Launch menu.
I’m not sure into what dark alley Admiral Gonutz ventured to find this twisted piece of unspaceworthy tin, but he needn’t have bothered.
Down count.
Speaking of life threatening, the man-sized tuber has volunteered to cook dinner this evening.
Plan it.
On the advice of my analyst, I’ve been treating all of my accidents as intentional lately, just so that I feel more in control of my life.
Keyed off.
Wouldn’t want to be halfway out to Aldebaran without a spare dime in our pockets, now would we? (Would we?)
Crunchy soup.
I saw one of our number drop a few chicklets in the soup cauldron - that should add a little tooth.
Book him.
I have suggested a collection of aphorisms. Witticisms, as it were. Or as they are. Or as we were. (As you were!)
Hard feelings.
I believe what offended my friend was my offhand suggestion that his specific gravity is roughly equivalent to that of Yak dung.
Lawn robots.
Even an electronic brain can go crazy. Just ask the robot on Lost in Space.
Root cellar blues.
Something happened to Marvin down there… something no human should ever experience.
Saving something.
We are perpetually faced with these complications, these Gordian knots, these Rubic Cubes, these Junior Jumbles, these Uncle Art’s Funland spot-the-differences cartoons.