Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
A regulation a day keeps democracy confused.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
Cleanliness is next to survivability.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
A successful delivery is one where nobody sues the moustache.
Parcel asked to speak to my manager. I promoted Cedric temporarily and hid behind the cargo bay.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
Delivered three crates of Space Cheese to Nouala. Eric immediately declared cheese a taxable emotion.
A kiss can stop a war, start a war, or make Brian walk into a door.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
Three planets have requested diplomatic training after Susan winked at their ambassadors.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
A good cargo officer knows what is in every crate. I have chosen a more mysterious path.
Found one moon, two spoons and a small legal department behind the emergency biscuits.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
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.
Karen has negotiated a treaty based on snacks, distance and shouting.
Do not accept hugs from anything with more than two elbows and a bib.
Every galaxy has a key. Unfortunately, mine is slightly out of tune.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
Recorded a song with the engine room. The chorus exploded beautifully.
If Brian says it is probably fine, put your helmet on.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
Cedric opened a crate labelled Definitely Not Dangerous. It was dangerous.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
The galaxy would be easier to manage if everyone listened to me immediately and without snacks.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
I have reviewed Gerald’s latest song and declared it almost legal.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
