To the Moon!

When I was a boy, I dreamed of taking a rocketship to the moon.
As I got older, I realized that this dream was roadblocked (yet not completely sundered), by prohibitive financial problems.

This did not keep me from dreaming, and staring longingly at the clouds (even though, on the moon, there are no clouds to speak of, or even any atmosphere that we, here on Earth, would consider pleasant, or even remotely acceptable).

"I must reach the moon!", said a young Me into my 32oz chocolate milk, "I must!"
My chocolate milk replied only with the silent promise of a rich, creamy nepenthe.

As an adult, I set all my considerable mental faculties toward one singular task: assembling the money necessary for a successful moonshot.

"Maybe Mr. Rodriguez would give me some extra hours at the gas station...

"Maybe I could sell my sweet, sweet plasma for cash dollars...

"Maybe I could knock over a liquor store!

"Yes! That's it!
I'll knock over a liquor store!"

And, so, plans for this "knocking-over" were made...
Plans which, ultimately, exposed more stubborn obstacles than I had originally counted on.

As it turns out, liquor stores are most commonly made of brick or (*shudder*) stone, and I'd need to rent a bulldozer (or possibly a backhoe, if the weather holds out) to knock one over properly. And the bulldozer (or possibly [weather permitting] backhoe) rental fee would roadblock me with prohibitive financial problems.

Maybe Mr. Rodriguez will give me some extra hours at the gas station...