This, This is it. I'm fucked, I'm truly done. I've locked myself in here and just... I've lost the key for the room. I can't find it in here, So, I must have in my panic to haul myself in here batted it out of my hand. Well done you went ahead and proved to the world the massive fuck up that is the Prowler family name. If I'm going to die in here I might as well Write what fuck happened, hopefully it gives some future grave robber something to laugh about, or maybe my body will never be found. That rather comforting actually. A toaster, a bloody toaster fried our entire electronic logistic centre for our ship, overloaded all the power storage units and gave the most compelling argument to our onboard VI that spacing the living quarters/rec room in their entirety was a good way of improving productivity.
What I was doing just before the shit hit the fan was in side of being social with the rest of the crew in the rec room was making toast. I COMMITTED MAN SLAUGHTER BY MAKING TOAST!

~ Head cook Cavinar Prowler