As Stanley’s homemade rocket hurtled through the inky void of space, he found himself with an abundance of time and a dwindling supply of entertainment. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy lay discarded on the floor, its pages dog-eared and its wisdom thoroughly absorbed. The moon weed, however, remained in plentiful supply.

Stanley, ever the resourceful astronaut, fashioned a pipe from an apple he had packed for the journey. He filled it with the glowing moon weed, struck a match, and inhaled deeply. The smoke was sweet and thick, filling his lungs with a warmth that seemed to radiate from his very core.

As the effects of the moon weed took hold, Stanley’s mind began to wander. He thought about his return to Earth, about the press conferences and the TV appearances that awaited him. He imagined the flashing cameras, the eager reporters, the millions of people watching him from their living rooms.

Suddenly, a wave of paranoia washed over him. What if they knew? What if they could tell he was stoned? He could see the headlines now: “Lunar Lunatic Lands High,” “Stoned Stanley: The Moon Man’s Mellow Mission.” He could hear the laughter, the whispers, the judgment.

Stanley shook his head, trying to clear the fog of anxiety. He reminded himself that he was alone in his rocket, millions of miles away from anyone who could possibly know what he was doing. But the paranoia persisted, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

He tried to distract himself by looking out the window at the stars. They twinkled and danced, their light a comforting reminder of the vastness of the universe. But even their beauty couldn’t quell his fears.

Stanley’s mind raced, his thoughts spiraling into a vortex of worry and doubt. He thought about the creature he had battled on the moon, about the glowing rocks and their incredible power. He thought about the absurdity of his situation, about the ridiculousness of his fears.

And then, he started to laugh.

He laughed at the thought of being stoned on national television, at the idea of being the first man to get high on the moon. He laughed at the creature, at the rocks, at the absurdity of it all. He laughed until his sides ached and his eyes watered, until the paranoia and fear were nothing more than distant memories.

As his laughter subsided, Stanley felt a sense of peace wash over him. He realized that no matter what happened when he returned to Earth, no matter what people thought or said, he had accomplished something incredible. He had journeyed to the moon, battled a creature, and discovered a new source of energy. He had laughed in the face of danger and found joy in the most unlikely of places.

Stanley took another puff from his apple pipe, his worries forgotten. He gazed out at the stars, their light a beacon guiding him home. He knew that whatever awaited him on Earth, he could face it with a smile and a story that no one would ever believe.

And if they did know he was stoned? Well, Stanley thought with a chuckle, that would just make the story even better.