So the 4 of us, me, Captain Musashi, mai mom whu is the pilot, our mechanic Haylee, an Mr. Tygr, agent extrawdinair, were eetin dinnr in the mess hall, which is akshullee the rigt arm of the armchair-ship (cuz the left arm is steerin, OBVEEOUSLEE), an wuz havin a reezonablee gud meel of proteen barz an frozen spinitch, when Mr. Tygr says, “I has a treet fer yu!” An he brings out a big metal bowl-thin wift a ladul, an he proceeds to ladul out this funnee soop fer all of us. It was mostlee saltee, wiftout that uzhual zing! I associayts wift Mr. Tygr’s cookin (he reellee lik Asian fud an soy sauce an garlic).
We say, “Hey, Mr. Tygr, whut’s this soop?”
An he say, “Gess!!!”
An we ar flabbergasted, to say the leest, so we gives up. The he pulls out a sign an puts it in front of the galley, which is a salty way of sayin “reellee small kitchin.”