Somebody brought pixie eggs aboard our starship.
It was not a bright move.
Pixie eggs are contraband on hyperspace spaceships for very good reasons. You’d think everybody knew about them. There are signs posted all over the spaceport. But some stupid person stored them in a suitcase of souvenirs from the pixies’ planet, and they were hidden from customs too well.
As soon as the spaceship entered hyperspace, the eggs hatched into a swarm of pixies. Only one thing could result.
Havoc!
Havoc!
Havoc!
Havoc!
Does anybody know how to turn a field of itchweed back into a navigational array?
Author’s Note: This originally started out life as a poem. But I was the only one who seemed to like it that way, so I wrote it this way instead. (Grin.)
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