Like every other morning Tom checked the want ads for a job.
This morning the paper started trembling in his hands as he read……
Avian Astronaut Wanted, Start Today!!!
Tom washed his wattle and rushed to the interview.
Training started right away.
His clothing was removed in a process that Tom thought to be a
bit barbaric but was told it was necessary to fit in the capsule.
Packing bread up his ass, they told Tom it was provisions for his
mission but the celery hurt and he worried that the added spices
were a bit much.
Tom overheard that the ship was almost to temperature for liftoff.
His arms and legs were tied so he would not interfere with the
inflight controls. The butter they put on him made it slippery to
push buttons anyway, so he didn’t mind.
The people from mission control seemed to resemble each
other and argue a bit, but they all seemed very eager for him
to have a successful trip.
Before he could collect his thoughts, Tom was placed in a
bright silver alloy seat…
A painful monitor was stuck in his chest and Tom, for the
second time that Thursday morning, started trembling.
He was so excited.
Tom was sure he was the FIRST of the Gobblers to ever go to
space, he would get his pick of hens for sure when he got back!
With some debate among the older controllers as to who was
going to do the “interview” with Tom upon his return, he was
wisked into the capsule.
With a squeek and a BANG, the capsule door closed and Tom was
looking out the window at the busy people outside.
Tom was happy that they had removed his clothes as it
was quite warm in the ship.
Actually, it was fucking HOT in the ship.
Toms mind raced.
Could this be a malfunction, another NASA mistake?!!?
Tom started to panic.
“TOM TO GROUND CONTROL”, he screeched, but no answer.
If this was the end, he thought, Tom Gobbler was going to
take it with dignity and grace.
Over the baking heat and crackling in the capsule Tom could
overhear bits and pieces from outside the ship.
….another Cowboy first down…………40% off sale starts
tomorrow……….this is the second year this float has been
in the parade………..
What the hell, Tom thought, if he was going to die he
didn’t mind the hallucinations.
Although brief, Tom realized he had never before been given so
much attention, respect and adoration.
Interesting how we sound!
Here’s a little whimsical temper tantrum to get you through to friday…
Caturday again!
If voting made a difference, I would most assuredly vote for this cat!
SKAM The BLOG 