Some people here may know my Star Trek parody series, Door Repair Guy.
The first four episodes were posted here over a year ago and are in the
archive. The whole series can be found in the creative area of the
national capital freenet in Ottawa and at Andrew Jeanes' web site, and the
Borg ezine Resistance is Futile has been running it as well. I've decided
it's about time I posted the whole thing to this group, and the archivist
has given her thumbs up. So beginning this week I'll be posting it at a
rate of one episode per day or so. Each episode is about 25k in length,
so if you want to save it to disc bear in mind that it's well over a
megabyte all together. To date there are 54 episodes. In a nutshell Door
Repair Guy is Starfleet from the Maintenance Division point of view.
Run the clip:
McSorley (turning and looking DRG up and down): "So, ever been to
DRG: "Nope. But I've always wanted to see the Old Country."
Baumgartner: "Old Country?"
"Nepean 2 was on Mars, like 150 years ago. Pro'ly got cousins
All three turn sharply.
Braun: "Will anybody recognize you?"
He thinks. "Naw." He thinks some more. "Naw."
McSorley: "Are you sure?"
McSorley: "You're sure you're sure?"
DRG: "Sure I'm sure I'm sure!"
The editor at RIF described it as a crossover fusion parody. Maybe
crossover fusion parody with commercials is a bit closer. I don't know.
You decide. Starts tomorrow.
Excellent! Folks who haven't read this one, be sure to catch it. It's
absolutely hysterical. :)
: Some people here may know my Star Trek parody series, Door Repair Guy.
: The first four episodes were posted here over a year ago and are in the
: archive. The whole series can be found in the creative area of the
: national capital freenet in Ottawa and at Andrew Jeanes' web site, and the
: Borg ezine Resistance is Futile has been running it as well. I've decided
: it's about time I posted the whole thing to this group, and the archivist
: has given her thumbs up. So beginning this week I'll be posting it at a
: rate of one episode per day or so. Each episode is about 25k in length,
: so if you want to save it to disc bear in mind that it's well over a
: megabyte all together. To date there are 54 episodes. In a nutshell Door
: Repair Guy is Starfleet from the Maintenance Division point of view.
I just want to add that Door Repair Guy is, in my opinion, the funniest
Trek parody on the net. Most paroodies do very little for me-- they're
frequently pointless, rely on characters being out of character, and,
well, I don't like 'em. Door Repair Guy is funny without being
meanspirited and vicious like a lot of parodies; the TNG crew are (more
or less) in character, and well, it's just really really funny. And the
commercials are great too.
"These are only my opinions. If they were the gospel truth, your bushes
would be burning." -- Nancy Lebowitz button
"Freedom of religion includes freedom from religion." -- My favorite
-- Alara Rogers, Aleph Press
All Aleph Press stories are available at ftp.netcom.com /pub/al/aleph.
(hopefully AOL won't double-space it this time, but who knows
with AOL.... arg)
Disclaimer: Tom, B'Elanna, and the crew of the Voyager belong to
Paramount. I make no claims on them other than love, respect, and
an intense desire to see lots and lots of kissing, especially when
directed by Andy Robinson. _Green Eggs and Ham_ by Dr. Suess,
copyright 1960 by Random House, excerpted without permission.
Author's Note: This is what happens when a roomful of fen get
together to cut together the "Good Parts Version" of "Blood Fever"
(can you say, "Where's Vorik?" Thought so.... Best 15 minutes on
tape, no need to rewind and fast forward). Beware. Needless to say
this story takes place about two months after "Blood Fever."
Would You, Could You
by Tara O'Shea
(with input from Jessica Ross, Merlin Missy Wilson, Amy Hull,
Nicole Mason, and Amanda Thomas)
B'Elanna took a deep breath and then reached out to press the
doorchime. Clutched in her hands was a bright yellow paper gift bag
with ribbons tied around the handles. The door to Tom's quarters
slid open, and she poked her head inside, the bag crinkling between
her fingers. "Tom?"
"Right here," he called out as she stepped the rest of the way
in, the doors sliding shut behind her. He was seated on the couch,
a padd in his hands.
"Are you ready?"
"Almost. Just trying to figure out what to replicate. It's
been so long since I was a toddler."
"Oh, I don't know. I always thought you had childish and
juvenile down." B'Elanna said with a smile, and set the bag on the
glass coffee table. Inside was a first birthday present for Ensign
Wildman's baby daughter. The entire crew had been extended an
invitation to the party, although duty shifts meant that most
likely only about a third of the crew would be able to attend.
However, Tabitha was the only child--yet--on Voyager, and even
those men and women who seemed to have no facility with children
whatsoever doted on her. The holodeck was now host to an old
fashioned Terran amusement park, courtesy of Ensigns O'Meara and
Fuji. They had spent two days working on the programme, and
Wildman's crewmates in Ships Services had pooled enough replicator
credits to make the party something everyone on the ship was
looking forward to. B'Elanna had been treated to something referred
to as candy-floss, consisting entirely of sucrose and pink food
colouring as Aidan and Ryuunosuke explained the venue that morning
in Engineering. She hadn't the heart to tell them that she hadn't
much of a sweet tooth, and pure sugar just gave her headaches. So
she had nibbled some of the woolly pink sticky candy and then gave
the rest to Harry when he came down to meet her for lunch.
"Very funny. So, what did you finally decide on?" He peered
into the gift bag, and she upended it, a small plush pink pig
spilling into her hand. "Do you think this is... appropriate?" She
handed it to Tom, who raised a brow.
"Of course. Babies love soft toys."
"Harry helped me pick it out. He said he had one just like it
when he was a little boy."
Tom's lips twitched into a smile, and his eyes danced. "Yeah,
I can see that."
"It makes a noise."
Tom squeezed the plush pig's stomach, and it emitted a squeal.
"Yes, it does," he remarked, and she snatched it back, stuffing it
into the bag.
"It's stupid, isn't it." She scowled, and rose from the couch.
Tom leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, shaking his
head with a chuckle.
"B'Elanna, Tabitha Wildman is one year old. Anything she can
chew on, drool over, and fling around will be greatly appreciated.
Relax, Lieutenant. It's a perfect toy. Kind of like a targ, but
without the bristles, tusks, and blood lust. What toddler wouldn't
"I know what a pig is."
"I remember," he said brightly, and she flushed. She hadn't
meant to remind him of the number of times she had hurled that
particular insult in his direction in the past. And from his half-
smile, only slightly self-mocking, she knew that was exactly what
had sprung to mind. She wished she could start over somehow, with
a clean slate.
Ever since the galacite expedition, they had tread on egg
shells around one another, and had only now finally returned to the
semi-adversarial friendship they had reached before Vorik had
entered his Pon Farr, and dragged her along into it. Dragged them
both into it. Klingonaase, with all its richness of language,
didn't seem to contain an insult vehement enough to label how she
felt about the Ensign.
It wasn't fair. Dammit, it wasn't fair. She took a deep
breath. "That seems like ages ago," she said, half to herself. "So,
what are you going to bring?"
Tom noticed her deliberate change of subject, and followed her
lead. He was just as happy *not* to get into a fight about things
that did indeed seem like a lifetime ago.
"I'm not sure. I have three days' worth of replicator rations
saved up. The mess hall was packed the past few days. Neelix was
thrilled." The earnest Talaxian, in fact, had taken it as a great
compliment, and no one had the heart to let him believe any
different. It would be like kicking a puppy. "Actually, I was
thinking of a Dr. Seuss book."
"You're giving Ensign Wildman a medical text?" B'Elanna gave
him the strangest look.
"No, Dr. Seuss was the pen name of a late twentieth-century
human children's author, Theodor S. Geisel. He wrote almost fifty
books. I've got it narrowed down to three choices: *The Cat In The
Hat*, *One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish*, and *Green Eggs And
Ham*." He leaned over to show her the padd, and she scanned the
list with growing confusion.
"I've never heard of him."
"They are great kids' books," he said, and she almost jumped
as his breath tickled her ear. He walked around her and set the
padd back on the coffee table, lost in memories and seemingly
completely unaware of her reaction. "Sometimes I think my mother
had them all. She used to read them to me when I was not much
bigger than Tabitha."
B'Elanna frowned slightly, her own memories of childhood
coming to the fore. "My mother always said human children have
their heads filled with foolishness about fairies and castles, and
my mother would *not* let me listen to such . . . tripe. She used
to recite the lays of Kahless to me when I was a child." She smiled
wryly, caught unexpectedly by the warmth of her recollection. Tom
shared her smile.
"Well, none of the Whos died gloriously in battle, wading
through rivers of the blood of their enemies, but I think you might
have liked them all the same."
"If you say so."
"Didn't your father ever read to you on Kessik IV?" he asked,
and her head snapped up, her colour rising.
"I don't remember," she said softly, and he frowned.
"I'm sorry--" he began, but she shook her head, a rueful smile
tugging at her lips.
"Don't. Don't be sorry. It has nothing to do with anything.
Ancient history." She picked up the padd, running a finger down the
list. "Green eggs? Sounds like something Neelix would whip up."
"I think those were chartreuse. They tasted like chartreuse."
"Don't remind me."
Tom walked over to the replicator. "Computer, please replicate
a hardcopy volume of the 2015 Random House reprint of *Green Eggs
and Ham* by Theodor S. Geisel."
"Unable to comply. Lt. Paris has exceeded his replicator
rations for this period."
"Damn. Jenny Delaney actually cashed in the rations I traded
her for Holodeck time last week. I thought she'd at least wait
until after the party--"
"Computer, this is Lt. Torres. Command override Torres-Alpha-
The replicator beeped, and a hard cover book shimmered into
existence on the surface, light glancing off the slick dust jacket
inscribed with the image of some kind of furred humanoid with what
appeared to be one of Neelix' oven mitts perched precariously on
its head, peering down at a plate of green food with something
"The Captain isn't exactly going to be happy about this."
Tom's eyebrows crept towards his hairline as she handed him the
"I won't tell if you won't. But you are going to have to
stomach Neelix' cooking for another week or so."
"That's punishment enough," he chuckled, and opened the book
to a random page, flipping back and then forwards. "This sure
brings back memories."
She peered over his shoulder and scanned the brief text,
frowning. "It looks like--it looks like nonsense, gibberish."
"It *is*--children love nonsense. And it's very appealing,
fun, nonsense," he looked up from the book and smiled at her face
mere centimetres from his. She flashed him a quick, tight smile,
but moved away. She picked up the gift bag, and removed the soft
toy, stroking its synthetic fuzz absently.
"It's actually better read aloud," Tom said to fill the
"Really." She kept her eyes fastened on the pig's nose. He
pursed his lips, and leaned against the wall, the book still open
in his hands.
"'I am Sam. Sam I Am.'" he read aloud from the colourfully
illustrated pages. "'That Sam-I-Am! That Sam-I-Am! I do not like
that Sam-I-Am!'" he glanced up, and saw her staring at him in rapt
attention. Clearing his throat, he turned the page, and continued.
"'Do you like green eggs and ham?'"
He could hear her chuckle, and he felt a smile tugging at his
own lips as he turned the page. "'I do not like them, Sam-I-Am. I
do not like green eggs and ham.'"
"'Would you eat them here or there? I would not eat them here
He glanced up, and saw B'Elanna staring at him, her dark eyes
swallowing the light whole, her smile having vanished. He blinked,
and then looked back to the page. "'I would not like them here or
there. I would not like them, anywhere. I do not like green eggs
and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
"'Would you like them in a house? Would you like them with a
"'I do not like them in a house. I do not like them with a
mouse. I do not like them here or there. I do not like them
anywhere. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them,
There was a *whoosh* past his ear, followed by a squeal as the
stuffed pig impacted with the wall behind him. Paris' head snapped
up and he saw B'Elanna reaching for a cut crystal vase resting on
the counter. She met his eyes, and his mouth went dry. "--Sam...
Sam-I-am.'" he stammered.
His blue eyes wide, he fumbled with the book, turning the
pages with a shaking hand.
"'Would you eat them in a box?'"
He ducked, and the vase shattered directly to his left, silk
flowers dropping to the carpet with a muted swish. He could feel a
sharp stinging where glass fragments bit into his ear, but he kept
his eyes fastened on the words on the page, his heart beginning to
thud in his ears.
"'Would you eat them with a fox?'"
A pillow from the couch was next, followed by a Risan
fertility statue that left a mark on the grey wall coverings before
it bounced to the floor.
"'Not in a box. Not with a fox.'" he continued, his heart rate
jumping another notch as he tried to keep his attention on the
words. "'Not in a house. Not with a mouse.'"
Blood ran in a slow, hot trickle from the cut on his ear,
dampening the edge of his turtleneck, but he ignored it. "'I would
not eat them here or there. I would not eat them anywhere. I would
not eat green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.'"
His hands shook as he turned the page, and he ignored that
too, his mouth going dry as B'Elanna growled low in her throat, and
he glanced up to see her arm raised, poised in the act of winging
a mug at his head.
"'Would you? Could... could you--'" He faltered then, the book
slipping from his fingers as he ducked, the ceramic mug smashing
against the bulkhead harmlessly. Even as the book hit the deck with
a thud, the dust jacket slipping up to expose four inches of cloth
binding, he tackled the chief engineer somewhat gracelessly--yet
effectively--to the carpet.
"If I'd known Dr. Seuss had this kind of effect on you, I
would have done this a hell of a lot sooner," Tom said softly, but
there was a question beneath the jest.
He looked down into her face, flushed beneath the tousled mass
of dark brown hair, black eyes bright as they bore into his. They
stared at one another, hearts pounding in their throats, colour
"B'Elanna--" he began, and she reached up to trace his lips
with her fingers.
"Shut up, Paris," B'Elanna growled, and licked the blood from
his ear, tugging the lobe gently between her teeth, not hard enough
to draw blood, though he drew in a breath with a hiss nonetheless.
He swallowed, and then lowered his mouth to hers, brushing her lips
tentatively at first, then moving down to trace the line of her
jaw. His teeth grazed the tender skin below her ear, and she tilted
her head back, exposing her throat, her eyes closed and lips
parted. A growl purred from her throat, his lips thrumming with the
vibration as his tongue explored the hollow of her throat.
Remembering her reaction on Sakari IV, he attempted to growl.
It came out more like a strangled cough. B'Elanna opened her eyes.
"Tom, don't growl."
She reached up and unzipped his uniform tunic and in one smooth
motion, pushed the jumpsuit down around his hips.
She tugged his grey turtle neck free and let her hands trace
the curve of his spine while he focused his attention on her mouth.
His hand slipped between them, tugging her zipper down, and she
pulled her turtleneck over her head, pitching it across the room,
where it landed on the arm of a chair and then slipped to the floor
in a grey heap.
His fingers splayed across her collarbone, thumb nestled in
the hollow of her throat as he moved his lips against hers, slowly,
deliberately. She reached up and took his face in her hands, taking
his bottom lip between her teeth, their tongues duelling briefly
until he straightened, pulling off his own turtleneck and shimmying
out of his jumpsuit, soon joined by hers. They tugged off their
boots and socks, breath coming rapidly as they moved to the bed,
B'Elanna's bra joining the growing pile of clothing.
She growled softly, relishing the feel of heated skin against
skin, the evidence of Tom's arousal pressed against her thigh as
she ran her fingernails down is back, eliciting a hiss of pleasure
from Paris, whose hand moved to one breast, kneading and tugging at
her erect nipple between thumb and forefinger.
She hooked one lean, muscled leg around his waist as his mouth
went to the other waiting breast, her back arching in pleasure as
he took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the dark
aureole, sucking gently. Her nails dug scratches into his back, but
if he felt the sweat stinging in the deep furrows, it only spurred
him on, one hand slipping down her taut belly to dip between her
legs and tease her pink, throbbing clitoris. Her hips bucked
against his thigh, and he pulled her panties down her leg, and she
kicked them free. He traced the smooth muscles of her thigh before
he slipped a finger inside her, and then two, stroking
rhythmically. She tossed her head from side to side, sweat
plastering dark strands to her cheeks and forehead as she arched
against him in time to his strokes.
With a growl, she flipped him on his back, tugged his briefs
down, and reached between them to wrap strong brown fingers around
him, and was rewarded by his teeth closing on her shoulder as she
ran her fingers along his length and back again. She trailed wet
kisses down his neck, tracing his collarbone with her tongue before
biting the skin above his nipple gently, and then more forcefully
as he shuddered.
His hands slipped down over her shoulders to linger on her
waist, then cup her buttocks, her small, firm breasts pressed
against his chest, and she guided him to her ready sheath. She
arched her back, taking him an inch at a time, until he was buried
to the hilt. Slowly, she began to ride him, his hips rising to meet
Pressure began to build within her as the pace of his thrusts
quickened, and finally he flipped her onto her back, his thrusts
pinning her to the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist,
pulling him deeper inside her until the pressure built and built,
and blood ran down his back from the scores of her fingernails as
it crested, fire licking through her, heat flooding her senses,
ripping a cry from her throat. She fell back against the pillows as
Tom continued to thrust, his face as rictus of pleasure and pain as
he shuddered, and spilled his hot seed into her with a cry that
matched her own.
He fell across her, and she reached up and dragged his mouth
to hers, rolling on her side, leg still thrown over his, holding
him inside her. She traced his cheek with a fingertip, and then
tucked her head beneath his chin, expelling her breath in a
B'Elanna could feel Tom's chuckle, a low rumble in his chest
against her cheek, rousing her from the light doze she had fallen
into after they had snuggled under the sheets.
"What?" she asked, resting her chin on his chest.
"I'll tell you one thing--I never thought of the 'Grinch Whole
Stole Christmas' as foreplay before," he said sleepily, and he
brushed her hair from her forehead, pressing a light kiss to the
ridges above her eyebrow. "Think we missed the party?"
"What time is it?"
"There might be some cake left."
"If we're leaving this room tonight, I think the only place
we're headed is sickbay." He traced a crescent shaped bite on her
shoulder, the mark of *his* teeth, with a smile.
"Oh." She winced, not at his touch, but at the mental picture
the mention of sickbay brought to mind. "Can we skip that? I think
the Doctor is juts a little *too* interested in Klingon Mating
Tom laughed, shifting slightly so he was leaning against the
headboard, her head pillowed on his chest. She absently traced
spirals on his bare shoulder with a fingernail.
"Well, if we don't, it's going to be more than a little
obvious *why* we missed the party," he pointed out.
"Unless, you *want* the entire crew to burst into spontaneous
applause the minute we enter the mess hall?"
"Hey, if you think this is awkward, imagine what life would
have been like if we did this back on Sakari IV."
"What makes you think I haven't?" she said quietly, her voice
husky and low. Her dark eyes bore into his, and she felt as much as
saw a flush creep up his neck under her unremitting gaze. It gave
her the courage to tease him, lips grazing his jaw as she spoke.
"What makes you think I haven't lain awake at night, remembering
the taste of your blood, the taste of your kisses. Remembered the
salty tang of your sweat, the feel of your body against mine..."
She, wisely, left off the remainder of the thought, but it
echoed through her anyway, as she lay curled in his arms.
So much time wasted lying in the dark, remembering, and
spending fruitless hours trying to explain away the desires and
memories, only to rise from dreamless sleep with regret her
constant companion. *No more*, she vowed silently. No more foolish,
*human* regrets. Klingons *lived*, they did not waste their lives
on *what ifs.*
Tom sighed, and leaned his forehead against hers, caressing
her cheek. "I'm not going to lie to you, B'Elanna. What we just had
was incredible, and I won't say that I haven't wanted it--been
dreaming--thinking about it for months. But that doesn't mean
that's all there is. I mean, I don't think so."
She drew back, uncertain as to what exactly he was getting at.
Then abruptly, she did. Her newfound resolve wavered slightly as
she weighed his concerns, and found they raised all kinds of
questions, questions that she wasn't sure she wanted to know the
Were either of them ready--emotionally--to commit to an actual
*relationship?* They had only just recently adjusted to the fact
that, barring some kind of miracle, they were going to be on this
ship a very long time. If things didn't work out, the results could
be more than disastrous. Knowing her temper, they could be
downright catastrophic. That was, of course, assuming it didn't
So far, the game had been his. Tom pursued her, she pushed him
away, only half-seriously, and so it had continued. But Sakari IV
had changed everything to the point where she *had* to be the one
to make the first move, and that was exactly what she had done. She
had made that choice the second she had initiated the ritual,
although she doubted any Klingon mating had involved stuffed
animals and children's books before this one...
Tom was looking at her, waiting for something, and she
realised that the same thoughts must be running through his head as
well. She chewed on her bottom lip, and gave his fingers a squeeze.
"I don't think so either."
"So, where do we go from here?"
"I care about you, Tom. And I am incredibly sexually attracted
"Yeah, I noticed."
"But beyond that, I just don't know."
"You sure are giving me a warm and fuzzy feeling here,
She met his only half-teasing smile with a frown of concern.
"Do *you* think we made a mistake?"
He gently touched her cheek with his outstretched fingers.
"Maybe," he admitted carefully. "But it didn't feel like a mistake
to me. You're my friend, my shipmate, and I care about you too. A
lot. And the last thing I want to do is lose my *friend* as well as
my lover, if that ever becomes the case. So, yeah, I want this to
work. I don't know where it's headed either, so the way I see it,
call we can do is just take each day as it comes, and see where
that takes us."
"That sounds reasonable," she nodded, and then winced. "I
can't believe I just said that. Tom, I know this is going to
sound... But, really, I have no regrets. Questions, yes. But I
wouldn't have... *initiated* something unless I was sure. That
wouldn't have been fair to you--"
"Trust me, I understand." He chuckled, and suddenly she had
bounded out of bed, taking the sheets with her. "Hey!"
She scooped up the fallen book, and then flipped it open to
the end. Dark eyes dancing, she scanned the pages and then recited:
"'Say! I like green eggs and ham! I do! I like them, Sam-I-Am!'"
Tom reached out and snagged the trailing edge of the sheet,
and yanked. She fell to her knees in the middle of the bed in a
mess of sheets and giggles. "'They are so good, so good, you see!'"
she managed before he pulled the book from her fingers, and it
landed on the floor with a small bump and thud.
all feedback, praise, gripes, slander, etc. to uisg...@aol.com
you realize of course, that I will never, EVER be able to read Green Eggs
to my year old son again, not without dissolving into fits of laughter
cause I'm visualizing something else entirely....
what a hoot!
nice job, more to come I hope>?
>you realize of course, that I will never, EVER be able to read Green Eggs
>to my year old son again, not without dissolving into fits of laughter
>cause I'm visualizing something else entirely....
Tell me about it :) It wasn't the original intent, but it seems to be the universal
>nice job, more to come I hope>?
At the moment, I want to see where the show goes in terms of Tom and B'Elanna.
However, I am smack in the middle of working on a story set a while back, before
Voyager left Kazon space, that centres on the Delaney Sisters. And I can definitely
use beta readers who know the show better than I do, because I only have about
half on tape, tho I can borrow them from a friend who is sweet and wonderful, and
more importantly, is taking notes as she goes...