Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Ensign Cellophane
“Ugh, well that was yet another fine mess Mariner managed to drag me into,” a padd-carrying Boimler sighed trudging down a corridor of the Cerritos. “I can’t believe we managed to beam back aboard the ship without being noticed after causing so much trouble down on Dessica II. Mariner was right. Starfleet security measures really are lacking. It’s amazing how often unauthorized visitors manage to sneak aboard Federation ships without anyone being the wiser.”
Boimler took a deep breath and attempted to calm down while double-checking the padd. “Thank goodness nobody knows I violated Dessica II’s temporary ban of Starfleet personnel. Mariner said she’d deny my unwilling involvement in her latest escapade on the off chance anyone asks. But just in case, I’ll try buttering up Commander Ransom by showing him my newly revised ship-wide shift schedule and duty assignment organization table. Along with my report on how to rebuild Dessica II’s aqueduct system to optimum efficiency. They’ll impress him for sure. And help bump my name to the top of the promotions list!”
Boimler smiled as he confidently approached Ransom’s office. He pressed the door chime but did not receive a response. “Hmmm, that’s strange. Commander Ransom isn’t here. I even scheduled an appointment to see him ahead of time. Oh well, that’s okay. I’m not currently on duty. I’ll just wait for him to show up so I can present all my work to him in person…”
“Wow, that was a pretty fancy stunt you pulled off back there, Ensign,” Ransom appeared around a corner accompanied by Ensign P’Jok. “I’ve never seen anyone work that kind of magic on a starship’s waste extraction system before.”
“Thank you, sir,” P’Jok said. “But really, it was nothing.”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked, surprised.
“Aw, you’re just being modest,” Ransom chided teasingly brushing pass Boimler without even a glance. “Let’s discuss this in more detail over a glass or two of electrolytes. Your recent outstanding waste extraction system action is sure to soon earn you a well-deserved promotion!”
“What?!” Boimler yelped. “Wait! Sir! What about my appointment…?” Boimler’s frantic shouts were ignored as Ransom’s office doors gently hissed closed on his face. “Awww, not again!” Boimler’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Why does this always happen to me? Every time I think I’ve found a way to stand out from the crowd and get noticed, something comes along to send me back to Lower Decks obscurity. No matter how long or hard I work at being the best Starfleet officer I can be nobody ever bothers to notice my efforts, much less acknowledge my too often overlooked presence. It’s almost as if I’ve been phased out of existence!”
Boimler sighed forlornly at Ransom’s closed office doors for a moment before turning to stare off into space. “If someone stood up on the Bridge, and quoted a clever adage. And faced the screen and made a speech. You'd notice ‘em.”
“Ah, yet another marvelous performance of my one-man show,” A preening Lieutenant junior-grade Winger Bingston Jr. congratulated himself while striding by Boimler without a thought. “The only way I’d be able to top myself was if there were two of me.”
“If someone in Engineering yelled, ‘A coolant leak’s appearing! There’s going to be a warp core breach!’” Boimler mock cried raising his arms towards the ceiling. “You'd notice ‘em!”
“Excuse me, Commander,” Lieutenant Commander Stevens strode up cutting in front of Boimler. He entered Ransom’s office just as P’Jok exited it. “There’s a new bulkhead and viewport cleaning protocol you just have to take a gander that.”
“And even if one doesn’t speak often,” Boimler sighed looking glum. “Everyone gets noticed now and then. Unless of course that personage should be…” He paused melodramatically. “Invisible! Inconsequential…me!”
“Security to Deck Six!” Lieutenant Shaxs boomed dashing down the corridor wielding a phaser rifle while nearly bowling over Boimler. “Everyone remain calm! This is just a drill! Unfortunately!”
“Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane!” Boimler lamented rubbing his shoulder where Shaxs had accidentally clipped him. “Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane! 'Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me! And never know I’m there!”
“Commander, I need to see you right now,” Lieutenant Levy appeared entering Ransom’s office next. “There’s been a massive cover-up involving Starfleet’s use of wigs, padded undergarments and various facial prosthetics and I want to know why!”
“I tell ya!” Boimler began strutting around the corridor as an oblivious Stevens left Ransom’s office. “Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane! Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane!”
“Ow!” Levy yelped as he was unceremoniously tossed out of Ransom’s office.
“'Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me!” Boimler mimed doing do. “And never know I’m there!”
“Next!” Ransom called out.
“That’s me, sir” A nondescript Operations ensign strode pass Boimler and entered Ransom’s office. “I need to know which Starfleet-issue boot polish you recommend.”
“Suppose there was a colored-shirt, who called the crew to Red Alert. While splattered with blood, sweat and tears,” Boimler postulated. “You'd notice ‘em!”
“Fine! Be that way!” Levy snapped picking himself up. “I should have known the command staff would be in on it. But that won’t stop me! The trust must be told!
“Suppose there was a hologram. Which ran its own unique program. Aboard one ship for seven years!” Boimler declared as Levy left. “You'd notice ‘em!”
“Pardon the interruption, Jackie,” Honus the bartender drawled entering Ransom’s office next. “Here’s that non-urgent platter of spicy nachos you ordered.”
“A human being's made of more than air!” Boimler stated gesturing at himself. “With all that bulk you’re bound to see him there!”
“Oops!” A cup of cheese dip sailed out of Ransom’s office and struck Boimler right in the chest. “Sorry about that, Honus. Still, no harm done.”
“Unless that human being next to you!” Boimler sighed wiping melted cheese off his uniform. “Is unimpressive! Undistinguished! You-know-who!”
“Hello, Commander Ransom sir,” A squad of children from the Cerritos’ daycare center entered Ransom’s office. “Thank you for agreeing to see us on such nonexistent notice.”
“Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane! Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane!” Boimler sang pulling at his hair. “‘Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me! And never know I’m there!”
“Dook! Dook!” Lieutenant Commander Billups’ pet ferret Lancelot suddenly appeared and shot pass Boimler into Ransom’s office.
“Hey there, little fella,” Ransom greeted warmly. “Always nice to see a familiar face.”
“I TELL YA!” Boimler howled at the top of his lungs. “Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane! Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane! 'Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me! And never know I’m there!” Boimler fell to his knees and raised his hands to the heavens. “NEVER…EVEN…KNOOOOOOWWW…!” Boimler’s entire form slumped down while looking completely dejected. “…I’m there.”
“Hey, this has been great everybody. Thanks for stopping by,” Ransom was heard as Honus, the unnamed ensign and squad of children left his office followed by a happily dooking Lancelot. “Next!”
“Finally!” Boimler rose to his feet and quickly recomposed himself before entering Ransom’s office at last. “Sir, I’m here to present you my latest ideas for…”
“Sorry. No time for that, Ensign,” A bare-chested Ransom said seated at his desk while casually doing leg lifts. “Can’t you see I’m a busy man? Just set your padd on my desk with the others. Dismissed.”
“Oh, okay,” Boimler sighed doing so before quietly exiting the room. “Hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ransom waved absently. “Alright, time for my hourly set of pull-ups. Nothing like building up the ol’ biceps. Oh, yeah. Feel the burn…HEY, WHO SMEARED GLUE ALL OVER MY PULL-UP BAR?! MY HANDS ARE STUCK! I CAN’T GET LOOSE! GAAAHHH, EVERYONE WHO JUST STEPPED IN, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! THAT’S A DIRECT ORDER! P’JOK, STEVENS, HONUS, LANCELOT, KIDS, THAT RANDOM OPS ENSIGN! AAARRRGGGHHHHHH!”
“Then again, being an often-overlooked member of the Lower Decks does have some advantages,” Boimler noted sporting a borderline out-of-character smirk. “Why should Mariner get to have all the fun?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song “Mister Cellophane”.
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Ensign Cellophane
“Ugh, well that was yet another fine mess Mariner managed to drag me into,” a padd-carrying Boimler sighed trudging down a corridor of the Cerritos. “I can’t believe we managed to beam back aboard the ship without being noticed after causing so much trouble down on Dessica II. Mariner was right. Starfleet security measures really are lacking. It’s amazing how often unauthorized visitors manage to sneak aboard Federation ships without anyone being the wiser.”
Boimler took a deep breath and attempted to calm down while double-checking the padd. “Thank goodness nobody knows I violated Dessica II’s temporary ban of Starfleet personnel. Mariner said she’d deny my unwilling involvement in her latest escapade on the off chance anyone asks. But just in case, I’ll try buttering up Commander Ransom by showing him my newly revised ship-wide shift schedule and duty assignment organization table. Along with my report on how to rebuild Dessica II’s aqueduct system to optimum efficiency. They’ll impress him for sure. And help bump my name to the top of the promotions list!”
Boimler smiled as he confidently approached Ransom’s office. He pressed the door chime but did not receive a response. “Hmmm, that’s strange. Commander Ransom isn’t here. I even scheduled an appointment to see him ahead of time. Oh well, that’s okay. I’m not currently on duty. I’ll just wait for him to show up so I can present all my work to him in person…”
“Wow, that was a pretty fancy stunt you pulled off back there, Ensign,” Ransom appeared around a corner accompanied by Ensign P’Jok. “I’ve never seen anyone work that kind of magic on a starship’s waste extraction system before.”
“Thank you, sir,” P’Jok said. “But really, it was nothing.”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked, surprised.
“Aw, you’re just being modest,” Ransom chided teasingly brushing pass Boimler without even a glance. “Let’s discuss this in more detail over a glass or two of electrolytes. Your recent outstanding waste extraction system action is sure to soon earn you a well-deserved promotion!”
“What?!” Boimler yelped. “Wait! Sir! What about my appointment…?” Boimler’s frantic shouts were ignored as Ransom’s office doors gently hissed closed on his face. “Awww, not again!” Boimler’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Why does this always happen to me? Every time I think I’ve found a way to stand out from the crowd and get noticed, something comes along to send me back to Lower Decks obscurity. No matter how long or hard I work at being the best Starfleet officer I can be nobody ever bothers to notice my efforts, much less acknowledge my too often overlooked presence. It’s almost as if I’ve been phased out of existence!”
Boimler sighed forlornly at Ransom’s closed office doors for a moment before turning to stare off into space. “If someone stood up on the Bridge, and quoted a clever adage. And faced the screen and made a speech. You'd notice ‘em.”
“Ah, yet another marvelous performance of my one-man show,” A preening Lieutenant junior-grade Winger Bingston Jr. congratulated himself while striding by Boimler without a thought. “The only way I’d be able to top myself was if there were two of me.”
“If someone in Engineering yelled, ‘A coolant leak’s appearing! There’s going to be a warp core breach!’” Boimler mock cried raising his arms towards the ceiling. “You'd notice ‘em!”
“Excuse me, Commander,” Lieutenant Commander Stevens strode up cutting in front of Boimler. He entered Ransom’s office just as P’Jok exited it. “There’s a new bulkhead and viewport cleaning protocol you just have to take a gander that.”
“And even if one doesn’t speak often,” Boimler sighed looking glum. “Everyone gets noticed now and then. Unless of course that personage should be…” He paused melodramatically. “Invisible! Inconsequential…me!”
“Security to Deck Six!” Lieutenant Shaxs boomed dashing down the corridor wielding a phaser rifle while nearly bowling over Boimler. “Everyone remain calm! This is just a drill! Unfortunately!”
“Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane!” Boimler lamented rubbing his shoulder where Shaxs had accidentally clipped him. “Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane! 'Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me! And never know I’m there!”
“Commander, I need to see you right now,” Lieutenant Levy appeared entering Ransom’s office next. “There’s been a massive cover-up involving Starfleet’s use of wigs, padded undergarments and various facial prosthetics and I want to know why!”
“I tell ya!” Boimler began strutting around the corridor as an oblivious Stevens left Ransom’s office. “Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane! Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane!”
“Ow!” Levy yelped as he was unceremoniously tossed out of Ransom’s office.
“'Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me!” Boimler mimed doing do. “And never know I’m there!”
“Next!” Ransom called out.
“That’s me, sir” A nondescript Operations ensign strode pass Boimler and entered Ransom’s office. “I need to know which Starfleet-issue boot polish you recommend.”
“Suppose there was a colored-shirt, who called the crew to Red Alert. While splattered with blood, sweat and tears,” Boimler postulated. “You'd notice ‘em!”
“Fine! Be that way!” Levy snapped picking himself up. “I should have known the command staff would be in on it. But that won’t stop me! The trust must be told!
“Suppose there was a hologram. Which ran its own unique program. Aboard one ship for seven years!” Boimler declared as Levy left. “You'd notice ‘em!”
“Pardon the interruption, Jackie,” Honus the bartender drawled entering Ransom’s office next. “Here’s that non-urgent platter of spicy nachos you ordered.”
“A human being's made of more than air!” Boimler stated gesturing at himself. “With all that bulk you’re bound to see him there!”
“Oops!” A cup of cheese dip sailed out of Ransom’s office and struck Boimler right in the chest. “Sorry about that, Honus. Still, no harm done.”
“Unless that human being next to you!” Boimler sighed wiping melted cheese off his uniform. “Is unimpressive! Undistinguished! You-know-who!”
“Hello, Commander Ransom sir,” A squad of children from the Cerritos’ daycare center entered Ransom’s office. “Thank you for agreeing to see us on such nonexistent notice.”
“Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane! Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane!” Boimler sang pulling at his hair. “‘Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me! And never know I’m there!”
“Dook! Dook!” Lieutenant Commander Billups’ pet ferret Lancelot suddenly appeared and shot pass Boimler into Ransom’s office.
“Hey there, little fella,” Ransom greeted warmly. “Always nice to see a familiar face.”
“I TELL YA!” Boimler howled at the top of his lungs. “Cellophane! Ensign Cellophane! Shoulda been my name! Ensign Cellophane! 'Cause you can look right through me! Walk right by me! And never know I’m there!” Boimler fell to his knees and raised his hands to the heavens. “NEVER…EVEN…KNOOOOOOWWW…!” Boimler’s entire form slumped down while looking completely dejected. “…I’m there.”
“Hey, this has been great everybody. Thanks for stopping by,” Ransom was heard as Honus, the unnamed ensign and squad of children left his office followed by a happily dooking Lancelot. “Next!”
“Finally!” Boimler rose to his feet and quickly recomposed himself before entering Ransom’s office at last. “Sir, I’m here to present you my latest ideas for…”
“Sorry. No time for that, Ensign,” A bare-chested Ransom said seated at his desk while casually doing leg lifts. “Can’t you see I’m a busy man? Just set your padd on my desk with the others. Dismissed.”
“Oh, okay,” Boimler sighed doing so before quietly exiting the room. “Hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ransom waved absently. “Alright, time for my hourly set of pull-ups. Nothing like building up the ol’ biceps. Oh, yeah. Feel the burn…HEY, WHO SMEARED GLUE ALL OVER MY PULL-UP BAR?! MY HANDS ARE STUCK! I CAN’T GET LOOSE! GAAAHHH, EVERYONE WHO JUST STEPPED IN, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! THAT’S A DIRECT ORDER! P’JOK, STEVENS, HONUS, LANCELOT, KIDS, THAT RANDOM OPS ENSIGN! AAARRRGGGHHHHHH!”
“Then again, being an often-overlooked member of the Lower Decks does have some advantages,” Boimler noted sporting a borderline out-of-character smirk. “Why should Mariner get to have all the fun?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song “Mister Cellophane”.
