“Stick another strip of this duck tape over that there patch,” Jimmy John said.
“This one?” Cletus asked, pointing to the strip of red flannel.
“Sure, you can put one there, too,” Jimmy John said. “But I'm talking about the spot on the back. Look there down the middle of the blue jean patch. See the big hole?”
“Look at you, Jimmy John. You got the eye of the tiger,” Cletus said.
“Psh, I ain't no tiger, but thanks. Can barely even see when my lazy eye rolls around. Lucky for me it decided to stay where it's supposed to for the galaxy mission.”
“Shoot, lucky for us, too,” Billy Bob said. “When that thing gets lazy, it's lazy!
Almost like it's ready to drop of the face of your head. Can't ever be sure where to look at ya,” Cletus said.
“No need to tell me,” Jimmy John said. “All I need is a few good smacks upside the head like a magic eight ball to set me straight.”
Billy Bob gazed up at the ship, hands on his hips. Drawing in steady breaths through his nose, out of his mouth.
A calm stillness dropped over the farm like an invisible cloak had descended from the skies. Rustling leaves hushed to a dull, dry tremble. Whirling dirt blowing across the sunbaked soil halted its wild dance. Corn stalks waving in the distance froze in place. It was like the entire farm had been suspended in thick air. Glued into one single place across all of space and time.
“This is it, fellers,” Billy Bob said, turning towards Jimmy John and Cletus. “This is the calm before the take off.”
“Yes, sir!” Cletus said. “I can feel it flowing through my bones.”
“Might be the rye whiskey that's flowing,” Jimmy John said.
“Yeah, you right. It's probably the rye whiskey,” Cletus said. “But something’s flowing!”
“Alright, slip on your suits and let's climb up into the cockpit,” Billy Bob said. “Jimmy John, you go last. We'll show you how it's done.”
“Go on then. Let's see it,” Jimmy John said.
Billy Bob slipped on his suit and scurried up the shaky ladder with ease. When he reached the top he crawled through the hatch and disappeared into the ship’s cockpit. Cletus made his way up. Pausing in the middle to scratch an itch on his behind before joining Billy Bob in the main cabin. Jimmy John lugged himself up the ladder without any deliberate speed. Placing both feet upon each step. Only releasing his grip on the ladder with one hand after securing his grip on the next rung with the other.
“I swear, you's one crazy astronaut, Jimmy John,” Billy Bob said, head peaking out from the cockpit. “Flying by the Moon when you's afraid of heights.”
“I ain't afraid of heights,” Jimmy John said, his head stuck between his shoulders, unmoving. “I just don't like'em.”
“Keep coming, you almost there,” Cletus said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jimmy John said. He climbed up the last few rungs and hopped over the ledge into the cockpit.
“Don't step on the sandwiches,” Cletus said.
“Why they still on the floor? Scoop them up and put them someplace safe,” Jimmy John said.
Cletus grabbed the sandwiches and tossed them into a wooden milk crate in the corner. It had been turned into a cubby for all of their rocket gadgets and space gizmos. And tasty sandwiches.
“Alright, spacemen,” Billy Bob said. “Slip on your helmets and strap yourselves in your chairs.”
The three astronauts pulled their motocross turned space helmets over their heads and slid their visors closed. Right and left palms smacked the tops of the helmets a few times until they were snug around their sweaty skulls.
“These is some nice chairs, Billy Bob. Where'd you get'em?” Cletus asked.
“I know some people that know some people that know some lower division race car drivers,” Billy Bob said.
“It's like my gaming chair back home,” Jimmy John said.
“They ain't no gaming chairs!” Billy Bob said. “These is fine, high-quality, lower division racing chairs.”
“How low'a division?” Cletus asked.
“Cletus, I don't know. I mean... well, to be honest, the chairs is from bumper derby. Not from no lower division racing cars. They stripped'em out of the broken down vehicles and were about to toss'em before I jumped in to save'em.”
“Didn’t know you is some savior like that, Billy Bob,” Jimmy John said.
“Well I is,” Billy Bob said. “But ain’t no savior of no silly gaming chair.”
“What's bumper derby?” Cletus asked.
“It's where the cars drive around a circular patch of dirt and crash into each other until there's only one car left standing. Or rolling,” Billy Bob said.
“That explains why the yellow stuffing is leaking out from all of these holes,” Jimmy John said, poking and prying at the yellow stuffing. “Ain't no holes in my gaming chair.”
“Well your gaming chair is for games. And probably fapping, too, you filthy animal,” Billy Bob said. “We are on a real space mission flying all the way to the real Moon. So quit your damn complaining. At least you got a chair. It's a long way to the Moon. Wouldn't be very fun if you had to stand the whole way.”
“No,” Jimmy John said plainly. “Sure wouldn’t. ‘Specially when we get into space without the gravity. Might float right out of the ship.”
“Jimmy John, you call that antigravity,” Cletus said.
“Alright, astronauts. Systems and controls check. Everyone make sure- What in the hell is that up there?” Billy Bob asked.