Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
The trick to surviving space is simple: never trust anything smiling with too many teeth.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
Order is important. Especially when ordering strudel.
All spoons must be admired for at least three seconds before use.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
If a MAAM alien says dinner is served, clarify whether you are dinner.
The MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
Karen has negotiated a treaty based on snacks, distance and shouting.
Romance in space requires confidence, oxygen and a reliable escape pod.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
Cleanliness is next to survivability.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Music is the language of the universe, except on Tuesday when it is mostly feedback.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
My guitar picked up a distress call from a sandwich.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
A good cargo officer knows what is in every crate. I have chosen a more mysterious path.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
Never trust a package that looks smug.
Delivered three crates of Space Cheese to Nouala. Eric immediately declared cheese a taxable emotion.
Took a shortcut through a wormhole and arrived before I had left. I still billed overtime.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
A queen of the cosmos must remain calm, radiant and extremely suspicious.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
