Thirty four pilots embarked on the mission: only twenty two did the full tour. Our first stop was a distress call on the other side of our home system, but we sure took our sweet time answering that call! After all, we had our own booty bodies ready for the plush funk, and there were more than enough molecules, what with maggots with mini kegs of home brew strapped to their backs like some kind of suicide beer bombers! Anyway the party was cool and all there was lots of food to eat and food to talk to, and when you got bored you could mix the two together. We departed and bid our farewell to civilization. Off to the Fresh Pond Nebulae to remove those cumbersome spacesuits! Posi! Cartwheels and underwear. No, I'm not making it up! It probably sounds better that it really is, right? Nope! Ha Ha! Anywhay what was the question? From there we went to Maggot RoadRash's place of business, and got bizzy-ness! Derby, derby, der- uh oh! Trogdor and Onath collide like matter and anti matter and he primary thruster went into the rhealm of doesn't matter. We realigned as best we could and put the mighty intoxicated Zappa at the helm. After no less than forty three mechanicals and twelve encuonters with ST's we returned to base without incident. Oh there was a really big a-hole who told us to "go home" at the landing pad, and we said "We're working on it" or something just as amazingly clever. And then a bunch of flying saucerships came down and asked for somone named "Earth-ling" and we were like "She doesn’t ride anymore" and so they left.