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DrBryce

Stale Trick - Star Trek Satire

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Ok, så jag hade lite tråkigt på tåget, så jag skrev en liten Star Trek-satir-story... Kan inte riktigt avgöra, i min trötthet, om det blev roligt eller inte, men håll tillgodo...

Stale Trick - A satire

The Cast:

Captain James Imperious Jerk

Cmdr. Stock, XO / Science Officer

Cmdr. Montgomery "Snooty" Snoot, Chief Engineer

Captain Jean-Fluke Retard, CO

Cmdr. Bill Biker, XO

Cmdr. Dada, Science/Helm

Lt. Cmdr. Giorgio DaFork, Chief Engineer

Councilor Deanna Trojan, Shrink

Captain Benedictus "Pope of the Prophets" Risko, CO

CPO Miles O'Bama, Chief Engineer

Constipated Ado, Chief of Security

Cmdr. Whoff, Tactical/Strategic Officer

Captain Kathryn Lameway, CO

Cmdr. Chipotle, XO

Lt. Ba'nala Torquemada, Chief Engineer.

Ens. Harry Dimm , Ops

Captain Johnny Archive, CO

Cmdr. Charles "Slick" Focker, Chief Engineer

Ens. Hoe-She Satan, Communications

Dr. Phlegm, CMO

Porros - the Dog

By a totally illogical and inexplicable script writing phenomenon the crews of all the difference Star Trek shows find themselves on the same ship, at the same time. As they all arrived from a time where their respective CO's rank is Captain, they agree to command by consensus.

-Capt. Jerk: Ok, if we all...are supposed to...work together...I suggest...you call me Jim.

-Capt. Retard: Very well. You may call me Captain Retard.

-Capt. Jerk to Retard: How about...if I call you...Johnny?

-Capt. Archive: Hey! That's my name. That's what you can call me. But nobody gets to call me Johnny without first watching some water polo and cracking open a few cold ones!

-Capt. Lameway: Who are these "cold ones" you intend to crack open?

-Capt. Retard: I'm sure there's a perfectly peaceful solution to your problems with these "cold ones".

-Capt. Archive: Oh, never mind! Just call ME Johnny!

-Capt. Lameway: Well anyway, everybody keeps calling me ma'am, so I think you should just do the same.

-Capt. Risko: And you may address me as Jesus. Messiah works too. Or Son-of-God. And if you want to use my official title, it's Pope of the Prophets.

An alarm klaxon goes off on the bridge.

-Cmdr. Dada: New possible contact, Captain, bearing one-eight-zero. Designate contact number sierra-echo-bravo-two-five-niner.

-Capt. Risko to Dada: Oh get off it, Mr Dada. This ain't no submarine!

-Capt. Jerk: FIRE!

-Capt. Retard to Jerk: Captain, please! Control yourself! I'm sure they're just looking for the next gas station.

-Capt. Archive: At least activate the phase cannons! And call a Reed-alert!

-Capt. Lameway to Archive: The WHAT? And a WHAT?

-Capt. Retard: I think he means a "red alert". Funny how much pronunciation changes in a couple of hundred years...

-Capt. Risko: Maybe it's time that I become the bad guy! Mr. Whoff! Fire torpedoes!

-Capt. Jerk: That's...what I've been...saying all along!

-Capt. Lameway: Cmdr. Chipotle! Who are we dealing with here? Do you think they'll trade us anything to replenish our power suply?

-Capt. Risko to Lameway: Why in the name of the Pope would you need to replenish the power suply?

-Capt. Lameway to Risko: We're a long way from home, Captain.

-Capt. Risko to Lameway: We're in low earth orbit, you moron!

-Capt. Lameway: Right. Sorry about that. I didn't realize these damned story writers had such omnipotent powers as to move me 70000 light-years, to Earth.

-Capt. Jerk: All this...talk...is giving me...a headache. FIRE PHOTONS!

-Capt. Retard: Belay that order. No one's firing on anyone!

-Capt. Risko: That's what YOU think!

-Capt. Archive: Hellooo!? Does anyone even notice I'm here?!

-Capt. Lameway to Archive: Sorry, I didn't realize you could actually keep up with our strange accent.

Capt. Archive roles his eyes.

-Capt. Retard: Mr Biker. What do you think?

-Cmdr. Biker: I think there is no way in hell I'm letting you beam over there, no matter what!

Capt. Jerk Nudges Biker's shoulder with his elbow and puts on a big smile.

-Capt. Jerk to Biker: Ah, I see you've figured it out too. Whoever beams over first, gets all the girls!

-Cmdr. Biker whispers angrilly to Jerk: Shut up! You'll ruin everything!

-Capt. Risko: Ado! Adooo! Where's that damn shape shifter when you need him! I'm probably sitting on him for all I know.

-Capt. Archive: Hoe-She! See if you can make contact with them.

-Capt. Jerk: Oh puh-lease! We'll be...here...till next week's episode!

-Capt. Retard: No offence there, Jim, but your communications technologies aren't exactly brand new either. Councilor Trojan, what do you feel?

-Capt. Jerk, Capt. Risko, Capt. Archive, and Capt. Lameway in unison to Retard: OH PUH-LEASE!

-Capt. Jerk: Can we...fire now?

-Capt. Risko: I'm with ya, Jimmy!

-Capt. Lameway: And I'm with Retard on this! They're probably just looking for the next gas station, just like us!

-Capt. Risko: I thought I told you! We DON'T need to re-supply!

-Cmdr Dada: They've launched a weapon! Torpedo in the water!

-Capt. Risko: What's with these guys and submarines?!

-Cmdr. Dada: Shall I launch counter-measures and blow the ballast tanks?

-Capt. Risko: Hey yo, Retard! I think it's time to plug your robot into iTunes and download the latest firmware! He's stuck in an infinite submarine-loop!

-Capt. Retard to Cmdr. Dada: Mr Dada, perhaps it would be best if you shut off your submarine chip for now.

Cmdr. Dada cocks his head: -Done!

-Ens. Harry Dimm: Captains, ma'am; the weapon is still incoming!

-Capt. Jerk: ...Stock! My friend. What...do we...do?

-Cmdr. Stock: Although logic suggests that we put our heads between our legs, and kiss our asses goodbye, may I suggest we raise the shields.

-Capt. Jerk: Excellent idea! Now why...didn't I...think of that?

-Capt. Lameway: Now wait just a minute here, don't you all think we should retire to the conference room, and make this decision in a comity?

-Capt. Retard: Excellent idea! Now why didn't *I* think of THAT?!

-Capt. Risko: Oh, for Christ's sake! I'll blow up our own ship, if you guys don't do anything! The Prophets will bail us out! (Whispers: Note to self; Don't use my own name in vain.)

-Capt. Archive: How about if we fire the grappling gun at the torpedo?

-Constipated Ado: Sir, as you may or may not be aware of; on or about the 23rd century the technology hitherto known as a "grappling gun" was discontinued, and was forthwith replaced with a device known as a "tractor beam". In lieu of this fact, the current vessel, upon which bridge we are now situated, does not contain the aforementioned restraining apparatus.

-Capt. Risko to Ado: There you are, you shifty bastard! I've been looking for you! Come HERE!

-Capt. Jerk: Jeeezuz Christ! ...

-Capt. Risko to Jerk: Yes?

-Capt. Jerk: I didn't mean you! But now that you're listing; who is this Ado-guy? Some sort of law enforcement officer from hell? I haven't heard that kind of legal-talk since last week when I watched "Boston Legal"! A DAMN nice show, if you ask me! I especially liked that Denny Crane character!

-Capt. Risko: Oh, you don't know the half of it. The truth is, if I ever sent Mr Ado to hell - which of course I'm fully capable of, being the Pope of the Prophets and all - he would most likely arrest the devil for a "fire safety" violation.

-Snooty: Capt'n, sirr! This be Snooty, frrom th' enginerrroom! I don't know how much furth'r she can hold out, sirr! I don't have th' powurr!!!

-Capt. Archive: What did he just say??

-Capt. Retard: Give it a rest, Johnny. You stole me name, and we're not talking to you!

-Capt. Lameway: Ba'nala! Can you confirm this?

-Lt. Ba'nala Torquemada: Yes, ma'am.

-Capt. Risko: What about you Mr O'Bama?

-CPO Miles O'Bama: I see it too, Captain!

-Capt. Archive: Slick! Is there something going on down there I should know about.

-Cmdr. "Slick" Focker: Naw, sir. Everythang's about as peachy as mah girlfriend's private parts after an hour in the shower with one of them there Lady-Shaves! Hows about we head on down to the bar-T and crack open a few brewsky's and chew the fat? I'll even whip us up some of them there pan-fried catfish! Yiiihaaaah! And you gets tuh watch some water poh-loh!

-Capt. Jerk to Capt. Archive: And YOU asked...ME what MY cheif engineer...said? What the HELL...did HE...just say!?

-Capt. Archive: According to my guy, there's nothing wrong down there!

-Capt. Lameway: Well, pardon my French, but your guy is an idiot.

-Capt. Jerk: Snooty, we need more power, you have 2 minutes.

-Capt. Risko to Jerk: Jimbo, you got a lot to learn about motivating your chief engineers! Mr. O'Bama; you've got 5 seconds before I get down there and put my foot up your ass.

-Capt. Jerk to Risko: Man, oh man, you run a TIGHT ship!

-Capt. Risko: Yeah, but on the other hand, I let them drink REAL beer at Quarks!

At this time Dr Phlegm enters the bridge:

-Dr Phlegm to Capt. Archive: Excuse me sir, it seems your subservient quadra-ped has escaped. Porros is nowhere to be found.

-Capt. Archive: WHAT!? My PAL! My FRIEND! Gone?! HOW did this happen? I demand a full inquiry! Engine room; ALL STOP!

-Capt. Retard to Archive: Calm down! It's not like the dog can go anywhere, is it? He's still somewhere on the ship! Mr DaFork: What's your take on this?

-Cmdr. DaFork: Oh, eeeh, excuse me sir, uh, let me just turn off this playboy... Eehhh, I mean, this technical specification's hologram.

-Capt. Lameway: MEN! (Rolls her eyes)

-Capt. Retard: We'll talk about this later, Mr DaFork. Carry on.

-Capt. Jerk: What about those shields!?

-Capt. Lameway to Jerk: You know my position on that!

-Capt. Jerk: WOMEN!

At this point, time has run out, and the weapon strikes the ship, and they all die.... or do they? You'll have to wait until the sequel.

And this, my dear friends, is why - when it comes to captains - there can be only one! Don't try this at home, kids! Running a starship with 5 captains can only end in disaster.

Redigerad av DrBryce

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