Monday, August 29, 2016


So then Bubba says, "they'd be good on pizza," and we all knew about alien biochemistry and how the local mosquitoes couldn't get anything from our blood, so they didn't bite us, and if they did, they were deader than doornails in no time flat, And me a 3rd-year med student and all, but the drink had gotten to us. Maybe it was the native weeds we later found out Darlene put in the punch, but anyway, we caught a few of the suckers, pounded 'em flat, toasted them, ground them in the spice grinder, and sprinkled them on top of the cheese before we baked the pizzas.

Well, it took about two pieces each (three for Bubba, on account of his size), but soon we were all floating around just below the ceiling, bumping into the chandelier and all like that there. Then somebody had the bright idea to swim down to the window and raise the sash. We never did find a couple of folks, but the rest of us managed to hold onto something and not float right up and up to where the air is too thin and cold. We refined the formula, of course. The amount we consumed that first night should've lasted us all a couple of months. But there you have it, folks, the only complete and true explanation for how we discovered Flightonium, and brought self-powered flight to every man, woman and child in the galaxy.

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