Houston, We Have a... Uh-oh.
Barry “Buzzcut” Jenkins wasn’t your typical astronaut. He was actually a substitute gym teacher from Nebraska with an unhealthy obsession with freeze-dried ice cream and vintage space movies. Thanks to a suspiciously unregulated billionaire sweepstakes called “Ride to Mars, Baby!” Barry found himself aboard the janky, barely-tested spacecraft Elon’s Gambit on a one-way trip to the Red Planet.
Shockingly, Barry landed. Well, more like bounced. But he was alive, and that’s all that mattered.
Armed with a plastic rake, a metal detector, and a backpack full of Lunchables, Barry began his “scientific exploration,” which mostly involved poking red rocks and shouting “SCIENCE!” every ten minutes.
On day 6, something extraordinary happened. While digging a shallow trench (to hide his used pudding cups from future alien lawsuits), Barry uncovered a strange, wriggly, neon green blob with googly eyes and a suspicious resemblance to a sentient jellybean.
Barry screamed. The blob burped.
Life. On. Mars.
Naturally, Barry ran straight to his communication pod to announce his discovery to Earth... only to find the satellite dish pointing directly at the ground and a note from the sweepstakes organizer taped to the console:
“Due to budget constraints, two-way communication has been replaced with a deluxe Magic 8-Ball. Good luck! :)”
Panicked but determined, Barry tried every method he could think of to tell Earth:
Arranging rocks in Morse code: “L-I-F-E-H-E-R-E”
A dust storm blew them away and spelled “FREE WIFI” instead.
Building a giant “HELP” out of Twizzlers: A Martian squirrel ate it.
Firing off flares: Forgot there’s no oxygen. Fizzled like bad birthday candles.
Eventually, Barry accepted his fate: he had found the greatest scientific discovery in human history... and had no way to tell anyone. Not yet.
He sighed, looked at the blob (who now wore Barry’s spare gym whistle like a necklace), and said, “Well, buddy, I guess it’s just you, me, and about 600 Lunchables.”
The blob blinked and responded by doing the Macarena.
Barry nodded solemnly. “Yup. Definitely intelligent life.”
And thus, the first Martian-human friendship began—not with a handshake, but with a dance-off, freeze-dried ice cream, and absolutely zero witnesses.
Earth would have to wait.
Barry “Buzzcut” Jenkins wasn’t your typical astronaut. He was actually a substitute gym teacher from Nebraska with an unhealthy obsession with freeze-dried ice cream and vintage space movies. Thanks to a suspiciously unregulated billionaire sweepstakes called “Ride to Mars, Baby!” Barry found himself aboard the janky, barely-tested spacecraft Elon’s Gambit on a one-way trip to the Red Planet.
Shockingly, Barry landed. Well, more like bounced. But he was alive, and that’s all that mattered.
Armed with a plastic rake, a metal detector, and a backpack full of Lunchables, Barry began his “scientific exploration,” which mostly involved poking red rocks and shouting “SCIENCE!” every ten minutes.
On day 6, something extraordinary happened. While digging a shallow trench (to hide his used pudding cups from future alien lawsuits), Barry uncovered a strange, wriggly, neon green blob with googly eyes and a suspicious resemblance to a sentient jellybean.
Barry screamed. The blob burped.
Life. On. Mars.
Naturally, Barry ran straight to his communication pod to announce his discovery to Earth... only to find the satellite dish pointing directly at the ground and a note from the sweepstakes organizer taped to the console:
“Due to budget constraints, two-way communication has been replaced with a deluxe Magic 8-Ball. Good luck! :)”
Panicked but determined, Barry tried every method he could think of to tell Earth:
Arranging rocks in Morse code: “L-I-F-E-H-E-R-E”
A dust storm blew them away and spelled “FREE WIFI” instead.
Building a giant “HELP” out of Twizzlers: A Martian squirrel ate it.
Firing off flares: Forgot there’s no oxygen. Fizzled like bad birthday candles.
Eventually, Barry accepted his fate: he had found the greatest scientific discovery in human history... and had no way to tell anyone. Not yet.
He sighed, looked at the blob (who now wore Barry’s spare gym whistle like a necklace), and said, “Well, buddy, I guess it’s just you, me, and about 600 Lunchables.”
The blob blinked and responded by doing the Macarena.
Barry nodded solemnly. “Yup. Definitely intelligent life.”
And thus, the first Martian-human friendship began—not with a handshake, but with a dance-off, freeze-dried ice cream, and absolutely zero witnesses.
Earth would have to wait.
