Picture by Warrigal
Ring, ring, ring ring. Bloody hell these phones waking you at such an early hour of 11 am. Don’t you wish they would put a silence button on these things or what. You know it can only be one person, the Bishop, we all call him the Bish.
“Yes, hello Bish what on Earth do you want at this ungordly hour?” I ask as it I know it will be something he wants me to do. I mean does this guy never stop, ringing at zarking 11 am. He must get up at daybreak, I’ve heard of people that do that, weird.
“Where’s Hung?” roars the Bish.
“Um, he can’t come to the phone right now as he is busy typing this story.” I reply.
“Arrrgh, well Sandy get to Mars, they have found ice on Mars” declares the Bish. Wow,big deal.
“Did you say Lice? The itchy thingy”
“No, you ninny, ice, you know, that thing you put in your scotch”
Yes, I always wondered what they were. You know those little cube thingys. I’m sure some scientist has figured it out by now.
“We must be careful Sandy” said the Bish in hushed tones “You see we think this may be taken over as a demonstration by Tony Abblahblahalot.”
“But the itchy thingy is much easier to treat and it means I can stay in bed” I plead uselessly.
You guessed it, I’m on my way to Mars and the crew are a bit miffed let me tell you. To them, Mars is down the street and around the corner, can’t you walk.
The central computer starts blabbing on about a toxic atmosphere down on the surface and puts some pictures on the screen. Just as the Bish said, Tony Abblahblahalot and some supporters are down checking out the lice, oops, I mean ice.
I detach from the main craft in a small surface vessel. Apparently us humans get scared when other people materialise in front of them. You know like when you walk down the street and you see the best man from your wedding coming towards you, the best man that vomited all over the table and caused a fight in the foyer, so he crosses the street and pretends not to see you just like you have materialised and then dematerialised. See what I mean, is that scary or what.
The vessel pulls up next to the crowd all dressed in their space suits. You know there is no oxygen on Mars but let me tell you it doesn’t stop some from being windbags. They were carrying signs like “Cold for Life” with the word cold crossed out and replaced by Coal. I’m sure you get the metaphor or whatever it is.
The crew quickly set up a table and some chairs. They place bundles of paper on the table. I approach Tony Windbag, oops, I mean Tony Abblahblahalot who is laughing his head off,
“I waz just telling the blokes, no women here is there, nah, didn’t think so, that I’ve added salt to the water here on Mars as salt is good for you” says Tony.
“Why have you added salt?” I ask inquisitively.
“Well, I’ve stopped the boats, axed the tax and it’s all Labor’s fault, blah blah blah blah blah” replies Tony.
“No” I affirm “Why have you added salt to the water here on Mars?”
“Well, don’t you watch David Ratinburrow, ha ha, see right, he showed these goats right, he he, you know goats right, ha ha ha, that walk down a steep hill right, guffaw guffaw, once a week to eat salt. Love that bloke, believe every word he says.” says Tony with tears welling in his eyes.
“But David Ratinburrow is a staunch supporter of doing something about man made climate change yet you oppose it” I prod.
“David Ratinburrow is a dickhead mate and has no idea what he is talking about” declares Tony. Wow, any one heard the term blackflip.
I seize my moment “Attention every one” I broadcast ” Over at the desk my crew have some really cheap shares for you in a company called Yet Another Ponzi Scheme(YAPS[Had to fit one in somewhere]). YAPS will have totally collapsed by the time you pass but you will become filthy rich in a very short period of time and the poor will be left to pick up the bill.”
The crowd rush to the table and as each person signs the crew euthanises them, oops, puts them to sleep for their return to Earth but not before Tony beat them all to the desk to buy his fill. Oh, yes, some things never change.
I’m back on the ship and we are about to head for Earth and I have a seat in the Bats Droppings, our local pub on board, and oh the $64,000 question, is there ice on Mars? Of course there is. I’ll show you,
“Barman may I have a scotch on the rocks please?”
See told you, now a priest wouldn’t lie would he? Would he!
This is Father Sandy O’Way, signing off from Mars for the Church of St. Generic Brand, Inner Cyberia.