This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/GreedyIndependence65 on 2025-12-10 22:51:44+00:00.

It was at 3:16 AM when Mark was done. It wasn't the day before, when the government announced the implementation of another stupid idea and the third shooting of the week occurred. It wasn't at 2:17 AM, when he read the emergency alert on his phone announcing, "Alert, all residents are advised to evacuate due to [REDACTED]. In accordance with [REDACTED] any attempt to [REDACTED] is unlawful. Please await further [REDACTED]. This is not a [REDACTED]."

No, Mark finally threw up his hands and said, "Fuck it" at exactly 3:16 AM when he couldn't find the can opener.

Entering the garage to grab tools, Mark worked in his backyard with a fury that put to shame the greatest of 1980’s montages.  Parts clanged, tools were thrown, and incomprehensible curse words echoed through the neighborhood, but finally, after 16 hours, Mark was finished.

Unshowered and still wearing his clothes from the prior day Mark returned to his house. He grabbed a case of bottled water, all the Ramen noodles he could find, and that damned can of tuna.  Walking back to his creation, arms overloaded, his sweatpants caught and tore on the doorframe, it didn’t matter.

Dumping the load of supplies into the suitcase bolted to the plywood base, Mark removed and discarded the torn sweatpants before opening the door to his creation.  Procured from his neighbors shed, it didn’t fit well but the spray foam seemed to fill the gap.

Taking his seat in the lawn chair, Mark tied the 550 cord around his waist and secured his bike helmet tightly.

“Safety first” he muttered, before flipping the light switch he’d torn from the bathroom wall.

At first, nothing happened.  Slowly, a whine like a supercharger pushed past its limits became louder and the interior of Mark’s creation filled with an acrid smoke.  Suddenly, in a flash of light and a ball of electrical energy, Mark and his contraption disappeared from the yard.

His neighbor, just having noticed his pilfered shed door, stood at his kitchen window looking at the scorched ground where Mark had been sitting inside his creation.  He blinked.  Blinked again and then returned to scrolling his phone as he muttered, “Not my problem.”

Looking through the glass pane which had so recently been his bedroom window, Mark, bowl of ramen in hand, grinned at the sight before him, an endless field of stars stretched before him.  While he had done the math, as evidenced by the crayon marks on the plywood floor, and was pretty sure the microwave had enough power, he remained quite pleased wherever he was, Earth was not in sight.

However, despite his excitement, Mark had to admit a problem was developing.  Moving ever closer, at an alarming speed, what appeared to be a space station of incredible proportions loomed in his path.  He needed to slow his approach.  It was time to deploy his parachute.

“Space debris approaching at extreme velocity.  Repair crews, prepare for emergency hull breach mitigation” the AI on the space station announced.

“Admiral, the space debris seems to have released a sheet of cloth.  It appears to be, somehow, slowing the mass.” A voice called out in the command center.

“What? Are you telling me it released a parachute, and it worked, in space?!” the Admiral responded.

“Yes Admiral, and it appears, somehow, to be navigating to the bay doors.”

"...Open the bay doors. And get medical standing by. Or... engineering. I want security there! I don't know what we're dealing with." The Admiral stated as he walked out of the bridge, headed to the landing bay.

As Mark’s creation came to a sudden stop on the floor of the station landing bay the sudden jolt caused him to spill his remaining ramen.

“Damnit, it’s the only shirt I brought!  Now I have to talk to these guys in a dirty shirt.” Mark said. “Fuck it” he muttered.

“Guess it’s time to say ‘Hi’” Mark thought.

Opening his neighbor’s shed door, Mark stepped out of his creation to a crowd of anxious aliens.

“Greetings! I’m Mark.” Mark said, arms lifted far above his head.

“Greetings Mark. You…are human.” The Admiral said.

“I am and you are not, which is good!”

“Correct, I am Alvany.  You are aboard the Earth Research Station. We have been monitoring your species for Centuries, Earth time. I’m sorry but we were unaware your species had developed FTL.”

“Oh, we haven’t.” Mark said flatly.

“But, your ship, the ‘Gas, Ass, or Grass, it uses FTL.” The Admiral stated.

“Oh, no, that’s not FTL.  I just had to get out of there.  It’s nuts down there.” Mark said as he cheerfully looked about, waving at random guards. “And, what’s that about Gas, Ass, or Grass?”

“Your ship name, it is written there on the side.” The Admiral stated, clearly annoyed.

“That? Nah, I ran out of duct tape and found that bumper sticker in the garage.  It’s just covering a hole in the wall.” Mark said

“Right… So, what is your ship named?”

“I dunno, I just call it ‘ship’”

“Regulation requires a ship name, and as it is the only writing I see…” the Admiral said as he looked to his aid, “Log the ‘Gas, Ass, or Grass’ as having arrived and initiating first contact.”

“Oh God, you’re going to keep calling it that? That’s not really fair.  The rest of it tore off when I released the parachute.”

“Yes, about that. How exactly did you make a parachute work in space?”

“I dunno. It’s the fitted sheet off my bed.”

“Of course. Well, usually first contacts are a bit more professional and difficult than this, but, as we already know your language, perhaps I could ask a question?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Perhaps I am mistaken, but doesn’t your species normally wear more clothes?”

“Well, look, I wasn’t even sure this thing would work.  I certainly didn’t think I would find anyone out here.  I expected privacy and, you know, who needs pants anyway?”

“And…your shirt?”

“I spilled my ramen when I landed.  Can’t show up to a first contact in a stained shirt!”

“Right…”

“So, you get me in my tighty whities, in all my glory!”

“Wonderful…” The Admiral mumbled. “I need to inspect your ship, for safety reasons.”

“Oh, sure. Just don’t touch the microwave, it gets really hot.”

“The what now?”

“The microwave. Screw it, I’ll just show you” Mark said as he opened the shed door and gestured for the Admiral to enter first.

Following Mark, a few of the other aliens invited themselves in.

“Huh, three’s a crowd, but ok.  See, I put the car batteries in the microwave to charge ‘em.  Then, I power the microwave with the batteries.  I wrote the calculations there on the floor, if you’re interested.” Mark said proudly.

“But, excuse me, Mark. That’s just a crude drawing of an Earth chicken and several swear words.  Also, some blood, which I assume is yours.” One of the uninvited aliens mentioned.

“I must agree with Engineer Xlon, that does not appear to be Earth, or any other type, of math” the Admiral said confused.

“Yeah, but it works. Hey, why you asking me anyway?”

“Because you pilot it, right?” Engineer Xlon said disapprovingly.

“Yeah, well, it’s all a bit complicated anyway.  I am so happy to meet you guys.  Want some ramen?”

“Uhh, no.  Thank you, Mark.  Consumption of so much sodium would kill us.” The Admiral spoke as he looked over Mark’s lawn chair.

“Oh, dang. That sucks. You want some tuna? If so, I need a can opener.”

“No, Mark, we do not want any of your food. We are just a bit confused. This ship you have built, the ‘Gas, Ass, or Grass’, it should not be here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.  Want me to leave?”

“No…” the Admiral started to speak as he sighed in exasperation.

“Mark, I believe what the Admiral is trying to say is your ship is physically impossible. Your FTL and thrust comes from a microwave with batteries in it, scanners indicate 63% of the structural integrity comes from duct tape, and you appear to control the ship with a child’s RC car controller. You have a map of Florida taped to the wall, which I assume is your navigation system.  Quite honestly, we cannot understand why or how your government sent you here in… this.” Engineer Xlon stated.

“Oh, no.  I am not from any government.  I’m just some guy.  I made this in my yard. I just couldn’t take it down there anymore, ya’ know? Like, sorry guys but I am out.”

“Wait, you built this, yourself, in your yard?” The Admiral screeched. “How long did it take?”

“About 16 hours.  It would have been faster but I kept dropping the screws.”

“And does your government know you are here?”

“I dunno, I doubt it.  Maybe my neighbor saw me?”

“Oh Gods! This is a disaster. First contact from Earth is with “just some guy” in his underwear.  Get him out of there and put some clothes on him!” the Admiral screamed as he marched away.

“Oh, yes please.  Clothes would be nice.  It’s a bit cold in here”

“Yeah, we can see that.” A medical officer chirped as Mark walked past, following the Admiral.