Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
I do not chase dirt. Dirt flees me.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
They are friendly, affectionate and catastrophically bitey.
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.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
The galaxy would be easier to manage if everyone listened to me immediately and without snacks.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
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.
Nouala is free, provided everyone does exactly what I say before I say it.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
All spoons must be admired for at least three seconds before use.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
The universe is vast, but good lipstick travels further.
If someone calls themselves irresistible, check for hidden tentacles and unpaid parking fines.
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.
I have survived three alien invasions and one of Gerald’s rehearsals. I fear nothing except paperwork.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
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.
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.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
If the parcel is ticking, humming or politely asking for legal representation, do not sign for it.
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.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
A guitar solo can solve many problems. Not legal problems, but many problems.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
My guitar picked up a distress call from a sandwich.
