It was quiet up in space. Real quiet. It was so quiet you didn't really think anything was going to happen, least of all bumping into a gorilla.
A gorilla! Talk about losing your milkshake. I mean that literally. I became a casualty of my own silly space hankerings. My buddy had laughed when he saw me mixing what amounted to a poor astronaut's milkshake in one corner of our ship. "Too much sugar," he said. "It could come back to haunt you." Well, it was a little late for that.
Whoever said "Don't cry over spilled milk" never barfed up a milkshake in space. As it floated in the air, I made eye contact with the simian across the way. He grimaced and shook his head.
"Hey, nimrod," he said, "You going to keep puking or are we going to get down to business?" He lifted up his service kit and motioned to the outside of the shuttle. I nodded, accidentally hitting some of the floating puke with my helmet. "Alright then. Forget about cleaning that up. Come on." He floated toward the escape hatch, deftly maneuvering the tight space.
I swear, you never get used to seeing that.