Suddenly, Jupiter got pissed--Why, it asked, should the sun get to have all the fun?
Dr Jacoby looked to the sky and shook, his jaw dropping as if he found his wife home with his mistress. Mistresses.
"Dear GOD," he said, "Jupiter's ignited!"
"You're damn right," the giant planet seemed to say, and in the midday sun there was another star in the sky--as if God struck a match right over there.
"Whoa, hold on there," God said, his voice booming like the earthquake of armageddon. "I just created the universe. This isn't my work."
And there was a flare of death, with Adrastea and Metis and Amalthea being swallowed up in the first plume of its mother Jupiter's nuclear assault.
The sun shot angrily into the day. Dr Jacoby fell to the ground, and tears flowed from his eyes.
"This is impossible!" He cried, his hand outstretched to the sky.
The day grew no brighter, but the sky was afury with movement.
Saturn's rocky rings chlunked together as rocks fused under new heat. The planet sweat under the blaze from it's neighbor, and groaned it's dissatisfaction. Iapetus and Phoebe cried out in anger, cried out for their planet to defend them.
God smiled over his half-glasses, and then turned back to his drawing board. Idiots, he thought. Now the planets are at it.
The sun puffed out its chest, and Dr Jacoby stood up and began to run in circles. "We're all doomed! We're all doomed! They'll have it out and we're in the middle! We're done for!"
"You've had it in for me since the day you caught all them gases, Jupiter," the Sun said.
"Yeah, and what of it? I'm in the game, now. How long have we sat here circling you? It's mahhh tahhhm to shine, bitch." Jupiter’s moons cheered.
"Jupiter has no solid surface! Jupiter has no solid surface!" Pluto said, it's voice whiny wimpy in the cosmic distance.
"Silence!" the Sun commanded.
God turned back around, took off his glasses, and sat with his hands inverted on his knees.
I looked up. Jacoby was on his cell phone with one of his women, crying, saying he was sorry, he was sorry, but not telling the other party why. The flame over there went out.
Jupiter was dead, it's hydrogen and helium fwooshing out in a giant blast that took its cheering moons by surprise, frying them into black rock and blowing them out of orbit.
"Oh...oh! Oh!!!" Dr Jacoby jangled, dropping his phone. "It's burnt out! The radiation, oh the radiation!"
The sun flared out an arm of solar wind, and it stifled the cast-off remains of Jupiter at the asteroid belt. The moons all flew out in crazed directions, and then we all heard a clunk way off in the distance, which coincided with Pluto's sudden silence. It was actually shy Miranda, with her ugly, grooved surface who first broke the silence: "Well, there goes Pluto. Thank Heavens." Ariel and Umbriel agreed.
Everybody was quiet. The Sun was flamed on. Dr Jacoby still gaped at the various objects in the sky. God went back to work. The voice from Dr Jacoby's cell phone was calling his name. It sounded like his wife.
And the universe went on, one planet less. No one spoke of the incident, but it was in the cores of all the other planets: Jupiter tried, at least. He had his day in the sun.
So to speak.