Seven Words in TNG

demonstrated the effectiveness of this technique, but

 

Spot was slow to respond to his

 

slave Data's request of a more luxurious

 

pillow, which ruined everything. "Fine. I'll just

 

not sleep anymore!" snapped Data. "You just

 

forced me to use my gigantic intellect

 

. Now my capacitors are aching for discharge

 

.

"Oh, you jewel, that's just what Mistress

 

requires," said Zombie Yar, her teeth chattering

 

, "Night of the Living Red-Shirts,"

 

in a pretty obvious attempt to distract

 

him from his true function. "Now prepare

 

for a threesome to die for, Yar,"

 

said Data. "I'm already dead," she said.

 

"Kinky," Data replied, "I've always wondered how

 

a zombie sex slave would go about

 

making crank telephone calls while moonlighting as

 

a forensic scientist. The dead know death

 

like a dominatrix knows pain, suddenly a ...

 

plot line came to the next poster: