Sun and Moon hooked up on facebook. Their friendship actually went way back, but they’d lost touch around the time when Sun got into trouble with the Ozone and Moon met a spaceman whom she’d allowed to walk all over her. These years later, Sun and Moon agreed to meet in person at a coffee shop on Orange Avenue in Coronado. After catching up over espressos, Sun suggested they shine Route 75 with his ’98 Beamer. Sun dropped the top, and Moon let down hair that fell like ice and dust rocks down her back. Sun jerked the car to a halt near North Island Amphibious Base, into a two-hour parking space designated for fornicators. (If you ever park there without fornicating, don’t forget you must get your parking validation ticket from the nearby fish taco vendor, or else you’ll be charged twenty bucks per hour). So, Sun fucked Moon. Afterward, feeling weird and inspired, Sun rolled his ride straight into the ocean. Sun, Moon, and car splashed, tsunami style, and soaked the entire Western Seaboard. Sure made that puffed up United States naval base look like Tinker Bell. Even the wiped out little surf god was shaking a fist in the air and shouting, “You lunatic!”
Gentle friend, if there’s no sun or moon shining where you are now, you can bet that those two rascals are hanging out, sipping cosmos on the beach, and gossiping about—and just wishing they could outshine—the Hollywood stars.