Star Drek

Written a long time ago in a galaxy not so far away...

         Offered in loving tribute to the unstoppable juggernaut that is... well, you know!

         Captain's log, USS Boobyprize, Stardate thirteen sixty-nine point eight, Seamus T. Quirk... commanding. We've entered orbit around... Epsilon Downer in the Quaalude System in response to a... Level I Distress Signal. Upon arriving, we were told that... no one is in distress, and the powers that be didn't know what... we were talking about. Praetor Rotchakokov, Chairman of the Downer Council, suggested it might be... a teenage prank. We're transporting down to the capital city, Buzzkill, to determine the source of this... strange signal. Let me find these teenagers, and I'll give them a prank... they'll not soon forget. I hope they're cute! Quirk out.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

         Quirk, reeling from the effects of the powerful Quaaludian brandy he had imbibed, leaned back on his stool, a hand on the shoulder of each of his good friends to steady himself as they launched into the last few notes of what they called their "theme song."
          "Dum, da dum, dum da da da dum... da DUUUUUUUM!"
         None of them had a particularly good singing voice, and each of them singing in a different key did nothing for the effect either, but what they lacked in skill, they made up for in enthusiasm.
         "Boner," Quirk said, turning unsteadily to his chief medical officer, "you got any more credits... to buy a drink... with?"
         "No, Slim," 'Boner' Hatfield replied. "Why doncha offer to show him that tricorder vid of you an' Yoeman Raunch gettin' busy in your quarters? Heh heh heh."
         "Why, Boner! I have no idea what you're... talking about."
         "It's common knowledge, Captain," Quirk's first officer said, rising behind them from the booth where he had been laying passed out, or so they thought, on the bench seat. "It's the number one most requested video on the ship."
         "And you're just telling me this now, Spook? This is the sort of insubordination I'm not going to... put up with!"
         "You should never end a sentence with a preposition, Captain," Spook said, lying back down.
         "Nonsense! Some of my greatest adventures have come from ending a sentence with a proposition."
         "He said preposition, Captain," his chief engineer said from the stool to his right.
         "Not you, too, Snotty," Quirk railed. "Like I said, this is just the sort of insubordination I'm not going— Up with which I'm not going to put. Now, everybody quit fooling around. We have to interrogate everybody in... this bar. I'm gonna start with those two ladies over there."
         "Captain," Spook said, sitting up again, "they're lesbians."
         "I don't care where they're from, Spook! Now, everybody spread out and... mingle."

         I'm not a drunk, though I couldn't prove it with this piece of nonsense. This came to me in the wee hours years ago when I may have been suffering from sleep deprivation. There are a couple of inspirations that old-timers here may recognize; I'll own up if you guess right. I just read this to my wife, and she about fell out of her wheelchair laughing, so I thought maybe y'all would enjoy it, too. And if anyone would like to run with it, drop me a line and we can talk.

 J