Extraterrestrial Mooning I never liked going to the hospital. In fact, I haven't been inside a hospital in over ten years, but somehow today, I woke up on an operating table blinded by bright surgical lights. Pulling off a white sheet, I noticed I was dressed in a purple hospital gown. Not my favourite colour, but this was the least of my worries as when I lept off the table, I could feel cold air hit my bare bum. Determined to cover up my flapping behind, I looked for a large safety pin or even my cozy flannel pyjamas. The last thing I remember was drifting off to sleep. It was a stormy winter night, so I went to bed early with a cup of herbal camomile tea, and somehow I ended up in this peculiar hospital. Peculiar because there was no way I could afford a room this spacious being unemployed and without healthcare but also because slime started to seep through the bottom of the large white steel door. I grabbed a bucket and stood my ground as a shape began to take form. I watched as the slime built up, imitating me and then split into two. Waving and gurgling, four eyeballs popped, looked at each other, then back at me. “Umm, have you seen my pyjamas?” I asked. The purple blobs shook, laughing, and one burped. A tiny piece of red and black flannel floated out from its mouth and landed softly on my big right toe. I carefully bent down and felt the softness of my beloved pyjamas. Memories of home came over me. What I would give to be still sleeping in my comfortable bed and finishing my total eight hours of sleep! Seeing, these two had nothing to offer but the destruction of my only belonging; I committed this would be war. In hindsight, the lack of coffee could have influenced my decision, but I no longer cared. I took the purple bucket, threw it on my head and turned around, opening the flap of my gown and exposing my buttocks as a sign of great disrespect. Flabbergasted, the slime splashed to the ground. It moved like water flowing downstream, looking for a waterfall. I used the opportunity to burst out of this twisted operating room and into an empty hallway. I looked left and right. A neon sign flashed EXIT on one end, and the on the opposite there was running man. Perhaps it was the washroom? Did I need to go now? I shook my head. Stay focussed. I ran down to the exit and saw a modest spaceship with keys still inside. The seat was cold as I sat down. Behind the visor, I noticed a map. To Earth, it said. After setting the coordinates, I lifted myself ever so slightly and slipped the map padding my chair. That’s better, but maybe I should have gone to the washroom first? Four hours to Earth and no bladder to spare.