We watched Mr. Tygr’s parashoot until it disappeared down there jus outside of Mumbai. We dint heer from him fer a reellee long tim. Mom an Kaylee were pacin bak an forth. I tuk a nap. See, I’ve known Mr. Tyrgr ALL MY LIF, an he is mai wrasslin coach an my frend, so I got 1000% confidens in him. When I wok up, I gave maiself a baft, because hygeen is eevn mor importint on a small spaceship than it is in a partimint. Then I went to the radio, jus in tim to pick up Mr. Tygr’s first report.
Mr. Tygr Sez:
Big Dog, this is Marc Anthony, over. I have slipped onto the target an luck is wift me. The whol crew is watchin the Oscars on this verree impressive flat-screen TV they got heer on this ship, which I gotta say is mutch fansee-er than ours is. Huh.
I has slipped down the corridor to wher the invisibul door is hidin in the bulkhead an I am workin my Bobby pins to get the lock open. Will mayk contact again when I has gotten inside. Over.
He calls it luck. I calls it being Mr. Tygr. So there.