“Hey guys I think I might be turning in my wings” said Spaceman Jones as he exhaled a giant cloud of smoke. “No seriously guys I don’t think I have the chops to go out there into space anymore. It’s scary out there.” He then passed the blunt to the Pink Panther who blew the excess ash off of the front, took a pull, and said
” What is this fucking Top Gun? I think we need to start cutting back on some of these meetings. I mean you guys just sit around smoking weed and arguing about stupid shit. When is someone going to write an actual article?”
Old Skool Joe snatched the blunt from The Pink Panther and yelled
“We will write some shit when you start paying us motherfucker!Plus you are a stuffed animal so how the hell were you just holding a blunt? Now if you’ll excuse me I’m late for my job down at the fish market.”
He took a puff and passed it back to Spaceman Jones. At this point the blunt is so small that the Spaceman broke it apart and loaded the remaining weed into a pipe. He lit it up and said
“I guess what I’m trying to say is I want to retire from being a Spaceman and just focus on smoking weed and working here full-time, you know… making this the greatest fake magazine in the history of fake magazines. See I like it here because there are no rules. In space there are a lot of rules. Like the time I was at Space Walgreen and the lady at the front counter was like you can’t have your backpack in here.”
The Pink Panther looked puzzled and asked Spaceman “Well why don’t you just leave your backpack in the ship while you go inside?”
“Fuck you” Spaceman Jones fired back. Then he got up and went to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. Everyone then just kind of went their separate ways. Just another day working at a fake magazine and I’m just a temp here.