Partly Cloudy, 64°
As the first man to step foot on the moon, I know the spirit of adventure and discovery. But despite that, I am firmly against putting another man on the moon. That’s because I wrote my darkest secret in the dirt up there and, since the moon has no atmosphere, there is no wind to blow it away.
It’s still there, waiting to be read.
I just can’t risk anyone finding it. My secret is terrible enough to destroy me. My secret is terrible enough to destroy many of those dear to me. We must never send anyone to the moon again because if they do, they will read my secret and have the power to destroy me and my loved ones.
It might be there forever. Who’s to say? Air doesn’t move on the moon the way it does here on Earth, and a tragic secret written in the dirt of the moon would never be blown away the way a tragic secret written in the sands of the Sahara would. Even after decades. It’s still there. It will always be there.
It is a folly that haunts me to this day.
I wish I could go back to the moment that I wrote my secret on the moon. It felt so wonderful, like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My secret was clear from my conscience, and clear, too, on the surface of the moon, which I had unfortunately forgotten is never touched by wind nor water.
Sometimes I stand in my backyard and blow as hard as I can up towards the moon, trying to blow my horrible secret clean from the moon-dirt. I know it won’t work, since the moon is surrounded by a vacuum and my lungs are not nearly powerful enough, but it makes me feel better to try.
My wife does not know my secret. The President of the United States does not know my secret. Even Buzz Aldrin does not know my secret, because I furiously scrawled it onto the moon’s surface after he had already returned to the rocket. It is a secret known by me and me alone, and it must never be known by anyone else. That is why it is imperative we never put another man on the moon.
In summary, defund NASA.
