Bread and Butter for the Journey
Let’s take a little trip,
On a rocket ship
To the far side of the moon.
You can start a brand new life,
Free from all the care and strife.
For the old planet is doomed.
Begod, I wish I could get that damn jingle out of me head! If I hear it once more I swear to ye, I’ll eject me-self from the hatch, no suit nor nothin’.
But that would defeat the purpose folks. Ye see, I’m not meant to be here at all. I sorta snuck onto the ship.
Oh be sures, they’ll let us Dubliners build the feckin’ thing, but could we get a ticket? My blue balls we could!
It is cold in here, mind you. They could well be blue.
But anyways, I knew the ship well enough to be able to hide away in the cargo hold. Bejaysus, it was rough going through that atmos- that atmos-at-atmos. Feck it, it was very bumpy leaving Earth. But it’s all settled now.
Ah I’m just like me forefathers hiding onboard ships bound for Amerikay. But how could you colonise a new planet and not invite any Irish? What’s the sense in that? I only wish that shamrock hadn’t gone extinct, could have brought a pocketful of that with me too.
Begod, what’s that noise? Ah it’s just me belly rumbling, getting a bit peckish. But I’ve a heel of bread with me and a slap of butter. That should keep me going.
I wonder how longs the journey bes to get from one planet to another? I mind I was on a bus to Kenmare once. Five bleedin’ hours it was! When was it ever five hours to get to Ken-feckin’-mare? And, worse than that, not a bite to eat the whole feckin’ way! So I says to me-self this morning that I’d be smart and take something to keep me going. And there’s nothing better for ye than bread and butter.
Might take me-self for a wee dander here, stretch the legs a bit. I always thought that ye were supposed to float in space but Mickey Moloney was telling me these ships are fancy and they stop ye doing that because they spin. Or they don’t spin. Or something about angles. Or angels. I didn’t really understand it to be honest.
Do ye know Mickey Moloney yerself? He’s fierce smart. Pity he couldn’t get a ticket himself.
For the old planet is doomed.
Ara-dammit that bleedin’ jingle!
Begod, what are those things there? They’re like giant eggs. Oh boys, we could be on to a winner here! Forget that bread and butter, a giant fried egg would go down well. But I’d need a bit of brown sauce.
Hold on a minute, these eggs have little windows and wires coming outta them. Could fit me-self in one comfortably they’re that big.
Begod! There’s a face in the window!
“Here boy, wake up! You’re in an egg!”
He can’t hear me. Must be a heavy sleeper.
Begod, there’s people in all these eggs! All of them asleep, the lazy blighters. I could never sleep on transport. I tried to sleep once on a train to Galway but I ended up wettin’ me-self.
These eggs are giving me the creeps. I don’t like it here no more. I might take a wee dander out, see what’s about.
Ah here, that rhymed. I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.
These spaceships are wile fancy, aren’t they? All the lights and gizmos.
I didn’t work on the inside me-self. No, I tightened the wheel-nuts. And I tightened them well. It’d be a good man could get them loosened, let me tell ye!
Begod, where in blazes is everyone? I was worried I’d be found out but there’s nary a saint nor sinner to be seen!
“Hello? Anybody there?”
Oh I don’t like how that echos. This is like something out of those old films, ye know the ones with all the aliens? Ah, what do you call them? The aliens are big black slimy things and an alien bursts outta yer mans chest. Ah, what’s the name of those films? There was a load of them. ‘Fast and Furious’ I think. Oldie time films anyways.
Bejaysus, I’d nearly take an alien at this point, anything for the company. Well, maybe not one burstin’ outta me chest but ye know what I mean.
Could do with finding the jacks too, not to be crude. I don’t suppose the people on this ship would call them jacks. Probably use some fancy-ass term like lavatory or toilet. Snobs.
But if there’s no people there’ll be no jacks. And if there’s no jacks, there’ll be no toilet roll. I mean I could do me business in the escape hatch and eject it out into space, but that still leaves me with no feckin’ paper. Ah there must be a jacks somewhere.
Maybe this computer here will tell me where they are. Let’s see. This button?
Ah shite. She has a lovely voice though, wonder where she’s hiding.
Ah double shite. Sorry love.
Ah away and shite yerself then!
Welcome aboard the IG Lux 4187 to Kyphon. Please select from one of the options for more information.
Finally! Begod, they don’t make these things easy. Now, what have we here?
Ship news? Pfft, no.
Entertainment schedule? Might come back to that one.
Travel information? Aye, that’ll do. Might have a map there.
Estimated travel time: One Hundred and Seven Years.
Ye what!? Over a hundred years? That’s a wile long time to be here on me own with nary a sinner about!
Jaysus, where did I put that bread and butter?
Ah here it is - whoops.
Ah bedamned, I’ve got it all over the screen. Sure who’ll know if I wipe it clean?
Oh what’s that done? What does that say?
Master override complete - initiating total shutdown.
Ah who’s turned the feckin’ lights off?