Starts with two NASA people talking before launch, one astronaut, one a scientist

Greg – NASA Astronaut
Peter – NASA Scientist
Colonel – Head of Government Space Division
Doris – Wife of Greg

—–

How do you think Mr. Pebbles is feeling?

My guess is somewhere between indifference and terror.

Don’t all emotions fall in that range?

Well yes. I said it was a guess after all. I don’t like making bold predictions.

We all know you’re a pussy, Greg, you don’t have to beat around the bush.

Well, isn’t Mr. Pebbles one too? A pussy?

He prefers to be called a Feline-American, but that’s besides the point. It’s true Mr. Pebbles is a puss, but only in a technical sense. The truth is, he’s likely the bravest astronaut we have.

Yes, it’s kind of embarrassing really.

Oh, I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself Greg, there’s a reason he’s your captain, and it has little do with you.
The fact is, the feline race is the most nonchalant species on the planet. It’s that ambivalence that allows Mr. Pebbles to deal with the mental stress of living in outer space.

Is that your scientific opinion, doctor?

Well, I’m a scientist. Do I have any other kind?

***

blast off, Greg goes into space, but halfway through the comm fizzes out

***

Houston do you read me? Houston?

(meow)

Mr. Pebbles, we’ve lost contact with Houston, what do we do?

(meow)

Something’s wrong with our comm system, someone needs to go fix it!

(meow)

Don’t you get it, if we lose contact with Houston, we’ll be flying half-blind out there!

(meow)

Goddamnit you stupid cat, say something! SAY SOMETHING!

***

bright light, fade to black. Greg wakes up in a hospital bed

***

Greg, congratulations on the mission. I hear it was resounding success.

Never mind that Peter, I need to tell you something. It’s about Mr. Pebbles.

Ah, he should be meeting with the President shortly. He’s receiving the Medal of Freedom, you know.

But that’s what I’m saying, he doesn’t deserve any of it. Not the medals, not the cereal boxes…for Christ’s sake, he’s not even a real astronaut!

What do you mean? Did he have problems piloting the shuttle?

Trouble? He’s a goddamn cat, of course he had trouble! He can’t even hold the throttle for crying out loud, not with those thumbless paws!

Now Greg, what did I tell you about envy and jealousy…

I’m not jealous! This is a matter of competence! You sent me into the dead of space under the command of a mindless furball!

Mind your rank. That’s your Captain you’re talking about.

The point is, I could’ve died up there!

And yet if it weren’t for Mr. Pebbles, you’d be dead right now.

What?

I read the report, Greg. You lost control of your emotions and blacked out. Meanwhile, your captain, despite having loss contact with Houston, safely guided the shuttle back to Earth. So you tell me who’s the real astronaut.

But that’s impossible…

Listen Greg, you’ve had a tough time of it. Get some rest.

Peter…maybe you’re right. To be honest, I thought you’d all lost it, putting a cat in space. But maybe I’m the one who’s bananas. Maybe I’m the one who can’t cut the mustard.

I have no idea what you’re saying Greg, but if you’re hungry, there’s sandwiches in the break room.

***

So what do you think, Colonel?

I think this whole thing stinks, Peter. Every astronaut we’ve sent up there has come back with the same story.
So you tell me, what’s really going on? 

I don’t have an answer. And it’s not like Mr. Pebbles to say something. He’s far too dignified to talk ill of his peers.

Then what is it, Peter? How is it every human that goes up there ends up in a rubber room?

I don’t know. But Greg seems to be in fine health. All that’s left now is to send him home and hope for the best.

***

Greg, you’re back! Is everything all right? What did the doctors say?

Everything’s fine, Doris. I’ve been fully cleared. They say the best thing for me now is a little R and R.

Oh, that’s wonderful news!

Yes, it is. By the way, I saw a strange billboard downtown on the way here. Advertising something called “Coca-Cola.”

The Coke sign? Why, it’s been there for ages. It really is an eyesore.

That’s odd. I don’t remember it being there.

I’m surprised you remember anything, given what you’ve been through. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll fix you up a hot cup of Folger’s coffee.

Folger’s? What’s that? You know I prefer Slocum’s Joe.

That’s news to me. You’ve been drinking Folger’s coffee every morning for the past 10 years.

Have I? Something’s not right here. First the billboard, now the coffee…

Greg, you’re fine. It’s probably just fatigue. Or some bizarre side effect of being out in space. Besides, the most important things are all here, just as you remember them.
Don’t let an old billboard and a cup of coffee end the world for you.

But what if it’s not just that? What if there’s other things that have changed? More important things like baseball, pin-up girls, and that thing you do with your tongue!

Relax…everything’s just fine. How about I boil you up some hot chocolate instead, and tomorrow, after you get a good night sleep, I’ll make you breakfast in bed.

Bed? You know damn well I prefer to sleep on a hammock! Jesus, it’s like I don’t even know you. Which means something’s definitely wrong. Very, very wrong.

But what could it be?

I don’t know. But I’m turning myself in for a psychiatric evaluation. Let’s just hope they can fix me before it’s too late.

***

They put him in Parsons?

I don’t blame them. Granted, most of the things he said were harmless. Bizarre, but harmless. He kept asking for a Nuka-Cola, whatever that is. I gave him a Coke and he practically spit it out. Still, that kind of behavior isn’t grounds for locking him up, but his fixation with the captain is another story.

Oh, how so?

He’s under the impression Mr. Pebbles was a cat. Can you believe that? He thinks NASA would not only recruit cats for their space program, but have them lead humans on the missions.

Ha, as if cats had anywhere near the emotional intelligence as dogs. 

I tried to explain it to him, Colonel. I even showed him Mr. Pebbles’ spacesuit. Clearly made for a Canine-American. But there’s no reasoning with a crazy person. In fact, you should hear who he thinks is President.

It can’t be any crazier than the one we elected. Speaking of which, I’ll need to brief President Domino in the morning. I’ll expect a full report by then.

Of course, Colonel.