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.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
If Brian says it is probably fine, put your helmet on.
Crew evacuated in six seconds. Brian returned for his moustache comb and ruined the average.
Cedric opened a crate labelled Definitely Not Dangerous. It was dangerous.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
The cargo bay is not haunted. It is administratively unsettled.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
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.
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.
A guitar solo can solve many problems. Not legal problems, but many problems.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
Recorded a song with the engine room. The chorus exploded beautifully.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
I do not chase dirt. Dirt flees me.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
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.
Never accept a crown from a planet that also offers you a receipt.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
They are friendly, affectionate and catastrophically bitey.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
The MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
A successful delivery is one where nobody sues the moustache.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
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.
