Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Insanity à la Starfleet
“You guys are going down!” Boimler declared confidently.
“In your dreams!” Rutherford scoffed. “You guys may have bested us many times before, but this time we’re going to stomp you all straight through the bulkheads!”
“Ooo, them’s fightin’ words,” Mariner mocked running a final check on her chosen loadout. “You think you and the rest of your tech-sciency nerds are so tough, Ruthy? Bring it on!”
“Oh, it’s been brought on!” Tendi grinned twirling a knife in one hand while brimming in anticipation. “Stop trying to delay the inevitable already and let’s do this!”
“Alright, attention everyone,” Captain Freeman said standing behind a raised table and platform situated at the end of the ship’s largest assembly room. Nearly the entire crew of the Cerritos was present. “This is the moment you have all been waiting for. Are you ready?”
“Yes!” The crowd of eager and armed Starfleet officers roared.
“In that case,” Freeman paused dramatically. “I officially welcome you to the Annual Intra Division Pie Eating Contest.” She picked up a small mallet and rang a ceremonial bell sitting on the table. “Begin!”
“Yay!” Everyone cheered while wielding a full pie pan and their personal selection of utensils.
“Alright! Let’s do this!” Mariner whooped scooping up a heaping serving of strawberry pie. “Open wide, Ruthy!”
“Aaaummm!” Rutherford did so as Mariner shoved a forkful of pie into his waiting mouth. The rest of the assembled Starfleet officers also began busily feeding pie to each other instead of feeding themselves. “Mmm, delicious!”
“Here you go, Boimler,” Tendi said feeding Boimler a generous spoonful of pie.
“Thanks,” Boimler smiled returning the favor. “Here’s some for you too.”
“Hey, quit loafing around Boims and get the pie out already!” Mariner urged running around while dropping scoops of pie into every waiting mouth she came across. “You know how the contest works. We’re not judged by how much pie we eat, but on how much pie we feed to others.”
“Relax. I’m just pacing myself,” Boimler waved while happily munching on pie. “This is a long contest. Don’t wanna burn myself out the first few minutes in.”
“Oh yeah, this is great!” Lieutenant Commander Stevens grinned snagging a bite of pie from a passing Ensign Vendome. “I am so ready for this! The Command division is going to wipe the floor with you all…aaaccckkk!” Stevens suddenly choked and dropped his pie pan while holding his hands over his stomach. “Oh, my belly! Oh, the pain! I think I ate too fast! Help! Medic!”
“Case in point,” Boimler said.
“That doesn’t count! Stevens always drops out after his first three bites,” Mariner rolled her eyes as a waiting Medical team quickly carried Stevens to the designated waiting area for those no longer in the contest. “That guy is a complete drag on the entire Command division. Not only does he barely contribute to the Command division’s pie eating total, he doesn’t add much to the division’s pie serving total either.”
“Well, the pie eating contest really isn’t about winning,” Boimler pointed out while mutually serving and eating pie with Lieutenant Darra. “It’s a metaphorical experience that reinforces the core belief of Starfleet officers working together to serve one another while having a good time and enjoying one another’s company.”
“Sure, that’s the official version,” Mariner drawled shoving an entire slice of pie into Lieutenant Dahae’s waiting mouth. “The real reason is to shamelessly pig out on pie and revel in the unrestrained gluttony that only those living in a replicator-saturated society can enjoy.”
“That too,” Rutherford smiled receiving another serving of pie. “Mmmm, nice crust! So crisp and flakey!”
“I really like this contest,” Tendi chirped getting another pie and expertly cut it into slices. “We never did anything like this on Outpost 79.”
“I really like this contest too,” Mariner said around a mouthful of pie Ensign Meredith had fed her. “Especially by totally rolling over the competition and scoring the big win!”
“By collectively eating and serving as much pie as possible as rated by the ship’s various divisions?” Rutherford asked.
“No, by making a fortune running and winning all the bets and side bets in the ship’s pool,” Mariner grinned.
“Of course,” Boimler sighed. “Why else would you participate in the contest?”
“I know, right?” Mariner smirked shoving a spoonful of pie into Ensign Casey’s mouth. “It sure ain’t ‘cause of the strawberry pie, that’s for sure. Too bad it’s not rum- or ale-based filling pie. Now that would be a contest…!”
“Stop! Foul feeding,” A stone-faced, red-uniformed lieutenant suddenly appeared in front of Mariner. “You know the rules. No feeding pie to yourself or other members of the same ship’s division as your own unless there is only a single division remaining in the contest.” He quickly confiscated Mariner’s utensils and remain pie. “Five-minute timeout.”
“Timeout?” Mariner protested as she was led away to an empty penalty area. “Are you kidding me? What do you think this is, daycare? Do we look like a bunch of whiny, immature toddlers to you?”
“Alright! Operations division is winning! Need more filling over here! Great pie! Yum! Yum!” The assembled group of Starfleet officers whooped and laughed as they continued to serve and chow down on pie.
“What am I saying?” Mariner sulked while grumpily waiting in the designated penalty area. “Great, the one time I really hate being in the Brig.”
“Don’t worry, Mariner. I’ll pick up your lost slack,” Boimler grinned while eating and dishing out more pie. “Alright! I’m hitting my stride now! Bring it on!”
“Oh man, Sciences just shot way ahead,” Rutherford groaned noting the newly updated totals. “They must’ve just gotten an updated pie eating report from the participants in Cetacean Ops.”
“Wait, how is that fair?” Tendi asked, confused. “Cetaceans can consume way more pie than the average humanoid. They have a natural eating advantage. Wait, can cetaceans even eat and digest pie?”
“Not the kind of pies the rest of us are eating,” Boimler explained. “The cetaceans’ ‘pies’ are actually just slabs of replicated fish-based proteins. We tried using raw seafood-filling pies last year in the spirit of inclusivity and camaraderie, but they didn’t go over so well with most of the crew…”
“Don’t remind me,” Mariner shuddered. “I swear some areas of waste extraction still smell like regurgitated halibut guts.”
“I see,” Tendi blinked.
“Ha! Look at that! Engineering division is now in the lead!” Rutherford crowed pointed at the running point totals. “Keep up the good work guys! Let’s show everyone just what Engineering can do!”
“Not for long! The Medical division has got you guys beat!” Tendi cheered while rapidly serving and consuming vast quantities of pie. “Yay!”
“What? Never!” Lieutenant Shaxs boomed tossing an empty pie pan over his shoulder. He speedily grabbed more loaded pans and began dishing out servings like a pulse cannon. “Nobody out-eats or out-serves Security! Aaahhhhhh!”
“Oh great. The Command division is now dead last,” Boimler groaned inspecting the totals. “Even the Exploratory division is ahead of us. Wait, what’s the difference between the ship’s Science, Medical and Exploratory divisions anyway?”
“The same difference between the Operations, Engineering and Security divisions!” Mariner called out to him. “It’s all relative to the era and whims of those in power! Now quit with the commentary and get your pie hole where the pie is!”
“Right!” Boimler cried quickly stepping up his game. “Ooo, sugar rush! Whoaaaa!”
“Well, looks like the annual pie eating contest is proceeding with the usual amount of dining etiquette and decorum,” Freeman sighed as she sat at the judge’s table along with most of the Cerritos’ senior officers while the rest of the crew continued to stuff each other silly. “Or more like lack thereof.”
“Look on the bright side, Captain,” Commander Ransom remarked. “Your decision to have strawberry pie this time means we’ll avoid repeating the messy fallout from last year’s pie eating fiasco.”
“What are you talking about? Those raw salmon and tuna filled pies were great,” Doctor T’Ana said smacking her lips at the memory. “Best type of pie filling we ever had!”
“That’s debatable,” Freeman grumbled. “If only there were a way to avoid consuming the inevitable multiple servings of the contest’s humble pie.”
“Hey, Beta Shifter!” A gold-uniformed ensign with an eyepatch called out. “Looks like you could use more pie!”
“No thanks. I’m still have half a mouthful left…aaaccckkk!” Boimler choked as the eyepatch-wearing ensign forcefully fed him some pie.
“Take this, cyborg!” Ensign Moxy grinned shoving a heaping serving of pie down Rutherford’s throat. “Let’s see your implant’s processors process that!”
“Gaaahhh!” Rutherford’s eye bulged as he struggled not to choke.
“Hey, that’s not nice,” Tendi glared at Moxy. She quickly cut out a large serving of pie. “Let’s see how you like it!”
“Uh-uh!” Moxy mockingly waved a finger in Tendi’s face. “That’s against the rules. We’re both in the same division. You can’t serve pie to me.”
“But I can!” A newly freed, pie-armed Mariner grinned bouncing out from the penalty area. “Here ya go!”
SPLAT!
“AAAHHHHHH!” Moxy screamed as Mariner shoved an entire strawberry pie into her face. “YEEEOOOWWW! THAT FILLING IS HOT! IT’S IN MY EYES! IT’S UP MY NOSE! OWIE! OWIE! OWIE!”
“Oops,” Mariner whistled innocently. “Sorry. My mistake.”
“I’ll show you a mistake!” Ensign Asif snapped grabbing a fresh pie and took aim.
“Hey, look! The Command division is almost in first place!” Boimler smiled at the latest totals. “We just need to eat and/or serve another thirty-six kilograms of pie to…AAAUUUGGGHHH!” Boimler yelped as Asif’s thrown pie splattered all over him. “GAAAHHHHHH! I’VE BEEN HIT!”
“Oops,” Asif blinked. “Sorry about that. I was aiming for Mariner.”
“Oh really?” Mariner grinned wickedly and quickly armed herself with more pie. “Well two can play that game!”
SPLAT!
“Ow!” Chief Lundy yelped as one of Mariner’s tossed pies missed Asif and smacked him instead. “Okay, who threw that?”
“Bleah! Yuck! I hate strawberries!” Lieutenant Levy spat from where he sat in the designated elimination area. “Strawberries are all part of an insidious plot to infiltrate every know form of pie and replace them with tarts, flans and quiches instead.”
“Hey, watch it!” Ensign sh’Reyan snapped with strawberry filling dripping from both her antennae. “Ugh, it’s in my hair!”
“Huh, guess my sky-high phaser accuracy doesn’t carry over when it comes to throwing pies,” Mariner commented. “That’s one weapon type I’ve never been able to master.”
“Really?” Rutherford blinked, surprised. “Gee, I wonder why?”
“What are you laughing at?” Levy glared as several nearby crewmembers chuckled at his predicament. “You think this is funny, huh? Well, let’s see you laugh at this!”
“Ah, look out!” Ensign Castro warned as Levy rushed to one of the waiting pie racks and began tossing pies in all directions.
“Yikes!” Vendome yelped while ducking multiple flung pies as other members of the crew swiftly retaliated against Levy.
“PIE FIGHT!” Mariner whooped leaping into the fray with a stack of pies in one hand and a heaping bowl of whipped cream in the other. “NOW THIS IS WHERE ALL THE PIE EATING CONTEST PRACTICE REALLY PAYS OFF!”
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Everyone in the immediate vicinity was quickly covered in crust, whipped cream and pie filling as they laughed and struggled to reply with pastry barrages of their own.
“And here comes the other inevitable aspect of the Annual Intra Division Pie Eating Contest,” Freeman groaned taking cover behind the judge’s table as the entire room erupted into an all-out pie- and whipped cream-fueled brawl. “Right on schedule.”
“Attack!” Shaxs roared leading the assembled Security members into battle. “Leave no pie or blob of filling uneaten!”
SPLAT!
“Aaahhhhhh! I’m hit!” Rutherford hammed it up as he was splattered with pie.
“No!” Tendi giggled playing along while easing Rutherford to the floor. “Don’t worry Rutherford! I got you!” She began quickly wiping away clumps of filling with some napkins. “I need a cortical stimulator and ten cc’s of caramel sauce, stat!”
“No! What are you people doing?!” Boimler cried as he futilely attempted to reign in the madness. “We can’t let another pie eating contest descend into this! Command division is this close to winning…AAAUUUGGGHHHHHH! WHO POURED FROZEN WHIPPED CREAM DOWN MY PANTS?! YEEEOOOWWW! THAT’S COLD! MARINER!”
“Hahahahaha!” Mariner cackled maniacally. “Tough luck, Boims. But when it comes to pie, it’s everyone for themselves!”
“Aaahhhhhh! Help! Save me!” Stevens wailed lying in the elimination area as blobs of stray crust and filling pelted his face. “NO! NOT THE MUSTACHE!”
“Now, people. You all really need to chill down your catalyst-driven impulses,” Dr. Migleemo suggested wadding into the mix. “There’s no need for such an overmixed mass of harmless, friendly frivolity…gaaahhhhhh!” Migleemo yelped as he was mercilessly bombarded with pie. “YAAAHHHHHH! HELP! MEEMA!”
“Maybe we should have someone select some kind of nut-filled pie for the pie eating contest next year,” Freeman groaned as untold amounts pie, shouts, laughter and insanity continued flying through the air. “Since we obviously have a limitless supply of one hundred percent-certified cracked nuts serving aboard this ship!”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
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Insanity à la Starfleet
“You guys are going down!” Boimler declared confidently.
“In your dreams!” Rutherford scoffed. “You guys may have bested us many times before, but this time we’re going to stomp you all straight through the bulkheads!”
“Ooo, them’s fightin’ words,” Mariner mocked running a final check on her chosen loadout. “You think you and the rest of your tech-sciency nerds are so tough, Ruthy? Bring it on!”
“Oh, it’s been brought on!” Tendi grinned twirling a knife in one hand while brimming in anticipation. “Stop trying to delay the inevitable already and let’s do this!”
“Alright, attention everyone,” Captain Freeman said standing behind a raised table and platform situated at the end of the ship’s largest assembly room. Nearly the entire crew of the Cerritos was present. “This is the moment you have all been waiting for. Are you ready?”
“Yes!” The crowd of eager and armed Starfleet officers roared.
“In that case,” Freeman paused dramatically. “I officially welcome you to the Annual Intra Division Pie Eating Contest.” She picked up a small mallet and rang a ceremonial bell sitting on the table. “Begin!”
“Yay!” Everyone cheered while wielding a full pie pan and their personal selection of utensils.
“Alright! Let’s do this!” Mariner whooped scooping up a heaping serving of strawberry pie. “Open wide, Ruthy!”
“Aaaummm!” Rutherford did so as Mariner shoved a forkful of pie into his waiting mouth. The rest of the assembled Starfleet officers also began busily feeding pie to each other instead of feeding themselves. “Mmm, delicious!”
“Here you go, Boimler,” Tendi said feeding Boimler a generous spoonful of pie.
“Thanks,” Boimler smiled returning the favor. “Here’s some for you too.”
“Hey, quit loafing around Boims and get the pie out already!” Mariner urged running around while dropping scoops of pie into every waiting mouth she came across. “You know how the contest works. We’re not judged by how much pie we eat, but on how much pie we feed to others.”
“Relax. I’m just pacing myself,” Boimler waved while happily munching on pie. “This is a long contest. Don’t wanna burn myself out the first few minutes in.”
“Oh yeah, this is great!” Lieutenant Commander Stevens grinned snagging a bite of pie from a passing Ensign Vendome. “I am so ready for this! The Command division is going to wipe the floor with you all…aaaccckkk!” Stevens suddenly choked and dropped his pie pan while holding his hands over his stomach. “Oh, my belly! Oh, the pain! I think I ate too fast! Help! Medic!”
“Case in point,” Boimler said.
“That doesn’t count! Stevens always drops out after his first three bites,” Mariner rolled her eyes as a waiting Medical team quickly carried Stevens to the designated waiting area for those no longer in the contest. “That guy is a complete drag on the entire Command division. Not only does he barely contribute to the Command division’s pie eating total, he doesn’t add much to the division’s pie serving total either.”
“Well, the pie eating contest really isn’t about winning,” Boimler pointed out while mutually serving and eating pie with Lieutenant Darra. “It’s a metaphorical experience that reinforces the core belief of Starfleet officers working together to serve one another while having a good time and enjoying one another’s company.”
“Sure, that’s the official version,” Mariner drawled shoving an entire slice of pie into Lieutenant Dahae’s waiting mouth. “The real reason is to shamelessly pig out on pie and revel in the unrestrained gluttony that only those living in a replicator-saturated society can enjoy.”
“That too,” Rutherford smiled receiving another serving of pie. “Mmmm, nice crust! So crisp and flakey!”
“I really like this contest,” Tendi chirped getting another pie and expertly cut it into slices. “We never did anything like this on Outpost 79.”
“I really like this contest too,” Mariner said around a mouthful of pie Ensign Meredith had fed her. “Especially by totally rolling over the competition and scoring the big win!”
“By collectively eating and serving as much pie as possible as rated by the ship’s various divisions?” Rutherford asked.
“No, by making a fortune running and winning all the bets and side bets in the ship’s pool,” Mariner grinned.
“Of course,” Boimler sighed. “Why else would you participate in the contest?”
“I know, right?” Mariner smirked shoving a spoonful of pie into Ensign Casey’s mouth. “It sure ain’t ‘cause of the strawberry pie, that’s for sure. Too bad it’s not rum- or ale-based filling pie. Now that would be a contest…!”
“Stop! Foul feeding,” A stone-faced, red-uniformed lieutenant suddenly appeared in front of Mariner. “You know the rules. No feeding pie to yourself or other members of the same ship’s division as your own unless there is only a single division remaining in the contest.” He quickly confiscated Mariner’s utensils and remain pie. “Five-minute timeout.”
“Timeout?” Mariner protested as she was led away to an empty penalty area. “Are you kidding me? What do you think this is, daycare? Do we look like a bunch of whiny, immature toddlers to you?”
“Alright! Operations division is winning! Need more filling over here! Great pie! Yum! Yum!” The assembled group of Starfleet officers whooped and laughed as they continued to serve and chow down on pie.
“What am I saying?” Mariner sulked while grumpily waiting in the designated penalty area. “Great, the one time I really hate being in the Brig.”
“Don’t worry, Mariner. I’ll pick up your lost slack,” Boimler grinned while eating and dishing out more pie. “Alright! I’m hitting my stride now! Bring it on!”
“Oh man, Sciences just shot way ahead,” Rutherford groaned noting the newly updated totals. “They must’ve just gotten an updated pie eating report from the participants in Cetacean Ops.”
“Wait, how is that fair?” Tendi asked, confused. “Cetaceans can consume way more pie than the average humanoid. They have a natural eating advantage. Wait, can cetaceans even eat and digest pie?”
“Not the kind of pies the rest of us are eating,” Boimler explained. “The cetaceans’ ‘pies’ are actually just slabs of replicated fish-based proteins. We tried using raw seafood-filling pies last year in the spirit of inclusivity and camaraderie, but they didn’t go over so well with most of the crew…”
“Don’t remind me,” Mariner shuddered. “I swear some areas of waste extraction still smell like regurgitated halibut guts.”
“I see,” Tendi blinked.
“Ha! Look at that! Engineering division is now in the lead!” Rutherford crowed pointed at the running point totals. “Keep up the good work guys! Let’s show everyone just what Engineering can do!”
“Not for long! The Medical division has got you guys beat!” Tendi cheered while rapidly serving and consuming vast quantities of pie. “Yay!”
“What? Never!” Lieutenant Shaxs boomed tossing an empty pie pan over his shoulder. He speedily grabbed more loaded pans and began dishing out servings like a pulse cannon. “Nobody out-eats or out-serves Security! Aaahhhhhh!”
“Oh great. The Command division is now dead last,” Boimler groaned inspecting the totals. “Even the Exploratory division is ahead of us. Wait, what’s the difference between the ship’s Science, Medical and Exploratory divisions anyway?”
“The same difference between the Operations, Engineering and Security divisions!” Mariner called out to him. “It’s all relative to the era and whims of those in power! Now quit with the commentary and get your pie hole where the pie is!”
“Right!” Boimler cried quickly stepping up his game. “Ooo, sugar rush! Whoaaaa!”
“Well, looks like the annual pie eating contest is proceeding with the usual amount of dining etiquette and decorum,” Freeman sighed as she sat at the judge’s table along with most of the Cerritos’ senior officers while the rest of the crew continued to stuff each other silly. “Or more like lack thereof.”
“Look on the bright side, Captain,” Commander Ransom remarked. “Your decision to have strawberry pie this time means we’ll avoid repeating the messy fallout from last year’s pie eating fiasco.”
“What are you talking about? Those raw salmon and tuna filled pies were great,” Doctor T’Ana said smacking her lips at the memory. “Best type of pie filling we ever had!”
“That’s debatable,” Freeman grumbled. “If only there were a way to avoid consuming the inevitable multiple servings of the contest’s humble pie.”
“Hey, Beta Shifter!” A gold-uniformed ensign with an eyepatch called out. “Looks like you could use more pie!”
“No thanks. I’m still have half a mouthful left…aaaccckkk!” Boimler choked as the eyepatch-wearing ensign forcefully fed him some pie.
“Take this, cyborg!” Ensign Moxy grinned shoving a heaping serving of pie down Rutherford’s throat. “Let’s see your implant’s processors process that!”
“Gaaahhh!” Rutherford’s eye bulged as he struggled not to choke.
“Hey, that’s not nice,” Tendi glared at Moxy. She quickly cut out a large serving of pie. “Let’s see how you like it!”
“Uh-uh!” Moxy mockingly waved a finger in Tendi’s face. “That’s against the rules. We’re both in the same division. You can’t serve pie to me.”
“But I can!” A newly freed, pie-armed Mariner grinned bouncing out from the penalty area. “Here ya go!”
SPLAT!
“AAAHHHHHH!” Moxy screamed as Mariner shoved an entire strawberry pie into her face. “YEEEOOOWWW! THAT FILLING IS HOT! IT’S IN MY EYES! IT’S UP MY NOSE! OWIE! OWIE! OWIE!”
“Oops,” Mariner whistled innocently. “Sorry. My mistake.”
“I’ll show you a mistake!” Ensign Asif snapped grabbing a fresh pie and took aim.
“Hey, look! The Command division is almost in first place!” Boimler smiled at the latest totals. “We just need to eat and/or serve another thirty-six kilograms of pie to…AAAUUUGGGHHH!” Boimler yelped as Asif’s thrown pie splattered all over him. “GAAAHHHHHH! I’VE BEEN HIT!”
“Oops,” Asif blinked. “Sorry about that. I was aiming for Mariner.”
“Oh really?” Mariner grinned wickedly and quickly armed herself with more pie. “Well two can play that game!”
SPLAT!
“Ow!” Chief Lundy yelped as one of Mariner’s tossed pies missed Asif and smacked him instead. “Okay, who threw that?”
“Bleah! Yuck! I hate strawberries!” Lieutenant Levy spat from where he sat in the designated elimination area. “Strawberries are all part of an insidious plot to infiltrate every know form of pie and replace them with tarts, flans and quiches instead.”
“Hey, watch it!” Ensign sh’Reyan snapped with strawberry filling dripping from both her antennae. “Ugh, it’s in my hair!”
“Huh, guess my sky-high phaser accuracy doesn’t carry over when it comes to throwing pies,” Mariner commented. “That’s one weapon type I’ve never been able to master.”
“Really?” Rutherford blinked, surprised. “Gee, I wonder why?”
“What are you laughing at?” Levy glared as several nearby crewmembers chuckled at his predicament. “You think this is funny, huh? Well, let’s see you laugh at this!”
“Ah, look out!” Ensign Castro warned as Levy rushed to one of the waiting pie racks and began tossing pies in all directions.
“Yikes!” Vendome yelped while ducking multiple flung pies as other members of the crew swiftly retaliated against Levy.
“PIE FIGHT!” Mariner whooped leaping into the fray with a stack of pies in one hand and a heaping bowl of whipped cream in the other. “NOW THIS IS WHERE ALL THE PIE EATING CONTEST PRACTICE REALLY PAYS OFF!”
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Everyone in the immediate vicinity was quickly covered in crust, whipped cream and pie filling as they laughed and struggled to reply with pastry barrages of their own.
“And here comes the other inevitable aspect of the Annual Intra Division Pie Eating Contest,” Freeman groaned taking cover behind the judge’s table as the entire room erupted into an all-out pie- and whipped cream-fueled brawl. “Right on schedule.”
“Attack!” Shaxs roared leading the assembled Security members into battle. “Leave no pie or blob of filling uneaten!”
SPLAT!
“Aaahhhhhh! I’m hit!” Rutherford hammed it up as he was splattered with pie.
“No!” Tendi giggled playing along while easing Rutherford to the floor. “Don’t worry Rutherford! I got you!” She began quickly wiping away clumps of filling with some napkins. “I need a cortical stimulator and ten cc’s of caramel sauce, stat!”
“No! What are you people doing?!” Boimler cried as he futilely attempted to reign in the madness. “We can’t let another pie eating contest descend into this! Command division is this close to winning…AAAUUUGGGHHHHHH! WHO POURED FROZEN WHIPPED CREAM DOWN MY PANTS?! YEEEOOOWWW! THAT’S COLD! MARINER!”
“Hahahahaha!” Mariner cackled maniacally. “Tough luck, Boims. But when it comes to pie, it’s everyone for themselves!”
“Aaahhhhhh! Help! Save me!” Stevens wailed lying in the elimination area as blobs of stray crust and filling pelted his face. “NO! NOT THE MUSTACHE!”
“Now, people. You all really need to chill down your catalyst-driven impulses,” Dr. Migleemo suggested wadding into the mix. “There’s no need for such an overmixed mass of harmless, friendly frivolity…gaaahhhhhh!” Migleemo yelped as he was mercilessly bombarded with pie. “YAAAHHHHHH! HELP! MEEMA!”
“Maybe we should have someone select some kind of nut-filled pie for the pie eating contest next year,” Freeman groaned as untold amounts pie, shouts, laughter and insanity continued flying through the air. “Since we obviously have a limitless supply of one hundred percent-certified cracked nuts serving aboard this ship!”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
