I pulled off my gas mask. The air was stale

I pulled off my gas mask. The air was stale but breathable. I looked pass the craters to the horizon. There, in the distance, was the worn red flag. I lined up my driver. The ball

sailed over the dune and then I heard a hollow "conk". Curiosity peaked, I returning to the rover and drove towards the red flag to see what I'd hit. I had another hour before NASA

would start to think something was up. So I threw up the flag, and headed over to the...

the rendezvous point. I lit up a cigarette and waited, waited. No one showed up. I started feeling confused, peek at my watch and then I realised that they could be

baa'd once or twice. Us farm animals had to stick together, and Howie Cow had saved me from the wool machine that one time. I had no clue which Micky D's to check first, so I just

started mowing down on chicken mcnuggets. I pushed my head into a 20 piece box and tried to lose myself in the fry-ee goodness until the sweet and sour got in my

nose and I started sputtering. But it was my main course for lunch that got me weird looks from my coworkers: A mound of spam molded into the shape of a baby's realistic head.

Personally, I think I saw a few get visibly angry when I took the hair extensions off my head and placed them on Spam Baby. I kissed Spam Baby lightly on the cheek before diggin in

to her neck with my three inch nails. I already had Sriracha sauce under my nails, so the Spam/Sriracha combination was delectable. Eating stray synthetic hairs was a small price.