Recently, I found an old piece of schoolwork beneath a pile of Tijuana Bibles I’d been collecting. This little bit of scribble dates back to May 1, 1974. I was in fourth grade at Argyle Elementary School, and my teacher, Mrs. McHargue, tasked us to write an essay about what it must be like to travel to the moon. Here is a faithful transcription of that epic tale.
I didn’t have to worry about a space ship because we couldn’t afford one! So I used a banana. We started the countdown in the kitchen. 2, 700, 5, 9, 100, 4, 4, 3, 9. Blast Off! Here I go! Oops I broke the window. Oh, well!
Varrrooom!!! My banana took me strait to the moon. I forgot to take food, so I ate the banana. Then I saw a green and purple martian streaking. I asked him how could get home. He said, “Wait here.” So I waited. He brought back a plate of spagetii. “Eat all I give you. Then you will be at home.” I ate tons and tons of spagetii. Then all of a sudden I floated tward earth. When I got home I aked what was for supper. The answer was “spagetii.” “Oh no!!” I cried because I was as fat as my uncle.