Description: The fact that someone had decided that I would be safer on Mars, where you could still only sort of breathe the air, and sort of not get sunburned to death, was a sign that the war with the aliens was not going fantastically well. I was worried that I was about to be told that my mother's spacefighter had been shot down, so when I found out that I was being evacuated to Mars, I was pretty calm. And, despite everything that happened to me and my friends afterward, I'd do it all again. Because until you have been chased by invisible aliens, befriended a robot goldfish, and tried to save the galaxy, I don't think you can say that you've really lived. If the same thing happens to you, here's my advice: always carry duct tape.

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