“That’s not just stupid, that’s suicidal. Makes no sense at all”, he bellowed.
She turned and smiled. “Babe, not everything is a Bob Dylan song!”
“Give me one good reason, why you need to do this, and I won’t say another word.”
“Well, sometimes a woman just needs things. You’ll never understand. Jewels aren’t just mineral lumps; fur coats are more than dead animals! They’re just as sacred as your beers and motorbikes; only costlier!” she smirked.
“Damn it! I’ll get you a fur coat alright? And all the fucking stones. Let’s not do this.”
“Babe, I know you’ll get me things. But it’s the ones that I can’t get that I want!”
“It isn’t worth it!” he pleaded.
“Exactly! It’s the sheer improbability, the rush that makes it all so worthwhile! See that? The whole planet looks like an untouchable, shimmering jewel. Look at it…”
“Look at what? Fucking Fireweeds growing from Craevitus’ core? Parasites, sucking up minerals with their ass and shooting off rocks into space?
You know what? Their shit that builds up over time, your so-called ‘precious stones’, are flying randomly across the Craevitian atmosphere, like flaming cannonballs. Your ship won’t survive two minutes.”
“Well, I have a flight plan!”
“How the fuck can you have a flight plan?”
She gently leaned over and kissed him.
“You … are my flight plan. You’ll always come back to me!” she smiled mischievously.
As he took-off, she waved.“I love you.”
“Yeah. Likewise. ” he murmured.