The darkness was insubstantial, thin and watery, the kind of darkness you could easily imagine away even with your eyes open. The moon was bright, and it hurt her eyes to look directly at it, but even as the crick in her neck persisted, she didn't want to stop.
She tried to imagine the moon as a perfectly circular hole in the sky, a portal from the twilit world to some metaphysical outside, but she couldn't. It was clearly a hunk of rock in the sky. Clearly it was nothing special. Just a moon.
And she found herself wondering what it would taste like.
Cheese, it would definitely taste like cheese, mild and savory and spongy. Or maybe it would be like a truffle, with the powdery dusting of sugar on the outside, and a smooth, solid inside. It would be cold. It might give her brain freeze.
She didn't want to eat the moon.
If she ate the moon, the tides would be disrupted and the earth's gravitational pull could be affected and kids would get scared when they went to bed because some nights the nightlight just isn't bright enough. Goodnight Moon would be culturally irrelevant.
Yes, clearly, a travesty.