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.
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.
Parcel asked to speak to my manager. I promoted Cedric temporarily and hid behind the cargo bay.
A regulation a day keeps democracy confused.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
A guitar solo can solve many problems. Not legal problems, but many problems.
My guitar picked up a distress call from a sandwich.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
The universe is vast, but good lipstick travels further.
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.
Dust is not inevitable. Dust is a declaration of war.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
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.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
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.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
A good cargo officer knows what is in every crate. I have chosen a more mysterious path.
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.
A queen of the cosmos must remain calm, radiant and extremely suspicious.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
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.
