When Your Wife’s Tan is More Important Than Your Ship’s Hull (Spoiler: It’s Not, But Try Telling Her That)

Okay dudes, so here’s the situation. We’re still stuck on Zephyr Prime, day three of these wicked sand storms that are literally sandblasting my beautiful ship down to bare metal. My hull’s heat reflective coating is now decorating half the Zephyrian desert, and Captain Computron 3000 cheerfully informs me that our “exterior thermal regulation system efficiency has decreased by 73.2%”.

So naturally, I’m like “Laura, babe, we gotta bounce. The ship’s getting destroyed out here.”

And what does my lovely wife say? “Just a few more hours, honey. The UV rays here are perfect for tanning.”

Trust me, I love the woman, but sometimes her priorities are totally not tubular. I’m watching my spaceship get a very expensive exfoliation treatment, and she’s out there with her solar reflector like we’re on some kind of beach vacation. The weather station promised these storms would be “light atmospheric disturbances”. Yeah, and I’m the King of Space.

The kids are getting restless in the ship – can’t blame them, bro. We were supposed to be exploring the crystal caves by now, not playing “watch dad’s spaceship get a very expensive exfoliation treatment”. But Laura? She’s out there working on her glow like we’ve got all the time in the galaxy.

“Laura, the insurance forms alone are going to be a paperwork jungle of epic proportions”, I tell her.

“You always worry too much,” she says, not even looking up from her tanning pod.

My dad reflexes are tingling, and not in a good way. At least when we dealt with those space pirates last month, they had the decency to blast clean holes in the hull. Easy to patch, straightforward insurance claim. But this sandstorm damage? This is going to require forms I haven’t even heard of yet.

Silver lining though – once we get out of this mess, the ship’s going to have that weathered, battle-tested look. Very cool. Very “experienced space captain who’s seen some stuff”.

But first, I gotta convince my wife that her tan can wait. Wish me luck, space cadets. I’m going to need it.

Catch you on the flip side (hopefully with a ship that still has paint on it)!

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