(Recovered from the Hello Kitty diary of Cornelius Talmadge.)
“Well,” began Crusher, “it could be your sick fetish with insects in general, or maybe it stems with the look that giant centipede gave you when we toured Bugland, the giant bug planet.”
“That look? You mean ‘that cunnilingus’,” replied Troi, giving Crusher a sly look. “You haven’t had dirty sex till you’ve had pincers in your shit.”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” said Crusher, looking back as Picard strolled in.
Picard threw his hands in the air and smiled. “Guess what everybody? We have a new Lieutenant to replace Tasha Yar on the show!”
Troi raised an eyebrow.
“Who’s Tasha Yar?”
Crusher rolled her eyes. “Remember? Armus, Skin of Evil? Killed Tasha in the first season? She was our caterer or some shit.”
“No, no!” cried Picard, hands on hips. He swiveled as he talked. “She was our security officer! And she was
smokin’ hot! I think she had relations with Data too. Anyway, after like six seasons, we’ve finally found a similarly sexy officer to replace her. I’d like to introduce Lieutenant Eduardo Ricardo Santiago!”
From the turbolift strolled a tall, suave Hispanic man with flowing chocolate-brown hair and piercing mocha eyes. His uniform accentuated every curve, from his muscular pecs to his “holy shit what did you get me for Christmas” package.
“Hello, all. I am honored to serve amongst such beautiful people,” said Eduardo, gesturing among the crowd. “…except for that one,” he added, pointing at Worf. “You are all sexy strangers to me, but it is my deepest hope that soon, you will be my sexy comrades.” With that, he strode over to Tactical and placed both of his strong, sensual hands on the panel.
“Your — your accent, it’s beautiful,” said Riker, smiling weakly.
“Thank you,” replied Eduardo, winking.
“Ahem,” said Picard, clearing his throat. “Worf, you are being demoted to Cargo Bay
4 Watchman. Sorry.”
“Cargo Bay 4! But that’s where all the crazy shit happens!”
“What, like plasma fires, subspace anomalies, leaks, explosions, firefights, anal rapings, and unpleasant fisticuffs?” said Riker?
“Yeah, like those,” said Worf in a small voice.
“Attention everyone!” cried Picard, going all jazz-hands on everybody. “We have just been informed — by Starfleet, no less — that a visitor from the twenty-FIFTH century is here to study us!”
“Are you sure it isn’t another imposter, like in season four?” asked Wesley.
“I think that was season five,” added Troi.
“Of course it isn’t. Do you really think we’d fall for that old trick more than once?” asked Picard, a smug look on his face.
“Yes,” said Riker.
“Of course,” said Wesley.
“Undoubtedly,” said Data.
“Yes,” said Worf.
“Without a doubt,” said Crusher.
“I don’t know what we’re talking about,
but yes,” said Geordi.
“I am all fucked up on this weed we picked up, but yes,” said Troi.
Picard looked sad. Then, the turbolift opened and a man wandered out, complete with an old crazy man lab coat, oversized pilot’s goggles, and crazy wacky hair. “Wow, it’s like you guys live in pig shit compared to what we have now, in the twenty-FIFTH century,” he said.
“We like our pig shit very much, Mister…?” said Troi, stumbling.
“It’s Doctor, Doctor Bavarius Crème.” Dr. Crème looked around the bridge, muttering to himself and shaking his head.
“How do we know you’re from the twenty-fifth century?” said Eduardo, turning around. “My sexy comrades had already mentioned a similar imposter from an earlier season. For all we know, you could be yet another one in a relatively long line of fakes.” He
gestured very sensually.
“Yes, well I saw that episode already.” Dr. Crème pulled at his coat collar very aristocratically.
“Yeah, well I bet you saw it on reruns,” accused Wesley, pointing, um, accusingly, so as to go with his statement. Like a matching shirt and tie.
“Reruns…” Dr Crème said, removing his goggles and dusting them off. He paused for more dramatic effect, then looked back at the group sharply. “…Schmeruns.”
“Holy god, he’s brilliant!” said Picard, flailing his arms wildly. “How can we hope to stand
up to that kind of wit?!”
“Fuck off,” said Worf. “How about that?”
Dr. Crème laughed. “That’s all you got? You’re a douche.”
The group was silent, jaws open wide. Eduardo raised an eyebrow from the back of the crowd, suspicious.
Picard flung his hands up, staring at the ceiling. “We’re finished! This effulgent charlatan from the far reaches of time will send us to our doom, surely!” With that, he fell to the ground and began walking in circles on his side, like in the Simpsons (or in my computer room, if you’re Trixie.)
Eduardo brushed past the group, a determined expression on his face. “Good sir, have you come here for any reason other than reducing our gorgeous captain to insanity and our bridge crew to a state of slack-jawed wonder? You are a troublemaker, and I will not stand for it. This ship’s security is my life, and I will guard her as such. I challenge you to a game of Tiger Woods 2006 for the Xbox 360, system link.”
Dr. Crème stifled a laugh. “Let’s do this.”
THIRTY-SEVEN MINUTES LATER
“Damn!” cried Dr. Crème. “I’ve been had!”
“You are finished. Return to
the time from which you came!”
“I came from Dayton, Ohio.”
“Well, go back there!”
“I am gone!”
With that, Dr. Crème was gone.
“How did you beat him?” said a curious young Wesley.
“Well, my curious young Wesley, I used Galoob’s new invention, the Game Genie, now available for all major home consoles!”
“I didn’t cheat, young curious Wesley. I used…THE POWER OF THE CODE!!!!!!!!!!1111!!!!!11″
“Well, I guess I’ll go to Cargo Bay 4,” said a dejected Worf, hands not on hips.
“The end,” said Geordi.