True Story...kind of.

Recently I had the novel opportunity to explore the vast regions of space. I had the choice of the visitation of the planet of my choice and also a ten-dollar certificate to Starbucks. Contemplating on this mind-blowing choice, I thought of Saturn. What do we know about Saturn? I definitely didn’t know a thing. I promptly returned my request to the prize agency and they accepted graciously.
They informed me of the departure date and I prepared anxiously. When the determined date came, I got up at sunrise to put everything in order. Upon arriving at Cape Canaveral, I saw the subtle name of the space shuttle, Big Bertha. The only other people there were the pilots of the colossal machine. I yelled, “Yo…space cowboy. Where do I put my luggage?” Chester, the pilot, pointed to the loading station right under the huge sign that said, “Put your luggage here,” while Gilroy, the co-pilot, snickered. I felt tremendously inadequate next to these rocket scientists, as you can probably imagine.
The shuttle was entirely different than my expectations. I had the notion that it would be filled with delicate, highly technological equipment. Boy was I wrong! It was mostly made of tin foil and duct tape. But science was on our side. The tin foil might be some extraordinarily expensive metal alloy like titanium. No matter what it was, I called it foilium. The duct tape could be an astonishingly sticky strip of unknown material. Wait!! That is duct tape.
We had been in space for a couple of measly hours when the pilots decided to give me a crash course lesson on space flight. I thought it was great but little did I know: they secretly wanted me to be the designated driver that night when they had their space party. As astronauts they weren’t allowed to drink alcohol, but they said that was and Earth law. We weren’t on Earth, so the rules don’t apply.
The next morning Gilroy woke up with a frightening hangover lying on top of Chester. He slowly looked around and realized where he was. He was in an escape pod headed for Earth. I had strategically placed them there when it dawned on me, I didn’t need them! They taught me how to direct this multi-million dollar hunk of household products.
I skillfully landed on the planet Saturn with ease. I swiftly found a motel to plug in my oversized RV. Finally, I had that task completed and then became cognizant of what I just did. I had just found a dumpy motel on Saturn! I tried to think of what the receptionist looked like. My mouth dropped open. I ran back to make sure. Yep, it was Elvis. I called out, “You’re still alive?” He sang, “uh-uh-huh,” in his savvy singing voice we all have heard.
This was way too eerie, so I had to get out of there. Although I did hesitate for a short time long enough to get his autograph and ask him how things were going. I launched into outer space once more on my journey home. I recalled all the memories I had made on this trip: learning to navigate the space shuttle, talking with Elvis, and watching Chester and Gilroy hurl in zero gravity. Ah… it was fun, but just like this story, all things must come to an end.