While the World Held Its Breath

Neil Armstrong stepped down the first prong of the ladder, his moon boots heavy and clunky. He stepped again and again and again, and then he felt his right boot sink into the dusty, soft, lunar dirt. His second boot followed. He could hear his own breathing loud in his ears. Buzz Aldrin’s face was in the doorway looking at him, now nodding his head. He made a thumb’s-up sign with his thick polymer glove.

Neil Armstrong faced around, taking in the bleak emptiness of the lunar surface. He felt the eyes of half a billion people watching him in black and white on their Zenith television sets.

Suddenly, he looked up and to his right. He took a step back, and a second step. Both his hands now rose to protect his face from something huge the camera was not seeing. He screamed, “Mother of God!” and sank to his knees, his hands still shielding his face from something only he could see.

Then he stood up and said, “Just joking…”

He knew he was in trouble, and it would take a long, long time for him to be forgiven by the people in NASA, but none the less, the greatest prank in the history of mankind had just been delt, and who could blame the man, really?

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