Out of sorts

Mental Health
The rogue astrophysicist kicked at the buckled door of his craft until it finally came crashing open, his momentum sending him sprawling out onto the grass in the process. He had made an indelicate landing on a delicately-manicured green courtyard somewhere and some time he didn't recognize, and the commotion had quickly begun to draw a crowd. 
When none of them spoke, he felt obligated to make some sort of statement, however lame and incomprehensible it might be to them.
"Sorry about the grass," he said, and then thought he might try to explain why the accident had occurred. "The problem with infinity is, it just keeps on getting bigger, and in the most unpredictable of ways." 
And now for something completely different: 

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