[ WP ] Write the most elaborate , over-dramatic , and exciting story you can think of that all just turns out to be a set-up for a pun so horrible I 'll want to punch you

They fell in love at the Moscow State University. Rosmanov was a astrophysics and aeronautical engineering major, Ilya was completing her PhD in Ancient History. Rosmanov loved the way her hair flowed in the harsh winter gales, Ilya never particularly paid him much attention at first but was eventually intrigued by his constant, longing, teenage gaze. They eyed each other from opposite ends of the campus and over time their orbits began to slowly draw closer through mutual friends, shared acquaintances and suchlike. Finally, they spoke at length at a mutual friends apartment. They were inseparable from that moment. 
 
 One or the other would sneak into the dormitories late at night. They ’ d spend a few hours in each others simple, single beds. It was family friendly fun, the odd kiss here and there. They were too innocent to even contemplate intercourse, instead enjoying cuddles as saccharine as a Disney liaison. 
 
 He finished his education first and in no time at all secured a position with the Soviet Space Programme. He was top of his class in engineering and went on to excel in the practice as well. He was most famous for developing a locking mechanism that could remotely uncouple potential space crafts from rocket engines past earth ’ s atmosphere. It was named the Rosmanov lock after him, though not by his choice as he was immensely modest. 
 
 In the midst of his studies, he married Ilya, who by now had finished her PhD, became a lecturer at the university, and had become pregnant with their first child. All was going swimmingly for the Rosmanov dynasty. Little Kris was born in the midst of the Russian summer, and Romanov was given a blessing and 2 months leave to spend with his family. Unheard of at that time, but such was Romanov ’ s respect and admiration at the Space Programme that special privileges were given without begrudgement. After all, it would be some time before Romanov could see his wonderful, young family after that time period, for Romanov was heading up the Cosmonaut Pioneer Programme, who would be venturing into space for the first time, a full 10 years before the Americans could even dream of leaving earth ’ s soil. 
 
 The 2 months went far too fast. They fit as much as they could into that short summer period, visiting all friends and family, seeing sites they ’ d always meant to visit, they even received an invitation to the Kremlin - a family portrait taken on the day still hangs in one of the Kremlins many gilded corridors. They rarely left one another ’ s side, Romanov did all he could to look upon his family, he stared as he used to stare at Ilya from across the courtyard, trying his best to burn images of them into his retinas and brain for the long, endless night that was to follow. 
 
 Then the day came, Romanov and Ilya and little Kris all made their way to the Moscow Federal Space Station. Romanov left his family at the spectators gallery and donned his jumpsuit. He walked up the gangway with his comrades Titov and Dubrovski. At the top at the ships entrance they turned and waved at the huge crowd, film cameras on stilts filming the whole event. The cheers were vast, fit enough for the royalty of old. The three of them turned and entered the ship, ready each one of them to change history. 
 
 As the ship readied, Romanov felt a pang of despair in his gut. Could he really manage a month away from his beloved? The most they ’ d ever accomplished was a day or so away from one another, which at the time felt trying enough. No. He had trained long and hard, worked his whole life towards this goal. His wife was proud of him and he had a beautiful, strong baby boy to come home to on their heroic return. 
 
 Blast off. 
 
 
 
 The first sign of trouble came on the second or third day. Romanov was plastered to the viewing window, hand touching the triple re-inforced glass, and gazing hurtfully at the halo of earth below. None of the men were particularly emotionally open, so the best the two of them could manage was a commiserating punch on the shoulder, which sent Romanov into a slow, sad spin. As the days progressed, Romanov neglected a check here and a duty there, small things, but from someone who was so concerned with routine and efficiency, the errors of neglect were glaring. Most of Romanov ’ s free time in those first days consisted of him at the viewing panel, or gazing hurtfully at a photo of his family. 
 
 Romanov remembered the joy Ilya gave, the swell of happiness little Kris brought on his arrival into the world, and he felt such bitterness inside that he could not have them here with him to see the majesty of space. All the pride he may have felt for being one of the first humans to leave Earth was completely overshadowed by his sadness from being apart from his family. He began to feel physical pain whenever the thoughts of his sweet wife came into his head. Over time, the pain worsened and became almost unbearable. 
 
 As the days went on Titov and Dubrovski learned to cover up the small errors with grace. After all, who could predict what a month in space could do to any of them? Romanov over time looked increasingly ill, spots began to appear on his skin, and his breath stank of candies and sweets, distinctly like mint humbugs. His skin was pudgy and pale, and his energy levels seemed to reduce as his despair grew. After three weeks in space, trajectory set for their slow descent back to earth, Romanov could barely muster the energy to roll out of his bunk. There were no measures to contact ground control, so the two cosmonauts did all they could from basic manuals to care for their leader. Romanov rocked from side to side in bouts of pain, often speaking his wife ’ s name over and over again. “ Ilya, my dear Ilya, what I would do to see your face again, sweet Ilya. ” 
 
 The day finally came when the craft would drift back into the earth ’ s warm embrace, the mission a resounding success. With excitement Titov and Dubrovski mopped the sticky glaze of sweat from Romanov ’ s brow. “ Here we are Romanov, Earth beckons! We shall land in no time at all and you can be back with your family again! ” They encouraged. The two men felt deep relief, that Romanov would get the medical attention he so clearly needed. The small craft stank of sugar and saccharine odours, like the steam from a candy floss machine. Neither man were particularly well versed in medical matters, but they knew something must be gravely wrong with Romanov, perhaps some kind of cosmological illness or viral infection. 
 
 6 hours later the parachute was deployed and the craft landed in a field not 200 kilometres from the intended landing point somewhere in Siberia. They activated the land beacon and waited for the welcoming party to arrive. In the mean time the men activated the door release mechanism and allowed some fresh earth air into the craft, dispelling instantly the sickly, sweet odour. They hugged one another and turned to Romanov, both of them uncharacteristically beaming with happiness! “ See Comrade, we are home on Mother Russia! Think of the party they will hold for us tonight! ” 
 
 Romanov smiled weakly, he licked his lips and expectorated a deep, wet glob of clear phlegm from his lungs. “ Ilya, Ilya my sweet sweet love. ” He closed his eyes and slept with the first look of contentment the other two had seen since the trip began. 
 
 By the time the rescue party arrived, Romanov had died. He received a state funeral which was attended by Stalin himself. His wife and son Kris never wanted for anything for the rest of their lives. Western textbooks whitewash the success of Romanov, Titov and Dubrovski, unwilling to admit that Russian Cosmonauts, mere peasants, could have beaten the great superpowers into space. Nonetheless, that year the great Romanov was responsible for two historic firsts, their astronautical achievement, and something altogether more unexpected. 
 
 The pathologist investigating Romanov ’ s untimely passing made a career from his findings. The condition was called Kilinkov ’ s cardioglycoplasty, after the pathologist. When Romanov ’ s thorax was opened up, muscle tissue, blood and bile was found to have massively abnormal levels of sugar within. His arteries were literally clogged up with icing. Romanov had died from a broken heart caused by buildup of plaques of sugar. In his heartache his body had tried to replicated the feelings of love he held for his darling Ilya. The closing statement of the pathologist report was carved into the headstone of the great Romanov, as a reminder of his ultimate love. 
 
 `` Distance makes the heart grow fondant''
