Elijah flicked the stub of his last cigarette

Elijah flicked the stub of his last cigarette into the embers and tipped his hat to rest his head on his saddlebag. The Milky Way glowed dimly behind his horse tied to a Saguaro.

It was different out here under the starry Wyoming stars, Elijah thought. He finally felt at home, at peace. In other words, it wasn't Japan. There weren't many Japanese cowboys,

but he was sure he would run into one sooner or later, by Halloween at least. Elijah's snakeskin boots sank into the high plains of Wyoming as he daydreamed of the American woman

who lived on the moon, the one Uncle Wayne had told him about years ago. Then it dawned on him -- the moon has no atmosphere! It also dawned on him that his boots kept sinking

The atmosphere made he can't breathe , consequently he was try to find food for survival of his life. He can do just only eats the dust which makes he has a magic power.

Unbreathable atmosphere, check. Comestible magic dust, check. Sadly,the dust crusted his nose which made his breathing even more difficult. He squealed like an asthmatic.

The sea-cows were not affected, but the land-cows were doing their usual business. The methane gas reached the Al Gore minions and caused a massive panic attack. Millions of trance

-effected zombies roamed the streets, INFURIATED with Al Gore. He hid in his closet listening to screams outside. "It's time," Al Gore said. "It's time to COME OUT OF THE CLOSET!!"

But Al Gore did not come out of the closet. He stayed there until all the zombies staggered away in search of easier-to-reach brains. Then he blasted his way out through the wall.