No. 148

“I have a cousin whose friend said that he knew a guy who worked on faking the moon landings. Said they did it up in some big studio in Hollywood,” said the man at the bar.

“Sure,” I told him. “I’ve heard that.”

“What’d’ya think about that?” the man slurred at me.

“Oh, I believe your cousin’s friend’s source,” I replied.

“Really? Nobody’s ever said that right off.”

“Of course I believe it. I was one of the men who worked on the set.”

This revelation almost floored the poor drunk.

“I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew it. They hoaxed us. We never put a man on the moon.”

“Actually,” I interrupted him. “We did. The director was something of a perfectionist. We shot the whole deal in two weeks in a warehouse but he didn’t like the footage. He convinced NASA to send some guys up there for ‘verisimilitude’. Those rocket scientists probably shaved twenty percent off of our budget, too, even if we did have to get two takes of Armstrong touching down. That guy was never good with learning the lines."

The man was stunned. “What was your job?” he asked, in awe.

“Me?” I hesitated. Then I decided to tell him the truth. It made the whole thing more believable, you know?

“I got the coffees. Michael Collins liked his with two sugars. By the way, tell your cousin’s friend I said hi.”

The man offered to pay for another drink if I stayed to tell him some more stories but I told him it was late and that I had to leave.

I walked out of the building and to the white van parked just down the road. I knocked on the backdoor twice and it opened.

“Password?” said the voice from inside.

“Come on, guys. You know it’s me. Let me in, already.”

“What’s the password?”

“Neil’s an awesome dude,” I repeated for about the hundredth time.

“Ok, cool. Get in here. You didn’t tell him about the two-take thing, did you?”

“Nope,” I lied.

“Great. Strap in. I heard there’s another guy down in Phoenix who spends a lot of time at the local watering hole telling folks I never walked on the moon.”