"You're Mark Watney!"

"Oh my gosh, Sam! You've got the coolest neighbor, like, ever!"

"How much do you weigh on Mars?"

"He probably weighs the same, Lizzy."

"No, I heard you weigh different on the Moon."

"Mr. Watney! Do you have a rock from Mars?"

"Mr. Mark Watney! How did you go to the bathroom?"

Damnit, Sam. Sam, or little Samuel, as I'd like to call the kid, is my neighbor from two houses down. I'd known him ever since I've moved here, which is before I was called into the Ares missions. He was just a little kid then, but ever since I've come back he's turned eight, and brought all of his friends to see me, I think. Sammy every once in awhile used to come over to my house and play video games with me with my video game set and have dinner because his parents were that cool and would let a six year old do that. They must've been reincarnations of hippies of the 1970s.

Anyways, he must've heard that I was back, and brought all of his friends. I invited them in instead of having them all over my doormat like a bunch of trick-or-treaters or Christmas carolers.

"Okay now," I put orange juice and lemonade I bought from the grocery store the other day on the counter and four cups. "To answer your questions, lady and gentlemen, you would weigh about .378 of what you weigh right now. So if you were a hundred pounds, you would be about 38 pounds. And no, I don't have a rock from Mars, but NASA does. And I used my poop to grow potatoes, so I pooped into a container."

"Woah."

"Yeah, I know."