My high school guidance counsellor warned me of such possibilities years ago given my academic performance… or lack therof…
But hey, who listens to someone with a job that earns them as much respect as, say, a baby gives it’s diaper…
Besides, guidance counsellor’s don’t make it to space.
Gazing around at the antiseptically clean and white space, I’m struck by the similarity to a “Space 1999” episode (How corny was that show… wait! This isn’t non reality TV…. this really is corny! holy crap!)
I’m also struck by something dripping off the ceiling….
Spilled!? yea, right!
“Uh… this isn’t a spill! Someone, or something has expectorated a slimy mass onto the walls and ceiling in here!”
At about this, the worst possible moment, a green light on the airlock indicator began blinking…
Tinnily, through the walls I could hear the sounds of what seemed a large and boisterous party from the other side of the door…