It was Tuesday, and the Rude Mechanicals were about to plunge the Universe into mortal peril.
In other words, it was Tuesday.
The adventure had started out promisingly. “Look at this,” the Six Million Dollar Mannequin had said as their ship, the I Contain Mechanicals, shot past the Cloverleaf Quasar. “A request for services. Strength required – on a galactic scale.”