Seven Words in TNG

proceeded to straighten her curly locks.

"Gaaaggh!"

 

"Mmmmmm, a bowl of gagh sounds good,"

 

Riker said, remembering his time with Klingons

 

.
"That and a mug of blood wine,"

 

"Wil!" cried Deanna, "I'm disfigured!"

"You're still

 

rockin' it in the back, Imzadi," Riker

 

assured her assuringly.

Assured, Deanna ascertained whether

 

or not the agglets on her boots

 

had gone out of style. "Counselor, I

 

also can confirm that your 'onion' is

 

definately a one of a kind. Surely

 

a spa day with your mother would

 

be prudent, not only for recurling hair

 

but for the benefits of using square

 

loofahs to exfoliate your skin."

Deanna considered

 

borrowing Worf's crimper, but took the advice

 

of Riker and, instead, used a long

 

and pregnant pause to defuse the situation.

 

"Brilliant, Deanna. Can you solve our quandry

 

with...."
"Not until I've rubbed melted chocolate