The moon was judging me. There was no doubt about it. It was staring me in the eye like a big pizza pie. Judging.
Okay, fine. Maybe I shouldn't have spread all those rumors about you, moon! No, I don't believe you're actually made of the blood and sweat of innocent cheeses. No, I don't believe you're the one who secretly caused the Great Chicago Fire, or that you tap our phone lines and replay particularly embarrassing conversations with ex-girlfriends back for the constellations. I just say these things because you frighten me, quite frankly.
I'm only human, though. What's your excuse? You're a humongous rock in the sky that only comes out at night. What's that about, anyway? You a vampire up there, moon?
Okay, fine, I'll stop being so paranoid. And I'll stop with the rumors, if you really can't handle a little bad publicity.
Just stop looking at me like that!
markthehansen
(joined
about 14 years
ago)
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A writer, reader, swashbuckler, former counter-spy, soda jerk, space cowboy, and honorary Professor of Not-Quite-Mad-But-Pretty-Unusual Sciences at the University of Genial Monsters (Go Smilin' Sasquatch!), Mark J. Hansen has secretly saved the universe numerous times, with more close calls than he cares to admit. He enjoys fast trips through time and space, arm-wrestling rainbows, eccentric headwear and kittens with British accents. When he is not sharing his Stories of the Amazing and the Amazingly Well-Written, he mostly hangs out in his hot-air balloon overlooking Skull Island with a root beer float and a parrot on each shoulder, practicing hypnotism and innovative shoe-tying techniques.
