Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Unofficially Certifiable
“Hello! Welcome to your annual Starfleet psychological evaluation,” Dr. Migleemo greeted sitting in his office. “Being peppered with a spice grinder of temperature-probing questions can often stir up feelings of anxiousness, anxiety and nervousness, but rest assured everything we discuss here will remain under the canning lid of doctor-patient confidentiality. Starfleet simply wishes to prevent the overbaking of your brain and make sure you are maintaining a healthy mental diet, thus keeping your mind crisp, chef knife-sharp and fresh.”
“Oooh, this is so exciting!” Tendi squealed sitting across from him on the couch. “I’ve never been psychologically evaluated before! Well, except for the psych test I took in order to enter the Academy, but that was purposely intended to provoke high levels of stress and fear. This should be a lot more fun. Let’s get started!”
“As you wish,” Migleemo smiled. “So tell me, how are things going, D’Vana? Any pickled problems or sour issues you’d like to dish out?”
“Nope, none at all,” Tendi chirped. “I volunteer for extra duty shifts outside of Sickbay to help broaden my knowledge of starship operations. I’m always learning new procedures, protocols and techniques from Doctor T’Ana. And I’m very close to finishing my latest, most ambitious side project in Medical!”
“Splendid! Always happy to hear of a savory, slow cooked plan coming to fruition,” Migleemo said. “What about off-duty? Do you feel you’re able to relax and are maintaining a good, well-flavored work-life balance?”
“Oh yes,” Tendi nodded. “I catch the medically recommended amount of REM sleep every week. I often hang out in the bar and enjoy a drink or two with my friends. And on the days when I spend long hours working on the ship I unwind by spending long hours working on a model version of the ship.”
“I see,” Migleemo made a note on his padd. “And how are your relationships with your colleagues? Any spiny crab issues popping up between you and your fellow crewmates?”
“None that I can think of,” Tendi shrugged. “I think I get along well with everyone I work with. Everybody is always so positive and optimistic! Well, except for Doctor T’Ana. She’s usually pretty irritable and cranky, but she’s like towards everyone. Uh, in a good Chief Medical Officer way, of course.”
“Of course,” Migleemo nodded.
“Doctor T’Ana does criticize me for being too cheerful and optimistic sometimes,” Tendi went on. “She says I need to toughen up and prepare for when things don’t work out for the best. When everything goes straight to heck and no amount of positive attitude or outstanding medical talent will save a patient from experiencing pain, unimaginable loss or, dare I say, death.”
“Are you prepared for the worst?” Migleemo asked gently. “Do you feel you can sufficiently wrap yourself in a hard crust of medical professionalism and avoid the bitter aftertaste of failure?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Tendi admitted thoughtfully. “I understand the risks that come with having a life in Starfleet. At least, I think I understand. Thank goodness I haven’t had to face any really difficult medical issues yet. Like telling a child their parents have been lost in an accident or informing a dying patient they can’t be saved despite all the fantastic medical knowledge and equipment at our disposal. It’s scary just thinking about it. I know it’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to save every patient I treat, but I can sure darn well try!”
“Good. That’s just the kind of determined, maturating attitude Starfleet is looking for in its officers,” Migleemo smiled in approval. “Speaking of which, have you lost any patients during your Starfleet career?”
“Thankfully no,” Tendi sighed in relief. “Though Lieutenant O’Connor was technically lost when he ascended and became a being of pure energy. And I was kinda responsible for helping him ascend by worrying and trying so hard to make him like me.”
“Really?” Migleemo raised an eyebrow. “Why is that? Was there some kind of romantic relationship cooking up between you two?”
“No, nothing like that,” Tendi waved. “Although we did kiss right before he ascended, but that was a sudden, spur-of-the-moment act of relief considering we’d just barely avoided been killed by being drowned, crushed or blown up! O’Connor was so angry at me for ruining his supposed ascension earlier that day. I just wanted him to like me.”
“Interesting,” Migleemo made another note. “And why was getting O’Connor’s cookie stamp of approval so important to you?”
“I don’t know. It just was,” Tendi fidgeted. “It really kills me when someone doesn’t like me. I like to be liked! Is that so bad?”
“As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone or interfere with your mental health,” Migleemo said. “Remember, trimming the hard outer leaves of one’s own mental artichoke helps one access the tender emotional choke within.”
“Uh, if you say so,” Tendi looked slightly confused.
Migleemo paused and cautiously peered over the rim of his glasses. “Does this obsession about being liked by others ever leave a rotten, spoiling effect on your behavior? Does the very thought of receiving the sweet approval of others ever cause you to act too eager to please, be less assertive or prevent you from making independent decisions on your own?”
“I hope not,” Tendi fretted nervously. “Okay, maybe offering O’Connor hot stone massages and cetacean-assisted swimming therapy was a little overboard, but it was all for a good cause! And everything did work out alright in the end. I think…”
“I see,” Migleemo made more notes. “Well, in that case I believe you have a good grasp on your ‘being liked’ issue so long as you avoid adding any active yeast to it and let it overflow your baking pan of reason. Similar to saving lives in Medical, it’s inevitable someone onboard does not like you and you mustn’t let it stir up your emotions, have them boil over and end up burning those around you.”
“Don’t worry. I can do that…wait a minute,” Tendi’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘someone onboard doesn’t like me’? Don’t you mean ‘someone onboard will not like me’?”
“Excuse me?” Migleemo blinked, confused.
“‘Will not’ is future tense. ‘Does not’ is present tense,” Tendi explained. “That means there’s someone onboard who doesn’t like me right now!”
“Uh, not necessarily,” Migleemo gulped.
“Oh, I think there is!” Tendi shouted leaping across the table and grabbing Migleemo by his lapels. “What, did someone tell you they didn’t like me or something? It’s not that I care, but if they did I feel like I have a right to know! To heck with doctor-patient confidentiality! Who was it? What did they say? What is it about me they don’t like? ANSWER ME!”
“Accckkk!” Migleemo yelped as Tendi proceeded to throttle him. “This isn’t what I meant when I suggested accessing one’s tender emotional choke! Gaaahhh!”
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Later…
“Hi. Sorry for my early tardiness,” Boimler apologized taking a seat in Migleemo’s office. “I meant to arrive for my psychological evaluation five minutes early instead of two minutes, but I had to recalibrate the calibration matrix, record a quick personal log, avoid the sudden mini-ion storm that appeared in the middle of Deck Six and…uh, are you alright, sir? I mean, counselor. I mean, doctor…”
“Oh, yes. I’m fine,” Migleemo coughed looking fairly ruffled. “You took the pasta letters right out of my mouth, Bradward. That was going to be my question to you.”
“Ah. Well, I’m doing okay,” Boimler shrugged. “No real complaints. I’m performing my duties with a positive attitude and to the best of my abilities. Even when I’m assigned to lubricating turbolift shafts or degaussing transporter pads.”
“Really?” Migleemo raised an eyebrow. “Last time we spoke you seemed squash-bent on turning lemonade into lemons.”
“That was a while ago,” Boimler coughed self-consciously. “It was right after you first came onboard and at the time I was still dealing with one or two relatively recent, lingering issues …”
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Flashback…
“Why did Barbara break up with me? Why? WHY?!” Boimler cried curled up on Migleemo’s office couch. He tightly hugged a stuffed, uniformed bear to his chest like a life preserver. “She left me! She left us! Why did she do that, LeVar? We were so good together…”
“Mmmm hmmm,” Migleemo blinked watching the spectacle.
“And the worst part is she liked me. She really liked me!” Boimler wept blowing his nose into his sleeve. “It wasn’t because I was under the influence of some stupid, body chemistry-altering parasite. Barbara liked me for who I really am! She even admitted it out loud and still broke up with me anyway!”
“I see,” Migleemo’s eyes glazed over.
“WHY DID SHE DO THAT?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!” Boimler howled with tears streaming down his face. “HOW COULD SHE CASUALLY BREAK MY HEART LIKE THAT?! DIDN’T SHE KNOW I’M ONLY HUMAN?! BARBARA! PLEASE COME BACK TO ME! WAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
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Now…
“You managed to make quite a pot of whine and sour soup that day,” Migleemo recalled. “The carpet still has salt stains streaked across it.”
“Oops. Sorry,” Boimler blushed. “That was just a one-time thing. I’m much better now. I’ve moved on and have devoted all my energy back towards my first, greatest love: Starfleet.”
“Excellent,” Migleemo smiled. “Even the bitterest emotional indigestion can be soothed by a spoonful of life-orienting comfort food and, like most bowel obstructions, will eventually pass.”
“O-kay. Good to know,” Boimler gave him a funny look. “Anyway, I’m done worrying and fretting over the failed romantic relationships of my past. From now on I’m focusing on building a better future for myself, for others and the rest of humanity. Which will eventually culminate in my inevitable promotion!”
“I see,” Migleemo consulted his padd. “Still fixated on moving up the oven rack of rank, eh Bradward?”
“Well, yeah,” Boimler confirmed. “Who wouldn’t want to rank up and someday sit it the captain’s chair?”
“You’d be surprised, but let’s focus on you,” Migleemo studied him for a moment. “Where do you think this burning skewer of promotion fixation comes from? Do you regularly long to be noticed and receive tidbits of praise and affirmation from your superior officers?”
“Well, yes,” Boimler admitted.
“Why do you think that is?” Migleemo asked. “Were you often ignored or fed a steady diet of disapproval by your parents as a child?”
“No! Of course not! My parents were great!” Boimler proclaimed. “I’m not a child anymore! I’m a fully-grown man!”
“Physically, yes,” Migleemo pointed out. “Mentally and emotionally however…”
“Look, seeking promotion isn’t a bad thing,” Boimler pointed out. “Working to better myself is a byproduct of my ambition to achieve great things in Starfleet and explode the wonders of the galaxy along the way.”
“An occasional serving of unadulterated ambition is okay, but binging on it can often result in severe mental digestive problems,” Migleemo warned. “What about your fellow crewmates? How do they fit into your ambitions? Do you see them as fellow croissants-in-arms or as bunches of grapes to be squashed?”
“What?! No! Never!” Boimler defended. “They’re my best friends! I see and support them as the wonderful, supportive people they are. They help me be a better person! With one exception…”
“Ah, would that exception be Beckett?” Migleemo raised an eyebrow. “The optional ingredient in the recipe of your life?”
“Well, mayyyyyybe a little,” Boimler sighed reluctantly. “Mariner’s a friend and all, but sometimes she can come across as obnoxious and overbearing. Even unwelcome or bullying at times. And sometimes she can be downright insufferable!”
“How so?” Migleemo asked. “Does your relationship with her seem laced with the toxic bite of the borgia plant? Do you feel Beckett treats you less like a bread pudding soufflé and more like an over-kneaded lump of discarded biscuit dough?”
“Yes! No! I don’t know!” Boimler threw up his hands. “Mariner is just so darn unpredictable. One minute she’ll be backing me up, risking it all to make sure we both make it out of some absurd, improbable situation alive, and the next minute she’ll casually feed me to the wolves just so she can kick back and have a drink!”
“And how has Beckett’s behavior impacted you?” Migleemo went on. “Do you resent her presence when she slathers disruptive rémoulade on top of your untouched career sandwich? Does your triple-layered cake of self-esteem collapse when served alongside Beckett’s chaotic, coconut cream tart?”
“Sometimes,” Boimler admitted quietly. “Mariner has such a strong, dominant personality. I know she means well deep down, but the way she treats me sometimes can be really dismissive and off-putting. Sometimes I feel I’d simply be a lot better off without her.”
“Would you?” Migleemo asked gently.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Boimler sighed looking thoughtful. “On one hand, I’d probably have a lot more freedom to reach my full potential and show my superior officers what I can really do. On the other hand, Mariner’s constant teasing and mockery helps motivate me to overcome potential obstacles and leaves me all the more determined to prove her wrong. And when I do succeed she’s right there cheering me on and joining in celebrating my success, no matter how grudgingly. Though one thing I could gladly do without is her persistent habit of breaking protocol and getting me into trouble. It’s amazing my service record has remained spotless this long without receiving multiple demerits and court-martials!”
“I see,” Migleemo made more notes. “Well, I hope your pretzeled relationship with Beckett hasn’t spoiled your relationships with others. Have your baking soda and vinegar reactions with her soured your attitudes towards potential future romantic relationships?”
“Of course not. I’d love to have a healthy, affectionate relationship with a special somebody someday,” Boimler smiled dreamily. “Or even many somebodies. Exclusive- or long-term relationships aren’t exactly necessary. This is the twenty-fourth century after all. I’m open to anything!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Migleemo commented. “And you’re sure your prior sunken romantic relationship soufflés won’t prevent you from rising to mix, meet and bake new ones in the future?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve learned from my mistakes,” Boimler assured him. “I won’t let old issues with any of my ex-girlfriends get me down. I’ll face the future without fear or any residual hang-ups with my past.”
Thirty seconds later…
“WHY, BARBARA, WHY?!” Boimler wept clawing at his hair. “HOW COULD YOU HAVE SHATTERED MY HEART LIKE THAT?! MY HEART ISN’T ARTIFICIAL YOU KNOW! HOW COULD YOU HAVE CHOSEN YOUR STARFLEET CAREER OVER ME? THE TWO OF US WEREN’T HOPELESSLY INCOMPATABLE! OTHER COUPLES HAVE MADE IT WORK! WE COULD’VE TOO!”
“Uh, Bradward?” Migleemo attempted to interrupt.
“OH, BARBARA! BARBARA! BARBARA!” Boimler cried leaping up and wrapping a startled Migleemo in a bear hug. “HOW COULD YOU HAVE EVER TURNED ME DOWN FOR A LOWLY ALIEN PARASITE?! I HAVE LOTS OF FASCINATING ASPECTS, ATTRIBUTES AND FEELINGS TOO! I’M NOT JUST A CUTE UNIFORMED PIECE OF MEAT! I’M A MAN! A MAN…WAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
“Ughhh!” Migleemo squawked while desperately attempting to free himself from Boimler’s clutches. “I’ve heard of sticky romantic attachments before, but this is ridiculous!”
--------------------------------------
Unofficially Certifiable
“Hello! Welcome to your annual Starfleet psychological evaluation,” Dr. Migleemo greeted sitting in his office. “Being peppered with a spice grinder of temperature-probing questions can often stir up feelings of anxiousness, anxiety and nervousness, but rest assured everything we discuss here will remain under the canning lid of doctor-patient confidentiality. Starfleet simply wishes to prevent the overbaking of your brain and make sure you are maintaining a healthy mental diet, thus keeping your mind crisp, chef knife-sharp and fresh.”
“Oooh, this is so exciting!” Tendi squealed sitting across from him on the couch. “I’ve never been psychologically evaluated before! Well, except for the psych test I took in order to enter the Academy, but that was purposely intended to provoke high levels of stress and fear. This should be a lot more fun. Let’s get started!”
“As you wish,” Migleemo smiled. “So tell me, how are things going, D’Vana? Any pickled problems or sour issues you’d like to dish out?”
“Nope, none at all,” Tendi chirped. “I volunteer for extra duty shifts outside of Sickbay to help broaden my knowledge of starship operations. I’m always learning new procedures, protocols and techniques from Doctor T’Ana. And I’m very close to finishing my latest, most ambitious side project in Medical!”
“Splendid! Always happy to hear of a savory, slow cooked plan coming to fruition,” Migleemo said. “What about off-duty? Do you feel you’re able to relax and are maintaining a good, well-flavored work-life balance?”
“Oh yes,” Tendi nodded. “I catch the medically recommended amount of REM sleep every week. I often hang out in the bar and enjoy a drink or two with my friends. And on the days when I spend long hours working on the ship I unwind by spending long hours working on a model version of the ship.”
“I see,” Migleemo made a note on his padd. “And how are your relationships with your colleagues? Any spiny crab issues popping up between you and your fellow crewmates?”
“None that I can think of,” Tendi shrugged. “I think I get along well with everyone I work with. Everybody is always so positive and optimistic! Well, except for Doctor T’Ana. She’s usually pretty irritable and cranky, but she’s like towards everyone. Uh, in a good Chief Medical Officer way, of course.”
“Of course,” Migleemo nodded.
“Doctor T’Ana does criticize me for being too cheerful and optimistic sometimes,” Tendi went on. “She says I need to toughen up and prepare for when things don’t work out for the best. When everything goes straight to heck and no amount of positive attitude or outstanding medical talent will save a patient from experiencing pain, unimaginable loss or, dare I say, death.”
“Are you prepared for the worst?” Migleemo asked gently. “Do you feel you can sufficiently wrap yourself in a hard crust of medical professionalism and avoid the bitter aftertaste of failure?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Tendi admitted thoughtfully. “I understand the risks that come with having a life in Starfleet. At least, I think I understand. Thank goodness I haven’t had to face any really difficult medical issues yet. Like telling a child their parents have been lost in an accident or informing a dying patient they can’t be saved despite all the fantastic medical knowledge and equipment at our disposal. It’s scary just thinking about it. I know it’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to save every patient I treat, but I can sure darn well try!”
“Good. That’s just the kind of determined, maturating attitude Starfleet is looking for in its officers,” Migleemo smiled in approval. “Speaking of which, have you lost any patients during your Starfleet career?”
“Thankfully no,” Tendi sighed in relief. “Though Lieutenant O’Connor was technically lost when he ascended and became a being of pure energy. And I was kinda responsible for helping him ascend by worrying and trying so hard to make him like me.”
“Really?” Migleemo raised an eyebrow. “Why is that? Was there some kind of romantic relationship cooking up between you two?”
“No, nothing like that,” Tendi waved. “Although we did kiss right before he ascended, but that was a sudden, spur-of-the-moment act of relief considering we’d just barely avoided been killed by being drowned, crushed or blown up! O’Connor was so angry at me for ruining his supposed ascension earlier that day. I just wanted him to like me.”
“Interesting,” Migleemo made another note. “And why was getting O’Connor’s cookie stamp of approval so important to you?”
“I don’t know. It just was,” Tendi fidgeted. “It really kills me when someone doesn’t like me. I like to be liked! Is that so bad?”
“As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone or interfere with your mental health,” Migleemo said. “Remember, trimming the hard outer leaves of one’s own mental artichoke helps one access the tender emotional choke within.”
“Uh, if you say so,” Tendi looked slightly confused.
Migleemo paused and cautiously peered over the rim of his glasses. “Does this obsession about being liked by others ever leave a rotten, spoiling effect on your behavior? Does the very thought of receiving the sweet approval of others ever cause you to act too eager to please, be less assertive or prevent you from making independent decisions on your own?”
“I hope not,” Tendi fretted nervously. “Okay, maybe offering O’Connor hot stone massages and cetacean-assisted swimming therapy was a little overboard, but it was all for a good cause! And everything did work out alright in the end. I think…”
“I see,” Migleemo made more notes. “Well, in that case I believe you have a good grasp on your ‘being liked’ issue so long as you avoid adding any active yeast to it and let it overflow your baking pan of reason. Similar to saving lives in Medical, it’s inevitable someone onboard does not like you and you mustn’t let it stir up your emotions, have them boil over and end up burning those around you.”
“Don’t worry. I can do that…wait a minute,” Tendi’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘someone onboard doesn’t like me’? Don’t you mean ‘someone onboard will not like me’?”
“Excuse me?” Migleemo blinked, confused.
“‘Will not’ is future tense. ‘Does not’ is present tense,” Tendi explained. “That means there’s someone onboard who doesn’t like me right now!”
“Uh, not necessarily,” Migleemo gulped.
“Oh, I think there is!” Tendi shouted leaping across the table and grabbing Migleemo by his lapels. “What, did someone tell you they didn’t like me or something? It’s not that I care, but if they did I feel like I have a right to know! To heck with doctor-patient confidentiality! Who was it? What did they say? What is it about me they don’t like? ANSWER ME!”
“Accckkk!” Migleemo yelped as Tendi proceeded to throttle him. “This isn’t what I meant when I suggested accessing one’s tender emotional choke! Gaaahhh!”
--------------------------------------
Later…
“Hi. Sorry for my early tardiness,” Boimler apologized taking a seat in Migleemo’s office. “I meant to arrive for my psychological evaluation five minutes early instead of two minutes, but I had to recalibrate the calibration matrix, record a quick personal log, avoid the sudden mini-ion storm that appeared in the middle of Deck Six and…uh, are you alright, sir? I mean, counselor. I mean, doctor…”
“Oh, yes. I’m fine,” Migleemo coughed looking fairly ruffled. “You took the pasta letters right out of my mouth, Bradward. That was going to be my question to you.”
“Ah. Well, I’m doing okay,” Boimler shrugged. “No real complaints. I’m performing my duties with a positive attitude and to the best of my abilities. Even when I’m assigned to lubricating turbolift shafts or degaussing transporter pads.”
“Really?” Migleemo raised an eyebrow. “Last time we spoke you seemed squash-bent on turning lemonade into lemons.”
“That was a while ago,” Boimler coughed self-consciously. “It was right after you first came onboard and at the time I was still dealing with one or two relatively recent, lingering issues …”
--------------------------------------
Flashback…
“Why did Barbara break up with me? Why? WHY?!” Boimler cried curled up on Migleemo’s office couch. He tightly hugged a stuffed, uniformed bear to his chest like a life preserver. “She left me! She left us! Why did she do that, LeVar? We were so good together…”
“Mmmm hmmm,” Migleemo blinked watching the spectacle.
“And the worst part is she liked me. She really liked me!” Boimler wept blowing his nose into his sleeve. “It wasn’t because I was under the influence of some stupid, body chemistry-altering parasite. Barbara liked me for who I really am! She even admitted it out loud and still broke up with me anyway!”
“I see,” Migleemo’s eyes glazed over.
“WHY DID SHE DO THAT?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!” Boimler howled with tears streaming down his face. “HOW COULD SHE CASUALLY BREAK MY HEART LIKE THAT?! DIDN’T SHE KNOW I’M ONLY HUMAN?! BARBARA! PLEASE COME BACK TO ME! WAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
--------------------------------------
Now…
“You managed to make quite a pot of whine and sour soup that day,” Migleemo recalled. “The carpet still has salt stains streaked across it.”
“Oops. Sorry,” Boimler blushed. “That was just a one-time thing. I’m much better now. I’ve moved on and have devoted all my energy back towards my first, greatest love: Starfleet.”
“Excellent,” Migleemo smiled. “Even the bitterest emotional indigestion can be soothed by a spoonful of life-orienting comfort food and, like most bowel obstructions, will eventually pass.”
“O-kay. Good to know,” Boimler gave him a funny look. “Anyway, I’m done worrying and fretting over the failed romantic relationships of my past. From now on I’m focusing on building a better future for myself, for others and the rest of humanity. Which will eventually culminate in my inevitable promotion!”
“I see,” Migleemo consulted his padd. “Still fixated on moving up the oven rack of rank, eh Bradward?”
“Well, yeah,” Boimler confirmed. “Who wouldn’t want to rank up and someday sit it the captain’s chair?”
“You’d be surprised, but let’s focus on you,” Migleemo studied him for a moment. “Where do you think this burning skewer of promotion fixation comes from? Do you regularly long to be noticed and receive tidbits of praise and affirmation from your superior officers?”
“Well, yes,” Boimler admitted.
“Why do you think that is?” Migleemo asked. “Were you often ignored or fed a steady diet of disapproval by your parents as a child?”
“No! Of course not! My parents were great!” Boimler proclaimed. “I’m not a child anymore! I’m a fully-grown man!”
“Physically, yes,” Migleemo pointed out. “Mentally and emotionally however…”
“Look, seeking promotion isn’t a bad thing,” Boimler pointed out. “Working to better myself is a byproduct of my ambition to achieve great things in Starfleet and explode the wonders of the galaxy along the way.”
“An occasional serving of unadulterated ambition is okay, but binging on it can often result in severe mental digestive problems,” Migleemo warned. “What about your fellow crewmates? How do they fit into your ambitions? Do you see them as fellow croissants-in-arms or as bunches of grapes to be squashed?”
“What?! No! Never!” Boimler defended. “They’re my best friends! I see and support them as the wonderful, supportive people they are. They help me be a better person! With one exception…”
“Ah, would that exception be Beckett?” Migleemo raised an eyebrow. “The optional ingredient in the recipe of your life?”
“Well, mayyyyyybe a little,” Boimler sighed reluctantly. “Mariner’s a friend and all, but sometimes she can come across as obnoxious and overbearing. Even unwelcome or bullying at times. And sometimes she can be downright insufferable!”
“How so?” Migleemo asked. “Does your relationship with her seem laced with the toxic bite of the borgia plant? Do you feel Beckett treats you less like a bread pudding soufflé and more like an over-kneaded lump of discarded biscuit dough?”
“Yes! No! I don’t know!” Boimler threw up his hands. “Mariner is just so darn unpredictable. One minute she’ll be backing me up, risking it all to make sure we both make it out of some absurd, improbable situation alive, and the next minute she’ll casually feed me to the wolves just so she can kick back and have a drink!”
“And how has Beckett’s behavior impacted you?” Migleemo went on. “Do you resent her presence when she slathers disruptive rémoulade on top of your untouched career sandwich? Does your triple-layered cake of self-esteem collapse when served alongside Beckett’s chaotic, coconut cream tart?”
“Sometimes,” Boimler admitted quietly. “Mariner has such a strong, dominant personality. I know she means well deep down, but the way she treats me sometimes can be really dismissive and off-putting. Sometimes I feel I’d simply be a lot better off without her.”
“Would you?” Migleemo asked gently.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Boimler sighed looking thoughtful. “On one hand, I’d probably have a lot more freedom to reach my full potential and show my superior officers what I can really do. On the other hand, Mariner’s constant teasing and mockery helps motivate me to overcome potential obstacles and leaves me all the more determined to prove her wrong. And when I do succeed she’s right there cheering me on and joining in celebrating my success, no matter how grudgingly. Though one thing I could gladly do without is her persistent habit of breaking protocol and getting me into trouble. It’s amazing my service record has remained spotless this long without receiving multiple demerits and court-martials!”
“I see,” Migleemo made more notes. “Well, I hope your pretzeled relationship with Beckett hasn’t spoiled your relationships with others. Have your baking soda and vinegar reactions with her soured your attitudes towards potential future romantic relationships?”
“Of course not. I’d love to have a healthy, affectionate relationship with a special somebody someday,” Boimler smiled dreamily. “Or even many somebodies. Exclusive- or long-term relationships aren’t exactly necessary. This is the twenty-fourth century after all. I’m open to anything!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Migleemo commented. “And you’re sure your prior sunken romantic relationship soufflés won’t prevent you from rising to mix, meet and bake new ones in the future?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve learned from my mistakes,” Boimler assured him. “I won’t let old issues with any of my ex-girlfriends get me down. I’ll face the future without fear or any residual hang-ups with my past.”
Thirty seconds later…
“WHY, BARBARA, WHY?!” Boimler wept clawing at his hair. “HOW COULD YOU HAVE SHATTERED MY HEART LIKE THAT?! MY HEART ISN’T ARTIFICIAL YOU KNOW! HOW COULD YOU HAVE CHOSEN YOUR STARFLEET CAREER OVER ME? THE TWO OF US WEREN’T HOPELESSLY INCOMPATABLE! OTHER COUPLES HAVE MADE IT WORK! WE COULD’VE TOO!”
“Uh, Bradward?” Migleemo attempted to interrupt.
“OH, BARBARA! BARBARA! BARBARA!” Boimler cried leaping up and wrapping a startled Migleemo in a bear hug. “HOW COULD YOU HAVE EVER TURNED ME DOWN FOR A LOWLY ALIEN PARASITE?! I HAVE LOTS OF FASCINATING ASPECTS, ATTRIBUTES AND FEELINGS TOO! I’M NOT JUST A CUTE UNIFORMED PIECE OF MEAT! I’M A MAN! A MAN…WAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
“Ughhh!” Migleemo squawked while desperately attempting to free himself from Boimler’s clutches. “I’ve heard of sticky romantic attachments before, but this is ridiculous!”
Thanks!! rbs
