Discussion in 'The Next Generation' started by CaptainStoner, Aug 20, 2009.
back-rub in exchange for the neat tool-belt
(mea culpa, I took liberties with the hyphens)
. "I'll give you the tool-belt. But please
make me a fried pickle sandwich. I
want the pickle deep fried and sauteed
meatballs on the side."
Wide-eyed, Guinan swiftly
grabbed her camera. Her childhood dream of
forming a Mariachi band took a backseat
to watching Geordi's mancrush play out in
glorious fried pickle love. But before anyone
could reach for their puke-bags, the Enterprise
entered an anomaly. "Why is it always
me that has to sweep the deck?,"
wondered the designated deck sweeper, Ensign Brooms.
"Brain the size of a planet and
IQ of 15. Go figure," observed the
kitchen staff. "Besides, if it weren't for
the holes in the Lifesavers, we'd all
be stuck with Retsyn from Certs. As
far as I am concerned, there shouldn't
be this kind of stress on Starfleet
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