the evening in question

there were 12 guests at the affair. everyone arrived at the exact same time and all tried to get in the door first and with an additional 12 servant men, or man hands or whatever the hell they refer to them as in this state, the entry was very exciting. struggles (my shaman) and i were of course the first to make it to the door and get in after a long and bloody rumble in the cul de sac, but not before Grand Sir Judge Meteor Paisley's perfect-wonder-man-about-tasks blew the ceremonial blow-horn which immediately caused all the guests to discontinue the brawl and cover their ears and scream in agony at the eardrum shattering pulsed wails emitted by the horrific ceremonial blow-horn. as soon as the racket ended and everyone were able to stop clenching their brains, the splay of light from the gigantic mansion plasma billboard caused us all to snap our necks in unison in the direction of the advertisement for the dinner party (displayed directly over the house but kind of banging on the roof slates in the wind knocking down portions of dangerous sharp slate that were crashing to the ground sporadically right in front of the front door). actually, it's more of a front vestibule. it was built with the intention to protect visitors from large, falling shards of heavy slate, but it only provides protection if the re-enforced removable top is secured in place. this particular evening, the top had been removed so that we would all be able to see the giant helicopter billboard as we entered. it was hard to appreciate for very long as we had to dodge the raining daggers of slate for the next 50 or so feet to the actual front door, which is easily accessible after the tight dimensions of the "vestibule" door. it is a garage door with a knocker.

stress

the dinner party and the events that transpired in its wake, as you may have already found out from the headlines, was a terrible and harrowing affair. some things happened that cannot be taken back and the only solution i can think of that could restore order to the planet and an end to this fleeing is to have the shipswizard, Lampalogos make some kind of time-travel potion. the shipsquantummechanic, lem hugre, was lost in the battle at the harbor, otherwise i would assume that the only solution was to have him make us a time-travel machine. the time machines that we do have on the ship don't carry passengers so they're basically just disappearing machines.
out of options, i left my suite and headed to Lampalogos' room. upon arriving i summoned him to my chambers and after a few steps, stopped and told Lampalogos to return to his room and followed him. i should have just sent for him. my quarters are on the other side of the ship. i related our situation, and he looked thoughtful and rubbed his long-bearded chin that for some reason he had dyed rainbow colors since i last saw him, and continued looking thoughtful, his wise old eyes slowly gazing skyward with a slight rotation of his elderly neck. his eyes kept moving that way, though and they did a summersault (or summersaults), which caused his body to follow, and roll over his chair backwards, flailing its arms, yet somehow sticking a perfect landing. i gave him an 8.5 and could tell that he was kind of disapointed. "what do you think?", i asked. "well...i can give you a potion, but our funding has taken so many cuts lately...we need 100 million planet bucks."  "who is we? i thought you worked alone."  "i am...with...but...anyway, can you give me the 100 milion? otherwise no potion."  i finally agreed and went to the closest cash machine and returned with the funding. "how long will it take you to get all the equipment and chemicals and whatever else?" he didnt answer and walked over to a machine i hadn't noticed that looked like a very boring slot machine except probably 4 times wider. he inserted all the money one bill at a time, which took almost an hour (he is extremely well practiced in this activity, hence the unbelievable speed), and then pressed a button and just turned around and stared at me with his arms crossed. "what?," i asked. he explained that it takes a few minutes. he started tapping his foot and whistling obnoxiously. finally a barely audible bell rang along with a tiny light bulb barely lighting up and a little ticket barely falling into a compartment with a rolling back window like a vending console. Lampalogos slowly retrieved it and held it centimeters from his eyes to read, which looked bizarre as his glasses came after the note, in comparison to his eyes (when departing from his face). after some time i began to grow impatient, "WHAT?!," i screamed, "it's the size of a goddam business card!"
"i'm sorry," said the asshole shipswizard, "iv'e anylized the results and i have to conclude there is no such thing."
i shot him right in the face and stormed out.