[MSTing] Voyager: Stealth Wedgie - part 1
Freezer
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and all related characters are the property
of Best Brains, Inc. Star Trek: Voyager and all related characters are
the property of Paramount Pictures. "Stealth Wedgie" is the property of
Walter Miller. All use of any of the above is meant in the name of good
natured fun.
[Season 3 Theme song - sing along! You know the words!]
{We open with Crow seated in front of a keyboard, with Tom Servo
hovering behind him.]
Tom: I'm not sure what the point of this whole thing is, Crow. I mean a
Swinger's chat room?
Crow: Well, it's the vicarious thrill of the whole thing Tommy! Getting
absolutely freaky with an absolute stranger! And let's face it - this
is the only way any of us are getting any action up here!
Tom: Well, there's always Gypsy...
Gypsy: [Off screen] Not on your life, pal!
Tom: Well, there's the possibility of...
Crow: If the next word out of your mouth starts with "J," I'll be forced
to kill you.
Tom: Okay, got any bites?
Crow: Not ye... Wait! "TVF3k" wants to talk with "PrettyBot212"!
Tom: "TV?" That's not a good omen...
Crow: That's part of the fun! Interacting with the kind of freaks I'd
run screaming from in the real world!
Tom: It is?
Crow: Work with me, Tommy. Hmmm... "TV" wants to know if I'm into
leather? Uh...Sure! She says that she's got a ton of "naughty devices"
in her... secret underground laboratory?
Tom: Kinky!
Crow: And she can't wait to have me...kill her?!?
Tom: Ooh! A snuff freak!
Crow: I... I'm truly frightened, Tom!
Tom: Hey, look! She asks if it's okay for her boss, "Mad Dr. Luv" to
watch?
Crow: AIIIEEE!!!! [Runs Off screen]
Tom: Heh! Guess that's a "no!" We'll be right back.
<<Commercials>>
Joel: Tom? Can you tell me why Crow is destroying his laptop with a
chainsaw?
Tom: I'll explain later. The Mads are calling.
Joel: Right [Hits button]
[D-13]
Dr. Forrester: Hello, my little lab rats! Let's just cut through the
idle chit chat and get to the invention exchange. Frank, get off the
chat line and get in here! It's time for the invention exchange!
TV's Frank: [Off screen] Just a minute, Steve! I'm trying to track down
this chick I was trying to hook up with. [Typing] Where are you,
"PrettyBot?"
[SOL]
Tom: [Snickering]
Crow: I'm doubly scarred for life now!
Joel: Wha...?
Tom: [Still snickering] Later...
Joel: Well anyway, our invention exchange this week covers those
annoying pop-up windows that some of your lower end web pages use to try
to get you buy their products or sign up for the latest porno of the
month club.
Crow: Sure, you could tweak your browser settings to stop the pop-ups.
But where's the fun in that? Wouldn't it be great if you could treat
them with the same unstoppable flood of images?
Tom: Well, now you can! With our new "Spammer Slammer" utility.
Joel: It works like this! If you start to get that flood of pop-ups like
this... [Shows monitor with pop-up a' popping] Just trigger the Spammer
Slammer like this... [hits button on the keyboard and an image much like
that of the Waffle Crisp grandmothers pops up]
Tom: And little Mr. WebMaster gets a torrent of pop-up links to sites
like Oxygen, Martha Stewart's home page and stuff like that.
Crow: And it's customizable, so you can slam 'em with sports sites,
incomprehensible foreign sites, or <shudders> Trekkie fan pages!
Joel: Neat huh?
[D13]
Dr.F: Not bad! But where your invention could be considered just a
little naughty and annoying, mine goes that extra mile to be painful and
evil! And I took inspiration from that beloved anime series, "Uresei
Yatsura." And since Frank refuses to get away from the computer, I'll
just demonstrate the "Divine Retaliator" on him. [Moves over to
keyboard.] You see, if you tend to come across a spammer, or some chat
room troll who types in all lower case, or someone you just plain don't
like, like say... Frank? You just activate The Retaliator and when the
signal reaches the other end... [Chuckles]
[From Off screen we hear a yell of "DAHLING NO BAKA!!!" and the sound of
something getting zapped with electricity. And of course, Frank's
anguished screams.]
Dr.F: I've got an email version working, and I'm also working on an HTML
version for that unsuspecting web surfer! Impressive, no?
[SOL]
Joel: Evil is what it is!
Tom: Yeah, what'll that stuff do to somebody's computer?
[D13]
Dr. F: What do I care? I'm evil! Now, today's experiment is a warped
little Star Trek: Voyager fic written by a guy with - shall we say -
issues. It's called "Stealth Wedgie", and it will make your head hurt!
Send them the fic, Frank.
[Frank enters, looking like he'd just been electrocuted, then set on
fire (which he was).]
Frank: Right <CRACKLE!> Dr. F! <CRACKLE!>
[SOL]
All: WE GOT FANFIC SIGN!!! [All scurry away]
[ 1 ]...[ 2 ]...[ 3 ]...[ 4 ]...[ 5 ]...[ 6 ]... [ * ]
>Wedgie Page update
>by Walter Miller, 1996
>Welcom to Star Trek: Voyager Stealth Wedgie
Crow: I think the wedgie knocked the "e" off of "welcome!"
Tom: Welcom: a division of Conhugeco!
>written by me an my granfather.
Joel: Why is this guy writing in Cockney?
Crow: [Stereotypical Brit] Oy, Guv! This 'ere was wri'en by me an' me
gran'father!
>It has a surprininly well-developed plot,
Tom: "Surprininininin…?"
Joel: This guy has style all his own, doesn't he?
Crow: Let's hope it stays that way.
>an is quiet funny.
Tom: We'll be the judge of that.
>We also claborated on a StarTrek The Next Genorattion
Crow: Young Walter tosses the rules of grammar and spelling to the wind
and just wings it!
>spoof which i actually think is funnr-You decide.
Crow: -- I'm bitter!
>The Walter Miller Hompage
>Main Wedgie Page
Tom: "Main" Wedgie Page? This guy runs a page full of wedgies?
Crow: [Mr. Rogers] Can you say "Issues?" I knew that you could!
>Star Trek and all related characters are trademarks of Paramount
>Pictures, Inc. This is a non-profit web site, and no breach of
>copyright is intended. The purpuse of this site is a therapputic
>expresson to help me deal with disfunctonal fammly difficulties and a
>poor selfimage problem.
Joel: Poor guy got so rattled by the thought of lawsuits, he forgot to
misspell the first half of the disclaimer.
>Star Trek: Voyager
>Steath Wedgie
Crow: What's a "Steath Wedgie?"
Tom: I don't think we want to know!
>(Scene 1--Tom Paris's pool hall holodeck program)
Crow: It's a fully accurate pool hall simulation; complete with
barflies, drunk bikers, and yuppie posers.
Joel: And yet in this fully pre-programmed environment, Tom Paris still
manages to strike out with embarrassing frequency!
>Paris: Say Harry, see the blond in the corner?
Tom: [Harry] The one that just threw the beer in your face, then kneed
you? Sure, why?
>Go for it, man. She likes you.
Joel: [Harry] No thanks. I don't want to end up singing falsetto like
you.
Tom: [Harry] Well, sure! I'll take a shot and... D'OH! It's Captain
Janeway!
Crow: Oooh! Blonde Janeway! Kinky!
>Kim: No way! If Chakotay found out, and ended the program in the
>middle, think how messy it would be...AND embarrassing.
Tom: I might be projecting here, but unless you were boffing an image of
*him* - or maybe Janeway - I think he'd at least let you finish up
first.
Crow: Besides, how messy could it get if he ended it in *the middle*?
Tom: Well, we really don't know young Mr. Kim's tastes, do we?
Joel: Yuck!
>Paris: You've got to stop worrying about your reputation, Mr. Kim.
Joel: Harry likes being thought of as a wet-behind-the-ears, geeky
little pantywaist?
Tom: Like I said: How well do we really know Harry?
>Kim: I still HAVE a reputation, Mr. Paris.
Crow: So does Tom: He's a jerk!
Tom: I am *NOT!*
Joel: He meant that Tom, Tom.
Tom: Oh. Well, be more specific next time.
>Hologram: Hey! Let's play pool!
Joel: [Paris] Ah, hold your water, you talking light bulb!
>Paris: Take a look around you, Harry. You're 75 light years into
>space. You won't be meeting any new women.
Tom: Human women, anyway.
Crow: Never stopped Captain Kirk.
Joel: Or Commander Riker.
>Who are you going to end up with, say, ten years from now? The
captain?
Tom: Don't you guys plan on being back *HOME* in ten years?
Crow: That's just Tom being his usual spirit crushing, jerk self!
>Kim: (shuddering) Ooh! I just got a shivering willie! No thanks!
[All giggle]
Tom: "Shivering willie"? Who the hell says "shivering willie?"
Joel: Harry intends to hang on to his geeky rep for as long as possible!
>Paris: So go for the blond
>Kim: A hologram? It's not a real woman!
Joel: [Paris] I know! That's what makes it fun!
Crow: [Paris] Unless you'd rather be giggled at and patted on the head
like the "real women" do!
>Paris: (whispering) Yeah, but it sure beats "testing the old weapons
>array" in your quarters on lonely nights.
Crow: Wink, wink! Nudge, nudge!
Tom: I bet you'd know all about that wouldn't you, Joel.
Joel: Tom...
>Kim: You promised not to tell anyone!
Crow: Umm...Do we want to know how Paris found out about that?
Tom: Let me think about that. Ah...No!
>Paris: About your "self-diagnostics?" Let me tell you pal, you're not
>the only one on Voyager doing "solo missions".
Tom: Umm...Hello? Holodecks! Why would they need to whack it when five
minutes in a holodeck would scratch any itch they have?
Joel: Yeah, well...Why let the facts get in the way of a salacious
interlude!
Crow: "Salacious interlude!" Them's some mighty fancy words, there
Robinson!
Joel: I've been reading my thesaurus!
>Kim: You're disgusting.
>Paris: (smirking) I do my best.
Joel: Young Mr. Paris relishes his jerkiness!
>Hologram: Hey! Rack 'em up! Let's play pool!
>Paris: Just a minute, fella.
Crow: [Paris] I'm not through being a jerk!
>Hologram: I said, play!
>Paris: You're starting to annoy me, guy
Tom: Ooh! Big man! Talking back to something programmed not to hurt
you!
>Hologram: Oh, yeah?
>Paris: Watch it Harry!
>(hologram levels a pool cue, jabs Kim from behind; with an upward jerk
>he hikes Kim's trousers up sharply; )
Tom: We have a wedgie!
[All cheer.]
>Kim: Aargh!
>(Kim collapses unconscious)
>Paris: Computer! End program!
Crow: Man! That must have been one helacious wedgie!
Joel: Either that or Harry's just that much of a wimp.
Tom: I vote "wimp."
>(Scene 2--Sick Bay)
>Doctor: (impatiently) Have we found the problem YET, Kes?
Crow: [Kes, falsetto] Yes! I've found that you're a dickweed!
>Kes: Well, there's a minor rectal area contusion
Tom: He was knocked out by a "minor rectal contusion?"
Joel: You get the feeling that the author REALLY doesn't like Harry Kim?
Crow: You mean there are people who LIKE him?
>Kim: I feel so humiliated...I tell you, it just came out of nowhere.
Crow: You mean like a "Stealth Wedgie"
All: *BZZT!* PLOT POINT! *BZZT!* PLOT POINT!
>Doctor: (sarcastic) Thank you for the compliment. We holograms DO come
>out of nowhere.
Crow: Umm, Doc! You come out of the computer!
Joel: I think Neelix has been dolling out extra helpings of jerk today!
>Tuvok: We have found no problems with the holodeck. As there are no
>aliens in this sector, I shall investigate this as an internal hostile
>incident.
Tom: I'm pretty sure that wedgies can be classified as "internal."
>Kes: Internal is right. Look!
[Joel and Crow turn to stare at Tom]
Tom: Just goin' with the flow, man!
>Doctor: Polyester clothing fibers, way up...way up where they should
>NOT be.
Crow: They're in the 24th century, and the best they can come up with
for uniform fabric is *polyester*?!?
Tom: Who said it was his uniform?
Joel: Ick!
>Kim: You OK, Kes? You're sweaty, and your eyes are bloodshot.
Tom: [Kes] It's you, you steaming hunk of techno-geek! Take me now!
>Kes: I must be undergoing another adolescent biological Ocampa rite of
>passage that I was never told about.
Joel: [Kes] I was wondering where that third nipple came from!
>Doctor: Oh joy...Hmph! This confirms it. Captain, report to sick bay
>at once.
Crow: [Doctor, condescendingly] Kes wet 'em!
>Janeway: (on speaker) On my way.
>Kes: This confirms what?
Joel: That someone set his "Crotchety" levels at "90 year old?"
>Doctor: Mr. Kim is the victim of an ancient earth ritual that was
>abandoned centuries ago, around the time poverty and war were also
>eliminated on earth: A wedgie.
Tom: Oh, sure! That's the goal of all societies striving towards peace:
The elimination of war, poverty, and wedgies.
>Kes: A what-gie?
>Doctor: A Wedgie. A cruel, inhumane attempt at humor at the expense of
>another.
Joel: No attempt to it. Done right, they're usually pretty funny.
>Tuvok: They were, I believe, first developed by earth savages, and re-
>popularized by the Cardassians during their conquest of Bajor.
Tom: Wait! Hold it! The Cardassians used *Wedgies* to terrorize Bajor
into submission?
Crow [Deep announcer voice]: Behold the Wedgie! All-powerful weapon of
terror!
Joel:[Narrator] And though the Bajorans put up a brave fight, they
eventually succumbed to the terrible Cardassian Atomic Wedgie!
>(Janeway enters)
Tom: Realizes what kind of f'd up fever dream of a fic she wandered
into, then leaves.
>Janeway: Doctor, report.
Joel:[Doctor] Okay; "What I did on my Summer Vacation", by me...
>Doctor: It's as we feared.
Crow: Kes just isn't hot enough. We need to dump her for a sexy Borg
babe!
>Janeway: (nodding) Wedgies. And to think we've somehow found this
>scourge of humanity all the way in the Delta Quadrant.
Tom: "Scourge of humanity?" We are still talking about wedgies, right?
Joel: Well, consider the source: A guy who maintains a web page about
wedgies.
Crow: And who appears to be none too stable, by the way.
Tom: Right. I see your point.
>How's my little man in uniform holding up?
Joel: [Harry] You promised not to call me that in public!
>Kim: I'm doing fine, Mommy--I mean Captain.
Tom: I think that qualifies as a Freudian prat fall.
>Janeway: Anything we can get for you?
Crow: A pillow? A snack? Razor for your wrist?
>Kim: Maybe someone can get my teddy bear from my quarters.
Joel: It's official: The author does NOT like Harry Kim.
>Janeway: Get it for you? I'll have it beamed directly to sick bay.
>Kes: Doctor! I'm feeling shame too!
Tom: [Kes] In fact, I'm filled with shame!
>Doctor: That's because you too Kes, have been the victim of a wedgie.
>According to this scan, it occurred about 2:00 hours.
Tom: AM? PM? A little help here, Walter!
Joel: I'm pretty sure he meant "0200 hours"!
Crow: Gotta love those advances in medical science though; Pinpointing
the exact moment of wegdiging!
>Kes: But I was asleep!
All: I *KNOW*!
>Doctor: Yes. But I cannot explain this mass of synthetic matter wedged
>in your glutemal cleavage...
[All make coughing and sputtering noises...]
Tom: Let it pass...Too easy...
>Right next to this disgraceful "Kes Loves Neelix" tattoo
>Kes: (giggle!)
Crow: [Kes] Being a tattooed freak is fun!
>Doctor: I'm reading a complex foreign object, about 320 grams,
Crow: Ah! She got the Mighty Mite version!
Tom: Crow...
>with multiple absorbant, spongy fibrous layers encased in an
>elasticized polyvinyl shell.
Tom: Da' Hell?!?
Joel: Sounds like she's got a sofa cushion up there!
Crow: Kin..ky!!!
>Tuvok: You just described an adult undergarment.
All: EWWW!!!
Crow: Aw, man! She's got a diaper fetish!
>Doctor: Ah yes. It's a McCoy Model 76, named for the Starfleet medical
>officer who originally developed it for personal use.
Tom: The McCoy 76: For the incontinent, yet crotchety!
>It seems he served on active duty to an unusually old age. Kes, why
>are you wearing a diaper?
>Kes: Because I'm only two years old!
All: WAH...WAH...WAAAAAAH!!!
Joel: You know, that joke actually wasn't bad!
Tom: Yeah! How did that get there!
>(Scene 3--Mess Hall)
>Neelix: Mr. Tuvok, I'm so glad to see you!
Crow: [Tuvok] Oh, crap. Here we go.
>I've been working on a dee-light-ful Talarian boar egg stew; easy on
>the Angulian sea salt, and with just a hint of Loridian clove spice.
>I'm sure you'll find it enchanting.
Joel: Umm, Neelix? Is it possible for you to cook something where the
ingredients all come from the same planet?
>Tuvok: It is impossible to enchant a Vulcan.
Crow: Flummox? Sure! Bewitch? Absolutely! But, by Vulcan, you can't
enchant one!
>Neelix: Ah, yes, my pointy-eared friend, but as morale officer of this
>ship,
Joel: And all around annoyance...
>you know I'll try until I'm pink in the face!
Tom: [Tuvok] Perhaps if I death grip you until you're blue in the face?
>Tuvok: Please, refrain from physically touching me.
Crow: [Richard Burton] Don't touch me, Martha!
>Neelix: Then what can I get for you, my good man?
Tom: Down?
Joel: Lost?
Crow: Bent?
>Tuvok: Plain Vulcan grain porridge.
Joel: [Tuvok] In a pot. Nine days old.
>Neelix: Oh, how boring! Perhaps I might interest you in trying it with
>a smidge of this delicious Jozalian sour cream topping?
Crow: Perhaps I might interest you in biting me?
>Tuvok: I have a mild dairy intolerance.
Joel: That's okay: This cream isn't made from milk.
Bots: EWWWWW!!!!
>Neelix: Oh, please! Just TRY it!
Tom: Neelix has been taking double doses of "Pest" today, hasn't he.
Joel: I think we've found another of Walter's "least favorites."
>Tuvok: Perhaps I may, if you will desist immediately in slapping and
>fondling my shoulder.
Crow: [Tuvok] At least not in public.
Tom: That's gonna stick in my head for a week!
Joel: Yeah, thanks a lot, Crow!
Crow: Heh, heh, heh!
>Neelix: Just taste it!
Tom: I said taste it! TASTE IT!!!
>Tuvok: I must admit it is somewhat palatable. What is the recipe?
Joel: Pureed redshirts! Neat, huh!
>Neelix: Oh, Tuvok! I never use a recipe! And I never measure: I throw
>in a little of this, a bit of that. A dollop of yogurt, a pinch of
>chives, some fermented Jozalian mare's milk...
Tom: Some goat's blood, hair of a virgin Klingon, assorted entrails...
>Tuvok: How much mare's milk, exactly?
Joel: [Neelix] Dunno... How much do you think my mouth holds?
Tom: Yick!
>Neelix: (hesitating) Well...I always squirt in exactly two whole
>mouthfuls.
[The bots turn slowly towards Joel.]
Crow: Is there something we should know about you, Joel?
Joel: I swear guys, it's just a freakish coincidence!
Tom: All I know is I'm never letting you fix me cereal again!
>Tuvok: That is a violation of Starfleet dietary regulations.
Crow: Not to mention icky!
>Neelix: Oh, I strain out any of my whisker hairs! You and your
>regulations!
Joel: Yeah, Tuvok! What's a cross-species disease between friends?
Tom: Yet another question for Captain Kirk.
>Tuvok: I will now run a tricorder scan on this tray of leftover meat
>loaf. It did not appear to be meat loaf when I ate it last night.
Joel: Then why did you eat it?
Crow: [Homer Simpson] Mmm...Talaxian Mystery Meat...
>Neelix: Now, THAT recipe I got straight from the ship's computer!
Tom: [Neelix] It was embossed with this delightful
>Tuvok: You are correct. My scan indicates the exact signature of a
>recipe developed by a Commander Data, who currently serves on another
>Starship. It is called
Tom: "Crap Whipped Up By A Guy With No Tastebuds."
>Feline Nutritional Supplement Number 25.
Crow: Mmm...Cat Chow!
>Neelix: Oh, Mr. Tuvok!
Joel: Oh, Captain Spaulding!
Tom: Oh, Rooob!
Crow: Ah, Ricky!
>Tuvok: I am leaving.
>Neelix: Wait! Wait!
>Tuvok: What is it, Neelix?
Joel: How can we keep this ship running if we were running with a
skeleton crew to begin with and we lose about three crewmen a month for
four years?
Tom: Joel! Buddy! It's just a show!
Crow: Yeah, you should really just relax.
>Neelix: (lowered voice) Mr. Tuvok, can I confide in you to keep a
>secret?
Tom: [Neelix] I... I think I love you!
>Tuvok: We Vulcans are capable of unusual restraint.
Joel: [Tuvok] We are especially good with leather and metal studs.
>However, this restraint will be tested if you continue to knead and
>rub my arm, and engage in other acts of unwelcome, overly-familiar
>comraderie.
Tom: In other words: Hands off, Stubby!
>Neelix: A wedgie, Mr. Tuvok! I got one!
Crow: All my dreams come true today!
>Tuvok: Please explain.
Joel: You need to have wedgies explained to you?
Tom: I'm guessing Vulcans tend to torture each other mentally.
Crow: [Vulcan] Your mother is so unintelligent, she failed her own blood
test.
Tom: That was kinda lame, Crow.
Crow: Well, you try to do intellectual riffs!
>Neelix: We Talaxians don't have what you call...cracks down there.
Crow: They have a distinct lack of hinderage!
>Tuvok: I believe you are referring to cleavage of the posterior
>glutemus area.
Tom: The butt!
Joel: The hinder!
Crow: The derriere!
>Neelix: Yes, yes, There's nothing down there, except...Well, see these
>spots and downy hair around my head? The area of my buttocks is ringed
>with...
Crow: TMI!!!
Joel: Neelix, buddy? Did we really need to know that?
>Tuvok: I will remind you that this is an environment of food
>consumption. Please refrain from detailed descriptions.
All: Please!
>Neelix: All right, let me get to the point.
Tom: Hey, don't rush on our account!
>I was half asleep this morning, and thought I was dreaming. When
>suddenly, out of nowhere,
Joel: Shots rang out!
Tom: A woman screamed!
Crow: Umm...Umm... An angel got it's wings?
>I heard voices!
Joel: [Neelix] I think it was telling me that Paris must diet. It was
quite confusing.
>Then I felt an invisible hand pulling my tunic--trying to give me one
>of those wedgies the whole ship is talking about.
Tom: I'm assuming that he was lying face down, or a wedgie could get
awkward.
Crow: He wears a tunic to bed?
Joel: I don't think we want to go down that road.
>Tuvok: Are you sure it wasn't Kes?
Crow: [Neelix] Nah! Kes goes for the throat!
>Neelix: (offended) Kes and I do not sleep together!
Tom: They don't?
Crow: Poor guy!
>Tuvok: I see.
>Neelix: (giggling)
Joel: [Neelix, giggling] And now you die!
>And I know her hand when I feel it, if you know what I
>mean!
Crow: Wink, wink! Nudge, nudge! Say no more!
>Tuvok: Please stop jabbing me with your elbow. I will log the report
>of your wedgie later.
>Neelix: Thank you, Mr. Tuvok!
Joel: For making us laugh at love.
Bots: Again.
>Tuvok: Neelix, what is this dark brown, paste-like muck spread on my
>toast?
Crow: Oooh! So many riffs, so little time!
>Neelix: Oh, that! My Grodian game bird chopped liver spread; very
>rare, and only from one species of fowl, found on Groda Two...Uh, I
>think.
>Tuvok: What do you mean you think?
Tom: [Neelix]Well, it might have come from Groda One! I don't know! I'm
just the comedy relief around here!
>Neelix: Uh, well, I found an unmarked jar in the pantry.
>Tuvok: This tricorder scan shows it is a lithium-based, oxygenated
>grease with high levels of sulfur.
Tom: Dippity-Doo?
Crow: Brylcreme?
Joel: Grecian Formula?
>Neelix: Yes, now I remember, I found that around the time the Kazons
>were aboard for that summit meeting.
Tom: Just before they tried to kill us for the four thousandth time!
>Tuvok: My scan concludes that it is a jar of industrial-grade alien
>ornamental pomade.
Joel: Industrial strength pomade?
Crow: Talk about your bad hair!
>And, the stardate on the label shows it is expired, and
>quite rancid.
Joel: And yet you needed a tricorder scan to tell you not to eat it?
>Neelix: (dejected) Yes, it's Kazon hair grease. And the freshness
>button WAS popped on it when I got it.
Tom: Boy, Neelix's kitchen just a fun house o' food poisoning isn't it?
>Tuvok: The captain will hear about this
>(captain enters)
>Janeway: The captain will hear about what?
Joel: [Janeway] If your talking about the brown stuff or that cat food,
Neelix is already cutting me in for half.
>Tuvok: We will discuss it later.
>Janeway: Good. I need you now in engineering...Big fella.
All: Big fella?
Crow: Uh oh! I think Hornyverse Janeway may be back!
>Tuvok: Captain. As my superior officer, it is inappropriate for you to
>press your palms on my pectoral region.
Tom: [Tuvok]Unless you kiss me first!
Crow: Guh!
>Janeway: (smiling suavely) We'll discuss THAT in the turbolift
>Neelix: He doesn't let me touch him either, Captain!
Joel: [Ala Carrie] He'd never touch you, Neelix! You're dirt!
Tom: Let's roll, guys!
[All leave]
[6]...[5]...[4]...[3]...[2]...[1]...[ * ]
[We see Joel and the bots dressed in Chef's hats and aprons. Crow is
wearing some randomly placed tufts of hair on his head.]
Crow: Welcome everyone, to Neelix's House of Fine Cuisine and
Questionable Hygiene! I'm Neelix! And have we got some treats for you
today! My kitchen staff and I are cooking up some tasty dishes from
around the quadrant. And with my "special cooking techniques" your
taste buds will be singing, while your stomach cries out in pain!
[Gypsy enters wearing a waitress' hat]
Gypsy; Neelix! We got an order for six Ocampan Chili Dogs with fries to
go!
Crow: Oh, poo! Chili Dogs are no fun! Pack up some of that Andurain
Beef Stew with some of my special bread for them!
Tom: And just what makes that bread so special, Neelix?
Crow: I make it from toenail clippings! Gives it a real earthy flavor!
Joel: And I thought we hadn't gotten any Andurain beef in this week?
Crow: Oh, that! Pshaw and harumph! That stew's been in that pot for
months!
Tom: That explains the fur!
Crow: Adds texture! You see, folks! Everything at Neelix's has my
special touch - literally! I stick my finger into everything to make
sure it measures up to my personal standards!
Gypsy: One order Talaxian Grilled Cheese!
Crow: Coming right up! [Pulls sandwich from armpit] Service with a
smile!
Joel: So come on down to Neelix's!
Tom: Come for the food!
Crow: Leave for medical attention!
All: NEELIX!
<<commercials>>
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.