The Moon Speaks, and its not happy with NASA

Tsow: Hello, moon! Do you read me?

Moon: What's to read? I can hear you. Who the hell are you, anyway?

Tsow: My name is S Tsow, and I'd like to interview you.

Moon: Never heard of you. If I'm going to be interviewed, I want somebody famous. Where's Larry King? Christiane Amanpour? Katie Couric? Bill O'Reilly? Sorrayuth Suthassachinda? Suthichai Yoon? Sopon Onkgara? Andrew Biggs?

Tsow: They're all too busy.

Moon: Imtiaz Muqbil, then.

Tsow: Nope. I'm the only show in town.

Moon: Drat! If I were the sun, Larry King would be after me like a dog on a bone. But I'm just a lousy satellite, so they send me a nobody. A nonentity! The dregs of the journalistic community! The scum! The slime! The sewage!

Tsow: Thank you for your flattery. Moon, the world wants to know: How do you feel about Nasa hitting you with that rocket?

Moon: How do I feel? How do I FEEL? How do you THINK I feel, moron? How would YOU feel if a rocket came slamming into your abdomen? Not so all-fired peachy-keen, I'll wager. What are you damned humans up to, anyway? It's not enough that you have to make war on your own species. Now you're assaulting innocent satellites. Is there no end to your rabid mad-dog insanity? What have I ever done to incite you to shoot rockets at me?

Tsow: Didn't they text-message you in advance to ask your permission?

Moon: No. Not so much as a lousy fax. That shows how rude your species is.

Tsow: Gosh. Well, on behalf of my species, I apologise.

Moon: I deserve an apology from somebody a lot higher up in the food chain than you. Look at how much I've contributed to your so-called culture. Mooncakes. Moonshine whiskey. The moonwalk. The man in the moon. Songs like "Moon River", "Blue Moon", and "Monday, Monday". Monday was named after me, you know. No moon, no Mondays. No moon, no honeymoons. No moon, no romance. How many babies have been conceived on full-moon nights because of the romantic ambience I've created to kindle the lust of young couples canoodling beneath the stars? No moon, no tides. No moon, no full-moon parties on Koh Pha-Ngan. No moon, no werewolves. It takes a full moon to turn people into werewolves.

Tsow: That's true. Take away the werewolves and our culture would suffer a crippling loss indeed. But we sent that rocket up because we want to find out if you've got water up there.

Moon: Water? Of course I've got water. All you had to do is ask. What's the matter, you humans don't have enough water? Three-fourths of your planet is covered with the stuff. It'll be almost four-fourths once the glaciers finish melting and the typhoons stop dumping rain on you. You've got all that water, and you want to steal the crummy little amount I've got? You ever hear the word "greed", hume?

Tsow: Well, we may want to set up colonies on you. If you've got water, it will make things a lot easier.

Moon: Oh, boy, just what I need. Hordes of greedy humans roaming over my surface, trying to rape me for my metals. Yes, I know what you're like. Your planet has told me. Poor Earth. Sweet Gaia. Now that you've raped her to exhaustion, ripped out all her precious metals and devastated her rainforests, you're turning your insatiable eyes to your next victim - to me, her luckless satellite. Soon you'll be gouging great holes in my body, trying to find uranium and iron and titanium and nickelodeon and God knows what-all, disfiguring and mutilating me and tearing my guts out as I scream in agony and my veins gush moonblood and my green cheese curdles into buttermilk.

Tsow: Melodramatics aside, do you really have water?

Moon: Sure.

Tsow: That's great. Then we can get it.

Moon: Not so fast, hume. Curb your greed. That water belongs to me. But I might sell it to you.

Tsow: How much would you want for it?

Moon: I'd want payment in Chinese yuan. The currency of the future, you know. 

Tsow: We'd want to know how much you'd be charging.

Moon: Send Wen Jiabao up here and we'll talk. Tell you what, I've always been jealous of your planet because of that wall it's got - the big one the Chinese built. I want a wall, too. If the Chinese will agree to build a Great Lunar Wall on me, maybe we can do a deal. I might also accept payment in mooncakes. (Aside; conspiratorially:) By the way, I don't just have water. I've also got beer.

Tsow (beginning to salivate): You've got BEER?

Moon: Yep. You send the Heineken, Chang, or Singha people up here, and we'll talk. I can already see new brands coming out: Moon Beer. Luna Ale. Satel Lite. One Giant Leap For Mankind Lager. Moonbeam Malt. Sea of Tranquillity Stout. Served with slices of green cheese as munchies. Make a deal with the moon, hume, and you'll see your economy come surging out of the doldrums in no time flat.

Tsow: Who would have guessed that the much-anticipated economic recovery would come from talking to the moon?