"Good morning, Father. How's the Crusader going?"

"Not good, honey. We only have three days before the rear rockets of the ship drains out of fuel. What's our distance from the nearest stop?"

"Let's see. The nearest habitable solar system is... 27 light-years away."

"Crap. At any rate, the other fuel cells will die as well. We have to encounter a space-time rift."

"How about we take breakfast first?"

"What did you cook? Adobo?"

"Yup. I want our last meal to be delicious."

"What do you..."

"It's over, okay?! We died. Now stop this childish game and be a father."