Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
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.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
Parcel asked to speak to my manager. I promoted Cedric temporarily and hid behind the cargo bay.
If a crate screams, inventory it quickly and from a distance.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
Order is important. Especially when ordering strudel.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
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.
I have reviewed Gerald’s latest song and declared it almost legal.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
Dust is not inevitable. Dust is a declaration of war.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
Music is the language of the universe, except on Tuesday when it is mostly feedback.
My guitar picked up a distress call from a sandwich.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
A kiss can stop a war, start a war, or make Brian walk into a door.
Three planets have requested diplomatic training after Susan winked at their ambassadors.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
They are friendly, affectionate and catastrophically bitey.
The MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
Do not accept hugs from anything with more than two elbows and a bib.
I have survived three alien invasions and one of Gerald’s rehearsals. I fear nothing except paperwork.
Crew evacuated in six seconds. Brian returned for his moustache comb and ruined the average.
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.
