Captain's Log: Star date... star raisin... star plum... Freckin' star fruit! Where's my damn junkfood? Only a punkass, lowlife teenager with a perverted pepperoni fetish and his brain stuffed down his boxers could accidentally hack into my ship's flight controls and honestly believe he was just playing a "sweet new video game"... right up until he flew my ship into a planet. Coincidentally, that's exactly what my teenage nephew Whip just did. As my crew and I climbed out of the wreckage, a couple of local law enforcement goons were there to greet us. Apparently they had nothing better to do than blow holes through the heads of innocent accident victims, even though their planet had hit us just as much as we had hit it. When they saw Whip, though, they started pissing themselves with teenybopperish glee. They thought he was some kind of celebrity.