Ep 8. Roswell

Captain's Log, as thick as my left tentacle and twice as long...and Gus forgot to refill the damned toilet paper again. GUS...! Now that Whip has his learner's permit, I have to spend a crapload of time teaching him the difference between braking and speeding. Worse, during our latest lesson, some Gray freaks in a flying saucer cut us off, backed into us, and then had the balls to demand that I pay them damages! It was obviously a scam, so I grabbed the wheel and took off. They chased us, which didn't shock me (after all, I always hate it when my scam victims run away). I plunged the ship into a wormhole to ditch them, but they followed us through. Next thing we knew, we'd all crash-landed together in a place called Roswell, in the mind-blowingly lame year of 1947, on some backwater dirtball called Earth. The Jupiter 42 was banged up, but we were way luckier than our pals in the flying saucer. They'd crashed near a military base, and the local cavemen confiscated them and their ship.