The concept spread across the KSC cafeteria like wildfire. It was so daring, so exotic and seemingly supportive that it almost seemed as if it just might work. It was the most radical concept they had heard of since wings, or healthcare. Two pilots, Bill and Bob, conversed and debated whether or not it would be the best idea for the next flight. The tension mounted as the polite debate came to verbal badgering and loud shouting.
They began to attract extra pairs of eyes, but they didn't care. They were lost in the moment, stating all the reasons why it should or should not come to conception. It was ridiculous, unpredictable. Yet it was an alternative to the needlessly hard and tiring work that went into a rocket launch. Bill threw the first punch as Bob countered by blocking with his left forearm. Quickly jabbing Bill in the gut, Bob backed up and got into proper fighting stance.
The two beat and battered at each other for what seemed like hours. Bill stood undefeated, successful in his complete and utter show of raw testosterone. Grabbing a schematic off the floor, he thrust it into the air.
The concept in question was wheels. With a cart. Big enough for rockets.
The average kerbal stupidity is unsurpassed by any other race ever, surely.
Once more, the KSC staff piled around the 3-stage rocket with renewed vigor and newly found faith in their latest concept. It only required a measly 15 kerbals to gently nudge the 15 ton rocket to the launchpad.
The grinding of metal wheels on concrete screeched across the space center as mission command forced themselves to shut their headphones off for 2 minutes. Ever so dramatically, the cart crept up onto it's perch, the 2 meter-high launchpad that had never been properly used. That was all going to change today.
The team of 15 quickly ran to the mission control building and glued their faces to the windows in glee. From the windows, Jebediah Kerman could be seen apprehensively approaching the rocket, obviously traumatized. Jeb put his right foot a meter away from the rocket, waiting for it to explode in his face. To his surprise, it never did.
Ecstatic, the sprightly green pilot jumped up and grabbed the ladder, skipping every other ladder rung in his haste. Jeb quickly threw open the cockpit door and sat awkwardly at a 90 degree angle in his chair, facing the sky. Jebediah flicked a button labeled "communications" as he heard the faint sound of an antenna telescoping.
The excited pilot screamed into the microphone like a child would to wake his parents for the holidays.
"REAAAAAADY!"
Jebediah Kerman set records and shattered preconceived notions about flight that day. He swiftly shoved his left hand upwards on the throttle and slammed on the SAS button. He kicked a foot pedal (Really, really hard. In the following flights, they had to use mechanical pencil springs for the pedals because evidently buggy suspension was "too tough for man babies") as the craft lurched forward at 80m/s.
Jebediah grinned ear to ear during the entire ascent, (He had quite a problem grinning with grinning ear to ear without ears.) only occasionally having to straighten the navball. The altimeter read 11000 meters above sea level. Jeb jerked a lever to the right as the craft tilted.
The loud drone of engines ceased. Jebediah kicked the ridiculously strong pedal once more, and 2 (hopefully) small explosions followed. Another ear-shattering roar took its place as Jeb really, really wished that noise cancellation existed on their cheap, 5 dollar helmets. A massive plume of plasma and smoke followed the craft as it began to turn at its 45 degree angle. Checking the navigational computer above him, Jeb took notice of the fact that the periapsis was moving and that his flight path can now formed a perfect circle.
They did it. They finally did it. After months of hard work, corporate espionage, and fuel indicator tampering, they did it.
They totally just managed to trick Jeb into thinking there was enough fuel left to burn back towards Kerbin.