“George,” I gasped for breath and grasped onto something squishy that might have been soft Brie cheese. “George Moon.”
“Not George Moon the actor?” A perfect round circle of a face, milky white with a few dark shadows, engulfed me in a smile and a wink.
“No way, he popped off in 1981. Who are you?”
“Keith,” his beam was as wide as the universe. “Keith Moon.”
“No,” he laughed as my mouth fell open. “Not the drummer from the Who, I’m the Man in the Moon.
His visage was warm and friendly not the cold persona I’d imagined while sitting at the edge of the pounding ocean, mesmerised by the silver lava stairway that rippled down from a full moon.
An iridescent pathway beckoned across the black ocean swell, white tipped waves tickling my toes until I felt like I could swim right along that lustrous ole path and wade up the shimmering stairs.
After draining the dregs of a full bottle of Jack Daniels I decided to chance my luck, leave behind all the woes and worries of my worthless life; no-one to miss me except my local bottle shop.
I shucked off my clothes and stark naked began to plough through the glistening waves before scaling the lava stairway to the moon, the earth falling away behind me.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had any visitors. The first came in1969 when Neil and Buzz paid me a call. Been a few paid their respects since but none since that Apollo lot in 1972. They all had to go back home though.” Keith’s voice was wistful. “Might you be here to stay, George? Don’t see any mode of transport.”
“Yeah, guess I can hang around for a while. Keep you company.” No booze on the moon, not yet any-roads, so at least I’d stay sober. I let myself sink into the
“Almost time for a new moon,” Keith folded me into the inviting milky-soft whiteness of the brilliant white ball in a sky littered with stars, before pulling down the shutters on the old one.
“Now there are two Men in the Moon,” he grinned. “That’ll give those Earthlings something to talk about.”