The Man Left on the Moon

The space race had reached its climax. The Russian embassy had been left for dust by the superior United States of America. Their Prime Minister had recently addressed the nation of Russia proclaiming that if the Americans were going to land on the moon, they were to colonise Mars. This was much to the entertainment of the Western media, who had since presented skits and sketches for several weeks about the Russians imagined failures in launching a man to Mars.

Earlier in the day two American astronauts had been launched into space. The world had sat watching with baited breath as the rocket made its landing on the surface of the moon.

It appeared that the men had some disagreement within the rockets cabin on who exactly was scheduled to take the first step on the moon, which had ended in some calamity as both men fell from the rocket simultaneously, it being their faces that first landed on the moon rather than their feet.

Thereafter they had wrestled one another, each preventing the other from standing, but eventually it had been Jerry Jones that was the first to his feet before relaying to the world the first words uttered by man on the face of the moon. Those words being “Suck these nuts, Nigel!”, which he yelled as he grabbed his testicles through his space suit and kicked moon dust at his partner.

The tough decision was taken to cut the feed early when Nigel Lumis, the second man to step foot on the moon, started with his famed ‘yo momma’ jokes.

What happened after the feed was cut from the worlds media remains a classified national secret, but whatever it was it had lead to one of the worlds most bizarre disasters.

The President of the United States therefore found himself in a position where he had to speak to the entire world and explain to them that, despite two astronauts safely landing on the moon, only one would be returning to Earth.

His advisors had pre-prepared a speech for him, which was a relief as he had never thought himself much good with words. Or numbers. Or much of anything, really. But he could read a script and by God he was going to read this one. And by the end of his sombre speech his researchers had suggested he might even find his confidence ratings were up by several points.

How he would stop himself smiling through the entire thing, he had no idea.

He had been practicing the speech privately in his bathroom for an entire hour, which had made his voice hoarse and cracked. But, he assured himself, this would only let the millions watching around the world know how truly broken up he was about the whole thing.

He pulled up his trousers, fastened his belt, and made his way to the Oval Office where a small crew awaited his arrival.

He sat in the seat behind his desk, had a sip of water, cleared his throat and waited for the red light to begin flashing on the camera.

Solemnly, the President of the United States of America addressed the world from the Oval Office. He wore a light grey suit with a bright red tie. On his lapel he wore a pewter badge adorned with the Stars and Stripes.

“Fate has ordained that one of the men who went to the moon to explore in peace will stay on the moon to rest in peace.” He opened, addressing not just the nation, but the world, “This brave man, Jerry Jones, knows that there is no hope for his recovery. But he also knows that there is hope for mankind in his sacrifice.”

Meanwhile, on the surface of the actual moon, a single man listened intently to the broadcast through an earpiece inside his helmet.

“Oh, bullshit.” He spat.

“This man,” the President continued, “is laying down his life in mankind’s most noble goal: the search for truth and understanding.”

“He will be mourned by his family and friends; he will be mourned by the nation; he will be mourned by the people of the world; he will be mourned by a Mother Earth that dared send one of her sons into the unknown.”

Jerry kicked the dirt as hard as he could, which was made difficult by the fact that he was living under zero gravity and was sewn into a pair of heavy moon boots.

“In his exploration, he stirred the people of the world to feel as one; in his sacrifice, he binds more tightly the brotherhood of man.”

“I’ll bind my hands around his bloody neck when I get hold of the pr—”

“In ancient days,” The President continued, his confidence rating, as his researchers had suggested, shooting through the roof, “men looked at the stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our hero is an epic man of flesh and blood.”

Jerry looked to Earth. Between him and his home planet one solitary metallic item shone under the reflection of the faraway Sun. He could almost see Nigel at the window waving his middle through the porthole of the ships cabin.

“Others will follow, and surely find their way home. Man’s search will not be denied. But this man was the first, and he will remain the foremost in our hearts. For every human being who looks up at the moon in the nights to come will know that there is some corner of another world that is forever mankind.”

The earpiece ceased its transmission, leaving Jerry alone on the moon to die.

But before he did, he had some time to himself.

Some say he spent that time quietly reflecting on the meaning of it life. Glancing down at the Earth, with its billions of people going about their normal daily routines and peacefully gazing it awe at its peaceful majesty.

Some thought that perhaps he might have thought of his young family back in Tennessee.

Or, and this is what he actually did, he may have spent the final two days of his life dragging his feet very deliberately through the dust of the moon so that now when we look up into the night sky, where we once may have thought of a lonely dead spaceman, we see instead his one final message to the world etched in to the very dust of the moon for all of eternity.

It’s subtle, and a little faint, but if you turn your head just right you can make out his final message to the world.

A massive, ejaculating cock.

As Jerry’s air supply thinned, and his eyeballs began to expand inside his helmet, it is said that his dying words were, “Now who’s the cock, Nigel? Now who’s the cock?”

Scott Davies