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Warning/Disclaimer: This story does not describe the true atmosphere or fulcrum of being fired, having a therapy session, interview, or the correct amount of college degrees. Please refrain from asking someone to slug you into space. Please do not jump out of a high story window. I am not responsible for any collective or singular injuries supposedly brought on by the story below. But the most crucial warning is that this story is humorous. You may not be able to take on any of the humor this story describes. You have been warned.
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“I’ve visited nine planets.”

         I strode my words carefully; “and it’s really starting to show.”

         “Ah,” the therapist said, “are you an astronaut?”

         “Yes,” I responded, “I am in fact an astronaut. I used to be an astronaut at NASA until I was fired, but I would crush to be a fashion designer for the company Charming Charlie.”

         The therapist was put off edge by this man’s story. However, therapists are made to help the living, not judge the living.

         “Tell me about the planets you’ve visited,” the therapist sounded gray around the edges, but the man nonetheless started his story.


         “Okay,” I said.


         “Well, I was at NASA one morning and I was drinking my usual cup of coffee when this guy moseys into the lounge room and starts bragging about his space patches and his permed hair. So I took my untouched cup of coffee, reheated the cup of coffee in the lounge room microwave and poured the whole thing on the guy. Cream, sugar, whipping cream and a bit of flour can work magically to get yourself a real mushy and sticky look for your hair.”

“. . .” The therapist said nothing.

“After that, everyone in the lounge room around us started applauding because the guy I drenched my coffee in was rather quite ill-behaved. He was like Chris Pine in that one government parody commercial,” I continued.

“That ridiculous man was never the same.”

“. . .” Silence bound the room.

“Anyways,” I started, “I shall continue.”

“So the coffee-braggart-guy became really angry, which was absolutely superb, red in the face even. He dug his fingers of his left hand into his palm, and within perpetuate time and energy, I was thrown all the way to Pluto—the poor abandoned dwarf planet. That permed posh tick-off packs a hefty punch, so at least I appreciate his slugging skills.”

The therapist looked bewildered.

“Miss, are you alright? You don’t exactly look too well as most therapists do”, I asked.

The therapist shook off her doubt. “I’m quite alright.”

“Please, tell along.” She refined her posture before I continued.

“Ah, the instant I landed on Pluto, I was ecstatic; and shrouded in absolute anger that I was millions of miles away from the NASA lounge room. Goodness, at least let me get another coffee and a donut before you send me off to another planet. But it was a great day knowing that I had my astronaut suit, of course without my name tag so as I wouldn’t be caught on the cameras of NASA’s buildings and area. I was gladder that I had my spacesuit on for the unexpected visit to space.

“I told myself I may be boisterous and outgoing towards the spacey universe, but I’m not sure if I am outgoing as taking an unexpected trip to Pluto. That thought echoed through the depths of my subconscious. But I was brave enough to take a piece of Pluto ice and launch off the slippery surface of Pluto. I bent my knees and hoped for the best. I was startled when I landed in the gases of Neptune in a flash of light.

“To not get caught in the gases of Neptune I kicked my legs to place my torso above the surface of Neptune. I took a look around to see what I was getting myself into. But I guess Neptune sure has a sense of flatulence. I kicked my whole body above the surface of Neptune and then quickly kicked my way over to Uranus. This time, I decided Uranus was the true flatulence planet because some of the planet was made out of methane gas. Not wanting to take a good whiff of Uranus, I twirled gracefully to the rings of Saturn. Ah, Saturn. The one planet that may be cool but will never be cool enough to take on Jupiter. That’s too bad. But they could plan it out.

“I then craved to see the beauteous Jupiter, so I flapped my arms as if they were wings and squealed with absolute delight when I saw Jupiter. The planet was breathtaking! I would live on Jupiter if I could. I flapped around, glazing the surface of Jupiter. But, sadly, I soon had to stroll on over to Mars, though Jupiter was the only cool planet around. Oh well.

“When I arrived at Mars, and took a good scope of the landscape, I realized that Matt Damon wouldn’t stand a chance as the Martian.


“No, I’m just joshing you, he could probably live for about five years on potatoes and greens.


         “Ha! I thought I would leave mars because I’ve seen the Grand Canyon, and Mars has definite similarities and ties to the canyons of Earth. Mars soon got boring and I soon decided to skip over Earth to the next planet.

“I skipped over Earth because I wanted to visit Venus and Mercury. I wasn’t going if I didn’t get to see those two planets.

“Venus was the next stop on my list. Venus may be pretty on the outside, but has a rocky inside that’s not so nice; go Venus! Displaying life lessons for kids. That’s good to know. But the other downside of going to Venus was that temperatures rose radically the closer you got to the sun. And the sun was hot. But I still swam to Mercury with animosity. Mercury was great, filled with craters and detail and such. I even took a piece of rock from Mercury and put it in the pocket I was keeping my Pluto ice in. It was such a shame I had to skip my way back to Earth, but my spacesuit was literally melting at the seams. But with complexity, finesse and motive, I was already shooting my way back down to Earth. My suit started melting again, but it was no bother for I was heading for a massive body of water: astronaut head first. I plunged into the water head first and experienced an inexplicable euphoria as my suit magically started floating, with me in it, and I turned to bob up in the water with my face pointed towards the sky. I then saw my NASA landmark one mile away and started swimming. I successfully climbed and staggered onto the rocky shore next to NASA and company.

“Once I shambled into the lounge room of NASA, I took the head of my spacesuit off and found a clearer picture of the head boss boss at NASA.

“He said I was fired because I poured valuable coffee onto something. He really only cared about the coffee. Not the cream, sugar and flour, j-j-just the coffee, and I just-”

I was wailing and incoherently wallowing as I thought about the shame that rose in my chest when the head boss boss pointed at the roof I was launched through.

The therapist gave me a forced pat on the back: “ . . . there there . . .  ,” she said to me as I was passed a box of tissues.
After my sobbing died down, I continued:

“So,” I said, “I was kicked out of NASA for pouring important coffee the head boss boss cherished. How crude of NASA.

“However, I do have another hopeful dream; fashion. I would kill to be a fashion designer for Charming Charlie. I think I could be happy there,” I said.

“Well, please refrain from homicide,” said the therapist.

“What college degrees do you have?”

“I attended the University of Utah and earned a five year bachelor’s degree in Astronomy, and earned a six year bachelor’s degree in fashion design.

“I only want a place to belong; and I believe I’ll find it someday,” I told the therapist.

The therapist looked flabbergasted by my story.

“Well, thank you for your time miss; I must make it to Charming Charlie now. I saw a sparkly ‘now hiring’ sign, just as you would know it.”

I walked to the only window the therapist had in her office, and gave her a quick “Buh bye!” as I took out a miniature parachute sheet and jumped out of her open window with the sheet hung over my head, with my two hands giving a white-knuckle grip to the sheet on either side.

“Three stories of a building isn’t so bad to jump from,” I said to myself.

“I’ll go to Charming Charlies; but first, I must masticate.”

I parked myself in a Potbelly restaurant right next to Charming Charlie and began to eat. I shoved food into my mouth and payed a right share, then ran over to the beloved clothing and jewelry store.

As soon as I described that I yearned for a spot on the Charming Charlie team to the interviewer, they were jolly enough to give me the job right on the spot; and I happily shook hands with the interviewer. I celebrated by eating at the Potbelly restaurant four more times that day.

From years of experience and sorrow, I believe it is fair to say I have found a sound place to belong.