Escape Plan - 9 Days to Go

 
Assuming we’re still here on the twenty-second
(knowing my luck, even that wouldn’t be
excuse enough to skip the festive obligations,

I can just see it now, “Pass the post-
apocalyptic chocolate truffles, dear, and
open the door for the caroling mutants”),

This galaxy isn’t far away enough, so I dial
0800 – PHONE – HOME but E.T.
had stepped out. So, I message Paul

but the lil’ bugger is stoned and – fuck it –  
had crashed his spaceship. It looks like I’m
gonna have to storm Orlando’s space center

and borrow one myself. How many clicks
to  Kepler-22b? Easy as pie, the Orion space shuttle!
… where’s the start button on this thing?