Why We Need To Destroy The Moon


Chicago, 4 August 2017. 11.50pm

Darrius and Precious had been an item for over two months now. A hopeless romantic, Precious couldn’t resist wondering whether, finally, Darrius was The One. Unlike some of her previous boyfriends, her five kids (born to four different fathers) all seemed to adore Darrius. It didn’t hurt that he regularly showered them all with gifts. Gold watches, bracelets, and necklaces for her, and KFC buckets of chicken wings for the children. Darrius never told her where the money came from, and Precious didn’t want to ask. She’d found out the hard way before that asking questions is an idiot’s game. I’m not going to spoil things this time, she thought, absently drawing a finger across an old scar on her cheek.

Tonight was supposed to have been their special Friday night alone. The kids were tucked up in bed, having been given triple doses of antihistamines to aid their sleep. It was when she was in the kitchen pouring Darrius a glass of his favourite Moscato that Precious knew their special Friday night would have to wait another week. After all, a threesome is no fun when Auntie Flo is the extra person. Yes, there was always the ‘back door’ (a proven method of contraception) but Precious wasn’t much into that anymore since the ‘incident’. Still, if Darrius insists…she shivered involuntarily, running another finger along another scar.

As she closed the curtains ruefully, Precious caught a glimpse of a full moon in the night sky. Fucking Moon, she muttered, fully aware of how her menstrual cycle was perfectly aligned with the moon’s own cycle. Not for the first time she wished someone would just blow up that ugly white object.

Woolacombe, Devon, England, 5 August 2017. 4:30pm

For the first time in years, Stanley Armstrong was truly happy. The warm summer sun beat down, making the waves of Woolacombe beach sparkle. He looked at the sea where, some fifty metres out, his only son, Johnny, was learning to surf. Johnny seemed not to have got the hang of things yet given his frequent splashing around and falling off his board.

Stanley put his hand in his pocket to feel the bulge in his wallet. Yep, the money’s still there, he thought, referring to the £300 he had earned from Devon County Council for reporting that old witch who had flouted the hose pipe ban. It was this money which had allowed him this mini break with his son, something his ex-wife was not altogether happy with.

“Johhny’s too young to surf”, she had bleated out of that pathetically thin mouth. “Why not wait until he’s ten?”

All of a sudden, Stanley became aware of shouts around him and people rushing into the sea.

“What is it?” he asked a tall man standing next to him holding binoculars.

“It’s the rip tide”, the man replied. “Always really dangerous around a full moon. That poor surfer over there is being dragged out to sea and there’s nothing anyone can do to help him.  For fuck’s sake, you’d expect his parents would have given him a buoyancy aid before sending him out there.”

Stanley never got to spend any more weekends with his son.

Current Day, 5:03pm

When people think of the moon, all too often they recall idealistic Hollywood imagery. A Wonderful Life comes to mind, and the scene when George Baily was trying to woo Mary:

“Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”

Billions of womyn who suffer from period pain each month wish that George Bailey had done precisely that. Instead, he wasted his time with self-enrichment schemes when he should have been working for the Accredited Banker, Mr. Potter.

The moon is also responsible for the sort of rip tide that emperilled Johnny and kills thousands of others each year.

Amateur astronomers also have cause to curse the moon.  Its bright light pollutes the night sky, thereby preventing astronomers from discovering new planets, civilizations and even asteroids which might be heading our way to destroy us all.

The moon is also grossly racist, projecting an unapologetic white light from its white surface.

Nothing good ever came from the earth’s parasite, except perhaps inspiration for the Pink Floyd album title Dark Side Of The Moon.

On balance, we should not be afraid to eliminate the moon with extreme prejudice. We have the kilotons but do we have the collective will?

For the sake of bleeding womyn everywhere, let’s do it.

Martha C.
Martha C.

The story of Darius and Precious had me in tears! You truly are a gifted writer.

I felt I was right there with her: the mix of musky smells emanating from the shabby Velveteen and pleather couch, ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and toenail clippings… ah, amour, amour!

#younglove #DieMoonDie


Johnny wasn’t very bright if he drowned while in possession of a surfboard.

Oh, and Auntie Flo doesn’t obstruct the back door. Makes me wonder if this article was totally contrived that you didn’t know what’s goin on in da hood


I hope you’re not suggesting that we don’t report the truth at the AT Trav? Would this site really have gone on for four years if we didn’t believe what we wrote?


Wow thanks so much for these beautiful tales Pbier! Johnny got what he deserved for being an idiot though and not knowing about the rip tide. The innocent African American who recently drowned in Florida however was a victim of institutional racism that prevents African Americans from learning how to swim.


You’all need to find something else to howl at, after you’all destroy the moon.

Black Lives Matter

What about Allah??? What about all of our Islamic flags??? I feel so sorry for Darius and Precious, but there just has to be a better idea.

Let’s destroy the sun instead.

Missy Bo Pepys
Missy Bo Pepys

This is such a beautiful article, Pbier. It gave me goose bumps! Nothing says it better than your very last line “For the sake of bleeding womyn everywhere, let’s do it.”

Missy Bo Pepys
Missy Bo Pepys

That link’s garbage Missy!

Missy Bo Pepys
Missy Bo Pepys

I’m pleased you had a butcher’s at my bleeding link. With all the staffing issues at your vegan restaurant R&R, it must be hard to find any time at all for writing. I know what it’s like trying to run a business, when you can’t find good help. It’s so bad, I had to sell my sheep farm. The migrant shearers I was employing from Down Under were taking such liberties with my flock. It was a nightmare!

Black Lives Matter

Agreed. This is Nobel Prize material. Pbier is a modern-day Hemingway, except better and even more progressive.

Vladmir Putin
Vladmir Putin

Unless you have secret service security like Obama, or Al Gore, you better hide in your mom’s basement after you win the Nobel Peace Prize.

Vladmir Putin
Vladmir Putin

I’m going to veto the attack on the moon. We should try sanctions first, under the guidance of UN. If this doesn’t stop moon from influencing climate change cycles, and menstrual cycles on earth, then all options are on the table, including nucular. Climate change should be made illegal, and anyone indulging in it should be dealt with severely.