I was sentenced to a one-way trip to the Sun.
I always thought of the court system as slow and inefficient, but not in this case. Within fifteen minutes, I was strapped to a rocket in a nearby plaza and ZOOM! up I went.
There was extensive life support also strapped to the side of the rocket. I'm not sure why, because it was all going to melt down anyway.
When I got to the Sun, it was a big, friendly face. "Why, hello!" said the Sun, "We don't get many visitors here."
I shrugged. "Traffic court." The Sun was very understanding, and offered me some nice mint tea.
While we were chatting, a courier came by and picked up a money order The Sun was shipping back to Earth.
"I didn't know that you dealt much in business," said I.
"Well, I do what i can," said the Sun.
"Who was the check for?" inappropriately pried I.
"Seasonal Affective Disorder," incomprehensible responded the Sun.
"I wasn't aware that Seasonal Affective Disorder accepted money," stammered I.
"Oh, that is, in fact, the entire plan. For thousands of years, I was the subject of worship, and then it ended. I don't think I actually need the worship, but, having it for so long and then losing it, I desperately wanted it back. Sun-Worship became too atavistic for people, and the folks who didn't mind that kind of thing began to prefer the mysterious Moon," the Sun began to look sad, thinking about it, "And so, though I know it's selfish, I asked Seasonal Affective Disorder to go down and, well, I hope maybe that people will appreciate me more now," callously but amiably chatted the Sun.
"Um, that's horrible. Do you have an internet connection I can use, so that I can let people know how petty and selfish you are?" callously but amiably asked I.
"No, I'm sorry, I don't, but would you like some cookies with your tea?" offered the Sun.
"Yes, please," said I.
And so, without ever sending out any kind of message, my rocket plunged into the indescribably huge ball of plasmatic hydrogen* and I was gone.
Next time I'll be more careful driving.
*and also helium