It'd
be too dramatic and noticeable for it to explode in a shower of
reflected glory, and it'd be too easy for it to not appear on an
autumnal afternoon. If you elect me to a position of power
whereby I can make the moon disappear (Vice President In Charge
Of Marketing for New Zealand Candles Inc.) then I swear to you,
as Harrison Ford is my witness, that I shall make the moon fade
out. If you don't elect me, I'll call in a favour with the big
man upstairs (voluptuous eh?), and the moon will fade out. Either
way the moon is fish food; one way I'm prepared for any further
power cuts with my kickbacks, and the other way I have to
reassess my whole belief system. Up to you. Thrive on the power.
Abuse the power, however, and it shall be taken away from you.
You have been entrusted with a great responsibility, now show me
that you are deserving of it, or we can go back to the old
oppressive system. You have been warned.
First
up astronomers will be buzzing about whining "The moon has
gone, the moon has gone." You, the good people who make up
society, will swat them away. Astronomers to you and you matter
not one wit in the grand scheme of things to blow a surefire
World Series win just because you can. I will have been fully
primed for when the moon disappears; I will have watched it fade
out, and either thought or said "cool" depending on
whether or not its final demise was accompanied by a Hollywood
pop. I will then have got bored of its youthful shenanigans, and
got back to fully devoting my time to malaise and apathy.
(Malaise and apathy are not all they're cracked up to be. They
sound so exciting, so French, so sexy, but most of the time
they're just boring).
Weeks
later the astronomers will still be screaming their mantra to
deaf ears. The International Deaf People's Convention will tell
all non-deaf astronomers to go boil their nipples in aspic. This
will be defeated in the second chamber, and become amended to
'fuck off' before passing without a hitch. Finally some
astronomers will have an audience as the elected leader of the
deaf astronomers takes the podium. Deaf or not, all astronomers
are meaningless scum, and she'll be booed off the stage before
she's even got a chance to get her hands out of her pockets.
No-one will have even bothered to remember that astronomers are
running around moaning to anyone, and eventually all the
astronomers will realise their own lack of self-worth and commit
mass suicide - not as part of some great plan, but rather all
coincidentally realising the futility of their existence at the
same time.
Years
later, people will look into the sky and presume that there's no
moon that night. Further time will pass. More people will look
into the sky and notice the lack of a moon, but tell themselves
it's all very ordinary. A vibrant young reporter will begin to
ask questions concerning the lack of a moon, he'll struggle
against the system, and Da Man; it will become headline news. A
group of astronomers who were too fucking stupid to be able to
kill themselves properly will tell everyone that they've been
trying to tell them about the moon for years; an angry mob will
take exception to their attitude and burn them, thus freeing the
world from their evil grip. People will come to accept the lack
of a moon ("What did the moon ever do for me, eh? You tell
me that"). Within a further couple of years, people will
even begin to doubt that the moon ever really existed, in much
the same way that we all look back to MC Hammer, Vanilla Ice,
NKOTB and Celine Dion. Neil Armstrong will no longer have any
purpose in life and he will wither away and die. It's all such a
senseless, meaningless, waste of life and rock; I fucking love
it.