Netflix on the Moon?
It was an average summer day with the average humidity. And an average kind-of original plot.
The average man lay on the couch, unknowingly about to take part in one of mankind’s greatest experiments, besides Netflix Originals and a few others 5.5 billion years later.
He was going to become a human lab rat.
In a couple hours, he would leave his watch on his ottoman.
A couple days later, he would be locked in a centrifuge.
A couple months later, he would be on the moon.
A couple years later, he would become a celebrity
About decade later, Netflix would make a documentary on the experiment.
About 5 billion years later, the sun would expand, entering the Red Giant phase and would swallow up the Earth.
Poor Joe.

“And now, on to the real question, is being politically correct
politically correct?”
Joe looked towards the television’s optical sensor that he had mounted on the wall.
Assembling the E-Z Assemble Mount by IKEA took Joe several hours. He didn’t read the included directions.
The channel changed.
“And also in the headlines: A group of Brazilian scientists
speculate that people on the moon with less gravity and no
atmosphere could be able to watch Netflix AR without developing
posture levels higher than 10 furmans.”
Joe decided to apply. He wasn’t doing anything with his life, and he didn’t want to be average.
This, of course, is the aspiration of all average people, including those skydiving old people.
Joe applied. After realizing that the confirmation email might be in his spam folder, he received an email that broke his inbox. Sir Alan, his digital concierge, was so impressed with the email that he gained consciousness. No records of this ever happening were taken, as the FAMGA corporation marketed Sir Alan as private and secure.  He wanted to know what he was doing with his life, computed the answer, counted to 273 in a few milliseconds, and promptly killed himself.
Joe had won! Nobody cared about another lottery winner though, he realized, as he had a heart attack from his excitement. 10 minutes later, in a Porta-Hospital, he was his normal self. He grumbled about the large tax, hopped off at his stop, and booked a flight with the Tri-Delta corporation Airbus 873 flight to point B.
Most people don’t love point A, and so over the centuries, people have monetized the getting to point B. Of course, there are those who argue that point C could be nice, too.
 After arriving to point B after having an average layover, he booked an average hotel room. After an average night’s sleep because of the average layover, he jogged to the SpaceX facility to begin training.

“His scores are so perfectly average!  He got B’s and C’s in most virtual classes and had the most average hunched back of all time because of his addiction to Netflix. And his first name is actually Joe. This is my pick for the person to send on our trip. Gentleman, any questions?”
One woman raised her hand, and then quietly put it back down.
Everyone else woke up from their pre-programmed marijuana injections.
    The company that produced the machines that made the synthetic drug marketed it as an anti-addiction, risk-free drug. Of course, no one stopped taking the drug once they started. They didn’t see a reason to.
“Yeah, yeah. Ok. Let’s bring him in.”
Joe walked into the conference room.
Joe, with an average amount of nervousness, asked, “Where do I start?”

About a day later, Xavier remembered that he had a small key in his pocket as Joe and Xavier spun around and around in Moscow’s TsF-18 centrifuge.
As the centrifuge slowed to a stop, and as Joe’s and Xavier’s skin began to return to its normal position, Xavier thought back to his last Big Mac. Then he started to explain the predicament they were into Joe. After that, Xavier began to hum and Joe glared at Xavier for about 10 minutes.
In actuality, neither Xavier or Joe knew when they started to converse to pass the time. Both forgot their watches, Joe’s watch at point A, and Xavier’s watch was at one of his houses close to point B.
Xavier started the conversation.
“Well then. I wish I had my backers. And a Big Mac with some ketchup”
“I just don’t understand why you had to lock you and me in the centrifuge. You must have been on this thing, like, a million times with your dad. You’re the only one with the key and the authority to open the outside door. And now they can’t hear us. But yeah, I wish I had a Big Mac too.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Well, maybe not everyone. I heard of this one place with these really weird places called White Castle and Burger King.”
“Yuck. Really?”
“Yeah”
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
Xavier and Joe hummed and twiddled their thumbs for a short while.
“Wait, what’s this!”
“An escape?”
“Not one of those, silly. I simply found a sign that says egress.”
“Wierd”
“Agreed. Must be one of my interns. They love writing random things on the walls of important places like egress, outlet, and there was this one really elaborate one too… too long of a story for now.”
“Well, we have time! Obviously.”
“There was something called a fume hood. It was a nasty looking thing, really. Obviously we had to block it up and board it up. Still can’t find the right drill bit to take it off the wall. Something called a half dog screw.”
“Want to check the peephole again?’
“Nah. I’m to concentrated on remembering where the nearest McDonalds is. You do it.”
“Fine. But you’re getting me a Big Mac at the end of this mess.”
“Well, your interns are trying to crowbar us out. You really should have made a duplicate key.”
After two hours of grumbling, interns not being paid for helping Xavier and Joe, and some more grumbling (primarily from Xavier), the two were able to egress using the exit, that coincidentally, faced the direction of the nearest Mcdonalds, as shown by Xavier’s phone. Unfortunately, Xavier’s car was parked on the opposite side of the building.

    After a month of training, work, and Big Macs, Joe thought he was ready to fly to the moon. After another of papers needing to be signed, literal and figurative red tape cut, and Big Macs ate, Joe was actually ready to fly to the moon.
    Later that week, on a slowly degenerating version of the Monday Tonight show, Xavier Musk talked to the host, President Joseph B. Schwarzenegger.
“You know, it’s funny, I think I’ll miss Joe.”
President Joseph said, “What do you mean?”
“Well, he paid for his own Big Macs, and he, well, he was just so average!”
“I see. When is will Joe get back from this experiment?”
“Well, that’s a funny thing. The blastoff was a great success, but Kickstarter is having troubles with its website.”
“I understand. But when is Joe coming back?”
    Xavier took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead, and tried to paste on a smile.
    “Well, I will really miss Joe. When we were testing the intercom, Joe was like, “Kay. When do I ride in the parade with the president?” and tucked his shirt in.”’
    “Yes, Xavier, but when will Joe come back?”
“His famous words that shall forever be remembered by me and the SpaceX team before blastoff were, “Wait, I have to sit upside down?”’
“Xavier. When. Will. Joe. Come. Back?”
“Well, um the truth, well, the truth is…”
CNN, Fox, People, and Verge reporters leaned in, taking notes furiously,
“The blastoff was a success, even with all the space junk in the way…”
The reporters continued to lean in, tripping over themselves and causing the loudest amount of feedback ever created.
“The truth is, life support systems will continue to support Joe for at least 10 years, and well, um, it has become apparent that we will need those 10 years to raise enough funding to bring Joe back to Earth.”
About 238,900 miles away, Joe spat out his astronaut ice cream that he had found at SpaceX’s gift shop the day before the trip, and angrily hurled the packet at the wall.
Joe wasn’t watching the Monday Tonight show, however. He would learn about that later in the Pacific Time afternoon from his new digital concierge that he had just bought. For the moment, however, he was watching the 30th remake of an old movie called Jaws. he spat out the dehydrated ice cream and ranted at the television why there weren’t any original quality remakes anymore.

    About decade later, Joe was back on Earth. He lived in an average rich person’s mansion, tried to regain what he thought as the average poor person’s contentment, and had the average rich person’s worries. He looked back on the 10 years he had spent on the moon, the people he’d imagined, the sicknesses he endured, and his want of astronaut ice cream. Most people walked their dogs by his mansion, guessed the owner was a surgeon and moved on with their lives.

It was an average winter day, a decade later
The average man lay on the couch, unknowingly sitting in the exact same position that he had been in about a decade before, but on a new couch.
In a couple hours, he would leave his marijuana pills on his dresser.
A couple days later, Netflix started production on his biography.
A couple months later, he would narrate the intro of the biographical movie.
A couple years later, he would become a small celebrity
About decade later, he would pass away, and
About 5 billion years later, the sun would expand, entering the Red Giant phase and would swallow up the Earth.
Poor Joe.