Gravy Train

Ever hear of evil fairies who grant three wishes? McWorther's was more efficient. One wish was plenty to bring catastrophe!
At one hundred and thirty, life was indeed gratifying for Titus McWorther. But for one missing detail, it would have been perfect.
With his wife, Edna, he had planned well for retirement. His idyllic estate consisted of a second-hand planetoid, thirty miles in circumference, which was the only habitable piece of matter in its system. Complete with supplementary gravity generator, a compact atmosphere, a mantle of lush topsoil and a carefully selected biota, McWorther's World was both his delight and his pride.
Its principal asset was, of course, its isolation.
Well away from the mainstream of galactic civilization, McWorther's Star was smugly hidden behind a dark nebula, through which he and Edna plunged twice a year to the fringe of the cluster—just to observe and mock convention, if for nothing else.
It was an ideal setup.
But, after two sedentary years, Titus realized he still needed one item to make his retirement complete. So he dispatched this tight-beamed message to the packet order department of Rear-Sobucks and Company in the West Cluster Federation's Hub City:
Dear Sir:
Please send one automatic bather with back-scrubbing attachment and toy boat docks, as listed in your videolog under order No. 4678-25C. Charge same to credit account No. W414754-B24D.
Sincerely yours, Titus McWorther, Potentate McWorther's World
He listed the coordinates of the star and the orbital factor of his planetoid.
Unfortunately, the hyper-spatial line between McWorther's World and the nearest relay center was partly coincident with the link to the politically noncommitted world of Gauyuth-VI.