Discovering Land
All Jacky wants is sleep, but her husband won't let her. He rolls in the bed like hair in curlers. It gets worse. Now John is calling out, "It's a lie. It's a lie. It's all lies."
She flicks on the lamp. "What's that, dear?"
"It's a lie. It's a lie. It's all--"
She nudges him awake. "What's the matter, John?"
"Huh. What? Huh."
"Tell me what's troubling you."
"Nothing."
"Look, John, that might work with some but not me. I know it's something. Out with it, so I can get back to sleep."
"That space program. I've investigated. It's all a sham," he tells her.
"So they can't send a man to the moon."
He shakes his head.
"Oh, well. Night." She reaches for the lamp.
"No, you don't understand. I'm the president. When the bacon hits the pan I'll have to eat it."
That silences her. But her bottom lip doesn't tremble; her eyes don't fill with tears. "What you need is a camera crew, actors, bubble suits with motorcycle helmets. Oh, yes and a setting. Let me think." It only takes less than a minute. "Yes, of course, Iceland. It looks like the moon."
Photo by LDyck of Iceland (2007)
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