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MY TRASH PLaNET

©  WRiTER oN THe MoON

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6

The Corpse Of The Little Prince

It is the third glass of wine that I have. I can't stop drinking this addictive concoction. It is extremely delicious!

"I don't know how you do it dear Jeanette, but there is not even close to a wine on My Trash Planet that comes close to the exquisiteness of this one that you harvest. How, how the hell do you get it, you bitch?"

"How do I get it? Follow me Mon Amie!"

We run through the vineyards, dodging vines, we jump among the pumpkins while singing << Bird Set Free >> by SIA,

Yes, there's a scream inside that we all try to hide

We hold on so tight, but I don't wanna die, no

I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, yeah

 The absence of gas hinders the transmission of the lyrics. I am surprised that the pumpkins join us in singing and that they also know the lyrics better than we do,

And I don't care if I sing off key

I find myself in my melodies

I sing for love, I sing for me

I shout it out like a bird set free

When suddenly we come face to face with what appears to be, at first glance, a corpse.

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We scream and there is no more SIA. 

The pumpkin with the most twisted smile on the entire Moon is the last to stop singing. Even the octopus is petrified, camouflaging itself with stars.

What a fucking scare! 

We look at each other in surprise. This we did not expect.

What a downturn.

It is the body of a blond child lying between two vines as if he had fallen asleep under the light of the star that illuminates My Trash Planet. Jeanette recognizes him immediately. It's Jean Michel.

Jeanette reaches down and inspects him with frightening ease.

She touches it with her index finger with three firm touches.

She says that it is cold and hard as a brittle statue of ice.

"Jean Michel is ... dead" she says with a slight tremor in her voice.

"Dead?"

"Yes. How is it possible amigo? So far from home."

"Jean Michel? Are you sure it's him? I reply as if I really care until suddenly I realize who he is. Shit!!!

Jeanette affirms emphatically.

We crouched down to look at him. It seems that he slept peacefully although in his inner essence we capture a deep sorrow that has been marked in the last beat of his little heart now made of ice and crystal. I could swear the unease must have consumed him. It's like looking at a statue carved in disappointment.

I can not believe it. A little creature like you can't die like that, it's absurd. And much less of grief! A part of me shudders and shakes. And in me grows a gigantic repudiation of the beings that inhabit My Trash Planet.

We lift his little body and put him inside the ship.

Jeanette asks me if I have rice, that she has a craving of paella. I answer yes and affirm that before starting the trip, my current "human" condition forces me to piss before the journey.

We are six light years away in less than twenty-three minutes. (One has his tricks)

I take my box of matches (the same ones that I used to light the star that today illuminates My Planet Trash).

And with the help of Jeanette we ignite the body of Jean Michel which when burned, sizzles like a sausage on the barbecue.

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It's amazing. A new star has just been born in this universe!

We start dancing with joy.

Oh, Jean Michel, I only hope that your light floods this corner of the universe and transforms it. One word runs through my head: EXTERMINATION.

Recurring, hey. 

But hell, deep down I'm terribly lazy. After all, Jeanette and I like to have genitalia. It is fun. Exterminate the human race from My Trash Planet would mean starting from scratch and, as we evolve from it, change again and I am so sick of it.

Time to go back.

As soon as I started RA, I shout like an idiot: Yabba Dabba Doo !!!