Sunday, March 3, 2013

I've Been to Mars!

Bumpkin got us to Mars in 35 seconds flat.
"Who wants to go to Mars?" is how it started.  Who asked that bold question?  Bumpkin.  Sloopy and Lucinda cheered: I did not.
"You're going too buster," Bumpkin informed me.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied.  I don't want to give her any more reasons to launch any more fireballs at my backside.  She has toasted my buns.
"You know what to do," Bumpkin said to me.
"Put on an adult diaper."
"Exactly."
"Will do, Mistress Bumpkin."
"Although, this time, we'll be travelling in your car.  My hope is that you won't want to soil the seat of your own car, so maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to hold it in and not poop your pants, for a change, during space travel."
"We shall see my princess."
"And pack some food, Jackamoe."
"Yes ma'am."
When we were all ready, we went downstairs and got into my car.  I've driven Bumpkin around quite a bit, but I think that's the first time I ever had all 3 of the sisters in my car at once.  It might be the first time I ever had Sloopy and Lucinda in my car.  Holy crap!  I better bring some sort of a litter box: even if it's just a temporary one.  I don't know how long it will take us to get to Mars, but knowing Bumpkin, and how her superpowers just keep getting stronger and stronger, it probably won''t take us long.  She pretty much has the power of teleportation, so I estimate my car will be landing in Mars about 42 seconds after the Ford Escort is launched: perhaps sooner, but certainly not later that that.
Yes, I checked my watch, and it took us 35 seconds.   Bumpkin has, as usual, manufactured an environment for us within an invisible bubble that allows us to breath and function as we normally do.  They're right; it is red.  It's definitely red.  It's also dusty and rocky balboa. 
"I want a freaking sandwich," Bumpkin declared.
Why the heck not?  Right now, Lebron James is the toast of the town.  First of all, he's no Michael Jordan, he may be one day, but he certainly isn't yet.  The point is, let's see Lebron safely transport a Ford Escort to Mars from the Earth (obviously) in 35 seconds.
By the way, I didn't poop my pants this time!

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