Captain's Log: Supplemental
I am saving this entry as a single message that I hope to boost for transmission through the shit-o-sphere by using the electomagnetic energy from one of the intermittent -and all too brief- solar flares that are strong enough to be evident here on Planet Work.
The strange weakening effect of the planet continues. I find that my shoulder and neck muscles are constantly cramped and a continuous, pulsing, headache is the only companion I have found on this depressing and desolate world. Luckily, I found a cache of coffee and some strange food source called "Donuts" in a hermetically sealed canister from the mid 21st century shortly after I landed here, so I have not starved. I have been subsisting on these and find they are an excellent source of quick energy, though a strange side effect of eating them seems to be a shrinking of my spandex black and yellow Captain's uniform . . .
I recieved a partial message from my crew, albeit distorted by the shitstorm. they are coming for me but even at maximum Warp, rescue is still two weeks away. I'll have to hang on til then. I'll devour my coffee and donuts, struggle against the weariness and my ever-shrinking uniform, and hold long discussions with my headache over the nature of the infinite. Sadly, my headache seems more intelligent than I am and almost always wins these debates.
The solar flare is fading quickly and I'm losing sig . . . <garbled> . . . back to my crew as <garbled> . . . ossible.
<transmission lost>
2 comments:
Hang in there captain
Maybe you can hang out in the halodeck for the weekend. I'm sure the tricorder must have some games on it.
Have a great one (weekend)!
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