B.G. Hilton – Writer

Pulp Adventures 8: Hey Guys! A Rocket!

There! Right where I’m pointing.

Guys! Guys! You gotta see this rocket! Right over there. Holy crap, it’s sweet!

No, no, there’s really a rocket there. There’s, like, lightning coming out of it, and shit. It’s pretty impressive, is what I’m saying. Seriously, I’m standing right next to a hot girl in a bathing suit, and I’d still rather look at the rocket, that’s how awesome it is.

Yes, I know the last time I told you to look at a rocket, there wasn’t a rocket there. That time was just a hilarious joke… Okay, and the time before that. But look, this time there really is a cool rocket… Oh my God! People are parachuting out of the rocket. How are their ‘chutes even opening in that distance? You gotta see this, guys. Guys?

Okay, fine! FINE! Don’t look at the sweet rocket with the parachutists coming out. Don’t look as it topples and the gantries collapse. Do you think it’s cool not looking? You think so, don’t you? Bet you think you’re all like some guy walking cooly away from an explosion and not looking back or some shit. Well, you don’t look cool. You look like a bunch of jerks.

Seriously, I’ve had it with you guys. You think one time–one time!–I make up a story about a rocket, and that means you never have to look at a real rocket. Well joke’s on you! I’m going to enjoy looking at the rocket without you. Just me and this bathing suit model… Oh, she left. Well never mind, I’m going to enjoy this exploding lightning parachute rocket alone.

Jerks.

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