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TNG Caption This! #426: Ready for Captioning

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Romulan, eyes closed: Avenge me, brother...kill the Klingons!

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As they parted, Laren gazed longingly across the room at Wesley, but their love could never be.



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Picard: There! Is! ONE! light!
 
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A Starfleet Captain will never admit to a fart.

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DATA: Data to Captain. I fear the energy being has evolved to a state where it may consider just knocking over the table.

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ROMULAN: I would rather die...than pollute my lungs with Klingon BO.

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RIKER: YOU'RE AN INSUBORDINATE CREW MEMBER!
RO: YOU'RE A DOMINEERING JERK!
RIKER: Would you...like to come back to my quarters?
RO: ...Yeah, I'm feeling this.

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RIKER: Is that...Sonya Gomez?
SONYA: Are the Borg gone? Can I stop hiding in the closet?
 
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Picard stands by his bad puns, no matter what his crew says.

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Data: "I believe Test 42 went rather well."
Geordi: "But I'm still no closer to a girlfriend."

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Worf: "Oh, you like this sash? Sorry, it's for Klingons only."
Romulan: "Curses."

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Ensign Ro: "Eyes up here, captioners."
Captioners: "Crap! She's onto us!"

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Geordi: "Jinkies!"
 
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Ro: You guys are really bad at breaking-and-entering. You're not even wearing black.
..why are you in my quarters, anyway?
Data: It is called a 'panty raid'.
 
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LAFORGE: Does Ro have some sort of facial tick?

DATA: No, I believe she is attempting to communicate using eye blinks in a ancient format called "Morse Code".

LAFORGE: What's she saying?

DATA: if...not...back...in...an... hour...call... the...police
 
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Ro: Why is that Chinese guy laughing?
Riker: Because in Chinese "Ro Laren" means "Spicy People Meat."
Ro: Well that explains what he's doing with that spatula.


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Beverly: Jean Luc, if you'd like to come to sick bay later we can fit you for your shoe lifts.
Picard: I dont know what you're talking about Doctor. I am six feet tall.
Riker: Really? I don't see it. I'm six three and you are at least eight inches shorter than me.
Picard: I'm as tall as Worf!
Riker: No, I believe he's six three too. How tall are you, Doctor?
Picard: Well there's no use in that, obviously I tower over her.
Beverly: Five foot seven. I'd say you have two inches on me, Jean Luc.
Picard: Don't listen to the giantess! I am six feet tall! My last physical confirmed it!
Beverly: Oh, so that's why you were wearing your Robin Hood hat the whole time!


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Geordi: Leah said she's with me every time I touch the engines.
Data: That explains the force field activations.


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Romulan: Vorf, sometimes people blindly wear the same thing again and again.
Worf: Are you currently experiencing this phenomenon?
Romulan: I didn't see it until today. I got out of a relationship with a plainly-uniformed man, and I got right back into another, with a man who is absolutely incapable of wearing a plain uniform.
Worf: There does appear to be a recurring motif.
Romulan: You were so well-groomed and dashing. I thought that would be enough.
Worf: It is not?
Romulan: No, it's not. Because as snazzy as we are, shoulder pads don't really matter to you. Not really. Nothing I can say or do will ever make your shouders bigger or more imposing, or exaggerate your shoulders in any way.
Worf: That is a valid projection. It is apparent that my reach has exceeded my grasp in this particular area. I am perhaps not nearly so broad-shouldered as I aspire to become. If you are ready to die, I will bring our suicide daggers.
Romulan: No, that's alright, Vorf. I'd better pass out now.
Worf: As you wish. Subcommander. Are we no longer enemies?
Romulan: No, we're not.
Worf: Then I will put away the appropriate daggers.
Romulan: I'll see you later. <passes out>
Worf <finds a dagger in his sash>: Hello, Spotted with the Blood of My Enemies.


http://www.trekbbs.com//www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/
 
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Romulan: Vorf, sometimes people blindly wear the same thing again and again.
Worf: Are you currently experiencing this phenomenon?
Romulan: I didn't see it until today. I got out of a relationship with a plainly-uniformed man, and I got right back into another, with a man who is absolutely incapable of wearing a plain uniform.
Worf: There does appear to be a recurring motif.
Romulan: You were so well-groomed and dashing. I thought that would be enough.
Worf: It is not?
Romulan: No, it's not. Because as snazzy as we are, shoulder pads don't really matter to you. Not really. Nothing I can say or do will ever make your shouders bigger or more imposing, or exaggerate your shoulders in any way.
Worf: That is a valid projection. It is apparent that my reach has exceeded my grasp in this particular area. I am perhaps not nearly so broad-shouldered as I aspire to become. If you are ready to die, I will bring our suicide daggers.
Romulan: No, that's alright, Vorf. I'd better pass out now.
Worf: As you wish. Subcommander. Are we no longer enemies?
Romulan: No, we're not.
Worf: Then I will put away the appropriate daggers.
Romulan: I'll see you later. <passes out>
Worf <finds a dagger in his sash>: Hello, Spotted with the Blood of My Enemies.

:guffaw:

This one made me laugh harder than any in a long time.
 
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Riker: Sir, your tailor reports having equipment problems

Picard: Make it sew.

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Geordi: We really should stop running these dangerous experiments 15 feet from the warp core

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The moment when Worf realized that because of his fashion choices, even a sickbay patient could gain hand to hand combat advantage on him

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With 1 glance, Riker scored the menage a troi

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Riker: Shh! Do you hear that? It sounded like someone about to caption something about my posture
 
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Picard: "...clearly I was the only one who remembers it's No-Pants Sunday."

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Data: "Geordi, we are merely adding Mentos into Coca-Cola. Is the Level 1 force field necessary."

Geordi: "You know how hard it is to get that stuff out of this carpet?"

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Worf: "Well I was having second thoughts about letting you die like the stubborn jackass that I am, but then you had to go and invade my personal space."

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Ro: "...If I don't make it back in an hour, send champagne."

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Riker: "You ever notice almost every other ship we run into has had a bad accident? How the hell does Starfleet even stay in business?"
 
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GEORDI: This is it...

DATA: What?

GEORDI: A mint condition Playmates TNG transporter toy from the 1990s.

DATA: No box?

GEORDI: I hate you.
 
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Worf (O/S): Borg cube approaching at high warp, sir!
Picard: Red Alert! Commander Riker, scramble all Viper squadrons immediately!
Crusher: You *do* know those are from Battlestar Galactica, not Star Trek, right?
Picard: ... Frak.

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Data: Why is the force field necessary, Geordi?
LaForge: Well, Red Matter is extremely dangerous, so I wanted to keep it contained.
Data: Red Matter? But it does not appear to be red.
LaForge: Oh, I mixed it with some White Matter we had in storage.
Data: I am beginning to suspect we need better scientific advisers in this franchise.

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Romulan: Nice sash.
Worf: Ugh. It is a baldric. Baldric! How hard is it for the scriptwriters to get that right?!

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Ro: Eight-hour away team duty? I'm glad I took Imodium AD.
Riker: Who are you talking to?
Ro: You know... everyone.

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Riker: Riker to Picard. Sorry sir, there's no sign of that damn fourth wall down here, either!
 
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Geordi: "Look, Data, I don't ask questions. If Dr. Crusher wants a drop of antimatter in her Cosmo, then that's what she's getting."
 
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