Seven Words in TNG

Wesley whined, not seeing Worf come up

 

behind him with a Klingon pain-stick.

 

"Time for your evening constitutional!" he happily

 

exclaimed, zapping the lad with the device.

 

Wesley shrieked, and Picard ordered, "Enough, Worf."

 

"Captain, this boy has not had enough.",

 

"Indeed not Worf; it's my turn now!"

 

said Riker eagerly. "Dance, sweater boy, dance!"

 

Uttlerly crushed, Wesley ran and hid under

 

conference room table. Dr. Crusher scolded everyone

 

in eyesight, becoming more and more frantic

 

in her efforts to quell the evil

 

crew for not zapping Wesley harder. "Why

 

stop short? Might as well fry the

 

little..."

just then Q appeared and sent

 

little kipper and serve him with a

 

nice chianti and fava beans. "Truly delicious,"

 

said Cardassian Hannibal Lecter, licking his lips.

 

Beverly neck-wrapped Hannibal with her legs,

 

squeezing tight. "Ahhh, my neck ridges! Stop!"