If I could have anything, it would be a radio to ask NASA the safe path down the Ramp. Well, if I could have anything, it would be for the green-skinned yet beautiful Queen of Mars to rescue me so she can learn more about this Earth thing called “lovemaking.
If ruining the only religious icon I have leaves me vulnerable to Martian vampires, I’ll have to risk it.
In other news, It’s seven sols till the harvest, and I still haven’t prepared. For starters, I need to make a hoe. Also, I need to make an outdoor shed for the potatoes. I can’t just pile them up outside. The next major storm would cause The Great Martian Potato Migration.
One thing I have in abundance here are bags. They’re not much different than kitchen trash bags, though I’m sure they cost $50,000 because of NASA.
They hate you.”
“Cause you’re a dick, Mitch.
I’m so close to Schiaparelli I can taste it. I guess it would taste like sand, mostly, but that’s not the point.