Didn’t every kitten play cowboys and aliens and lemonade stands and baguettes with their siblings and neighbouring cats of all the lovely varieties under the Martian sun? I know I did.
So it was no surprise at all to find this gaggle of upstanding equines and not-terribly-wild westerners discussing the important thing in life: hats and their place in the synchronised scheme of things.
Also, tuna-flavoured lemonade – the next big thing at your nearest pretentious cafe – move over coconut butter latte frappe-cino with hundreds and thousands, your time is up.
I don’t know D’Arcy or Anthony personally, but the fact that they exchanged their spaceship here on Mars with some rogueish southerner from the Medusae Fossae Formation seems to follow a family pattern. Two of my actual friends, Cy and Clark, have already committed to the Red Canoe Cult – you can check them out enjoying a little angling in the Hale crater. They bear a remarkable resemblance to these two soon-to-be fishin’ fools.