona
uts, to explore that great new frontier of space. I will not lie to you. It is r
idiculously easy, and wholly unrewarding. All of you will undoubtedly be sick to
death of outer space within a month. Indeed, there s not much more to it than a l
ittle addition and subtraction, learning to float, and staving off boredom in th
e great void. Nonetheless, you are here now, we already have your money, so I gu
ess you might as well make the best of it. Ah, our last recruit has arrived. Lad
ies and gentlemen, may I introduce our cosmonaut exchange student, Miss Katya Sm
irnoff?
We turned to look at her, and seeing the most beautiful woman in the history of
this world or the moon, I discovered I could not breathe.
Till next time.