"I'm afraid there's no room on your ship

"I'm afraid there's no room on your ship for the nature dome or yoga studio modules, Cap'n." The last of the crew's morale went up in smoke with that bombshell. Cap'n Ramírez vowed

to them that he would obtain one of these modules after all of their hard work on the last mission. However, it ended up being yet another promise broken. The Cap'n did not do this

because he wanted to. He did it because he was a desperate man with a wife and twenty-five children to feed. Only by selling out the crew to the evil corporation could he get his

picture on the cover of Time magazine as man of the year. Let's see, black turtle neck, check. High waisted jeans, check. Carbon copy of pact with Satan, check.

Why wasn't this pact with Satan thing panning out? It was damn expensive too. Then I began to doubt. Was it really Satan I'd made the pact with? Then I saw the fine print. "

"Hold it right there luv, my back teeth are floating. I really want to hear about your Satanic pact with youdon'tknowwho, but I have to really hit the Gents. Be back in a jiffy."

I spat a tooth. Satisfied with finally getting out the rotten appendage. Sighing.. I leaned back... "Please tell me he's not a serious Voldemort fanatic." I hoped I was right.

Dr. Hsifdgixppy was toothless and inspected the flying tooth. It spat at him and clawed with its roots, then flew out the door into the street. Then it made the evening news!

It was a slow news day. The station chief glowered at his bullpen. "We had to go with the flying, clawing tooth story you idiots," he bellowed. "You mean to tell me nothing else

of interest happened today? No-one found a wallet in the Wal-Mart parking lot? Nobody's gerbil did something cute? You people are hopeless!" He fired them all and went home.