Not a good idea. A moose in the international

Not a good idea. A moose in the international space station. It stood, nay floated in unity node 1. its antlers were wedged in a ventilator panel and the only Canadian astronaut

in the world had gotten waylaid at the tax office. "Well, so much for that idea," the Canadian astronaut grumped as the CPA triple-checked his figures. "You really had 7 moose?"

"Those drinks can kill you, you know, if you don't drink them in a little sippy cup. So... are you interested in coming with me to the center of the earth? I've conquered space, so

now all there is to do is put down that drink and follow me. The shuttle's parked outside." A pause. "There wasn't much room out there, so I, umm...

parked on a double yellow line." Dread filled them as they ran outside but the shuttle had been clamped. "How the hell can we complete Mission Neptunus now?" they raged at various

public transit workers. Of course mass transit would choke. "How the hell could they complete Mission Neptunus now?" A bewildered worker replied, "Sir, are you narrating the plot?

The Manager whipped the bewildered worker in the shin with an extension cord and said, "Are you screwing my wife?" The worker hissed and grabbed his shin, sparks of pain

And became a sea-dog with three heads. The Manager recoiled in horror and apologisef profusely. He wept all night upon losing his best bartender. Was the Manager drunk, again?

"You do. You write these shows, Bombo," Barnabus said to me. As the reality hit me, the world seemed to tilt and just before I fainted I saw the word "Manager" upon my door. Me?!