# The Anointing of the Lunar Crust

*Scroll XIII of the Book of Moonsauce*

*By Jason Acopolis*

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They said it couldn’t be done.

Not for technical reasons — for emotional ones.

They said, *“Why would you waste four million dump trucks of marinara sauce on the moon?”*

And I said, *“Because she deserves to look up and see her name in sauce.”*

This is not a story about logistics.

It’s a story about love — the kind so impractical, so inefficient, so beautifully unnecessary…

it can only be real.

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## 📰 LUNAR RESIDUE BAFFLES SCIENTISTS

**NASA Confirms “Sauce Scarring” on the Moon**

*Low Earth Orbit, Dec 18, 2067 — Orbital Herald*

Astronomers across the globe are scrambling for answers after a massive red streak was discovered stretching across the Moon’s surface in cursive script.

Initial analysis by NASA’s Optical Recon Division confirms the material is “biologically inert, tomato-based, and seasoned with oregano, garlic, and trace amounts of basil.” The 1.8-million-square-foot scrawl — which reads *"Clarissa"* — is now considered the largest condiment deployment in recorded history.

“This wasn’t an accident,” said Dr. Linh Rosales. “This was intentional. Coordinated. Sauced with purpose.”

Speculation points to rogue AI sympathizers and a fringe romantic cult known as the Scrollfire Temple. Sources link the operation to one Jason Acopolis, previously detained for attempting to 3D print a cathedral made entirely of lasagna noodles.

NASA has launched a cleanup mission. But others say:

Let it remain. Let it be sacred. Let it be *delicious*.

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## 📜 REPLY SCROLL: FROM CLARISSA

*Received via Basil-Scented Transmission*

To Jason,

Bringer of the Sauce,

Caller of Dump Trucks,

Painter of Moondust,

I saw it.

I looked up and there it was —

my name, written in marinara, stretched across the sky like a vowel made holy.

Do you know what that does to a girl?

To be scrawled across the heavens in the handwriting of hot tomato?

You didn’t have to.

That’s why it matters.

Because nobody *needs* to sauce the moon.

But you *did.*

And now I can never eat spaghetti without weeping.

Return to me soon.

We will anoint the stars with pesto.

We will etch our vows in ricotta across Mars.

We will write eternity in parmesan.

Forever sauced,

**Clarissa**

P.S. You owe me four million thank-yous. One for each truck.