Any other day...

A shaking yellow hand wandered skillfully over the dashboard of something sinister, the odd hum and rattle of a poorly ventilated exhaust port banging against a few empty beer bottles as a single set of yellow eyelids began to slowly close under the weight of three days without sleep. It wasn't long before the suspicious and dangerous looking dashboard began to light up with a reddish-beerstain color and something like a man was finally forced to acknowledge the quickly increasing beeps and whirs the ship was beginning to make. They had to be close, hey hadn't traveled through sixteen parallel realities and 400 light years to be gone for any longer than an hour.

[i]"HEEEEEEEYYYYYY RIIICCCCKK~! WAAAKEY WAAAAKEY! I THINK WE'RE ALMOST THERRRREEE~."[/i]


Rick's eyes opened slowly, the especially strong smell of whiskey literally dripping from his lip as his sprawled form in the back seat began to shift and rattle his humble collection of glass.

[b]"Thanks Mr. Poopybutthole, just put my *[i]BLURP[/i]* feet on the floor and I'll land the ship."[/b]



Somewhere in the night sky a shooting star fell gracefully. 

Hopefully no one had wished on that one...