There were no buglers on Mars.

Frank was deeply disappointed by this, and he let everyone know how he felt the first morning after they touched down. “If you’re going to install a military base on the surface of another god damn planet,” he said, “it should have all the trimmings. Including a real live bugler.”

Every since they’d arrived, it was one fucked up situation after another. Apparently a storm had come through and deflated three of the barracks. Supplies and equipment were scattered all over the place. One of the damn buildings had blown clear across the site and was flapping on the perimeter fence. Frank and about six other guys had to suit up and retrieve it.

Frank thought Chang was going to hyperventilate while they waited for the airlock to depressurize. “Aren’t you afraid?” he asked. “Hell no,” Frank said. “There’s nothing on this planet to be afraid of except the same human fuck ups that happen every damn day on Earth.”

All this after they were promised everything would be buttoned up when they got there.

Back at breakfast, Sam wasn’t having it. “Don’t get all high and mighty just because you were some famous musician back on Earth,” he said. “Your whining isn’t helping us get the job done.” As he said the last part, he pointed toward what was left of the sun, just a pale, yellow dot on the horizon. Then he scooped up some porridge and shoved it in his mouth like he was done talking.

“All I’m saying is that I just woke up 50 million miles from home and had to bury my head under the pillow because Earth was too cheap to send a real bugler.”


About Prompt-A-Day: The rules are simple. Every day, I generate a prompt¬†using Story Shack’s awesome writing prompt generator. Then I set a timer for one hour. At the end of the hour, I post what I’ve got. Sometimes it’s decent. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes I fail at the prompt. Sometimes I do okay. I do not edit, unless I find a typo, because I can’t help fixing those. Feel free to join in and post a link to your writing in the comments.