Capitan's Log: Stardate January 7, 1937
My crew and I.. or is it my crew and me? Anyway, us here people in this big ship-like thing had just finished our 5-year mission, so we were plumb out of ideas on what to do next.
"Nealson!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Get me some coffee. The good kind, you know. And put some of those little chocolate flaky thingies on top. Ooh! And some whipped cream also! Actually, forget the coffee. Just get me a mug full of whipped cream with some of those chocolate flakes. There's a good boy."
It was about then that I realized that I had just ordered a dog to get me a drink. How he said "Yes, sir," was beyond me. I shall have to check into that.
Capitan's Log: Stardate the day after January 7, 1937
It is getting quite lonely here in the darkness of space, isolated from everybody else. It has been said that in space, no one can hear you scream.
"AAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
"Capitan! What is it?! Are you alright?"
"Oh, why I am fine, thank you, Lieutenant. Why do you ask?"
"Well sir… you were screaming pretty loud.."
"How the devil did you hear me? Are you possessed? Get down! Call the priest! Call the doctor! Call me Bernice! NOW THERE'S NO TIME, MAN!"
Lieutenant Johnson was the first to go. After this horrifying experience we were forced to chop him up into tiny little bits and feed him to my coffee fetching dog, Nealson, who coincidentally is now the new Lieutenant due to the eerie disappearance of Lieutenant Johnson. Things were getting a little strange.
Capitan's Log: Moondate February 30, 1937
Dear Diary,
A week had passed, and there was still no sign of the pizza deliveryman. Those of us on board were getting a little worried, and somewhat chafed. Our numbers were dropping rapidly; from twenty to four and a half, back up to three, and now at negative eighty. It was looking pretty grim.
Sincerely, Capitan Bob
Capitan's Firewood: Stardate Novembuary 48, 1937.236 and a two-thirds
I want a donkey.
Capitan's Log: 20:20, Friday
Arrr matie! Hoist the mainstay! Swab the poop deck! Turn port at the starboard exit, third buoy to the left! Wait a minute, this is my log… You can't hear me, can you? CAN YOU?! Alright then.
"Arrr mother! Hoist your britches! Swab my ears! Turn left at the stop sign, twenty miles down I-81, and hang a right at the gallows!"
"Woof!"
"That's it Nealson, you're walkin' the plank!"
"Arf?"
"That's right. Wait a minute.. where's the rest of me crew?! Johnson! Richardson! Jessicason! Nealson! Sonson! Wait an hour, where am I?! NOOOOO!!!"
Capitan's Log: Final Entry
I fear this is my final entry. It even says so. The days are getting harder and harder to pass by, and I am all out of laxative. Each minute seems longer than the last, and each hour seems to grow and shrink in intervals of about .37 minutes every second. My entire crew is gone, disappeared into air that was seemingly on a diet and had been for a long time. My existence in this life has paid its toll (a rather large one, mind you), and it is time for me to pass on to the next. Besides, its almost lunchtime! To the readers of this text I leave you these words of advice: counsel, suggestion, recommendation, advisement, and guidance. Thank you.
End Communication
My crew and I.. or is it my crew and me? Anyway, us here people in this big ship-like thing had just finished our 5-year mission, so we were plumb out of ideas on what to do next.
"Nealson!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Get me some coffee. The good kind, you know. And put some of those little chocolate flaky thingies on top. Ooh! And some whipped cream also! Actually, forget the coffee. Just get me a mug full of whipped cream with some of those chocolate flakes. There's a good boy."
It was about then that I realized that I had just ordered a dog to get me a drink. How he said "Yes, sir," was beyond me. I shall have to check into that.
Capitan's Log: Stardate the day after January 7, 1937
It is getting quite lonely here in the darkness of space, isolated from everybody else. It has been said that in space, no one can hear you scream.
"AAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
"Capitan! What is it?! Are you alright?"
"Oh, why I am fine, thank you, Lieutenant. Why do you ask?"
"Well sir… you were screaming pretty loud.."
"How the devil did you hear me? Are you possessed? Get down! Call the priest! Call the doctor! Call me Bernice! NOW THERE'S NO TIME, MAN!"
Lieutenant Johnson was the first to go. After this horrifying experience we were forced to chop him up into tiny little bits and feed him to my coffee fetching dog, Nealson, who coincidentally is now the new Lieutenant due to the eerie disappearance of Lieutenant Johnson. Things were getting a little strange.
Capitan's Log: Moondate February 30, 1937
Dear Diary,
A week had passed, and there was still no sign of the pizza deliveryman. Those of us on board were getting a little worried, and somewhat chafed. Our numbers were dropping rapidly; from twenty to four and a half, back up to three, and now at negative eighty. It was looking pretty grim.
Sincerely, Capitan Bob
Capitan's Firewood: Stardate Novembuary 48, 1937.236 and a two-thirds
I want a donkey.
Capitan's Log: 20:20, Friday
Arrr matie! Hoist the mainstay! Swab the poop deck! Turn port at the starboard exit, third buoy to the left! Wait a minute, this is my log… You can't hear me, can you? CAN YOU?! Alright then.
"Arrr mother! Hoist your britches! Swab my ears! Turn left at the stop sign, twenty miles down I-81, and hang a right at the gallows!"
"Woof!"
"That's it Nealson, you're walkin' the plank!"
"Arf?"
"That's right. Wait a minute.. where's the rest of me crew?! Johnson! Richardson! Jessicason! Nealson! Sonson! Wait an hour, where am I?! NOOOOO!!!"
Capitan's Log: Final Entry
I fear this is my final entry. It even says so. The days are getting harder and harder to pass by, and I am all out of laxative. Each minute seems longer than the last, and each hour seems to grow and shrink in intervals of about .37 minutes every second. My entire crew is gone, disappeared into air that was seemingly on a diet and had been for a long time. My existence in this life has paid its toll (a rather large one, mind you), and it is time for me to pass on to the next. Besides, its almost lunchtime! To the readers of this text I leave you these words of advice: counsel, suggestion, recommendation, advisement, and guidance. Thank you.
End Communication