Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. There I was. Where I was, I do not know. THERE, I was. Where was there? There was where. There was a hair in his glare. Where was the hair? In his glare, on a chair. He tripped on a stair and landed there. Yes, we had arrived on the moon. I was shocked. And appalled. No, just shocked. The moon didn’t make me sneeze. The moon was not made of cheese. Wheez. I was on the moon, I had sealed my doom. There had not been enough room in the space shuttle to the moon. Thus, not enough air to get there. My fellow astronaut had not...not arrived safe and sound. It was my fault, that was clear. I shouldn’t have drunk so much beer. Oh dear. All year oh dear. Would I now be stuck? Was that my present luck? Is that a duck? Yes, indeed it was. Then I paused and reflected on life, and contemplated getting a wife...for that poor duck. Then I realized, it was a plot. A plot of land. And I was home, in my own backyard.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.
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