Home Sweet Home

Today I took a walk on the moon. I got bored of earth and took the morning flight up to that floating sphere of rock bliss. That great sandtrap in the sky isn't that fun to walk on. They make you where a big suit and all I wanted to wear were toe socks. I mean that's all I wanted to wear on my feet. I didn't want to walk on the moon naked. That would be silly. I stopped at a gas station for a breath of air and a moon pie. It wasn't very good, but I guess import prices are too high to afford good food, so they make do with what they can. The earth was beautiful, glowing it's blues and greens across the black starry space. If I had great eyesight I would have been able to see, well not my house, but maybe the houses of India, which were faceing us at the time. The California houses were enjoying a moonless night, and I thought about my house, sitting there all alone, as empty as a bottle of vodka in the hands of a drunk. I wondered what it was thinking. Did it wonder if I would return the next night? Or did it think that I had left it forever and I imagined tears the size of beanbags dripping from its windows. Tears of loss and mourning for the occupant it welcomed with a creak every day and sang to sleep every night with the various hums of the electrical appliances. It made me sad, to be standing on the moon, staring at the funnel shape of India while my house cried over me. So I came back to bless this house with my presence, only to find out that there was a neighborhood pool on how long I could bear to be away before homesickness brought be back. Apparantly, my house was telling all the other houses how much I couldn't stand to be anywhere else, which is an outright lie. I'm perfectly capable of sleeping somewhere else at night... as long as that other place is familiar like home. Or is home. I'm going to give my house a public flogging tomorrow.