I’m on a big ball of rock, water, dirt, and metal whizzing through space at thousands of miles per hour.
The weather is sometimes deadly and is highly unpredictable—though many try, anyway.
So far, no one has ever survived this trip.
I have no idea where, if anywhere, we’re headed in such a hurry. We seem to just go in great, wide circles.
“Text me when you get there!!!”
Major Tom to Ground Control: Could you connect me with someone sane?
“Ain’t this a hoot? Enjoy the ride, pardner. See you on the flipside.”
That’s more like it.
“Hey, ask, and it shall be given. Consider the lilies, amigo.”
I’ll give ‘em a whiff.
“And be nice to your fellow travelers, okay?”
Copy that. You’ll have to walk me through it.
“Not a problem.”