Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
A guitar solo can solve many problems. Not legal problems, but many problems.
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.
Recorded a song with the engine room. The chorus exploded beautifully.
Cleanliness is next to survivability.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
A successful delivery is one where nobody sues the moustache.
Delivered three crates of Space Cheese to Nouala. Eric immediately declared cheese a taxable emotion.
Parcel asked to speak to my manager. I promoted Cedric temporarily and hid behind the cargo bay.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
The trick to surviving space is simple: never trust anything smiling with too many teeth.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
Crew evacuated in six seconds. Brian returned for his moustache comb and ruined the average.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
Nouala is free, provided everyone does exactly what I say before I say it.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
All spoons must be admired for at least three seconds before use.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
MAAM hospitality includes tea, biscuits and a legally worrying number of teeth.
Do not accept hugs from anything with more than two elbows and a bib.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
Karen has negotiated a treaty based on snacks, distance and shouting.
A queen of the cosmos must remain calm, radiant and extremely suspicious.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
Never accept a crown from a planet that also offers you a receipt.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
The cargo bay is not haunted. It is administratively unsettled.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
Found one moon, two spoons and a small legal department behind the emergency biscuits.
Romance in space requires confidence, oxygen and a reliable escape pod.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
