One night, the Moon got bored.
Deeply, cosmically bored.
It had been hanging in the same spot for billions of years,
watching humans do human things like
drop their phones on their faces
and argue with squirrels.
So the Moon decided,
“I’m ordering takeout.”
It dialed a tiny cosmic restaurant called Galactic Noodles,
which specialized in feeding wandering space creatures
and the occasional black hole on a cheat day.
The delivery driver was a very flustered star named Pico,
who was not trained for this assignment.
When he arrived at the Moon with a glowing paper bag,
he nervously squeaked,
“Delivery for… uh…
the Moon?”
The Moon said,
“That’s me!
Sorry if I look tired — the tides have been a lot lately.”
Pico tried to pretend that was normal.
Inside the bag were:
• one order of nebula ramen
• three meteor dumplings
• and a fortune cookie that read,
“Beware of comets pretending to be friendly.”
The Moon was offended.
“I get hit ONE time and suddenly it’s my whole identity.”
While it slurped happily on the nebula ramen,
a passing satellite slowed down to stare like,
“Am I hallucinating or is the Moon eating soup?”
The Moon glared back and said,
“Mind your orbit.”
After the meal, Pico asked,
“Uh… should I put this on your tab?”
The Moon considered this.
Then said,
“Charge it to Jupiter. He never checks.”
Pico zoomed away before anyone could question it,
and to this day,
Jupiter is still wondering
why he keeps getting charged for dumplings he never ordered.
Jessica Carey
