In the interest of intergalactic conquest, I took a little trip this past weekend. See,... I'd been building this rocket out in my backyard for some time now. But, being that I'm on a pretty tight budget, and had no formal knowledge of how to actually construct a rocket, it was a bit rickety. Still, my rocket made of chicken wire and burlap sacks was due to launch TODAY.
As I donned my spacesuit (hand-painted track suit), I thought of all the possibilities that could be achieved through my brave and ambitious mission. Scenarios raced through my mind as I placed the flower pot helmet onto my head.
The time had came. I mounted my rocket saddle, wrapped the bungee cord around my waist, and started the detonation process. People came from blocks around to watch me as I prepared my amazing adventure.
I'd concluded just prior to lift-off that my first course of action would be to conquer and imprison the dreaded "Moon-Men". It seemed like the logical thing to do, being that they're most likely evil and all... This would assuredly lead to much celebration among my fellow Earthlings. In fact, it was proclaimed by the guy who eats out of my garbage can that I'd most likely be immortalized on Mt. Rushmore. It made sense...
With mere seconds left till launch I began to notice the oddest odor. As I glanced around I wondered if it was something important, I resolved in short order that it must not be. However, I was mistaken...
It turns out that the fuse to the propulsion device (bleach bomb), had actually started a fire on the burlap sacks which made-up the outer shell of my craft. The fire spread quickly... It was just as I'd began to second-guess my decision that the propulsion device ignited and promptly exploded. It seemed that I'd made a minor calculation in the construction of my rocket, as rather than propelling my ship upward, the explosion actually sent me several hundred feet away from the rocket, catching the crotch of my snazzy spacesuit on fire in the process. Now, in a typical flaming crotch situation I wouldn't really panic. Instead, I'd just extinguish the inferno.
Alas, the situation was indeed different this time around. You see, the blast actually sent me through a fence, some small trees, two car windows, and the side of a house before I finally touched-down. In doing so, both of my arms were popped out-of-joint. While that is a blessing in that they weren't broke, it actually made crotch-fire extinguishing a bit difficult. Also, the fire spread up my body pretty quickly as well, since I was now covered in the bleach from the propulsion device... Oh, and my spacesuit was also made of rayon, which of course, is flammable. I should consider myself lucky though. It only took forty-seven minutes for the fire department to arrive and put me out. I'd hoped that a kindly neighbor would have lent a hand, but it seemed that they all had to get back to their dinners. Now, as I prepare to slather a bit of aloe on my grotesquely burned body, I think to myself, "Maybe I'll just try to conquer that school for blind kids instead...".
So, until next I blog, remember this. I'm Ben Dennis, and I'd like you much better if you were too...
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1 comment:
nice. you're a hoot!
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