Timmy stood back to admire his creation—a rocket that looked more like a tin can held together by hope and duct tape. But to him, it was a masterpiece. And to SHiBBy, perched proudly in his custom wheelchair adorned with rocket stickers, it was the start of an adventure.
“Ready for liftoff, buddy?” Timmy asked, slipping on his potato-sack-turned-space-suit.
“Banana bread!” barked SHiBBy, his tail wagging so hard it practically powered the rocket itself.
With a blast that sounded somewhere between a whoopee cushion and an airhorn, the rocket shot into the sky. SHiBBy barked his way through the ascent: “Hula hoop!” “Pickle jar!” and a particularly emphatic “Toothpick!” that seemed to echo through the stars.
When they finally landed on the moon with a gentle thud, SHiBBy rolled out, his wheels crunching softly on the lunar dust. Timmy set up his laptop, tapping away furiously as SHiBBy barked at the strange rocks scattered around them.
And then, it happened...