The year is 1969 in human years.

 

The date is the 20th of July according to the human calendar. 

 

Jackie is a little moon boy playing hide and seek along the vast grey dunes of his childhood home.

 

He had just found the perfect hideaway when he spots an unknown flying object tearing up the sky above him.

 

The spacecraft proceeds to land and out of it's belly a couple of wobbling white figures come bouncing. They take some pictures, bounce around some more and, to Jackie's horror, plant a flag with a bunch of scattered stars right into his great great great great great great great great great great grandfather's ass.

 

'Strange people'..Jackie thinks to himself and upon them leaving in their spacecraft again, he decides to inspect the scene. 

 

There's this strange flag, giant footprints and under a layer of moon dust..

a photograph.

Jackie picks up the photograph and dusts it off. A man looks back at him from over his shoulder. It is the deep dark gaze of what Jackie would later find out to be the greatest rock star of planet Earth. 

 

He kept the picture close for many years, wondering who the man was and knowing he would find out one day, when he would make a trip of his own.

​This day came many years later, when Jackie was all grown up. He packed his bags and was off to Planet Earth, landed straight in a Mississippi swamp and almost died trying to hug an alligator, thinking them to be the prevalent life form on this planet. 

His spacecraft still buried in mud and alligator shit, Jackie makes his way through the southern states, waving his photograph around. Everyone who sees the photo just goes "oh, the king. you wanna go to las vegas to see 'em."

 Las Vegas it is, to meet the king of this planet. 

The king turned out to be an overweight, middle aged man in a uncomfortably tight white rhinestone suit named Elvis Presley. And although Jackie almost didn't recognise him from the picture, he was sure it was him. The world was crazy for him. Girls were screaming his name, tearing their hair out.

So Jackie stayed a bit, on this strange blue planet. He grew to know loneliness, and cocktails. He grew to know rejection, but also the salvational power of music.

 

James Brown, Parliament Funkadelic, David Bowie..another Starman, though he certainly never dropped by the Moon.

 

After a while Jackie decided to go back to his birthplace. With the help of a few Mississippi locals he befriended with a bottle of Hennessy, he dug out his spaceship and off he was again. With a bunch of records and a couple of crates of Champagne, Gin, Tonic Water, Sherry, Lemons, Grapefruit and Jelly dessert in all the colours of the rainbow he made his triumphant return home. 

In a way he imagined they would wait for him with a Las Vegas firework, parade, trumpets, girls jumping out of Hennessy filled cakes and midgets, or small folk as is the current parlance, dancing around in sparkling outfits, but then he wasn't in Vegas anymore.

 

No one gave a damn about all that flash, it wasn't the Moon way. To make matters worse, one of the elders told him that he hadn't been the only Moonman to visit Earth, and certainly not the first one to go crazy and bring back this ghastly rainbow jelly shit.

Jackie was determined. One day he would go back to earth and become a king in his own right. He would find people that like rainbow jelly and he would make the sweetest music, sweet enough to turn the whole world into a

big dripping honey comb. 

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