STAR TREK IX: The Search For Sock a parody by Matthew Sharpe a.k.a. Johnny Mug Starring... Patrick Stewart, Jonathan Frakes, Brent Spiner, and so on and so forth, Tito Jackson, Jaleel White, and Wil Wheaton as "The Boy." [Just after STAR TREK: First Contact. Worf, being returned to DS9, is looking forward to kicking Dominion ass and kissing Dax's aaa--- uhhh... kissing Dax. Yeah. Sure.] [On the Bridge of the Enterprise E. All are present except for Geordi and Bev.] Picard: Captain's Log, Stardate.... Damn. [whispers to Troi] --Will you give me the date, Counselor?-- Troi: [tipsy, and obviously not yet recovered from her recent bar room experience] Date? You want me to give you a date? Captain, I'm not that easy to get a date with. You need to bring me flowers first, and even then, I can sense whether or not you're serious. Picard: Deanna, I just want the date. I have no... I have little romantic interest in you for the time being. Troi: [grinning] I feel the same way about you, Captain. Picard: [waits a moment] The date, Counselor! The date! Troi: [getting impatient] Look, I already told you! I only date for love! Picard: [turns to Riker, grumbling, and knowing that the whole bridge had just heard that exchange] Will-- Riker: Sorry, Captain. I'm not that kind of guy. I'm proud to be your second choice, though, sir. Picard: Oh, you're sick! [fed up] Computer! What is the date? Troi: Good for you, Captain! Computer dating has almost been perfected in the 24th century! You're sure to get a good match! Picard: [standing up and distancing himself from Deanna] The date, Computer! Computer: Theoretical database shows a 98% matchup with Doctor Beverly Crusher, currently serving aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise NCC 1701-E. Picard: The stardate! The STARdate! Why the hell is everyone trying to fix me up with Bev just because we like each other?! This is a movie! This is no place for interpersonal relationships! Computer: Stardate 678392.3459846352224. Picard: [grumbling] Thank you! Captain's Log, Stardate 678392.3459846352224: Having returned to the 24th century, we preparing to head for Bajor to return Mr. Worf to his rightful place as DS9's Chief Officer in Charge of Being a Badass. It has now been 36 minutes since we returned to our own time, and it has been quiet. Perhaps a little too quiet. At any rate, Chief Backstage Officer/ Janitor Limpy has completely rid the lower decks of Borg wall sockets, and the ship looks, once again, like a Starfleet vessel. We are looking forward to a relaxing trip and shore leave on Bajor. Riker: [looks hopefully at Picard] Risa? Picard: Bajor. Riker: Damn. Next time, I'm taking my captaincy and my ship will be in charge of... of...hanging around Risa! Picard: Best of luck to you. Riker: Damn straight. Troi: Can I come? Riker: [grins] Absolutely! Girl at Science Station: Can I come? Riker: [looks her over once. Looks her over again] Why the hell not?! Welcome aboard! Data: [turning to Riker] Can I come? Riker: Uhhh.... Well... How do I put this? You're not really a female, Data. Data: Technically, nor am I a male, sir. Riker: [thinks it over, staring at Data's exposed face of curcuit pathways] Here's the deal. You grow some new skin, and we'll see. Worf: Can I --- Riker: No. Worf: Okay. Picard: Well, I suppose it's time to get underway. Ensign Blue, prepare for warp speed. Ensign at Conn: That's Greene, sir. Picard: Of course it is. [enjoys five seconds of panicked thought] I was just testing your ability to... stand up to unfair treatment. Greene: Whatever. Data: [voice filled with urgency] Captain! Picard: Not now, Data. Picard to Engineering. LaForge: --What do you want this time?-- Picard: Geordi, I sense hostility in you! Troi: That's my line! Picard: Sorry. Geordi, what's wrong? LaForge: --Nothing. We're just going to be working triple shifts for a week to repair this damned plasma conduit, I've got a migraine the size of Worf's forehead...-- Riker: [frowns, yet smiles at the same time] That's one big headache! Worf: [growls at Riker] If you were any other man, I would kill you where you stand! LaForge: --Excuse me! I'm trying to whine here! ... Oh, yeah. I lost one of my funky new contact lenses and, and... Everyone else has gotten to kill a Borg but me!-- Troi: [thoughtfully] Perhaps I should counsel him. [hiccups] Picard: Perhaps you should report to sickbay! You're drunk! Troi: Am not! Picard: Are too! Riker: De too! Data: [chimes in] See- Threepio! Worf: Obi Wan Kenobi! [the bridge crew looks at him funny] He was a brave and noble warrior. [they continue to stare. Worf begins making excuses] He died well. [they're still staring] What?! LaForge: --Oh, and one other thing. Some people always seem to forget that they're talking to me! -- Picard: Geordi, just give me warp 8, then report to Counselor Troi's office for counseling. Troi: Geordi, we'll get through this together! LaForge: --Whatever. Warp 8, sir. Aye-aye.-- Picard: Warp 8 to Risa... [sees Riker grin and realizes he made a mistake in his orders] Make that warp 8 to Bajor, Mr. Red. Enga-- Data: [interrupts Picard] Captain! Picard: Not now, Data! Warp speed! Go! [The Enterprise E revs its engines and shoots into warp. It doesn't get far before it smashes into an interstellar piece of flotsam. Riker and Picard are on their feet immediately. Troi jumps out of her chair, stumbles, and introduces her face to the floor with a sickening thud. She rises momentarily.] Riker: [to nobody in particular] What the hell just happened? Data: As I tried to warn the Captain, we have not yet manually re-activated the mag-locks on the main deflector! When we entered warp, we experienced a collision of massive proportions with a rock approximately the size of Worf's forehead. Greene: That's one big rock! Worf: [pissed off at Greene] If you were any other man, I would kill you where you stand! Picard: Engineering, report! LaForge: --LaForge here. That wasn't too bad, actually. Our hull is still intact, but warp drive, impulse engines, atmosphere recyclers and primary sweat sock dispensers on decks eight to twelve are down. I'll get teams on it immediately.-- Picard: [frowning] See that you do, Mr. LaForge. Data: Without fresh sweat socks, and with the absence of functioning atmosphere recyclers, the ship's atmosphere will become saturated with humanoid body odors and will soon become intolerable to all lifeforms aboard. I, however, will survive, and will be forced to watch as you all die horrible, suffocating deaths, gasping for the clean air that simply does not exist, screaming with what little energy you have left, trying to-- Picard: Yes, yes, Data. How long do we have? It must be days before that occurs! Data: Two hours, eighteen minutes, forty-two seconds, sir. Picard: Merde. Troi: I sense badness. Great badness. [hiccups] Riker: [humoring Deanna] Uh-huh. Isn't that cute. [once again, to nobody in particular] Why is the atmosphere going to be contaminated so quickly? Data: It is difficult to determine. For some indeterminate reason, the toxicity accumulation rates aboard this ship have jumped exponentially in the last 24 hours. Picard: 24 hours. What happened around 24 hours ago that could cause this sort of foul smelling dilemma? [As the bridge crew offers their guesses as to the cause of the predicament, Worf attempts to stealthily vacate the bridge in order to protect his social status.] Greene: No, no, the primary intercooler manifold could hold that sort of radiation! It must be coming from an external source! Picard: Well... [thinks for a moment] ...How do you know this stuff? Greene: Standard Academy training, sir. Picard: I see. However, I don't see how that could be the case here, Ensign Brown. Officer Limpy did a fine job ridding the ship of Borg influence. Greene: Well, it has to be something external. [Worf, fearing for his pride, makes it almost to the turbolift when he accidentally bumps into a stack of datapads on a control panel. The pads begin to drop off of the panel, and Worf silently dives to the floor and catches them before they hit the ground, an event which would no doubt have drawn some attention.] Riker: What else came on the ship around then? Troi: Perhaps it was the shipment of rotten eggs we were carrying to the Dairy Planet. Riker: Nah... This smells way worse than rotten eggs. Comparing the smell of rotten eggs to this is like comparing the size of a peanut to the size of... of... Worf's head! Worf: [pauses for a second, and silently whispers to himself] If he were any other man, I would kill him where he stands. [Worf continues to the turbolift, and just as the doors open--] Riker: Think of the most foul smelling, odorous object or substance you have ever smelled. Bridge Crew: Worf!!! Worf: [cringes] Doh!!! Picard: Yes, of course! Mr. Worf, you are the answer, aren't you? Worf: Maybe, maybe not. Riker: [smiles amiably] Been into the blood pie and prune juice again, have we, Worf? Worf: Not exactly. However, a fine establishment has recently opened on the promenade. It specializes in Mexican cuisine. Picard: Oh, God. It's far worse than I had even considered. Mr. Worf, did you order the beans? Worf: I do NOT recall. Picard: You must! Try to remember. Worf: [strains his brain. Ten minutes later, he has an answer] Yes, I believe I ordered the beans. Picard: Good God! Riker: Red Alert! All non-essential and otherwise useless crewmembers remain in quarters and try to buffer the cracks in your doors. You know who you are! [Half the people on the bridge get up and leave hurriedly.] Picard: [activating the ship's Emergency Broadcast System] This is your Captain speaking. You should be aware that Mr. Worf has recently consumed Mexican bean products of some unknown sort. You should also be informed that Klingon gaseous expulsions are among the worst in the known galaxy. [In the background, Worf tenses up.] Picard: As of now, let it be known that the Enterprise, NCC-1701-E, is a quarantined vessel pending the cleansing of any and all toxic gases. To this end, all available resources will be devoted. We'll get through this. We always do. Have a nice day. [smiles to himself] Troi: [smiling] I sense confidence. Great confidence. [As Picard reaches to turn off the EBS, Worf cuts loose a thunderous wallop of a fart. Over the intercom, it is heard throughout the ship.] Troi: [face goes sour] I sense fear. Great fear. And repulsion. Riker: [concerned] Deanna, my announcement about useless crew members applies to you as well. Get the hell out of here. Troi: No. I'm staying. Riker: Get down to sickbay and lose that hangover. Troi: No. Riker: Imzadi, it's too dangerous here for you! Can't you smell it? Go now, before it's too late. Troi: [adamant] No. I'm staying, and you can't move me. Riker: Not even if I make you a chocolate sundae later? [Troi thinks for a second, then stumbles to the turbolift and heads for sickbay.] Picard: Data, send a priority one distress signal. Advise any starships nearby of our situation, and find the nearest help. Data: I cannot do that, sir. Picard: Why not? Riker: [answers for Data] Because Starfleet just got their butts whooped! Remember? We're the only ship left, let alone the only ship in range! Picard: Would it be possible to evacuate into shuttles and warp to the nearest starbase? Data: No, sir. The shuttles cannot evacuate the entire ship's complement. It would take several trips, for which we do not have the time. Picard: [looks over at Worf] Can we send Mr. Worf away in a shuttle? Data: Yes, sir. LaForge: --Captain? LaForge here. I've been eavesdropping on your conversation... No, I don't have anything better to do! Anyway, I just wanted to inform you that our shuttles and escape pods are inoperative at this time.-- Picard: Go ahead. LaForge: --Our shuttles and escape pods are inoperative at this time.-- Picard: May I ask why? LaForge: --Sure.-- Picard: Why? LaForge: --Because... because Wes has been fiddling with their warp inducer ratios again. He also "fixed" the transporter. It'll take weeks to get it operational again.-- Picard: Wes!? Who the hell is Wes?! Data: He was an ensign on board the Enterprise D for approximately four years. Picard: Still can't place the name. Riker: Crusher's kid. Picard: ...!? Riker: The dork... The pest... The BOY! Picard: Oh, yes. The Boy. [thinks for a moment] The Boy?! Red alert! Data: We are already at red alert, sir. Picard: Intruder alert, then! How did he find us?! We're doomed! LaForge: --Back to our immediate concern, Wes hasn't tampered with the torpedo casings yet. We may be able to use one to transport Worf to the nearest Class M planet.-- Picard: Are there any Class M planets nearby? Data: Yes, sir. Two, in fact. The Third and Fourth Planets are both Class M. [The group thinks over the implications of this information. Moments later...] Picard: Make it so. Send Mr. Worf to the Third Planet. Riker: Have a nice trip, Worf. Worf: Damn. [Within minutes, Worf is shooting away in a torpedo casing, having been ostracized from the ship. He "soft" lands on a nearby Class M planet, meaning he took out about five trees and smashed in a large rock face in his descent. He emerges from the casing and amuses himself by hunting a hideous creature twice his size.] [Back on the bridge. Now, Troi and Bev are present. Deanna has been successfully cured of her hangover, and Bev was even able to convince her that she is, in fact, a useful member of the crew after all. LaForge is attempting repairs to the shuttlecraft Mach 5, as it is the only form of transportation with any hope of operability in the near future.] Picard: Now that Worf is out of the way, we can turn our attention to the intruder. Data: Captain, you seem to forget that we still have no method of attaining sweat socks. Even though Commander Worf's gaseous discharges are of no concern any longer, all life on the Enterprise will still cease to exist, just at a later date. Riker: When, Data? We need a ballpark figure. Crusher: Will, this is no time for sports! Data, can you give us an estimate of how much time we have? Data: Eighteen hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-eight seconds. Picard: Data, are there any signs of sweat socks in this system? Data: The Fourth Planet has an industrial society. It may be possible to procure footwear there. Riker: We'll have to take an away team and form a trade agreement with the natives, bargaining for their sweat socks with...with... Well, we don't really have anything to bargain with, now do we? Picard: Or we could just take the socks. Riker: [in disbelief] That goes against everything that Starfleet stands for! Picard: Oh, please, Number One! And just how many times have we gone against everything that Starfleet stands for? Far more than I can remember. Data: 18.6 times, to be exact. Riker: [thinks for a second] Alright, let's rock. Bridge Crew: [cheers] YEAH!!! Picard: Picard to LaForge. LaForge: --LaForge here.-- Picard: Are you almost finished repairing the Mach 5? LaForge: --I dunno. Wes screwed it up pretty bad. It could take a few more hours.-- Picard: [does some quick math in his head] So, you mean about ten minutes, then. LaForge: --Uh-huh.-- Picard: Commander Riker is on his way. [turns to Will] Assemble your away team, Number One. Riker: Data, Deanna, Greene, you're with me. Picard: Greene?! [tries to remember. Remembers] Oh yes. I forgot you were here. Greene: Thank you, sir. Picard: [to Riker, who is already leaving] And Commander, we really do rely on you this time. Please make every effort not to screw up like you did last time. Riker: [thinks for a second. Frowns] Oh, yeah. That was a doozy. [The group leaves for the shuttle bay. Still on the bridge...] Picard: Beverly... [looks around and realizes that the bridge is suddenly completely empty, save for the two of them] Doctor Crusher. The Boy is your son. You know him best. Where would he go to avoid phaser toting security guards? Crusher: You haven't sent any guards after him yet. Picard: Just testing. Security, find Mr. Crusher and apprehend him. Dead or alive, it doesn't... [gets a glare from Bev] Okay, okay. Get him alive. If you can. [closes the channel and gets another glare from Bev] What?! I'm not going to completely rule out the use of deadly force. He is damned annoying at times. He may just deserve it! Crusher: [places her hands on her hips and looks away] Hmph... Picard: So, Doctor, where would he go? Crusher: Well, let's see... He's probably over 21 by now, what with his temporal shifting and all... Hmm..... [Cut to the new and improved Ten-Forward. It's pretty much the same as before, although now there are automated weapon systems in the walls to prevent the occasional riots that seemed to plague the Enterprise D. Strangely enough, Guinan is on board, and yes, she is still doing Counselor Troi's job better than Deanna herself.] Guinan: So, why the hell did you come back, Wesley? Wesley: I dunno. I guess I figured people must have been missing me. Guinan: People like whom? Wesley: [his eyes light up] Robin Leffler! Robin Leffler! They only girl who ever ever ever thought I was cute! Guinan: Oh, her. Yeah. Well, don't get your hopes up, kid. She's dead. Wesley: [he is crushed] No... That's not true! That's IMPOSSIBLE!!! Guinan: Search your feelings, Wes... You know it to be true. Wes: [screaming] NOOOOOOOO!!!! NOOOO!!! [makes a miraculous recovery, and is able to speak normally] How'd she die? Guinan: Remember when the Enterprise crashed? Wesley: [astonished] The Enterprise crashed? Guinan: Yes, it crashed. Just after we killed Lursa and B'Etor. Wesley: [astonished] We killed Lursa and B'Etor? Guinan: Shut up, kid! You're interrupting my anecdote! Wesley: What's an anecdote? Guinan: It's a little story that I get paid to tell every week on this show. Wesley: Why? Guinan: Because sometimes I'm used by the writers to get a moral across. Wesley: Why? Guinan: Because people like to listen to my voice. Wesley: Why? Guinan: Because. Wesley: Because why? Guinan: I'm supposed to be a listener, kid, but you're pushing it. Wesley: I'll shut up. Guinan: Right. Where were we? Oh yes. The ship crashed. Wesley: [raises his hand] Um... Our ship or the Klingons' ship? Guinan: The saucer section of our ship crashed on Veridian III. Got that? Wesley: Okeydokey. So she died in the crash? Guinan: Oh, no. She survived the crash without a scratch. But when she grabbed a handhold in order to stand up, she loosened a styrofoam deposit in one of the bulkheads. It began tumbling down on her. Ensign Dorkis tried to push her out of the way, but he tripped about two feet short of her. She was crushed like so much carrion. Wesley: Eeuuw. Guinan: You said it, kid. [Just then, Picard, Bev, and a security team barge in.] Picard: Just as you suspected, Doctor! Your son's insatiable need for alcohol products has brought him to the only source on the ship! Crusher: [admonishing] Wesley, you're a drunk! Wesley: Am not! Crusher: [still admonishing] It's all that traveler's fault! I told you he was a bum! He turned you to alcohol, didn't he? Wesley, don't you remember anything I taught you? Wesley: Yeah, yeah. I know. Don't talk to strangers and never trust a traveler unless he's wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Crusher: I warned you! All real tourists and travelers wear Hawaiian shirts! This guy's a fraud! Wesley: But Mom! Crusher: Don't "but Mom" me, young man! I've heard enough from you! [Wesley begins to cry. Bev, in an attempt to appease her wussy kid goes over to him, hugs him, and begins to cradle him. He sniffles a little, says "fank yoo mummie", and begins sucking his thumb.] Picard: [to the security guards] Alright then. You may escort Mr. Crusher to the brig now. Crusher: Just a minute, Captain. Can't you see we're bonding over here? Picard: Oh, very well. [finds a little timer behind the bar and sets it for one minute] One minute, and not a second more! [Meanwhile, the intrepid away team, consisting of Riker, Deanna, Data, and Ensign Greene, arrives on the surface of the Fourth Planet. They find themselves in the middle of a field] Greene: [surveying a totalled shuttlecraft lying at the end of a long, straight dirt skid trail, and wondering how they will ever get back to the Enterprise. He seems to be reciting something to himself, a mockery of some sort] "It looks like a storm." "The approach could get a little rough, Mr. Greene." "Wait, no! That's not it! Give me the hydrospanner!" "Maybe you should move aside and let me take her down..." Yeah, great idea, Commander. You know, I could have nearly gotten us killed just as well as you did! Riker: Yeah? Well, any landing you can walk away from, I always say. Greene: Oh, is that how you got through the academy?! Riker: Shut up, Mister, or I'll leave you here when we get off this rock. [As if on cue, three scantily clad, beautiful native women approach them from out of nowhere.] Greene: That prospect isn't all that bad about now, Commander. Riker: [grinning] Yeah, no kidding. What the hell is this?! Classic Trek? Data: [smiling nice and big] Whatever the circumstances, I am enjoying this situation thoroughly. Riker: Emotion chip kickin' in, Data? Data: [hesitates for a second, a funny look coming over his face] You could say that, Commander. [Deanna looks at Data funny for a second, and gets an "oh, no" look on her face. Data turns to the approaching women and utters an ancient earth greeting.] Data: [loudly and obnoxiously] Hey, Babeee! What is shaking, Sweet Thing? [Back on the Enterprise... The timer in Ten-Forward goes "Ding!!!"] The Timer in Ten-Forward: "Ding!!!" Picard: Alright, Doctor, your time is up! Hand over The Boy! Crusher: What?! Already?! Picard: Yes, already. Didn't you hear the timer in Ten-Forward go "Ding!!!"? Crusher: Captain, I think you may be hearing things AGAIN. Picard: And I think you're stalling. The Boy, Beverly. Now. Crusher: [not willing to concede defeat] Why? What did he ever do that was illegal? Picard: [thinks really hard] Well... Nothing illegal persay, but in all these years, he's caused us even more trouble than Q!!! Besides, I spent six hours in a shuttlecraft with him... alone. I know how his mind works. And it's evil! Every last bit! I'd rather be re- assimilated than be stuck alone with this wussy little dork again! He's caused us nothing but trouble, and given nothing back in return for our tolerance. Crusher: [hesitates for a second] True. Picard: Damn right! Crusher: I'm not going to win this one, am I? Picard: [shakes his head] Security... Security Guards: [pause for a second, on the brink of action] Yes? Picard: [with somewhat diminshed enthusiasm, and a sharp sigh] Take him away. [The guards leave, carrying Wuss... er, I mean, Wes. Soon, Picard and Bev are alone... or so they think.] Crusher: Why does everybody on board this ship hate my son? Picard: Well, really now, to be honest, it's not everyone on this ship that hates him. Some crewmen more recently assigned to the Enterprise have never met him. They certainl couldn't hate him, having never met The Boy. What could possibly cause that sort of ignorant spitefulness? [deliberately stands in front of a "Hate Wesley Crusher, It's Fun" poster to hide it from Bev's view] Crusher: Nothing, I suppose. Picard: Although, really, if you take into account all of the crewman transfers, promotions, demotions, executions, and away missions and the like, I would have to say that most of the charted universe hates your son, let alone this ship. The Androckans, for example, have named their god of annoyance WesleeSee, after the "diplomatic incident" your son caused on their home planet. Crusher: I don't care what you or any one of the other delegates say. Wesley was right to call that ambassador a bum-bum head. That alien bi--... That alien woman had it coming to her. Picard: You can't be serious. Androckans differ from us biologically. They are supposed to be bum-bum heads! It's how they're born. Crusher: That's no excuse. Picard: [sees how upset he is making Bev] Hey... Gimme some sugar, baby. Crusher: [smiles stupidly] Captain... Picard: [smiles stupidly] Doctor... Crusher: [smiles stupidly] Captain... [moves closer to Picard and puckers up] Picard: [smiles stupidly, then frowns] ...Chief Beverage Dispensing Officer. Guinan: [stands up from behind the bar] Uh, hi guys. Picard: [accusingly] What were you doing back there, Guinan? Guinan: [searches for an excuse] I was...um...listening? [Down on the Fourth Planet, our heroes are valiantly twiddling their thumbs and wondering what to do. Well, Deanna is, anyway. The others are all trying to impress the females.] Data: [to one of the scantily-clad females] You know, I can process 3864 billion mathematical equations in one unit of Planck time. That is 1.3 x 10 to the -44th power seconds. Female: [looks at Data really funny, seeing as his face is still half exposed circuitry. After a minute, she emphatically states] Lights! Color! [giggles] Data: That is not the only thing that can light up, baby! Female: [giggles] Data: [turns to the camera in true Saved-By-The-Bell fashion] Yes! [Nearby, and with another female] Greene: [in a very testosterone-laden way] I'm the one who flies the ship. Yep, it's my responsibility to make sure we get where we're going without smashing into any interstellar flotsam or having to stop to ask for directions. Female: [surveys the damn-near totalled shuttlecraft dubiously] Greene: [pointing to Riker] But he's the one giving the faulty orders. Female: [giggles] Greene: Wahoo! Riker: [to the last remaining female] You know, your eyes are the sun and the universe worships chili dogs. No, wait. That's not it. [thinks for a second. Thinks for another.] [Hours later...] Riker: Your eyes are the stars, which could also be classified as burning masses of gas in deep space. Thus, the universe worships Mexican food because it produces gas, which, in turn, fuels the stars, making your eyes, which are valued most for their ability to be harnessed as solar energy. [breathes in sharply] Whew. There it was! I still got it! Kiss me, baby. [The female, who has long since fallen asleep, is roused and goes to kiss Riker, when suddenly a plethora of spears flies out of the most convenient nearby forest.] [the following section is to be read as a Three Stooges script] Riker: Eeeep! Greene: Ayiyiyiyiy! Data: Woob woob woob woob! Riker: Nyuk nyuk nyuk nyuk! Greene: [grabs both Data's head and Riker's head and smashes them together. ..Riker emerges bleeding profusely, but only as a point of mindless humor, as I (the writer) don't feel any particular need to go spoofing the ST 4 hospital scene today] Come on, you knuckle heads, this is no time to be fighting among ourselves. [pokes Data in the eyes and whacks Riker upside the head] Those spears... seem to be headed this way... ......I could be wrong. [Sure enough, the spears approach the group. One is headed to impale Riker, who had selflessly thrown himself behind Deanna. The spear suddenly stops just in front of Deanna's body, and begins to move around her to hit Riker. Deanna has time to get a good look at the spear, and she sees a small control panel that has on it a blinking message---Kill Redshirt--Kill Redshirt--Kill Redshirt--Kill Redshirt--Kill Redshirt--Kill Redishirt-- Kill Redshirt--Kill Redshirt.] Disclaimer: Any subliminal messages that may have just been placed into your subconscious psyche are in no way the responsibility of the author of this fine literary masterpiece. If you happen to, within the next few days, brutally end the life of somebody wearing a red garment, it is your own fault and not a top-secret government plan to purify the world. Elvis lives. That is all. [So the control panel was flashing Kill Redshirt--Kill Redshirt--Kill Redshirt.] Troi: Wait, I've got an idea! [one of the spears self-destructs, apparently wrought with disbelief] Cover up your collars, and maybe the spears won't know who to kill! Riker: I knew that these drab new uniforms were good for something! [Moments later, the spears have all self-destructed, and the good guys are confronted by a mystical energy being who says...] Mystical Energy Being: You have solved the ancient riddle of Redshirtidion! I will grant you each one wish. Riker: [smiling, yet frowning at the same time-- I mean, frowning, but smiling at the same time-- you know, he frowns but it's meant to be a smile, he just read the script wrong] Damn! This is Classic Trek! Data: [being the responsible one] Our ship is heavily damaged. Mystical Energy Being: All repairs are made. Your ship is now fully functional, including the sweat sock dispensers. [On the Enterprise, the remaining senior officers have returned to the bridge. However, the oxygen levels have dropped so low, that the crew is only half conscious. Suddenly, clean air is wafted throughout the ship and everyone is revived.] Crusher: [turns to Picard] Not a moment too soon, Jean-Luc. Picard: [smiles, then remembers something] Wait, all systems are repaired, correct? LaForge: So what's this, my third line in the movie? Picard: Just answer the question, Geordi. LaForge: Wait a sec. [looks at his hand where he has written his lines and very deliberately reads] Yes...Captain...All...systems...are.. .repaired. That..includes...the...sweat...sock...dispensers...and.. .all...of...our...means...of... transportation...., [looks away from his hand for a second...then looks back at his hand and adds--] Captain. Picard: Then put The Boy in a torpedo casing and shoot him to the Third Planet! LaForge: [enthused] With pleasure, Captain. Wow, I finally get to do something! [for no apparent reason, we now switch to the Geordi- cam...I don't know why, it's just cool, alright?] [Back on the Fourth Planet.] Data: Thank you for repairing our ship. Greene: Hmmm... One wish, eh? Mystical Energy Being: NO WISHING FOR MORE WISHES! Greene: Aw, shucks. Hmmm.... [Back on the ship...] Picard: [standing up and walking forward on the bridge] Another crisis averted, it would seem. [he goes to tug his tunic down, as he usually would at a time like this, when he realizes that something is awry. His tunic is not there. Nor are his pants. He is standing on the bridge in his underwear. The entire bridge crew is cracking up.] [On the planet...] Greene: Heeheehee! Troi: [realizing that it's her turn, grins...] Riker: Oh, no! [In space, the ship is seen orbitting the planet, when suddenly, it turns completely brown.] Riker: You didn't... Troi: I did. Riker: No... Troi: Yep. 100% Milk Chocolate. The bitter kind that most people hate, so that there'll be more for me. Riker: Oh, well. Hmm... What to wish for? I could get rid of those damn Ferengi once and for all... But no, they're womenizers just like me. I couldn't do something like that to them. Wait, I know! [makes his wish] Mystical Energy Being: The final wish has been granted. Now go! [uses his magical powers to transport the away team back to the ship] [On the bridge. The entire main crew is present. Minus those on the Third Planet, of course.] Captain's Log, who cares what the hell the date is: The ship has been completely repaired, except for a strange computer malfunction that will not allow any clothes my size to be replicated. Mr. LaForge assures me that he's looking into it. In the meantime, our orders, oddly, are to proceed to Risa to patrol for Horgons... Riker: [grins] Captain's Log, cont'd: ...and we are preparing to get underway. Picard: Mr. Avocado... Greene: [sighs] Well, it's a shade of green, I suppose. Close enough. Yes, sir? Picard: Set course for Risa. Greene: Yes, sir. Crusher: I keep getting the feeling that we're forgetting something. Picard: Don't worry, Beverly. We've packed everything, we did a head count. We're all set. Crusher: I know, but... [trails off] Picard: Engage. [The ship shoots off at warp speed, leaving two burning tire streaks.] Crusher: [thinking] ......KEVIN!!!!....I mean, WESLEY!!!! [On the Third Planet. Worf is hiding in a bush from what he believes to be a horrible, malignant, and otherwise tough beast.] Worf: [whispering] Oh, no! He's coming this way! Wesley: Unkie Worf? Unkie Worf? Where are you Unkie Worf? Worf: Just stay quiet for a few more seconds and he won't find you. Wesley: [skips by Worf's hiding place, not seeing him] Where are you, Unkie Worf? Worf: Whew....Oh, no....[tenses up]...not now!!! [Suddenly, an explosive blast can be heard all over the Third Planet as Worf lets go of a monsterous gaseous expulsion. As a matter of fact, a shockwave is sent outward into space which doesn't disperse until it has gone 12 parsecs.] Wesley: [his face goes sour...suddenly, he slaps his hands to the sides of his face, screams,--] AAAUUUUUGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [--and runs off into the forest, continuing to scream] THE END