Discussion in 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' started by CaptainStoner, Aug 20, 2009.
noxious gas. Picard replicated a rolled newspaper.
"Thanks for killing me, douche," uttered a
bitterly jealous rival of Wesley 'Birdchest' Crusher.
"That's the same way I would have
reacted if noxious urine gas killed me
, or my head were crushed between Worf's
thighs during one of his Klingon mating
rituals which last six days involving castanets
, a pineapple, handcuffs, six puppies, Engelbert Humperdinck
music, fresh poinsettas, and nachos smothered with
blood sauce. "The crew seems preoccupied with
bodily activities," Data noted, as he methodically
danced a perfect "Robot" across the bridge.
"Oh, Mr. Data, you have a lot
of hutzpa doing that dance here!" jeered
Mr. Barclay from his station over at
Enterprise lurched ominously; crewmen careened, flying
like Peter Pan, but less homo-erotically.
Andorian Elvis swiveled like a hound dog,
while some very effeminate ensigns vogued impressively.
Separate names with a comma.