Man on the Moon
There was once a man who wanted nothing more than to escape from the bonds of
this earth. He would have given anything to be anywhere but where he was, weighed
down by gravity and limited by mortality. Each night the man would look up at the
heavens above him and envy them their distance. The moon especially angered this man
and would send him into jealous fits of rage. Not only was the moon far from his
distasteful spot, it also seemed to possess the constitution of a phoenix, waxing and
waning over and over again, but never permanently disappearing.
One day the man decided he’d had enough. He fashioned the longest rope anyone
on earth had ever seen and waited for the crescent moon, when he knew he stood the best
chance of the loop catching. Soon enough the moon reached its awkward adolescent
stage and the man spun the rope round and round, released it at just the right moment,
and watched with satisfaction as it slipped over the top crook, slid downward, and caught.
“I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” shouted the man as he giddily began to pull the rope
towards him, “I’ve lassoed the moon!” A few of his neighbors heard the exclamations
and came outside to see if they were true. Upon seeing the man slowly but surely hauling
the moon down to Earth they raced back inside to inform their friends and the news
stations. It wasn’t everyday someone caught the moon.
The man kept at it as everyone rushed around, calling out the different news
teams as their vans screeched to a stop and the reporters and cameramen piled out,
hustling to get the best angle and be the first to start rolling. Hand over hand, foot after
foot, he reeled the lunar body closer and closer, ignoring the commotion.
In a matter of a few hours the moon hovered only a few dozen feet above the
rooftops and every so often a disgruntled squawk could be heard as some bird learned of
their new neighbor the hard way. Although the man was satisfied with his job and eager
to begin the many interviews, he made sure to securely tie, check, and double check the
rope before he walked away. The moon wasn’t going to escape him that easily.
However, before the interview could start an important news brief was issued
from the main station and suddenly the gear was being thrown back into the vans, the
crew was jumping in, and they were off with squealing tires, leaving burnout patches all
over the street. Slightly irked, the man shrugged and muttered something about the
incompetence of the press as he made his way back to check the knot once again. You
never could be too safe you know.
“Hey!” called out one of his neighbors, “hey you! C’mere! You’ll want to see
this!” Wondering just what was going on now, the man dragged himself over and stuck
his head through the front door, expecting to have to compliment the neighbor’s spoiled
three-year old for not soiling his pants or something equally revolting. But everyone’s
attention was focused on the TV and the brat didn’t even seem to be awake.
It took a few seconds for the man to comprehend the TV was turned to news, real
news, not this week’s celebrity scandal segment which so many of his neighbors lived
for. When he did he wished it was some pathetic celebrity break-up or reality show,
because on the TV was the news team that had pealed out of his drive a few minutes ago,
and they were surrounded by rising ocean waters. The tide was going out of control. A
few minutes ago it had drained to pre-Tsunami depths and the evacuation of the entire
coast was ordered, but now all the water was flooding back in like high tide. Only it
wasn’t stopping at the high tide mark, but climbing and climbing until it had passed every
flood marker, and still it soared upwards.
Shocked, the man watched with his mouth agape and his eyes as big as full
moons. Already it was obvious that thousands lost their lives, entire towns hadn’t had the
chance to evacuate and the water STILL wasn’t stopping. Slowly the man began noticing
suspicious glances being shot at him and conspiratorial whispers being exchanged that
left him conspicuously out in the dark, and boy was it ever dark! The moon was simply
an immense blank black patch of sky, its bulk blocking out the stars, marking its location.
Shaking his head to try and clear it, the man focused back in on the room and
realized the whispers had stopped. Every eye was turned to him, and not a single one
was friendly. “This is all your bloody fault,” Mr. Across the Street coldly informed the
man. “You messing with the moon has cost tens of thousands of people their lives,
millions their homes, and the damage isn’t over yet. The rescue teams can’t see to begin
airlifting people to safety, so you’ve just condemned another few thousand to death. Oh,
and not too mention your bloody moon has screwed up the magnetic poles so the electric
grids all over the world have crashed.”
“Hmmm,” thought the man, “I did think it was rather dark just for no moon.”
Suddenly someone grabbed the man from behind and he felt a sack being slipped
over his head and rope binding his hands and feet. “We’ve decided it’s time to put the
moon back where it belongs,” stated Mr. Next Door.
“No!” gasped the man. “But you don’t even know if it’s really true and besides,
it’s my moon and I’ll do with it what I want! I caught it fair and square so if any of you
so much as touch it I’ll call the pol – hey! What are you doing?! Where are you carrying
me?! I demand to be released this instant, THIS INSTANT YOU HEAR?!”
By the time the man untangled the rope and pulled off the blindfold, he only had
time to catch one last glimpse of Earth. They had dumped him on the moon before they
released it! He was free, free at last!! Finally he had no more reason to envy the moon,
but instead could forever gaze down with pity at the poor fools stuck on Earth.
The man got all he wanted. Every 28 days he undergoes the cycle of waxing and
waning with the moon, and at least once a day he exclaims aloud, “I pity any fool who is
not as lucky as I! Blessed with eternal life and no one to bother or bug me, surely no
other soul has been as truly fortunate!” But every once in awhile the man chokes on the
last few words, sometimes it’s the thought of the tens of thousands who had to die for
him to get where he was, and other times it’s the realization that he’s gotten everything
he ever wanted. There’s not much the man on the moon can really work for, and even
less he can live for, but life is all he has, for the phoenix is an eternal being like the moon,
and now, like he.