>Be space engineer.
>You lost your job at NASA and had to find work.
>Some delusional old fat cat decided he wanted to send fluffies to space.
>It's either genius or stupid.
>You can't tell.
>Either way, you became the head of the project, reporting directly to Mr. Moneybags.
>Gonna show those Space-X goons a thing or two with this project!
 
>Today's the big day!
>The launch of Fluff One!
>You've been through months of grueling work, ensuring that enough food & water is on-board, the fluffies can get enough play-time, and that every surface is water-proof.
>Heck, the flufftronauts (Mr. Moneybags wants everyone to call them that) are put on long-lasting but non-dangerous sleeping pills for the initial journey up.
>The 4 flufftronauts are strapped in.
>All cameras on the rocket.
>10, 9, 8!
>Oh god the tension always gets you.
>7, 6, 5!
>Double-check that the flufftronauts' vitals are all okay.
>They're definitely alive.
>4, 3!
>You wipe the gratuitous amounts of sweat off of your forehead.
>2!
>That thing better not blow up!
>1!
>*BOOM*
>All the cameras have just short-circuited.
>A small shaking rocks the command center.
>"Jenkins, status report!"
>"Vitals are non-responsive! Not that the fluffies are dead, moreso that the tools themselves are not responding."
>"What the hell happened?!  Thompson, main screen turn on!"
>A slew of asthmatic giggles break out.
>Thompson rewinds the feed back to before the static.
>The last thing on-screen was a brilliant white light.
>God damn it.
 
>Today's the day that Fluff Two launches!
>Turns out last time that Harrison had failed to double-check the O-ring seal in the booster.
>Not wanting to remake the same mistake for a third time, the seal's been personally inspected by you.
>To be honest, you're surprised that Mr. Moneybags even let you guys continue with Fluff Two.
>Once again, 4 flufftronauts have been placed on sleeping pills for the launch.
>No thoughts during this one, you're going to meditate for this one.
>Absolutely no jinxing this!
>10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!
>Lift-off!
>This is so exciting!
>Everyone in the command center is hooping and hollering.
>All 4 of you!
>You even hug Thompson!
>He considers Axe bodyspray to be a substitute for showering.
>Speaking of, thanks to said bodyspray, you're gonna shower after they stabilize in orbit.
>The shuttle's specs are reading that it's steadily climbing into orbit.
>"Sir, one's dead!"
>What.
>Check the flufftronauts' vitals.
>Shit.
>One's dead, the others aren't breathing.
>They quickly die as well.
>God damn it.
>Fluff Two's just a piece of space junk at this point with 4 dead fluffies in it.
>Mr. Moneybags has a fluffy veternarian on call for this sort of stuff.
>He checks the flufftronauts via the installed cameras onboard, as well as all the vitals recorded during the launch.
>The diagnosis was the same for each one.
>Saliva flooded the lungs due to high gravitational forces, leading to asphyxiation and death by hypoxiation.
>In layman's terms, their spit was rocketed down their throats and they all drowned.
>The flufftronauts drowned going away from all the water on Earth, fer chrissakes!
>You were not expecting fluffy ponies to be anywhere near this fragile!
>Gonna need more changes for Fluff Three.