From: Shadowloup Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: ST:TNG - Life As We Know It (script, mf, alien, humor, etc) Date: Sat, 27 Jan 96 00:26:14 -0500 Organization: Delphi (info@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice) Message-ID: From: Fudpucker and Pris Attorneys at Law Paramount Pictures Dear Mr. Shadowloup [if that really is your name]: We have read your so-called script for the next "Star Trek[tm] The Next Generation[tm]" movie, and we are not amused. Your "script" contains scenes involving gratuitous sex among various trademarked characters of all species. It is obviously not meant for the demographic market we hope to reach, i.e. children, rabid Trekkies, or any other audience we can think of. We will not discuss the long, boring passages between these sex scenes. And we did not even consider the gratuitous violence and bathroom humor which you have also seen fit to include in this travesty. Gene Rodenberry[tm] was one of the finest human beings and cash cows to ever work for Paramount. Your "script", and we use this term loosely, besmirches Rodenberry's dimestore ideals of peace, love and interstellar harmony. In short, we think you are a puerile little wanker, and are returning your "script". Yours truly, Moe Fudpucker Attorney at Law P.S. We will remind you that all characters are trademarked by Paramount. So don't post this script anywhere, especially on that crummy Internet[Paramount trademark pending]. ============================================================ STAR TREK: THE NEXT DEGRADATION OR IT'S LIFE, BUT NOT AS WE KNOW IT a script by Shadowloup OPENING SCENE - STARSHIP ENTERPRISE'S AUDITORIUM. (The auditorium is filling with noisy crewmembers, who slowly occupy the fold-down seats. At the front of the auditorium stands a podium, and two meters behind this a white screen. PICARD sits next to the podium alongside a beautiful blond woman.) (RYKER sits in the second row of the auditorium. TROI and WORF sit next to him. Ryker slouches in his chair, stretches out his legs, and leans his knees against the seat in front of him. GUINAN sits directly in that seat in front of him, blocking his view of the podium with her hat. Ryker bolts upright.) RYKER - Down in front, damnit! (Picard hurriedly steps to the podium in front of the white screen. The noise quickly dies. All in the auditorium face him.) PICARD - I see no reason why we should wait any longer. We are hear to comply with Starfleet Regulation 812970 dash B, paragraph C, to wit, all ship's personnel shall undergo one hour of sexual harassment training. There will be a short film strip, followed by a discussion session with the newest addition to our crew, the esteemed Doctor Myhe Wackitov. (He gestures to the blond woman sitting on a chair behind him.) PICARD - Her position will be Sexual Harassment Officer. If you feel you are being sexually harassed, go see her. I would also like to take this opportunity to announce a new ship policy. Due to their inherent danger, all holodecks are now closed. (Audience boos. Picard narrowly misses being pelted by several Jumbo popcorn cups. The muttering and general outcry is very loud and angry.) PICARD - [over the babble] I know this is an unpopular decision. But it's for the good of the ship. (More booing.) PICARD - [continuing] Every time someone uses it, it breaks down. (Louder booing.) PICARD - [continuing] It was also unsanitary. (Picard is beaned on the head by a paper airplane.) PICARD [angry] - I warned you people! Did I, or did I not tell you that if I stepped in one more puddle of seminal fluid I would close it down! But it appears some of you can't contain your drives. So now you all have to suffer. (All the audience is angry, except LAFORGE, who is watching pornographic tapes in his visor. He has a wide grin on his face.) RYKER - But Captain, that's where all our x-rated fantasies are. How will the crew get any rest and relaxation if they can't get their rocks off? PICARD - You'll just have to learn to control yourselves. Besides, you will remember that just last week we nearly lost control of the Enterprise and nearly hurtled into the sun of Omicron 3. All that because a certain security officer, who will remain unnamed ... [everyone looks at Worf] ...had to run a program entitled 'Lisa Does the Slime Pits of Zeta'. (Ryker leans over to Worf.) RYKER - Was it any good? (Worf smiles, but then looks over at Troi, who glares at him. His smile withers.) WORF -I wouldn't know sir. (Ryker gives him a big wink, and a thumbs-up.) PICARD - I now present Dr. Myhe Wackitov, of Starfleet's Equal Opportunity Bureau. (Dr. WACKITOV stands. Some members of the audience wolf whistle. She glares back. While she walks to the podium Picard runs to the seat next to Ryker.) RYKER - [whispering] What was the real reason behind shutting down the holodecks? PICARD - [whispering] Someone in the Starfleet Smut Monitoring Bureau heard we had a copy of a program called Betazoid Bimbos, starring our own Counselor Troi. When Dr. Wackitov came aboard, she gave me an ultimatum. Either I shaped up my command or I was shipped out. So I axed the holodeck. But I would love to learn who made that Betazoid program. (Ryker is busy examining a crease in his uniform.) RYKER - [a little too quickly] I'll bet it was Barkley. WACKITOV - Hello, I'm *Doctor* Wackitov, of Starfleet's Equal Opportunities Department, Sexual Harassment Division. I guess the easiest way to begin is to show the film strip. We'll have a discussion at the end. And we do have a lot to talk about. (The film strip begins. An out-of-focus, still photograph slides onto the screen, accompanied by a soundtrack of a whiney masculine voice, apparently taped underwater. Tinny electronic beeps announce the picture changes, which Wackitov accomplishes manually at each soundtrack chime.) (Slide One is the Starfleet logo.) DISEMBODIED VOICE - "Hello, I'm talking strip number 857. Doonk. PICARD - [whispering confidentially to Ryker] You would think that after several centuries the educational department would find a way to modernize these presentations. (Next slide is of human woman in tight Starfleet uniform, giving a dirty look to a being with a head composed of long tentacles, one of which has slid down the woman's cleavage.) DISEMBODIED VOICE - Sexual harassment is bad. But on a large starship, populated by many diverse beings of different cultures with different sensibilities, misunderstandings are bound to occur. Doonk (The next slide is of six Starfleet officers, some of whom hold large beer steins with 'Bet You Can't' embossed on the sides. The officers appear to be competing in a vomiting contest. One is pinching the buttock of a passing female officer.) DISEMBODIED VOICE - Remember, it is the intent behind such behaviours which determines whether the act is harassment... (Picard's personal communicator beeps while he stares intently at the screen.) PICARD - Yes. DATA's voice - Captain. A small ship has appeared off starboard. PICARD - I'm on my way. Security, Number One, come with me. WORF - Thank Christ! (Worf removes Troi's hands from his crotch, and stuffs his Klingon sausage back into his pants. He then stands and follows his superiors.) NEXT SCENE - THE BRIDGE (Picard and Ryker stand over DATA, while Worf walks over to the communications station.) PICARD - What is it, Commander Data? DATA - A small ship, of the Denebrian class, suddenly appeared off ...ahhhh [Data's eyes close momentarily] ... starboard. While it is not a large ship, and has no discernable armaments ...Ohhhhhh yeah... its appearance was rather abrupt, suggesting either a cloaking device unknown to the Federation, or a severe malfunction of Enterprise's sensors... [Data's hip start thrusting madly up and down in his chair. His eyes close.] ...Ah ah ah oh yeah ahhhhhhhhhh! (Data abruptly stops humping thin air and opens his eyes.) DATA - That was a good one. (Picard and Ryker exchange a worried glances.) PICARD - Mr. Data. Is there something wrong? DATA - Captain, it would appear that an emotional subroutine which I recently programed into my emotion chip has not yet fully integrated into my circuitry. PICARD - Emotional subroutine? DATA - Yes, Captain. In my discussions with Commander Ryker, I was informed that orgasms were the pinnacle of human emotions. As I am a fully functioning android, I thought it would be wise to test such emotions before engaging in any more mating rituals. (During Data's explanation, Picard shoots Ryker a dirty look. Ryker is examining a crease in his Starfleet uniform. Worf stands confused at the communications console in the background.) PICARD - Are you through now, Mr. Data? DATA - I believe so, sir. Was it as good for you? WORF - [interrupting Picard's reply] Sir! The ship is hailing us. PICARD - Put it on the screen. (A humanoid being appears. It is wearing what looks like a pair of thick black 20'th century spectacles, has thinning hair, and a fleshy face with bulbous nose. When the being speaks, the voice sounds like it has been rattling about in the bowels. The being's accent is strange.) BEING - Greetings Enterprise. I am Geraldo, a member of a roving race of diplomats and priests called the Kissgers. We spend our lives looking for interstellar strife to mediate. PICARD - Don't we all. GERALDO - [Smiles smarmily] We are on our way to R'lyeh, in the neutral zone. But our ship seems to have run into technical problems, and we require assistance. [Picard surreptitiously cuts the sound] PICARD - Analysis of their ship, Mr. Data. DATA - Sensors indicate there is an abnormal energy fluctuation in their warp drive. If the problem remains uncorrected, the ship could self-destruct in several days. Captain, may I have permission to order a pizza? PICARD - Permission denied. Worf, open frequency. [smiling at Geraldo] We shall be happy to serve you in any way we can. Several of our engineers shall beam over to make the necessary repairs shortly. GERALDO - [still smiling] We are grateful. Would it also be possible for you to beam over some food? We are running low, not having room enough in this craft to hold a decent matter converter. PICARD - That... can be arranged. GERALDO - [smiling still] We are most grateful. By the way, would it be possible for us to beam over to your ship. It's been several weeks since we've had any sort of privacy. A fifteen minute walk is all it takes to see every sight on this small craft. And several of our diplomats are having minor disagreements. I fear personal violence will soon occur. PICARD - [angrily cuts out the sound] Data, how many of these freeloaders are there? DATA - Sensors indicate seven life forms. PICARD - [to Geraldo] *That* can also be arranged. GERALDO - [smiling, he's never stopped smiling] We are forever in your debt. PICARD - Of that I'm certain. [Picard turns to cut the transmission, but before he can... ] GERALDO - [smiles] Oh, and could we impose upon you for one more favor, Captain. PICARD - [tired] Yes? GERALDO - Oh, thank you captain! [transmission ends] RYKER - what a bunch of assholes. PICARD - Agreed, Number One. The bizarre thing is, even though I knew they were giving me a line of total crap, I felt powerless against their suggestions. We shall have to watch our new friends carefully. RYKER - I'll assign a security team to them, sir. PICARD - And have Mr. LaForge check the sensors. We don't want any more of these beings sneaking up on us. And someone wake up Commander Data! RYKER - Right away Sir. SCENE - ENTERPRISE IN SPACE. PICARD - [voice over] Captain's log, Stardate 596979. We have received the Kissger's boarding party. The Kissger's are apparently a roving race of genetically enhanced ambassadors. Strangely, they appear to be clones of one another. For security reasons, they have been assigned quarters in Section Eight, next to the laundry room. The Kissger ship is currently being towed while our engineers attempt to fix an engine which is best described by the ancient French term 'merde'. The engineers have yet to discover any sort of cloaking device on the Kissgers ship. On a happier note, it would appear that Ensign Roger Rutroe, upon blowing his nose, has discovered a new form of life. He took the hankie down to the Medlab, where it was examined by Doctor Crusher, who announced the prodigious find. In honor of Ensign Rutroe's discovery, the new beings were named Snotroes. WORF - Captain, we are getting a special message from Starfleet Intelligence Division. PICARD - [in disbelief] On open channels? Very well, put it on screen. [The Starfleet logo appears, quickly followed by Admiral Phloog's dissipated face. He is wearing what appears to be a strange pink cap.] ADMIRAL - Captain, Starfleet has just received information that there is a ship full of a race of beings called Kissgers in your area. If you come in contact with them, you are to allow them to board, blow up their ship, accompany them to the planet R'lyeh, aid them in any of their undertakings, and then to take them back to Starfleet headquarters. Under armed guard, if necessary. Understood? PICARD - [confused] Understood. ADMIRAL - Consider them prisoners, just don't let them know their prisoners. [The cap slips over the Admiral's face, revealing itself to be a pair of frilly pink panties.] ADMIRAL - [through panties] That is all. Over and out. [Signal ends] RYKER - [to Picard] I'm glad to see that they've lowered the standards for admiralcy. PICARD - And I'm glad to know that Starfleet's intelligence division is up to its usual sterling standards. Very well. Mr. Worf, you heard the order. Fire when ready. WORF - [gleefully] Yes, Captain. [Worf begins pressing various buttons on his console. Suddenly he throws his head back and howls, just as his hips begin pistoning back and forth. The entire crew stops and watches as a large wet spot suddenly appears at Worf's crotch. TROI - Captain, I'm sensing extreme sexual pleasure. [Worf calms down, and suddenly realizes that everyone is watching him.] RYKER - [eyebrow raised] Lt. Worf, are you alright? WORF - [reluctantly] Yes sir. It was merely Klingon Battle Ecstasy. Sensors indicate ship is destroyed. PICARD - Very well. Mr. Data, set a direct course to the planet R'lyeh, Warp 8. Mr. Worf, go change your shorts. [Data touches several buttons. A noise like a standard automobile slipped into an incorrect gear washes over the deck. The ship jerks forward several times, then stops.] [SCENE - ENGINE ROOM. LaForge is hurriedly conferring with several crewmembers near the main control panel.] PICARD - [over intercom] Mr. Laforge, where are my engines! LAFORGE - [to himself] Shit! [to the intercom] Ahhhh... well, Captain. You're not going to believe this. In fact, you had better come down and see for yourself. [Several minutes later Picard and Ryker arrive.] RYKER - What's going on, Geordi? LAFORGE - Well sir, it looks like sabotage. PICARD - [angry] What! LAFORGE - Our warp drive is no longer cooling correctly, Captain. The lines are full of shit. PICARD - [coldly] Commander Laforge, I would expect a Starfleet officer to have a better analysis of the situation than that. LAFORGE - That is the analysis, Captain. The lines are literally clogged with shit. Somehow someone connected the cooling conduits to the ship's waste system. The latrine water is not cold enough to cool our antimatter warp drive. And when that waste water warms, the shit expands, clogging the lines. So now we have two problems. We can't download the sewage, or the warp drive will be flooded. And since we can't download, we have to shut off the water pressure, which will cause the toilets to explosively backflow. PICARD - This *is* a sticky situation. RYKER - You'd think Starfleet would devise a better method of waste disposal. PICARD - They can't, Number One. They've tried disintegrating it directly in the bowls, but personnel lost pieces of their anatomy. No, water pressure is the tried and true method. But at least the Enterprise disintegrates it's waste in the septic tanks. RYKER - Is there any other way? PICARD - Surely you've heard of the USS Boondogle? RYKER - You mean the ship with the record number of mutinies? PICARD - The very same. Have you ever wondered why? Their waste recovery system was directly linked to the food system. [to LaForge] Call the on-duty Feces Disposal Engineer. LAFORGE - Yes sir. [Within seconds a short man with a long beard reaching his waist strides into the room. He has a plunger holstered to his Starfleet belt. His name tag reads GREENSPLATTER.] GREENSPLATTER - Captain, Thecky Greenthplatter [he salutes smartly], Chief Feceth Dithpothal Engineer, reporting for duty. Thir! [Picard and Ryker reflexively step back from the shower of spittle which accompanies Greensplatter's speech.] PICARD - thank you for your prompt ... GREENSPLATTER - No problem at all, Thir! I've alwayth wanted to meet a Captain of a thtarship. I've been working with Thtarfleet for thirty yearth, and I've never met one. It would be a pleathure to thake your hand, Thir! [Greensplatter grabs Picard's hand and pumps madly. Picard smiles wanely.] RYKER [attempting to distract Greensplatter] - Mister Greenthplatter... GREENSPLATTER - That's Greenthplatter, thir. RYKER - Yes, Mr. Greensplatter... GREENSPLATTER - My friendth call me Thecky. RYKER - Very well, Shecky... GREENSPLATTER - Thath's Thecky, thir. RYKER - Yeah, whatever. We have a matter of some urgency... GREENSPLATTER - I'll thay you do. You've got thome weird thit fluthing through those tubeths. PICARD - We want you to get to the bottom of it. GREENSPLATTER - But the bottom ith were it all tharts. Thaths what we thay in the feceths dithpothal buithneth. [He winks, and severly elbows Picard in the gut, causing Picard to bend over gasping for breath.] RYKER - the cause, Greensplatter, we want you to find the cause. GREENSPLATTER - But I know the cauthe. Iths becauthse of all that weird thit flowing through the tubeths. RYKER [confidentially to Picard] - Is keelhauling still allowed under Starfleet's regulations? PICARD - Engineer Greensplatter. I want to know why a thitload of thit... I mean a shitload of shit, is ensconsed in my tubes. GREENSPLATTER - Not enough fiber would be my gueth, thir. Har har! Thath's another feceths dithposal joke! [He slaps his knee.] By the by, would you like me to get rid of all that crap which iths packed into your warp coilths? PICARD and RYKER - YES! [Greensplatter salutes smartly, turns on one heel, and marches out the door while practicing a precision twirl of his plunger.] PICARD - I guess we had better follow standard procedure for a waste spill. [He hits his communicator] PICARD - Attention, all crew members. This is your captain with an important announcement. Until further notice, no one, I repeat, no one is to to use the lavatory facilities except for dire emergencies. In the case of those dire emergencies, you will not flush, I repeat, do not flush. [Picard holds his stomach.] RYKER - Ulcers acting up again, Sir? PICARD - No, Number One, it must have been something I ate. RYKER - Or met. Like Engineer Shecky.. PICARD - That's Thecky, Number One. RYKER - Whoever he was, he managed to turn my stomach. [Picard groans.] PICARD - Number One, you have control of the ship. I'm going to the medlab. SCENE - MEDLAB (Doctor Crusher examines the brown contents of an erlenmeyer flask, while Picard is bent over a table, his Starfleet pants around ankles, adjusting his Starfleet skivvies.) CRUSHER - Captain's log, six inches long, three inches in diameter. [The contents of the flask jumps through the opening, twists across the desk, and lands on the floor. There it swiftly slides across the floor to the head, where it jumps to the open seat, and does a triple gainer into the pot.] CRUSHER - [over the noises of the head flushing] Congratulations, Jon- Luc, it's a new life form. PICARD - Good, let's call it a Theckite. CRUSHER - I was thinking of calling it a Picardian, but have it your way. [Crusher present Picard with a bill. Picard takes out his Starfleet Medicare card. Crusher slides the card through a machine, and waits for the digital readout. She then hands Picard a receipt for him to sign.] CRUSHER - Before you go, Jon-Luc, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. PICARD - Yes, Doctor? CRUSHER - Last night someone broke into the medlab, and stole some medicine. Several boxes of Zetacron were stolen, as was our entire supply of Nova strength X-lax. PICARD - Zetacron? Is that an hallucinogen? CRUSHER - No, it's a testosterone blocker. I use it on our transsexuals. PICARD - We have transsexuals on the crew? CRUSHER - Hey, don't ask, don't tell. But someone did steal the medicine. PICARD - I'll have security get right on it. [Data enters the lab. He is preceded by his erect penis, which stiffly wiggles about in front from his open fly.] DATA - Doctor, I seem to require medical attention for a disorder of a personal nature. PICARD - I'll just leave now. [he does, as Crusher directs Data to sit on a table.] CRUSHER - What seems to be the problem, Data? DATA - Recently I have attempted to integrate a new orgasmic subroutine in my emotional programming. CRUSHER - I beg your pardon? DATA - I am attempting to experience all human emotions. I was informed that orgasm is one of them. CRUSHER - Ohh, all that pelvic thrusting you've been doing for the past several days. So you now have problems getting off? DATA - No Doctor, I seem to 'get off', as you term it, too often. In fact, I spend valuable processing time planning new ways to 'get off'. CRUSHER [licking her lips]- I understand the situation, Data, but I fail to see the problem. Now why don't you lie back on this table, and we'll make a full exam of you. [She lowers his pants carefully around his exposed genitalia. Once they are down she begins undressing too.] DATA - Doctor, while I appreciate your kindly bedside manner, I fail to see how this will alleviate my problem. CRUSHER [she stands atop table, and lowers herself onto Data's rigid member] - As I just told you, Data, you don't have a problem. I however, do. I haven't gotten off for several months now, and it's threatening my mental health. So you just lie back. Move those hips like I've seen you do. Ohhh, that's very nice. [An hour later NURSE YUKI enters, and finds Data and Crusher still copulating. Crusher's head is wedged in a corner of the medlab, one of her legs is stuck horizontally on a nearby table, while the other leg supports her weight. Data is directly behind her, pumping away madly.] CRUSHER - Nurse, help! YUKI - [as she undresses] With pleasure, Doctor. DATA - Doctor, I fail to see how this treatment will cure my problem. CRUSHER - It's an old fashioned remedy known as pussywhipping. Trust me Data. DATA - Pussywhipping? I do not recall that terminology being used in any Starfleet medical manuals. CRUSHER - It's a medical remedy for your ailment, which I have diagnosed as satyriasis. DATA - Will the treatment for this satyriasis be covered by my Starfleet Major medical coverage? CRUSHER - It's on the house, Data. But I think we'll need a few more females to effect a final treatment. I can see it's going to take a lot to tire you. YUKI - [bouncing up and down gleefully] This is great! Much better than the Holodecks! CRUSHER - And he won't fall asleep before your finished. SCENE - TURBOLIFT Picard is riding up, when his communicator beeps. PICARD - yes? WACKITOV'S voice - Captain, you must put a stop to this party in 10-4. PICARD - What party in 10-4? WACKITOV'S voice - The one that that fellow Q is throwing for endangered species. PICARD - [angry] Q is on my ship! Security! SCENE - 10-4 (A large amount of non-commissioned officers mill about, merrily drinking the alcohol thoughtfully provided by Q. The walls are strung with banners, on which are written: Save The Whale, Save Junior Officers, and Save The Choad.) (Picard enters, and is immediately met by Wackitov. The crewmembers are singing drunkenly:) CREWMEMBERS - Stroke, stroke, stroke our low-hung, Starfleet balls. When we come we'll paint the fucking walls. We're deadbait Starfleet owns us all. That's why our contracts last only one year. A-li-ens They cause us lots of pain They trap us And pick apart our brains But our deaths Are all for Starfleet's gain. That's why our contracts last only one year. Holodeck's The only joy we get It always breaks But we say what the heck With-out it We'll only whine and fret Because our contracts last only one year. WACKITOV - Captain, that song creates a hostile work environment, and I insist you take disciplinary action against all the crewmembers involved. (Q, dressed in a Starfleet uniform, makes his way to Picard, a bottle of gin in his hand.) Q - Ahhh, Jon-Luc! I'm so happy to see you. [He presses the bottle of gin into Picard's hand.] However are you? PICARD - Q, get the blazes off my ship! Q - [Makes tsk-ing noises of disapproval] Temper, temper. Has anyone ever told you how handsome you look when you're angry? PICARD - What is the meaning behind this... this intrusion! Q - Can't a being throw a party for some friends? PICARD - And I suppose that's real alcohol you're suppling my crew. Q - Of course. It wouldn't be a real party if there weren's real alcohol. WACKITOV - I'm warning you, Picard. Regain control of your men or you'll be answering a Starfleet Harassment charge! Q - Oh my, such a spitfire. Are you having, oh what is it those humanoids call it? [Q pauses to think] Ah yes, are you having a period? (Wackitov angrily storms off, leaving Q and Picard.) Q - Whatever got into that bitch? PICARD - You have a habit of bringing out the worst in everybody. Q - Don't you ever get tired of all this, Jon Luc? Just say the word and I can transport the two of us to ancient Rome. I'll be Tiberius, you'll be Sejanus. We'll have a wonderful time. Just think, the Mediterranean climate, little fishes. Why, you can have a full head of hair. And we can make fun of poor uncle Claudius... PICARD - I haven't time for this prattle! There's trouble every time you show up and start swaning about on my ship. Q - [tsking again] Temper, temper. If you won't accept my offer, at least accept my advice. PICARD - Your advice? Q - Just look on the walls, Jon-Luc? Everything listed is an endangered species on your ship. PICARD - Whales? You mean the extinct earth species of sea mammals? We've never had any of them on our ship! Q - Hmmm, now that you mention it, that might have been another Enterprise. But everything else is accurate. PICARD - [reading] Save the choad? What the hell is a choad? Q - An amazing race of beings, sadly misunderstood and hunted to the point of extermination. Some say they're the well spring of life. [As he was talking, Q gradually fades out until only his grin is left, eerily hovering where his head once was.] Q - So tell, me Jon-Luc, have you had an explosion of life recently? SCENE - ENTERPRISE STUCK IN SPACE PICARD - [voice over] Captain's log, supplemental. Q has left, leaving once again disorder in his wake. I managed to close down the party, and had the alcohol confiscated. The rowdy crewmembers are now in the brig, awaiting their inevitable hangovers. We are also awaiting the results of Feces Disposal Engineer Thecky Greensplatters's investigation into the possible sabotage of our warp coils. Meanwhile, I am attempting to think of a good explanation that would satisfy any Kissger query about their ship. (Picard sits in his desk. The door chime rings.) PICARD - Enter (Seven KISSGERS enter, each looking sort of the same, pudgy, fleshy faces, bulbous noses, bushy eyebrows, thick dark glasses. The only real difference between them is their height.) PICARD - Ahh, Ambassadors. I was meaning to see you, but I'm afraid several problems arose since you transported over. GERALDO - Greetings, Captain Picard. I would like to take this opportunity to introduce you to my fellow ambassadors. From left to right is Manny, Moe, Jack, Larry, Curly, and, last but not least, Elroy Hubbub. [Each being nods its head upon its introduction.] PICARD - I'm pleased to meet you. GERALDO - I'm afraid we have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you. PICARD - If it's about your ship, then you have my sincere apologies. During our engineers' attempts to repair your warp drive, the silly thing seems to have blown up. But not to worry. Starfleet has authorized me to take you to your rendezvous on R'lyeh. GERALDO - That is not a problem. PICARD - It's not? GERALDO - No, we are concerned with matters far more grave. In fact, using your ship as a transport is the best thing which could have happened to us. AMBASSADOR MANNY - Yes. Cruising into R'lyeh on a Starship would really turn the chicks' heads. AMBASSADOR MOE - Yes. Female beings love large, powerful ships. Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. PICARD - Then what is the problem? GERALDO - Captain, we are male beings who have been traveling throughout the universe for the past several months. Seven male beings, on a cramped ship, without benefit of female companionship... AMBASSADOR JACK - We have needs, Captain. PICARD - I see. GERALDO - That is why we were traveling to R'lyeh. It was a stop for rest and relaxation. Plus we heard that three of its brothels were in conflict. We thought we would do a little pro bono ambassadorial work, if you know what I mean. PICARD - I think I do. GERALDO - And the female beings of your crew are so cold and cruel. AMBASSADOR LARRY - Especially that Doctor one. PICARD - You mean Doctor Crusher? AMBASSADOR LARRY - No, the other one. PICARD - [in growing horror] Doctor Wackitov? AMBASSADOR LARRY - That's the one. PICARD - Oh dear. AMBASSADOR CURLY - Yes. I asked for some fellatio, and she kneed me in the groin. A most disagreeable female being. (Picard slams on the communicator button.) PICARD - LaForge to Captain's room, on the double! [Picard turns to address the ambassadors again when the door opens, and LaForge runs in. LAFORGE - Captain, I told you that the shit in the warp coils wasn't my fault! PICARD - Mr. LaForge, I would like you to meet the Kissger ambassadors. They will require the use of the holodecks. Would you kindly put holodeck three back on line. LAFORGE - Certainly, Captain. If you will follow me. [LaForge leads the ambassadors from the room. As they walk out the door, LaForge can be overheard. LAFORGE - May I suggest Lisa Does the Slime Pits of Zeta. It's very popular. Betazoid Bimbos is pretty good too. [When they are gone, Picard sits at his desk and puts his head in his hands. The intercom sounds again.] CRUSHER [voice] - Jon-Luc? PICARD [tired] Yes? CRUSHER - How much longer will this plumbing emergency last? Eight crewmembers have passed out, and I'm getting complaints from forty-three others. PICARD - The emergency measures will be revoked once I receive a report from the feces disposal engineers. We have to know whether the phenomena clogging our warp coils is related to my... little mishap earlier. CRUSHER - I understand. Oh, I've also had to place Data on sick leave, Jon-Luc. PICARD - What is his problem? CRUSHER - An emotional subroutine... PICARD - That again? CRUSHER - Yes. Except now he can't detumesce. Since we're out of testosterone blockers I've had to prescribe bed rest. Lots and lots of bed rest. PICARD - I see. Let me know if you are able to catch and examine one of those Theckites. Picard out. [Picard opens a drawer to pull out a packet of Starfleet aspirin. He takes two, swallowing them with a shotglass full of Q's gin, hidden in the same drawer. The intercom sounds again. This time it's Feces Disposal Engineer Greensplatter.] GREENSPLATTER - Captain, I've dithcovered the problem with the warp coilths. [Picard chugaluggs the remaining aspirin with the remainder of the gin.] GREENSPLATTER - You've got to come to lavatory 12, deck theventy- eight, thir! Over and out. SCENE - DECK SEVENTY-EIGHT HALLWAY. (There is a long line of female crewmembers in front of one door. The lift doors open to reveal Picard, Ryker and Troi.) PICARD - [staring at the line] What the devil? TROI - Captain, I'm sensing more sexual pleasure. RYKER - That line seems to start at Data's quarters. TROI - Ohhhh, yes. I'm definitely sensing some sexual pleasure. Ahhh. (Troi shudders against the wall. When she regains her senses she smiles serenely at Ryker and Picard.) RYKER - I'll bet you haven't sensed that in while. TROI - [icily] And what do you mean by that? RYKER - I didn't think female pleasure was a strongpoint of Klingon copulation. (Troi bristles, and begins to reply, but is cut off by Picard.) PICARD - We have no time for petty squabbles now. We've got to find the lavatory. (They walk a ways, then stop in front of two doors marked by male and female icons. Ryker opens the one marked male.) RYKER - It seems to be stuck. [The door finally opens. The three instantly cover their noses.] TROI - What is that stench? RYKER - I think I know, but I hope I'm wrong. (They enter the head. Inside, sprawled on the floor tiles, lies Greensplatter. His plunger covers his face. Ryker bends to feel for a pulse in Greensplatter's wrist.] RYKER - He's dead. TROI - [Pointing] Look over there! [One of the toilets is overflowing with feculence.] RYKER - What is it? TROI - [surprised] It's alive. [She is slowly drawn to it. As she nears, it bulges up like a hill from the set of the john.] TROI - I'm sensing deep feelings of separation, rejection and loneliness. And joy at finding others of its kind. SCENE - HALLWAY DECK LEVEL 78 (Crusher is walking to the front of the line at Data's door.) FEMALE CREWMEMBER - Wait a minute, sister! I'm next! Get to the back of the line! [The crewmember is supported by many other irate line members, several of them male.] CRUSHER - But Data is my patient. I've got to check his condition. FEMALE CREWMEMBER - Well, we're all doctors too! And his condition is still critical. [Crusher is pushed aside by Doctor Wackitov, who staggers out the door.] CRUSHER - Dr. Wackitov? [Wackitov stops and stares. When she recognized Crusher, she tries to slink off down the hall. Crusher is about to follow when she hears an anguished moan from a nearby door. She recognizes the sound as coming from Worf's quarters.] CRUSHER - Worf, are you alright? WORF - (anguished, inarticulate moan) AAaaahhhhharrrrggggg! SCENE - INSIDE THE HALLWAY DECK LEVEL 78 HEAD PICARD - [to Troi] You mean they felt threatened by Greensplatter and his plunger. TROI - Yes, killing him was a matter of self-preservation. I'm certain of it Captain. RYKER - I wonder what they prime directive has to say about this? PICARD - To the bridge. SCENE - WORF'S PERSONAL QUARTERS (Crusher enters to find the Klingon curled in a fetal ball, moaning in pain. His mouth is bloody, where he has chewed on a metal chair. Tears stream down his face.) [Crusher kneels next to Worf] CRUSHER - Worf, it's me. What's wrong? WORF [opens one miserable eye to look at Crusher] - Noputh! CRUSHER - Oh my god! [She hits communicator] Sick bay, this is Doctor Crusher. We have a medical emergency in Lt. Worf's quarters. Bring a gurney and the largest enema bag you can find. [Minutes later four medical staff usher in the gurney and load Worf, face down, on to it. A thin metal rod is set into one corner of the gurney. A clear plastic bag hangs from it, drooping from the weight of the clear liquid inside.] CRUSHER - [looking at bag] How much is that? MEDLAB STAFFER - Two liters, doctor. CRUSHER - Don't we have anything bigger? He'll need at least six. [Picard quickly enters, just as Crusher shouts "Go!" to the staffers, who wheel Worf out.] PICARD - Doctor, what has happened? CRUSHER - Noputh. PICARD - I beg your pardon? CRUSHER - A Klingon bowel disorder, brought on by extreme constipation. It's often fatal. Please excuse me Captain, I have a patient to attend to. (Crusher leaves. A gleam from behind an ajar bathroom door attracts Picard's attention. In the bathroom he finds eight bottles of the Nova strength X-lax.) PICARD - [satisfied] Now we know who's been stealing the laxatives. SCENE - ENTERPRISE HOVERING IN SPACE PICARD [voice over] - Starlog supplemental. It would appear that some crew members' feces has attained sentience, and has colonized the cooling coils. We are left in a conundrum. We cannot move the ship without harming the well-being of that colony, and we cannot harm the colony without violating the prime directive. [Cut to INSIDE OF SHIP. Picard sits in his chair, surrounded by Ryker and Troi.] PICARD - To make matters worse, our guests, the Kissgers, have almost overstayed their welcome. They are belligerent, loud, obnoxious, and hold large parties which seem to attract the majority of the off-duty crewmembers. Also, strange sightings have been reported by crewmembers doing their laundry late in the evenings. We have been besieged by reports of 'humongous, bald-headed rats', if the reports are to be believed. Several xenobiological exterminators have been sent to investigate, but so far have discovered nothing. Lt. Worf is on light duty, after his medical mishap, which has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH MY EMERGENCY WASTE SPILL ORDERS. He denies taking the Zetacron, so the investigation is still open. Commander Data has also requested to be placed on active duty so he can recharge his batteries. DATA - Captain, I have been giving our present predicament some thought, and have come up with a possible solution. PICARD - I'm listening. DATA - If we were to 'fix' the Captain's Log, and eliminate all references to the new life form currently inhabiting our septic system, we could 'accidentally' void the feces colony into space. No one would be the wiser for it, sir. PICARD - And what of our inability to move? How would we explain that? DATA - We could blame that on the crewmembers attending the Kissger and Q parties. PICARD - Brilliant! We'll make a Starfleet captain out of you yet, Mr. Data. Number One, make it so! RYKER - Aye sir! Lt. Worf, flush away-lemay! SCENE ENTERPRISE HOVERING OVER PLANET PICARD [voice over] - Captain's log supplemental. After a few hours delay, due to nothing suspicious at all, we have finally arrived at R'lyeh, a planet known for its lasciviousness. I am hoping that the crew can work off some of their frustrations. On a sadder note, the body of Feces Engineer Thecky Greensplatter was interred in the waste disposal unit, and disintegrated. Although he left no instructions, most thought he would have wanted it that way. [Picard sits on bridge. Ryker, who is dressed in bright shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, and totes a big beachball, walks up.] RYKER - Certain you won't be joining us Captain? It might be some time before we get to shoot our loads again. PICARD - No, I think not Number One. It's against Starfleet regulations for both the captain and first officer to get their rocks off in the same episode. Besides, I'm trying to think of why there are suddenly two new life forms on our ship. [to himself] What was it Q said? (Picard thinks for a few minutes, then suddenly smiles.) PICARD - I think one of the representatives is a Choad. RYKER - I take it that shore leave is cancelled? PICARD - Afraid so, Number One. Have top personnel in the ready room in half an hour. RYKER - [muttering as he walks out] First the holodecks, now this. SCENE - READY ROOM (The who's who of top officers sit in their usual seats, having just heard Picard's theory.) RYKER - It certainly would explain all the evidence. But, how do we catch this 'choad'? PICARD - We shall just have to use their natural weaknesses against them. Mr. Data, what do we really know about the Choad race? DATA - Their history is very sketchy, Sir. My early research indicates that the Choads were a race of interstellar wanderers. They are roughly humanoid in form, and tend to be solitary. There has only been one recorded incident of a Choad colonization in Starfleet territory. On Galafreid Two, a small group of approximately one hundred and fifty Choads asked for and received permission to colonize one section of the planet. A decade later all the Choads were exterminated. RYKER - [surprised] Why? DATA - I do not know, Sir. All records involving the incident were officially expunged. Only legends and traditions exist. PICARD - Anything which might suggest an answer to our problem? DATA - Curious bits of folklore do exist which tell of certain Choad taboos. For instance, it was forbidden for non-Choads to wear tight clothing when traveling through Choad territory. There are also old jokes about non-Choad mothers warning their daughters not to marry a Choad because they would not live past the wedding night, and the undertaker would never be able to erase the smile from their face. There is also the ancient saying from the Smegmamen of Hosebag 8, which states that if ballocks were brains, Choads would be overlords of the universe. I must confess that I did not understand either joke. PICARD - [deep in thought] Dr. Crusher, is that batch of testosterone blocker still missing? CRUSHER - The zetacron? Yes, no one in the lab has seen it. PICARD - [self satisfied] Good. Then we have a simple matter. There is an alien with an overactive libido on board. It would also be safe to assume that this alien is one of the ambassadors. And since all the ambassadors are males, we can assume they are interested in females. I hope. [To crew] Any comments or suggestions? [Picard looks around. The entire gathering stares back.] PICARD - What we need is a good, old fashioned trap. [He turns to Ryker.] Tell our illustrious visitors that there will be a party in their honor tomorrow, at twenty-two hundred. [Ryker nods. Picard turns to Troi] Do you know how to belly dance? TROI - [uncertainly] Y...esss PICARD - Excellent. You will perform at the party. Make certain to wear your slinkiest outfit. The same goes for you, Doctor. And that's an order. Everyone's dismissed. [As group leaves, Picard remains.] PICARD - We'll give this Choad something to make his directive prime. SCENE - HALLWAY IN ENTERPRISE. [Picard is walking along, when Dr. Wackitov appears from a side corridor.] WACKITOV - Captain, I would like a word with you. PICARD - [still walking] There are several problems which require my immediate attention, Doctor Wackitov, so I must insist it be brief. WACKITOV - Briefs are precisely what I want to discuss with you. PICARD - [Stops and looks questioningly at Dr. Wackitov] I beg your pardon? WACKITOV - I have received several complaints about those ambassadors. It seems they have been propositioning all female crewmembers, not to mention me. One has even taken his soiled underwear and draped it across his door. They've made it their banner. They've printed "Piece of Ass In Our Time" on it. PICARD - I will discuss that with them at the party tonight. WACKITOV - And that's the second thing I want to discuss with you. I heard that you have given junior female officers direct orders to wear 'slinky clothing'. That is a direct violation of Starfleet code 9 section 12 paragraph L. In short, it's sexual harassment. PICARD - It is for the good of the ship. WACKITOV - Hah! I've heard that one before. I've also heard 'the only way for us to get out of this predicament is for you to swallow', not to mention 'I've got your secret orders right here in my pants, so why don't you dig around and try to find them." Don't try using those on me either. PICARD - But it happens to be the truth! WACKITOV - Captain Picard, I am very disappointed with you. I shall have to report you to Starfleet yet again. SCENE - ENTERPRISE RUMPUS ROOM (Troi has just finished dancing atop the cash bar. All the Kissger's eyes are glassy. Some have slight coverings of drool on their chins. The exception is ambassador Elroy Hubbub, who has broken into a cold sweat. He wipes his brow with a handkerchief and rolls uncomfortably in his chair. Picard sits next to him.) PICARD - Quite a performance, eh? HUBBUB - [smiles sickly] Yes, I guess it was. I'm afraid I'm not feeling well enough to enjoy it. [His smile is easier now.] Perhaps it was the food. PICARD - Perhaps. [He motions for Troi to approach] Would you like to meet her? HUBBUB [blanches] - Some over time... [Troi arrives, and stands three feet in front of Hubbub. She bends to Hubbub's eyelevel, her breasts straining the light fabric of her flimsy brassiere.] TROI - Greetings, Ambassador Hubbub. [Hubbub lets loose a strangled cry, rises, then collapses to the floor. The party stops. Concerned ambassadors start to converge around the stricken Hubbub.] PICARD - Everyone back! [A tearing sound fills the air. Something near the leg of Hubbub's trouser stirs from the rip in the fabric. Slowly, a foot long, pink appendage with a bulbous head slides onto the floor. It has no eyes, only a narrow, vertical slit. Suddenly it flexes, ripping the pants leg from cuff to crotch.] RYKER - Whoa! Look at the hog on him! PICARD - Security! [Three men in red shirts appear in the doorway, phasers drawn and pointed.] PICARD - [pointing towards Hubbub] Subdue ... that! [Two security men stop dead in their tracks. The third charges straight at the Choad, only to have the ten centimeter thick love muscle wrap around his neck and throw him head first into the wall. He drops his phaser. The Choad droops to grope for it. When it reaches the phaser, the two remaining security men rush over to subdue Hubbub. This is not difficult, as Hubbub still lies prone on the floor. The two meter long appendage casually stuns the guards with the phaser. It then swivels, searching for more targets. The ambassadors and crew scurry for cover. Picard, Ryker, Troi, and Data duck behind the cash bar.] TROI - Captain! All the emotions seem to emanate out of that... that ...thing! DATA - Yes, captain. The appendage in question does seem to have a mind of its own. PICARD - You mean... [everyone ducks as a high pitched whine fills the air, and shards of a Southern Comfort bottle shower them] You mean the human form is subservient to that? DATA - That is one interpretation of the evidence, Captain. [A loud explosion sounds. Ryker peers around the corner of the bar to see that the Choad has hit the control panel to the door. RYKER - We're trapped here Captain. It just shot out the door. PICARD - Damn! Suggestions, anyone? DATA - In theory, the Choad's sex drive is its primary concern. Therefore, if one of the women were to distract it, the remaining crewmembers would be able to escape. RYKER - Meaning? DATA - If Counselor Troi were to stand still, and make no threatening movements, the Choad's drive would change from survival to propagation. TROI - Meaning? DATA - I believe the colloquialism is that the Choad would be more interested in getting into your pants than shooting the shit out of us, if I am using the slang correctly. TROI - You mean that if I let that thing attempt to mate with me... DATA - I believe the medical term is fuck the living shit out of you. At least that is the term Doctor Crusher uses. [Ryker peers back around the edge to view the Choad weiner.] RYKER - [in sympathy] Ouch. TROI - Starfleet sometimes asks us to make sacrifices. I'm prepared to make mine. [She slowly stands. The Choad swivels to point at her. Troi slowly begins undulating her stomach muscles. As she picks up the tempo, and her body begins to jiggle, the Choad imitates her. After several minutes the Choad drops the phaser and wraps around Troi's waist. It begins sliding smoothly up her body, between her breasts, and poises before her mouth, like a snake ready to strike. Troi's tongue sensuously slides from between her lips to caress the Choad's head. The Choad slides into Troi's mouth.] RYKER - Let's go! [Picard and Ryker race for the door. Data attempts to, but is stopped momentarily by his own uncontrollably thrusting pelvis. The three finally make it to the door, where Ryker is attempting to juryrig the wiring.] TROI - [from behind] Ohhh! [Picard glances to where Troi is on the floor, vaginally penetrated by the Choad.] PICARD - Hurry, Number One. I don't know how much longer she can hold. RYKER - Got it! [The door snaps half open, and the three depart. Several security men await outside.] PICARD - [pointing to the room they just vacated] Hurry, Counselor Troi needs your help. [The security guards troop in.] PICARD - That was a narrow escape. DATA - Not so Captain. That was merely one of several alternatives available to us. The best option would have been contacting the transporter room to transport the Choad to a holding cell. Or we could have had ourselves transported to safety. Or we could have held our position until the security guards had managed to regain access. Actually, the option we used was the most dangerous of possibilities. PICARD - Then why did you suggest it? DATA - Because it was the most convenient for the plot. RYKER - [looking back into the room] I think those security men misunderstood you, Captain. [Picard looks in to see the guards, pants around their knees, pouring it on to Counselor Troi, who can barely be seen between all their hairy legs.] PICARD - What the hell? [Suddenly the familiar pink peter places its long neck around the door frame and pulls its body towards the opening.] RYKER - Holy shit! [The three scurry further down the hall. The Choad follows, making surprisingly fast progress by using its body to pull the deadweight of Hubbub's body.] PICARD - [to intercom] Security! We need a protective field on level 69, area L! Immediately! [Picard and Ryker run down the hall, and almost reach a corridor when they run face first into the transparent force shield. They bounce back, knocking Data, who trails behind them, onto his ass too. The three scurry to their feet, and turn to face the Choad.] PICARD - [to intercom] You assholes! Take down this security shield! DATA - We are in imminent danger, Captain. The Choad is about to discharge. PICARD - How do you know? DATA - Over the past few days I have become imminently familiar with the signs, sir. [All three eyes are riveted to the swelling head. It's aimed directly at them. They crowd back, against the force shield. Dr. Wackitov appears behind them.] WACKITOV - And just what is going on here?. [Suddenly the force shield is turned off, and the three men fall backwards. Ryker lands atop Wackitov. Just as they do, the Choad spurts white fluid over the quartet. They shriek as they are coated with mega liters of pearly fluid. The Choad's flow slowly subsides, and it the droops to the floor, exhausted.] SCENE - NAMELESS ENTERPRISE OFFICE (Wackitov sits behind a desk. Data enters.) WACKITOV - [smiling] Hello, Commander Data. DATA - Doctor Wackitov. According to Starfleet regulations, I must make a report of sexual harassment. WACKITOV - [sympathetically] Oh dear, this is terrible. Sit down and tell me about. [Data sits as Wackitov shifts through reams of paperwork in her briefcase.] WACKITOV - Who is this complaint against? DATA - The entire contingent of female crewmembers aboard the Enterprise. (Wackitov stops and looks in shock at Data.) DATA - And you, Doctor Wackitov. WACKITOV - Me!? DATA - Yes. As you are obviously aware, I have had problems of a personal nature involving a new emotional subroutine. A side effect of this subroutine was an uncontrollable increase in my libido. Satyriasis was Doctor Crusher's medical diagnosis. I was cruelly used while I was emotionally vulnerable by the people I have cited in my complaint. WACKITOV - You felt used? DATA - Yes. None of the crewmembers respected me for my mind. They were merely interested in the capabilities of my body. I was, in short, a high-tech dildo. WACKITOV - [taken aback] Ohh? What do you plan to do? DATA - I believe charges are in order. I am told by my legal counsel that Starfleet disciplinary action tends to be very abrupt, but fair. Especially in matters of pussywhipping a junior officer. WACKITOV - Your legal counsel? (Picard enters, the smile threatening to warp his face.) PICARD - Hello, Dr. Wackitov. I believe my client has given you his testimony? WACKITOV - Yes, he has. PICARD - Good. Then you will understand why it will be necessary to petition Starfleet to send us a new sexual harassment officer. I hope there will be no hard feelings. SCENE - ENTERPRISE IN SPACE. (Picard voice over:) PICARD - Captain's log, supplemental. The Choad was found to emit some sort of energy, which enabled various organic materials to possess a life of their own. Further study will be necessary. The Kissger ambassadors were forcefully escorted to Starfleet Intelligence Division. I haven't the foggiest idea why, since Intelligence never tells anybody anything. (Dissolve to BRIDGE, with Picard in captain's seat.) PICARD - We have had another spate of strangeness. Crew members reported strange noises issuing over the intercom system. Mr. Data was of the opinion that said noises were of a linguistic nature. We were ready to proclaim the discovery of yet another new life form, the third... I mean second, on this voyage. Unfortunately it was found that young Cadette Wesly Crusher, visiting his mother on holiday, had hacked into the Enterprise computing system and the said noises were emanating from his armpit. I was forced to discipline Cadette Crusher for this childish prank. I am also saddened to report that Doctor Wackitov has transferred to another ship. The parting was mutually agreeable, and all charges and countercharges have been dropped. (The entire crew [at least those that matter] are at their stations.) PICARD - And that concludes another successful adventure in space. DATA - Not quite, Captain. An analysis of past similar situations indicate that some life-fulfilling lesson must be learned from the incidents. PICARD - Quite right, Mr. Data. Suggestions anyone? RYKER - How about 'a slime in time saves nine million'? WORF - There is an old Klingon saying. Roughly translated, it says 'beware the choad warrior'. TROI - How about 'a stiff dick has no conscience'? PICARD - Yes, I think that one is the most applicable. (Everyone agrees, and makes vows to use the lesson they just learned in their daily lives.) DATA - There is just one more matter which must be settled before the episode can end. There must be a joke pointing out the foibles of one of the crewmembers. PICARD - Hmm, that one is going to be rough. DATA - I belive I can help there, Captain. (The sound of breaking wind rolls across the bridge for several seconds.) RYKER - What the hell? (Everyone looks at Data, who's face has turned red, like a tomato) DATA - That is part of a new emotional subroutine I have attempted to include in my programming. TROI - Flatulence? DATA - No. Embarrassment. ([The entire bridge laughs, as the camera pulls back to reveal the Enterprise speeding away) The end