Astronauts, they are, trying to figure out where on Earth they've crashed down. Dummies. Who said this was Earth?
A short conversation from Jasper McCutcheon's book, Celestial Bodies of the Hairy Gorilla-Men
"Never mind," says Claude, as he and Rod look back at the bubbles foaming up where their capsule used to be. "Too bad we didn't put on some clothes before that thing sank.
"Feeling vulnerable in your skivvies, Claude?" chortles Rod.
"They ain't skivvies, they're NASA-issued boxers," Claude puffs up his chest. "And anybody wants to try something's gonna get a knuckle sandwich." He strikes a boxer's pose, meaty fists ready to fly.
"Come on," prods Rod. "Let's follow the stream feeding this lake and see where it takes us. I got a feeling we're in Utah, or maybe California.
"You're in command," states Claude. "Lead on."
The stream heads toward a mountain gap, and as they approach the gorge, they spot a group of people in a pool, waterfall streaming down a rock wall.
"Man, they're naked as can be," notes Claude.
"Must be beatnicks or something," Rod concludes. "Think they'll let us join them?"
"Don't know. What I'm wondering is if them ladies are the screwing kind," Claude slobbers. "Something about wet titties drives me wild."
"Especially after six years of sleeping," adds Rod. "See any kids with 'em?"
"No."
"Then I'd say they're fuckable. Let's go."
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