The "Five World" tale, in full.

[Deranged Nasat]

"Greetings, darlings. I am Thot Mog, renowned fashion critic and undisputed authority on all matters chic and seasonal. Although I am reasonably well known for my sharp yet respectful critique of others' appareal (and, really darling, what were you thinking when you chose that this morning?) what is not so well known is that before I became a fashionista, I was a reasonably successful historian. Read the story if you doubt my claim. And now you have that very opportunity. Here, darlings, is the "Five World" story in its full, collected and edited form. So hold onto your (manly purple) hats and delve into a sea of Deep Space Nine-related nonsense, spewed forth from this forum's regulars over the course of two years. Ta-ta!"

THE KANAR AND THE PURPLE

(being a tale of nonsense, manliness, pop culture references, running jokes and general insanity, intended for the benefit of those without incoherent nerdiness yet to enrich their lives)

Captain Sisko walked down the corridor toward the Promenade. He looked towards Quark’s bar and had not eaten any food since dinner. He ordered a technician to bring him sandwiches, but only if they had lettuce. Finding no vegetables, he decided he instead wanted a tasty lizard-brain stew served raw.

Shockingly, Quark had thrown Morn, together with all his shoes, off of the highest table. Odo walked in and declared Morn-tossing an illegal, yet very fun, activity. However, Morn himself disputed the “fun” aspect and launched into a musical number highlighting his plight, which became a hit on Ferenginar.

Quark was jealous, as he had recently signed a contract giving sole ownership of life, the universe and everything to Morn, and now this.

"QUARK!" roared Sisko, as he still hadn't been fed.

"Outrageous!" muttered Gul Dukat sitting at the bar and watching as seven Romulans played poker (and failed to match Cardassian expertise by doing silly stuff with the cards: a cunning, deceptive method of playing the game).

Sisko interrupted Dukat then, demanding to know what he had had for lunch. "I want what you ate," Sisko said.

To which, Dukat replied, "You would not like what I ate."

"Was it a bottle of 2047 kanar?" Sisko belched, rubbing his forehead, then grinned winningly at the Cardassian who rolled his eyes, sighed, and said to the impatient Ferengi wait person, "I want your most beautiful Dabo girl to chuck Sisko out of an airlock."

Quark said, "By the way can I eat his lunch?"

"I still haven't licked a grub worm's smelly excretions" moaned Bashir.

Aghast, Sisko began to scream while rolling across the floor in shocking disregard of the sensibilities of a man his mature age.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Meanwhile, in Ops, Kira ran a cosmetics party, demonstrating the supreme superiority of her favoured religion, the church of the Orange Squiggly Piggly Lemon believers. The despised apostate of Lemonianity, Weyoun Five, had said publicly that the true meaning of Lemonmas was violent crusade (and furthermore would result in the utter destruction of any world that stood in the way and did not worship nude Vorta). Kai Winn disagreed, insisting that her values and ideas would revolutionize the faith. Kira punched the annoying kai in defiance of this unacceptable challenge to keep buckets of tiny lemons in Bajoran temples. Enraged, Kai Winn declared that someone better be making afternoon tea!!

Disturbingly, status reports indicated that there was a ghost in Sisko's toilet, and when the captain saw it he said "Tea's cancelled, Kai Winn, because there's a ghost in here and we must evacuate".

They responded with resigned indignation, resulting in Sisko' sudden desire to leave without them. Nevertheless, they found a bottle of rum that could fly them off just as good rum does. Everyone climbed aboard, and left Quark wondering what to do about this new development. He laughed uproariously and poured himself some grub worm juice and claimed the station in the shape that it was in and sold it on eBay.

While strolling down the corridor Odo and Dax heard a strange noise that seemed to indicate someone else was still aboard the station. Jake Sisko turned on the lights inside and to his horror, revealed that he was really a big wet blanket, for only a true man can really tolerate Quark naked.

"What?" said Bashir as he looked at Quark.

"I thought you left."

Bashir said as Quark cried, "there, there, we came back."

Suddenly a Horta came through the floor, derailing the conversation.

"Quark," Bashir yelled, "You must surrender your strongest ale, or that rock beast will stick itself in the corner, refusing all forms of communication until we get it "stoned", haha".

"Well," Quark said as he poured the Horta a drink, "We certainly wouldn't want that."

The Rum returned, Sisko relieved himself in the holosuite because all the urinals on DS9 were now haunted like his. This elegant solution did not go completely without problems since Kai Winn paid the ghost to sell his story on to the Federation News Service, and Sisko was portrayed in such a bad way that angry letters condemning him arrived en mass. Ezri, clad only in her pajamas, which were purple and blue, suggested Sisko should perform a few favours while standing on one foot.

"Ezri? You were Jadzia earlier"

"Yeah, and a bartender too."

Frightened at the changes, O'Brien signed a treaty with the ballet dancers of Googleworld Five, stipulating that (in accordance with prior decrees from the Dancelord, there would be da rhythm) O'Brien would provide them with enough Irish whiskey to drown Morn and possibly Quark too.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Just then a fleet of Napoleonic-era warships sailed past and fired a punishing broadside volley at Sisko, to avenge the defeat of the British at last night's tennis final.

"You damned yank blaggard" shouted Rom, surprising everyone.

"You're British?"

"But of course" he said "and Nog is French".

Nog said, "Oui. Je suis francais."

According to Jake's latest novel, The Innocent Voyage of George the Cardassian Vole, the situation had an unfortunate tendency to deteriorate rapidly whenever French Ferengi sold their stock in April. Nog shifted guiltily, and indeed he had every right to be nervous, for the situation had grown terribly grave. Due to the Horta's alcoholism and many others that had tasted the sweet ambrosia of Kanar, resulting in the downfall of tea, Kai Winn still would not shut up despite everything, and that was that.

Worf, aboard the Defiant, blasted heavy metal out of all the speakers on the bridge. Damar, who was a serious sort of fellow, was appalled at this vulgar display from the Klingon, and complained to the high court of cool people united against uncoolness. He was a high judge and successfully had Worf branded an utter moron and executed immediately. Shocked but respectful of Damar's bold and decisive action the crew of Deep Space Nine voted to make Damar the best chocolate cake ever made.

Dukat was furious: "That cake by rights belongs to me”.

However the Central Command told the people that, due to their overwhelming greatness there would be cake for all.

Sisko said, "but I don't want any cake, it's my least favourite yum-yum". Embarrassed, Jake hid behind the couch in his room and then laughed at himself, and bought back tea.

Said the Founder to the Vorta, "the time has come to unleash the firepower of the awesome powered weapon of my toy spacecraft".

"Actually, Founder, there is no way to make your toy an actual warship you stupid little blob!” screamed the Vorta, losing it in what was one of the decade’s most amusing emotional breakdowns since the infamous case where Brunt realized he’s ugly.

The noted Breen historian turned fashion critic, Thot Mog, arrived and promptly burst into tears when confronted with Winn’s hat.

“I’m sorry, I really am” insisted Winn, “but Bajoran law means that I must wear odd hats unless I am dancing in the pale moonlight, as that situation requires a green wig instead, you understand”.

Thot Mog nodded bravely, and activated his jetpack, shooting up and smacking into the roof, so concluding the Breen fashion empire which lasted all of 17 posts.

Afterwards, Quark decided to join the Democratic party, which had been revived by copious amounts of liquor and assigned to the station oversight dealing with the increased threat presented by you, yes, YOU, and your EVIL and misbegotten ways.

Ashamed, Morn assumed he was to blame for all the weirdness so far, and he told Quark that he was behind it all even though he could not remember what exactly he had done.

“So it was you who caused all the confusing storylines that gave the network fits!” growled Odo, marching up to the bar stool and taking up a standard attack posture even though he clearly wasn’t an Egyptian.

“Whatever do you mean by this outrage?” said the Reman soldier standing beside Morn, finishing off his pint of real ale and suddenly realizing that he wasn’t spending his quatloos on Romulus as he ought. Morn didn’t see a problem with doing a runner to escape Odo, but the grumpy changeling had decided to take off the license to kill and put adhesive on Morn’s bar stool after dinner.

Morn suddenly said “I do believe that I am stuck here. Will somebody please inform the King of my unspeakably embarrassing predicament? I am simply unable to tolerate that feeling in the back of my thighs when stuck to a chair like this”.

Distraught over Morn’s plight, Dax launched a Federation-wide crusade for justice.

“Justice for Morn, and all the victims of Odo’s applied adhesive, such as the entire population of New Bajor”.

“So that’s why they all turned to the east” Quark exclaimed, polishing a glass.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Ghemor stood laughing until the cows came home.

“About time!”

Said the Prophets, “this thread offends us with its linear thinking and silly plot twists”

“Fine” said Sisko, “I will order Deranged Nasat and Thor Damar and company to develop a more rounded DS9 story, so mending their ways”.

“Include Vulcan Princess and JustKate” (who are equally guilty of creating this very strange story) was the cry. Here goes:

“Very well” muttered Thor Damar, “Once upon a time there was a young Cardassian named Zaklin Da’Harn. He wished to improve his already formidable intellect and so downloaded illegal brainteaser Five ways to a better you but with added genius by Skrain Dukat. Unfortunately, this piece of self-serving egotistical drivel didn’t have the desired effect on the Cardassian Empire. Lengthy, even by Cardassian standards, Dukat’s preening counterargument disgusted many. The Cardassian Union sentenced Dukat to the greatest hardship imaginable: listening to the Spice Girls parody the works of Surak.

“This is not logical” Damar groaned, “no-one deserves this agony, not even that piece of bombastic, narcissistic, arrogant, selfish, capricious warmongering, vain, obnoxious and disturbed piece of noisome pond slime”.

Damar paused, deep in thought, before continuing “although, on further consideration there’s a silver lining. For I, Corat Damar, will write a better book. It will be the complete history of Cardassian folk music and will contain all the greatest hit albums of the past along with relevant history and insight into what the Cardassian Soul scene was all about”.

When Odo heard this, he nodded in approval and told Quark that he better order a thousand copies of Damar’s book as soon as they came off the press. Quark however was more interested in the price of the paper used to print the plans for the Cardassian ships (that was apparently printed in sheepskin). But suddenly, a Tosk, whose rivalry to the industry was profound, argued that Damar’s grasp of historical factors influencing the glorious Cardassian Union was poor indeed. This outrageous claim merited a swift and decisive monologue about Damar’s firsthand knowledge of history, politics and the great, rich culture of Cardassia. Ashamed at his ignorance, Tosk returned to the Gamma Quadrant but promised that, one day, he would return with his elderly mother, and then there would be an overdue reckoning. Sisko scoffed at this threat:

“This tale is Damar’s”.

Odo arrested Tosk for detracting from the current story line. Damar smiled as Odo yodelled “un-bucketed into the Gamma Quadrant, that’s what it’s all about: Damar!”

“Thank you, Constable”, Damar said, making sure his greatness was appreciated.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Kira rolled her eyes at the manner in which the merchants on the promenade all picked a peck of pickled peppers without consulting Sisko on how to cook them without burning them. Damar reminded them that he was indeed the focus of the story and Kira retorted:

“Hey, you’ll need me too, because who else can narfle the Garthok completely, and by doing so save us all from chaos?”

Damar said, “me, so there”.

Increasingly, it became obvious that Damar had taken complete control of the written word, leaving everyone else to go find some other form of expression. They were forced to settle for mime, which enraged Lord Vetinari and resulted in scorpions being domesticated for their friendly personalities. By far the finest mime in the known universe was Darth Vader, who impressed crowds with his lightsaber skills.

Damar nodded his head in a drunken stupor from all the kanar he had imbibed. He looked at the Gul and said, with squeezed lips, “Have I ever told you that when it rains my war injuries hurt even more?”

“Yes” said the Gul, “many times, you drunken bastard!”

Damar said “my parents are married”.

“What does that have to do with the price of bloodworms on Regulus?” the Gul replied in a tired voice.

“I’ll tell you what, you bloody moron. It means that if I have to use a five iron to sort out this mess, then Bunny Jackson will claim the throne of Tonga, and begin a reign of abject apathy that will slothfully outrage the most pleasant pheasant packaging peasants in paltry conditions not worthy of a Modern Major General”.

Even though this story has gotten weird, “we shall continue!” Damar roared.

“Damar shall be obeyed” confirmed all of Cardassia. Dukat wept bitterly at this turn of fate which had left him all dressed up with nowhere to go.

“Sequins are for evening, but when I wear purple with them, they look fabulous!”

“What a non-sequitur” Damar exclaimed.

“I meant a purple hat” Dukat hedged, “a manly hat”

“I do not care for sequins, however “manly” Damar sniffed.

Just then, Broca crept into the skin of an albino and was immediately shot by Garak, who’s pretty good at that sort of thing. Then, everyone paused to reflect on this latest turn of events, only to find that a virtual thought application malfunctioning during a rather mundane reading of Damar’s prize winning instruction guide - which goes into great depth on how to make love to a drunken Trill on Sunday - resulted in a breakdown of chaste Trill/Cardassian relations, which led to a revival of Vulcan abstinence philosophies despite the new lingerie shop.

Quark was thusly infuriated by his lack of development so he stormed off to the next alternate universe, where everything is blue and purple, and by the Grace of Gint became the best he could possibly be in utilizing the surprising combination of guile and sheer bloody mindedness first developed by Grand Nagus Sugar in the early 22nd century.

“Finally, a new sentence!” exclaimed Damar, pleased to see that his infected tooth was gone after a successful operation by Dr. Bashir and his naked nurses, who were known as “The Isley Brothers” because of their tendency to break out into calypso music at the most unexpected times. When assisting Bashir, their soulful harmonies would ring through the infirmary, often causing the walls to get down to da funky while patients arose to break-dance most excellently.

Kira walked into the midst of one such frenetic scene and said, crushingly:

“You know that Andorians can’t get down, get funky! What do you mean by offending us all with your bad rhythm while Andorian nuns are trying to catch up?”

Just then, a mysterious stranger appeared. He left DS9 and played no role in this story.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Meanwhile, in the dark heart of the station, something terrible began to ooze wet slime. Its moist and sticky goo poured into the corridors, disturbing in its intent to swarm through the station and leave clones of the most vile people in history, including the inventor of the traffic warden and the first advertising executive, which alone was too terrible to contemplate. Worse: TV Reporters. At this horrific occurrence, crowds surged through the promenade, gesticulating wildly until Ghostbusters arrived to remove the beasts from the overused head rests above the security station on the left hand side.

“I feel compelled to let you know that all is NOT going as well as you predicted. Ooze has ruined my shoes and I will be averaged”.

“Who cares about your shoes?”

“I care, because I am persnickety. But Manly of course.”

“Dukat!” exclaimed the whole cast, “stop this obsession with ‘manly’”!

Dukat pouted magnificently and said “when you’re hot, you’re hot”.

Once uttered, the rest of the cast of this thread all belched with absolute joy!

“Well, that was weird” Damar remarked, as Ezri slid her knife into position and awaited the signal from her master, the great, the wise and above all the amazingly attractive, (with an extraordinary IQ), the master of mystery himself, Mr. Elim Garak, the only Cardassian who could archive the medium sperm count required to procreate successfully with a Trill. This ability made him a god amongst the male population of naked yelling Klingons, who saw this interstellar man of mystery as more than just a scaly face.

Worf approached Garak and told him with much glee that there was a female Andorian next-door waiting for the Second Coming of Kahless, who will return when the Blue Monkey of Shaganla finally finishes in the bathroom. The Andorian nun next-door, her purple habit floating ethereally, looked at Worf and said “I see the Blue Monkey!”

Worf smashed up the station because he needed some exercise and it was how he conversed with his Inner Interior Designer.

Gowron emerged from the bar and ran into Gul Damar, who proceeded to laugh his scales off at the silly little man with the bulging Vorta ears.

Odo saw this and said “I would have figured. Nothing normal happens here. Unless it’s a full moon, in which case, disturbingly, normality goes up a certain creek without any sort of paddle altogether”.

“Row, row, row your boat... in the Navy!” sang Leskit, playing the Random Song game, which Morn quite naturally won. Leskit’s devastating loss, however, triggered repercussions throughout the entire sector, leading to full-scale warfare!

“Unleash the punitive fleet of Cardassian comedians, and let slip the Slapstick Guls of War”. Central Command ordered thus, and Damar yelled “For Cardassia!”

The Cardassians outwitted the Klingons - no big surprise there, right?- and broke the back of the Klingon Kustard Pie Kartal. This victory won the Union the peace it truly deserved, and so say we all! As fireworks illuminated Cardassia’s cities, Damar smiled upon his happy family and newborn child!

“How lucky I am to see the ones I love most safe in the heart of my nation”.

The Blue Monkey smiled benevolently at his friends, even though he loathed fireworks. The bowels of the capital, by the Monkey’s grace, were clean and smelled of the strong musky scent that defined taste and refinement galaxy-wide.
As the rebuilding began, Gowron and the Andorian nuns meditated on the wisdom of a new colour scheme for the outer star systems of the Romulan Star Empire. They decided to hug an unruly Klingon and left Romulan interior design alone.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Just then, a terrible yet weirdly compelling Cardassian Vole bit a Ferengi - but didn’t enjoy the taste.

“I could have told him that neck ridges were delicious, but lobes? Not so much. Anyway, I was telling you about the Lissepian freighter’s engines, which lead me to this Borg cube, which is assimilating me as we speak!” the Bajoran shouted to the Cardassian.

“Who said that last quote?”

“I do believe it was the Ferengi that stole my soul” said the Cardassian.

Suddenly, a Galor-class vessel decloaked next to DS9 and its commander, Bullwinkle J. Moose, turned everyone there into Cardassians, which was a very good way to piss off Kira and raise the general IQ of Morn, who was eating his words concerning the effectiveness of isolinear rods in the cause of peace.

The question wasn’t apparent in the kanar distillery on Aderact Prime, which supplied all of Cardassia with enough kanar to drown a galaxy. But the Yamok sauce delivery was late, which resulted in human sacrifice... mass hysteria! This meant that there was a debilitating bland food epidemic caused by a rogue changeling whose mission was to ensure Vreenak’s discovery of the fake autographed photo of the great-grandfather of the Grand Nagus.

There was a brief sense of Klingon activity in the holosuite. Determined to investigate, Odo turned into a giant llama and waltzed down the promenade.

The Bajorans thought the Prophets would interrupt the story again, but instead it was Morn, with a terrible case of Andorian shingles. He tried to ease the pain, but instead made things worse by applying gasoline - and combusted.

Tekeny Ghemor somehow returned from the dead, in an act of blasphemy - because he forgot to tell Kai Winn that he was arriving. All forgave, when he flattered Garak shamelessly and turned to show him the door.

“Yes it’s a door” said Garak, “I’ve seen many in my time”.

Ghemor frowned disapprovingly. Go to the other universe and you will see why. Dimly lit on the edge, there you shall find a small universe itself being quaffed by Morn’s ghost. Ghemor drowned himself in Yamok sauce in order to return, confronting Damar with this evidence. He began to time the sequences that would unleash the awesome power of the dead, causing peanut hacks of realities that resurrected Morn but instead killed the next Trek TV series.

The Andorian nuns prayed, hoping the fifty-five dimensional speed limit wasn’t breached, but Gul Jassad ordered seven brain-freezes straight-up while Thor Damar tried to understand how unitized thoughts are important.

But the Bajorans wanted to return to the Ghemor-Garak door showing event, where everyone was alive and no brain-freezes were being consumed so imprudently. And yet, still inspired to holosuite antics, the Klingons partied like it was 2399. They suddenly realized they were Cardassians! Because of this, Central Command considered the Klingon infiltration plot an annoying distraction that would not yield anything useful anyway.

Opening the mind of God was Bashir’s ultimate goal, but first he had to drink synthehol to make it possible.

“Quark!” Bashir exclaimed “just keep your hands to yourself, I’m not interested”.

Tekeny deported Garak, falling right into his trap. But traps can’t hold immortals.

“I’m non-corporeal now, dumbass!” Ghemor taunted Garak, “when I choose”.

Garak decided that a different coloured bra was now needed to stun Ghemor and allow his ultimate victory over the annoying dead. Odo the llama (no relation to Odo the pretending-to-be-a-llama) led a rousing chorus of hymns aimed at banishing Ghemor’s spirit to its final rest, and they were ultimately successful.

“Well that was odd” said Morn, “I combusted, died and still have these <CENSORED> shingles! Do something, Dr. Bashir!”

Bashir poured a synthehol libation to once again talk with God, who spake unto him thusly; “Thou must find My guide, the most holy and divine, Roger Jones of Slough”. Bashir didn’t want to go to Slough due to a large rash, and so Odo the llama decided to remove his clothes.

“Bad llama! Bad llama!” shrieked Keiko, “think of the children!”

Thoroughly chastised, Odo the llama kicked Quark where it hurt instead.

“Fine, I’ll go” said the poor victimized businessman who feared further llama-related violence.

Rom shook his head. “No, he said, “this madness must be contained. To contaminate Slough we must use the latinum!”

Beaming down to Slough, Quark decided his latinum was too visible: he might be mugged.

But then, a Cardassian Gul said “I’m Roger Jones”. Success!

“Roger is a Cardassian name?”

“You question God’s will, child?” said Winn, who was sent to ensure that Quark completed the destruction of hated Slough and thus helped fulfil the will of God.

“How did it come to this?” cried the audience, who knew not of Slough, and then Rick-rolled Winn, which did, and always will, confuse the Cardassian Central Command but would not stop them from worshipping a Garak plushie.

“Ahem” said God, “Right here?”

“Yeah” said the Devil, “who has the latinum?”

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Quark frowned, trying to work out how they proceeded with helping Morn in his quest to find answers. In the end they gave him a copy of Damar’s “Guide to Life”, which solved the problem and brought this “Jem’Hadar love slave” holosuite program simulation to a happy end.

"Does this mean we're done?" asked Vulcan Princess.

"No we have much to do. The spice must flow, after that, a man must cut the cheese -- it's only natural."

At that moment, Ezri screamed, "What are you all doing?!"

"Making a stream of consciousness less coherent than any before," said Nog. "Jumja sticks, anyone? Coherency is overrated," he added.

In light of this, everyone decided it was high time to descend to the depths of silly weird crazy randomness. Like normal, in other words. Just then Thot Mog crashed through a wall, re-entering the thread to widespread applause. He bowed graciously, then trotted briskly in the opposite direction of logic and common sense. Damar, also trotting briskly, followed him even though he knew birds would soon follow them both. Such was the way of this story. Once the birds saw Hitchcock's The Birds, they sued for wrongful interpretation, hiring Rev. Al Sharpton as their lawyer.

The Cardassians had to laugh and in their laughter, they discovered the meaning of life and they cried, softly. This moved the whole Galaxy in ways that could not possibly be described here unfortunately. “But let's try anyway, OK?” said the narrator (who had achieved sentience):

“To begin with, dark matter (the base element of the Horopi tribe, found in remote jungle locations never visited by Wal-Mart or Tesco executives) oozed puissance from their very pores. Suddenly, shoes made of salt rubbed into open wounds that eliminated the puissance

a) tout suite old chum, and therefore created one helluva crawfish pie for the Sisko family reunion,

b) Began the end of whirled peas, which resulted in the ulster migration to Seti Alpha 6.

The Paiseyaite Empire expanded far beyond the not too distant Big Rock Candy Mountain, causing much stomach ache for the Cardassian vole population living there who rose up and slew the local veterinarian because of every last Quidditch player in lackluster performance in real terms. "Whoever heard of a snozzberry?" the now-sentient voles asked.

(Editor's Note: And thus we have the first of many pockets of "total randomness" among the halfway-coherent content)

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Palpatine, who was miffed at being left out until now - and who could blame him? - turned up at the station and commenced to start fightin'. He shot force lightning at Sisko who used the awesome power of Karate to deflect the slings and arrows of outraged Sith. This was a result of some weird anomaly (namely the imaginations of Walt Disney and Stephen King who, in their dark dreaminess, teamed up to plunge the whole of existence into a terrible dither.) There was much ado about nothing, even though it certainly seemed otherwise.

Sisko, weary of this strange story, said "I must now leave you, for things have gotten too abstract. Thinking back to when this story began, I never saw blue bunnies run so fast, or got that lettuce into the shoes of Worf and called him 'Salad Toes'".

Suddenly, the Jem'Hadar attacked! And lettuce flew simply everywhere causing a blue bunny stampede, in turn causing much mayhem, and screaming.

"Screaming isn't manly," said Dukat, "even though purple certainly is and I rock purple like I rocked your mom last decade. I miss your mom."

"My mom does not bathe." Morn asserted. "She licks herself on- ARGHH!"

Jem'Hadar shot him. The considered opinion of all was that this prevented a global atrocity of unparalleled awfulness. For imagine the consequences had Dukat actually worn the purple hat in defiance of Morn's evil talent as a mime artist molester. Indeed, the very idea shocked all, save Vetinari who was busy scrubbing Kira's script for her play. He said, "Your rubber targ leaves a rather pleasing effect on the whole."

Smiling, he fell upon his paperwork and waited for death. In the skies, Death looked down and said, "Give me my records back!"

"You're not Death, you don't sound right.”

"What if I were to eat A JOVIAN ANTEATER?" Death asked Vetinari.

"And my left hand?" Garak asked.

"Why not, my good friend?" Vetinari said, smiling at his equal.

Q appeared in a flash sports car, which screeched to Cardassia Prime, where the Waffles of Unparalleled Delight neared completion. Construction, alas, was halted by strike action undertaken by disgruntled waffle-maker makers, who insisted their work was unethical. Instead, they wanted to create a way to harvest beans without having to do any work-related accident paperwork for the Noodle Incident. Therefore, they reluctantly scribbled four numbers and four letters on a piece of Morn's shirt, which he obviously had not washed in years.

"Eeeeeuuuuuuwwww!" shrieked all the characters.

Meanwhile, Chief O'Brien tenderly said: "quit your bloody whining you feckers!"

"Language, Miles," Keiko sniffed primly.

Miles held her close and then at arm's length, saying, "Sorry... this is my exercise for my triceps. What do you want now... sweetheart?"

"I want you to clean my good friend Morn's shirt".

"Damn".

"But it can go in your washing machine" said Morn.

"Bollocks!" said Miles, heaving his suitcase out the door. "Goodbye!"

"MILES! You come back and play darts with me!" Bashir screamed from his bedroom, sweating as he did.

With deep regret, he pulled a bunch of darts from his bag - the Evil Darts of Doom! These foul and unhallowed devices were usually reserved for the all-AQ darts tournament, but Bashir cried, "To hell with the tournament! Let's play now."

"Why play," Dax said, "when you can work instead? Let's reroute the isolated sections of icing off Keiko's birthday cake and use them to power this miniature giant space hamster!"

"What hamster?" gasped an exasperated Gul Rusot who had got into the kanar when nobody gave a flying vole about the exchange rate of latinum versus self-sealing stem bolts on Rickor Prime.

The leader of the miniature giant space hamsters, Thot Mog, (he gets around) arrived. Shockingly, this meant that there was a crisis in the cedar shavings processing facility on Betazed, where a Jem'Hadar design team had set up. "It's too splintery!" screamed Thot Mog waving his arms about, "You stupid Jem'Hadar and your backwards Partridge Family ways are acceptable in red states, but here in the UK we demand you repent and instead drink some tea!"

This was unacceptable, considering the color of the water on the shoals of Bajoran Tea-fish. Thot Mog, determined to make tea chic, ate three frogs that were summoned by the Kosst Amojan and was violently sick. Dukat wept. Suddenly, as if by chance, a large smile came on Kai Winn's suspicious face as she opened her mouth; out fell an isolinear rod. "You weren't supposed to eat them," Kira exclaimed. "Dukat was!"

"I don't put rods in my mouth... it's too suggestive," Dukat added, "and some people would love to smack it."

"I would," Kira nodded knowingly.

Dax could only roll her marbles across the floor, as saliva from Morn's mouth dripped onto the isolinear rod, causing everyone on board to scream. "Brain Lysol?" Quark offered to provide oo-mox to every female Jem'Hadar, but forgot there weren't any, the bloody fool. However being picky isn't Quark's shtick unless 90,000 voles were involved.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"Hmm, I think that you're not considering my raw feelings." said Gul Rugat III. "I feel a song coming on. FeeeeeEEEeeelings, nothing more than, feeeelings. Trying to hold on to the feelings of love."

Garak rested his feet while being massaged by the aforementioned voles. He said, "Tee-hee! That tickles! Don't ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER tell the wife!"

Just then, Julian said, "You're married?! When did that plot complication occur?”

"I'm not sure when, but these guys have been busy playing the banjo. Do you think that any of this actually advances the story's plot?”

"There is a plot?!” said the befuddled Dr. Bashir. "Since when?”

The Narrator interrupted the thread to go to the toilet.

"Damn that annoyingly sentient narrator!" spoke the entire cast (and the posters too...)

"Same to you," the narrator said, in-between mouthfuls of Damar's vintage 2047 fine Kanar.

"PUT THE KANAR DOWN!" roared the narrator's boss. "Get back to ordering this story and quit being a prima donna!”

"That's my job," huffed Dukat.

Damar looked at the city from a Kanar induced haze he endured with toothpicks, crying "oh woe is me, the Cardassian not getting vole massage, where's my waffles?"

Minutes later, a large, and very smelly, bar patron asked for a root beer, causing Quark to shudder at the cloying bubbliness. But suddenly, the bubbles...swelled and turned into Enabran Tain!

"Hey, if Ghemor can return with a breast operation, why can't I dance?" And he, the smelly bar patron, got Bashir to undress in front of everyone in Quark's with Garak drooling on his massive sense of self-preservation which was second to none. The isolinear rod exploded on the second hour of the second day of the second month of the second year, as reckoned by Jake's "Dabo Girls Know Best" mystic nude calendar.

"Gotta be something more accurate than this questionable product" Jake stated. "On the other hand... I wear a glove made bitter and cynical by too many purple sequins. Alas! Alas!”

Odo folded his arms, and did a little jig for his Celtic dancing class, then decided it might be a mistake, because the exertion caused Rom to go flying through his Academy exams, acing the Engineering portion, making O'Brien say, "I love the lips!"

And Bashir respond with, "I know."

The price of outlandish wigs made Quark reconsider the offer of gainful employment on the space station of DOOM. Rugal, the aforementioned Gul, walked up to kiss the Cardassian vole, which looked at him most seductively. "Take me to the restaurant at the end of Armstrong Park on Earth."

Eventually, the great war to end the Klingon opera singer's song would end, but not before the fat vole sang "Thriller". But suddenly, the wormhole opened, and a large, green colored jellybean floated through on a puffy blue cloud made of bubble-gum scented butterly wings.

Sisko said, "What the hell? Looks delish! Can we harvest their wings to create a giant waffle to send to Dax's miniature giant space hamster?"

The very mention of the hamster sent Morn into apoplexy, and Bashir had to call his mother. "Mother, do something!"

"Grow up," she suggested kindly, wrapping her legs around his long forgotten, but otherwise nice antique Edwardian chest, while scribbling down the collected works of Douglas Adams and Anthony Trollope. Garak reacted with great excitement to this latest development. Then, from the depths of Bajor came yet another ancient prophecy, this one predicting deep hurting of the vulnerable parts of Dukat's ego (all of them).

"Hey," Dukat said "I find my ego to be invulnerable to all forms of attack!"

"Your taste in hats stinks".

"Yes, but my ability to balance style and masculine appeal makes me the greatest Cardassian of all".

"Ahem?" said Damar, quite rightly, for he was legendary on this thread. His greatness was undisputed by all and furthermore his presence graced and honoured all those who basked under his disciplined but radiant sun. For who could not admire Damar even though his fingers were suffering from arthritis? Indeed, he would often eat the skin of his banana, because that's where he thought the vitamins were mainly located (Cardassian fruits are slippery when wet) and once again our story grows stranger by the day. Then, the unimaginable occurred: the Prophets began to grasp linear time!

“I knew they couldn’t be trusted to speak truthfully when asked about that” Sisko stated.

“Blasphemy!” Winn struck him down with a beautiful left hook, leaving Molly O’Brien in charge. Her first order was to invade the domain of the Crab People! To which, everyone in sight of her said, “yes, Ma’am!”

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Suddenly, there was a strange yet somehow familiar melody-drifting feeling in the pit of the station, and it somehow reminded Damar of banana peels. He laughed joyfully and rushed straight into Garak’s arms, crying “WHAT IN THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY PANTS?”

“Just a nip and tuck”.

“BULL! You stuffed them with a potato... in the BACK”.

“A potato? No, sir, it was a banana. I’ve heard that they’re quite similar, though”. Garak smiled beautifically: “I believe the circle of life is easily the best song in The Lion King Part 26”.

Kira ran screaming into the Cardassian warship, confessing to Dukat that she had always despised not having neck ridges, and enjoying the fine taste of kanar - and promptly kissed him. Dukat filmed it all and uploaded into the past, where legions of Niners rose up and shouted, “That defies canon!”, and logged onto YouTube, promptly destroying it.

Dukat broke the fourth wall, which had already been broken the moment the tree fell. He sought out the actor who portrayed him, and found Barry Manilow had. Dukat was somewhat confused by “Copacabana” and had always wondered what on Earth had possessed Manilow to keep his nose.

At this point we should like to invite viewers to write in with our complaints but since the Move Along Home incident we have become far too nice. At this very moment, we are working on a time machine powered by wiped out executive stress toys, and promoted using a very, very naked Morn -<at this point the story is dictated by the Klingon warrior Belch’k and goes thusly into Damar’s kanar stores>:

Jake wanted to kiss Ezri, but she was kissing Bashir already. Someone revived Jadzia, causing the Dax symbiont no amount of comfort but instead endless confusion. No one knew why, but the Symbiosis Commission, in its horror, found that many brains of deceased hosts were regenerating, and each new generation caused a tiny crack in the foundation of the SC institute.

“We need gobstoppers” Winn said, “they’re the only things that change colour when you eat the green belly slime of tube worms”.

Quark frowned and said “I’m sorry, we do not allow your kind to reproduce. Please step along outside of my establishment”.

Winn said as she started to leave, “The Prophets will judge you for this...my child”.

Molly huffed “I hate when that weird hat lady comes with her Sydney Opera House Headdress. Can’t we just throw her into the Fire caves with those Pah...Pah...ghost things?”

“Absolutely not!” Keiko said insistently, “I had a baaaaad experience with Dukat, and I don’t want Molly to find out”.

“You’re talking to Molly” Molly from the mirror universe said, “now leave me to my strange and unhallowed ways”.

Winn strutted off, holding a jumja stick, sulking because she hadn’t amused Gul Jasad.

The wormhole said, “Feed me, for I contain 42, the answer to “what is six times seven?””

Angered further, Gul Jasad spat hot sexy venom at the entire universe, but especially at Keiko, who wished she had gone to the toilet before she shat in her pants again.

“I’ll clean it up, lest Gul Jasad glare disapprovingly at my breasts” sulked Chief Crazy Horse, now female.

“What?” asked Miles, “who is that?”

Jasad answered, “your mom, after all, would never have approved”.

Then, Jasad suddenly belched, causing Crazy Horse to summon his space cucumber of ultimate doom and a tomato, for salad.

“Crazy Horse is male again?” asked Miles, “I’m going crazy, but not too crazy. Perhaps”.

Odo sighed, and left for the nearest airlock, fed up with all the innuendo coming from the insane story writers. After running into Quark, Odo realized that he couldn’t leave, for he was not kosher, and his shoes were yellow. He changed his shoes to green instantly - shapeshifter, easy - and his hands became matzo balls in the blink of an Andorian omelette. Quark poked him and poked him and poked until he farted on Quark’s ego, which reduced him to a clump of fig newtons.

Subcommander Taris laughed at what the monitor was showing: a rerun of that classic Simpsons run for 85 yards. It did not excuse his crime against the Bajoran orphanage, however, or explain the tilt of his hat (which was not purple!) when placed on Jadzia Dax’s boobs.

Vreenak declared, “its a Faaaaa-aaaaaa-aaaaaaa-aaaaaa-aaaa-kkkk-eeeeee!” at which point the meme died.

O’Brien then ordered “pretty cake, with a side order of ugly tea”.

“Tea isn’t ugly” Kai Winn exclaimed, thus winning an OBE, “it’s cooked by the book”.

“What if my scarf doesn’t fit my neck?” Dukat mused.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking down on the mere motion that sanity could be restored with a glass of kanar.

“Of course it can” Damar said, as Garak tailored his golden-plated, lacy jock-strap.

“Do a good job, tailor. This is a very important heirloom, handed down to me by a complete stranger yesterday”.

As he was working, Garak pondered the deeper meaning of why Damar wore a lacy --

“No!” Garak said, “enough thinking!”

“Hmmm?” Damar grunted, “did you sew on the sequins yet?”

“Trying to imitate Dukat again are you?” Garak asked drolly.

“Our final showdown begins immediately” the great man said ponderously, “I intend to outshine Dukat, and in doing so create a new sequin fad the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance has never dreamed of!”

“However” said Garak, “O’Brien needs to fix the sequin machine immediately, so we’ll conquer the Federation with our clothes sadly deficient in this unless he does it in time”.

Brow sweaty, teeth clenched, Damar said, “just sew the first one, and let’s go!!”

Garak blinked, “go where, Damar?”

“Either conquering, or to Dukat”.

“I’m magnificent” Dukat preened, “and I declare myself winner, unless you want to do the counter-modelling as you originally declared.”

“Stop!” Bashir shrieked, “for the Pakled Love Slave holosuite program distracts Thot Mog from judging!”

It was then that a ship docked on pylon two, baring the ominous name “Sweety”.

“Hello, tailor” said its occupant.

“You!” Garak stared, wide-eyed, “...owe me a dinner at the Littlest Tuck Shop in that little alcove of businesses that is the Swindling Sector.”

“You mean Quark’s?” the mysterious Obsidian Order member replied, in a failed attempt to be labelled as mentally insane by 1800 hours the following day. Instead, he dangerously provoked Tain in a Pokemon tournament that saw Rusot’s Blastoise defeated by the most adorable yet impractical tantrum from a displeased Dukat.

Tain declared the mystery man An Enemy of The State!

A pancake exited the wormhole and mystery man tried to deploy a trilithium syrup bomb, but due to calibration errors it destroyed the third moon of the pacifist’s nebula, thereby triggering 83 years of war. Surprisingly, the war was a ratings disaster, cancelled and replaced with Big Brother (set on Cardassia), and Tain was voted out for failing the “Prison Break” tasks.

“What is this s**t?” demanded an irate Gul Evek, who reminded his fellow Cardassians he was still adrift in a sea of woe and plasma storms called The Badlands.

“Aren’t you back on Cardassia?”

“Evek is in many places” said the Prophets, who made mincemeat of our primitive notions of space, time and cheezburgers.

It’s finally happened, people: Lolcats are invading the Alpha Quadrant! This, our darkest hour, must be met with the full combined force of every character.

“Kthxbai” concluded Sisko, horrifying everyone. “We must not flag or halt, for the Lolcats intend to end us all with diabeetus”.

To preserve this enchanting tale in carbonite, take three lolcats, and place gently into the warp core of the Defiant, taking care not to wake Worf, who is, ironically, catnapping in engineering. “Sleeping? When we would also say, catnapping?” replied the comedian engagingly, “happily, Worf has run out of patience and is attacking the itteh bitteh kitteh committeh pre-emptively.”

As Kitty Apocalypse fell, so did silence and dander. The casualties horrendous, the trauma of moving zig for great comic effect resulted in the lolcat surrender and a new world order of internet memes featuring Cardassians with excellent grammar. These Cardassians, excellent in their application of modal auxiliary verbs, tore a hole into space which was the style at the time. The dreaded Double Superlatives inhabited this, and there was much rejoicing.

This, alas, had the most severe consequences of all. Yes, an epic fragmentation. Five words the semicolons abounded throughout space, time and indeed sense. This meant that the beloved thread had veered into a wordhole, and could not get out.

“We’re seriously lodged” said O’Brien, and suddenly hugged a Cardassian so tightly that he asphyxiated.

“I can?” said the young Ensign.

“Yes, we can!” barked the cast, who were used to the madness and were seriously nonplussed at the random dropping of plot points and lolcats and stuff.

Because of this, they went on strike and refused to eat unless their reasonable demands were met:

1. Peanut Butter to excess
2. Exorcism of urinal ghosts
3. Gold pressed latinum thongs
4. The best kanar on demand
5. Five for my lonely...
6. There is no six

The management (viz the current posters) apologizes for any inconvenience caused and has entered into negotiations with Paramount (god help them). Unfortunately, there has been a contract dispute which means that Cardassia will now face a general court-martial. This concludes Grand Nagus Zek’s Waffle House rhythm and blues review. Now for a word from our sponsors.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Garak threw up on Bashir, but the “vomit” was really Odo, who had recently fallen asleep after watching the movie Xanadu. It had left Odo unable to think in any logical way. Cardassians removed O’Brien’s clothes, causing Bashir to show obvious signs of illogic, also. This diminishing running joke led all to jump for jaded joy jubilantly, but strangely life went on.

Morn sighed, for no longer were the plumb breasts of The Sisko considered collector’s items. Photon torpedoes, however, were everywhere and 20 per GPL bar.

The Sentient Narrator broke in as Leeta fluffed her cleavage, concerned that yet another joke could destroy this story’s credibility. We are now DEAD SERIOUS - if you define “serious” loosely - it means no pink flowers and “dead” not at all.

“Hide the pink flowers” whispered the Prophets, “they displease us”.

Rushing to comply, Kira accidentally tripped over the flowers and committed an act of comedy. Not only was it funny, it aroused Dukat, who grabbed Kira by the lapels and kissed her tenderly, oh so tenderly, on her sweet, ridged nose. This caused her to sneeze before she decked him.

“I hope my germs kill your momma, and her momma!” Kira shouted “preferably after travelling to the Gamma Quadrant and ensuring you can’t find me!”

Then she decked him again, this time aiming for the spoon thingy on his forehead, which glistened on moonlit nights.

“It was worth it” Dukat mumbled as he collapsed on the floor with a nosebleed.

“His blood’s a weird colour!” exclaimed Worf, “my grandfather once had rotten borscht that colour and pooped himself. Here, smell my finger”.

“I can’t!” Dukat cried, collapsing to the floor.

“Nasty collapsing disorder there” observed Captain Sisko, on a visit to Dumpsville: Kasidy had eloped with Vreenak, who declared she was a real lady.

“What?!” exclaimed the Sisko, “she’s a fa-“.

Vreenak shot him, thankfully.

“He’ll live. My bullets were made by elves and thus were taken to Isengard”.

Shortly after Sisko’s revival, Kasidy decided to leave the Romulan, as his hairstyle was clearly modelled after a plastic fruit bowl. Thot Mog disapproved, and sought unlimited fashionista powers that would put an end to atrocities against Romulan hair everywhere. They (atrocities, that is,) included Brylcreem and substandard conditioners. Shamefully, Cretak, a victim of mousse abuse, refused to support the forces of good style and chose instead a substandard shampoo from the discredited "Credit Store", which was then burnt down by igniting the Hairspray of Doom.

Vulcans rebelled against hairstyle discrimination as it was hardly logical, and bad fashion to boot, to condemn Romulans when Vulcans are considered mucho tres chic and Founders are considered the epitome of the greaser look. However, the Cardassians are naturally tasteful (though a bit stodgy). The sheer awesomeness of the Cardassian spring fashion season caused intense jealousy throughout the quadrant due to the adorable Jem'hadar swatch watch theme with the velvet culottes, made even better by corduroy patches over the rear ends of the Jem'hadar "mini me" dolls, a huge trend on Cardassia III. Fortunately the "maxi me" fad faded into a dark hole in nothing flat.

Thot Mog said, "Where's the Grand Nagus?" He eyed everyone suspiciously, noticing that Kai Winn had a large ego (she also had a lingering odour, not unlike that of pulukoos found on Derna), but not larger than Evek's completely, ridiculously HUGE sense of superiority. The difference was Evek was in fact superior to most, while Winn only managed Operating Thetan level II, sadly.

“Scientologist infiltration!" shrieked the cast, seeking shelter underneath their beds. Renditions of "Danger Zone" resounded though the ether as the Sisko strutted around the Promenade.

“Since you don't possess a purple hat you must endure my singing."

Suddenly, EVERYONE obtained purple hats, except Odo, who sang along.

Dukat sulked, "I'm still more manly”

“In hats, size does matter- just ask Picard's bartender!" exclaimed Mot, the hairdresser with every character's deepest darkest secrets on file somewhere in his barbershop.

“Bring me those files" ordered Dukat, in a manly rage.

"Those files are well protected in the Badlands by the Maquis, who are guarding them with flaming polearms," stated Damar.

"That does not matter!" raged Dukat, armed with his Enchanted Ego Booster(TM) "I want you to fix this immediately, or I shall confiscate your hat! Then I shall eat it.”

Damar merely laughed at Dukat, then poured himself another glass and threw it at him.

The Narrator’s boss jumped in from the Promenade top level, breaking a leg. Dr. Bashir was unfortunately on Risa today, ostensibly to write a paper on the love lives of promiscuous Lethean females and the men they ensnare, so all we did was use a splint.

“Casualties of war” sneered Dukat.

“They were the Wounded" Macet grimaced.

All the sneering and grimacing emptied into the vat of Torment and Despair, copyright 2368. Who let PSGarak have extra words?

"I did!" exclaimed a voice.

Clearly, disorder and anarchy threaten the fabric of the universe and somebody should do something. PSGarak dropped one word.

O'Brien picked up a bat'leth and said, "Order restored thanks to the awesome power of Irish dance." His feet moved with style and grace and yet reality continued to defy simple explanation. As a result, a complete evacuation of reality never took place, because it required simple explanation to work (Something that was well beyond the understanding of corporeal beings and our unparalleled complex genius!)

(Editor's Note: Much use of and self-promotional ego-swelling congratulations followed).

“Sychophants," snorted Weyoun, ironic given he too used Thumbsup icons frequently, even in slash fanfics of which he enjoyed greatly the overly-descriptive eroticism. "I love it when a plan comes together... almost as much as I love the Founders!”

Weyoun then became teary-eyed and was cruelly mocked for sport by the thuggish Cardassians who found a Jem'hadar humping a "mini me" doll revolting.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

“Get off my station" ordered Gul Dukat.

"Whose station?!" demanded Kira, looking for another excuse to be thrown into the brig, so Odo and she left Ops and began humping so loudly that Quark's ears oozed green blood. Quark belched and said loudly, "I never want to eat oatmeal again!"

Kira just laughed and Odo licked the sweat on her arms.

(Editor's Note: This is where we took a strange turn into steamy romance for a page or two...).

"I have a magnificent idea” Damar said as he began working on a crossword puzzle (which always provided him with sexual stimulation). Kira's Raktajino was beside Damar (he stole it while she was sleeping), bubbling tearfully at the disturbing sexuality that was sorely lacking in the imagination of the space and the confines of song.

"Let's play Monopoly," he continued "and if anyone else wins I will stomp away tearfully, and heads are gonna roll...like the roll of dice.”

At that instant, a large Frogstar Robot Class D lumbered ponderously across Bajor, levelling cities and taking names later. Kira responded sensibly, using a bazooka to threaten the huge fleet.

"There's a fleet now? Bother. We'll need Deus ex Machina, and fast. Put in a proper divine rescue request, stat".

"I'm sorry, your call was unable to be completed. Please scream and stamp your foot while we try to disconnect previous callers" replied the ProphetHotline.

<<But what if the monkey-fighting snakes on this Monday- began to haemorrhage blood under the prophecy outlined years ago by the dolphins? "Well, then, this is your perfect chance to summon the forces of the underworld. They may not like it but they can eat you alive if you listen to the music of the kinks! Not to mention U2 or Coldplay>>

(Editor's Note: And so what's left of sense and coherence fell apart. We were soon back on track, though):

Fearing for the fabric of reality, naturally the whole cast said “we love the films of George Lucas (except for Howard the Duck but then no-one liked that piece of dreck). We also loved the recent remake of Robin Hood, and enjoyed Babylon Five!”

Jake yawned as the new story emerged over the course of the day.

“Soon we will reveal ourselves to the nutjobs at TrekBBS and offer them tea and cakes.”

Thor Damar paused and considered throwing in some Digestives too. First, tea must be made in the correct Klingon tradition.

So the whole cast was thrown into a hot tub and partied the night away. Damar sat on O'Brien, thus protecting his hair from moisture and clearly spooking the posters. O'Brien, being an Irishman, just asked for a beer and the still perfectly coiffed Damar said "Kanar is superior, my dear." This, of course, made O'Brien reconsider his prior prejudice. Deciding he had judged kanar poorly, he vowed to mend the malfunctioning replicators that kept putting Tabasco sauce in everything and haunting his dreams with visions of sugarplums dancing. Dancing!

Once he accomplished this, O'Brien would have his morning coffee the traditional Irish way, meaning lots of liquor, no coffee.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

As the Galaxy bowed to forces affecting the crew's performance (along with the posters of this tale) causing the left ear-drum to beat out its own funky jive music in Klingon, the Narrator suddenly shouted, "Study events very, very carefully and sing, sing, sing and then...(arrgh, it's all going non-linear, nothing makes sense).

"Not a sentence!" the Narrator wept, "what hath happen to my magnificent tale?"

"Hey, don't sweat the small stuff" assured Damar, who rushed to keep up with the runaway disaster that this story was quickly becoming.

"What is needed at this time is honour!" growled Worf.

"Pssh," Garak snorted. "Lies are clearly more effective in situations like this particular one, so quit with the 'honour' already."

“Worm," Worf grumbled and sighed.

"Stop, I want off!" yelled Damar and Dukat. They then beamed Zaphod Beeblebrox directly to a labour camp, where he met a Bolian spice addict in the Improbability Device factory.

“We agree on something?" Damar squeaked in surprise. "I'm appalled.”

Whoever the other person was, they clearly did not know how a Cardassian could squeak out a living by performing daily in front of philistines. Meanwhile, Jake Sisko finished writing out his will, fearing that he might be killed off.

"Ratings are lagging," said Nog, "and this thread isn't helping! Even 'These are the Voyages' is doing better. Somebody has got to fix this story!”

"It needs a lot of work. What is Mistral doing now?”

"Vacationing," Nog snorted in disgust.

Jake and Nog gasped when the Cardassian girl floated by.

"She's mine!" Jake shouted and pushed Nog aside with much exuberance.

"This can't end well”, quoth the raven, nevermore. However, if you play your cards, the bells, bells, bells, bells will toll for thee which makes a person kinda nervous.

“Indeed, for it is in such intimations of mortality that one can truly understand the glories of Cardassia," Dukat pontificated.

The unnamed Glinns and Gorrs agreed wholeheartedly in self-serving sycophantry as they promoted their agenda of an opossum in every Galor class Battlecruiser and the ability to tap dance nude.

Jake realized the entire crew had a better shot at bowling a perfect 300 game. First, they needed perfect shoes. Shoes that refracted blue light. Shoes that sparkled a manly gleam...something that would go someway towards making things acceptable to Thot Mog and the other characters shamefully neglected since the Reign of Madness began.

Sober, and ashamed at the way he practically prostituted himself during the recent affair of the hot tub party, Damar called a press conference.

"I did not have sexual relations with that Irishman. Doubt me? I'll prove it," Damar stated.

“We believe you!" devout worshippers of the Church of Super Troopers cried, weeping and pleading with him not to get camera shy at this critical stage in his career. This support greatly moved Damar, who became teary-eyed as he completed his address. "Assembled oddballs, countrymen, humongous cast... lend me your spare change, I want to buy drinks at Quark's and --"

"Nooo! It's starting again!” moaned Quark "I'm just a short step away from achieving absolute power..."

"HEY" roared Palpatine, “forgot me, eh? I've been well behaved for too long! Look at me! I'm nice!”

The sound of laughter rained down briefly, until everybody realized who was laughing. Out stepped Gowron, his eyes bulging with hyperthyroidism, and he was about to speak. As he paused, Gowron blew up, which pleased everybody and covered them all in Klingon blood.

"Ha, that's manly PURPLE blood!”

Bashir licked a drop and said, "Personally, I prefer tea.”

"Who's gonna clean this up?”

“Let's get Mikey, he cleans anything. He once even scrubbed the inside of a Pakled's ship in record time - and Quark's Vulcan Love Slave holosuite, which had recently been used to 'train' new Dabo girls on how to please Quark”.

"TMI!" shouted Thot Mog and several of the thread's contributors who curled into a ball wanted to hear more about this intriguing development from their good friends on TrekBBS.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Thor Damar, DS9's celebrity gossip columnist, has confirmed that there is cause for alarm, as once the barrier between the real world and toon-town is breached, there is no stopping the pain train.

It was then that Opaka returned, making Kira cry with the sheer joy at seeing her wrinkled little nose again.

Just then a plot twist that was so sickening, that it caused the gods themselves to weep in terror and disgust (resulting in subspace reverberations throughout the quadrant and causing the complete collapse of the thread singularity into a big fur ball, that was sticky when wet but smelly when used as a flotation device) occurred. Worse yet, it reproduced repeatedly.

“Run for your lives, everyone!"

But it was too late, the tribbles were in the Jefferies tubes, and nothing would stop them from fuzzy fornication. However, eventually the tubes became clogged with the dried skin of moulting Cardassian voles. That meant that the evil one, nicknamed by some "Old Scratch”, made a special guest appearance and then promptly departed because no one wanted creamed corn.

"I'll see you all in Hell" He said, vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Meanwhile deep in the heart of darkness, a heart so deep (and with a lilac smell), a rotten pestilence spread far and wide. Despite using an odour eliminator, the smell permeated all of the upper decks, although strangely it avoided the lower decks. The crew decided to evacuate and play canasta as well. Sisko ruled and got the entire crew to dis-robe. Eyes bled. Feelings were hurt.

Morn marched up to the Narrator and demanded an iPod player. The story lines quickly devolved into glorious chaos, which reflected upon the posters at TrekBBS and their brilliant ability to turn snippets into full-fledged mayhem, destruction and glorious chaos.

“Editors? Who needs editors?” thought Dukat, resplendent in a purple suit, as manly as ever he could ever be for a Cardassian, which is uber manly as many women could attest. Damar turned up in a white suit ala Scarface and said the F word two hundred and five times.

“Well, that's excessive," groused the Vedek assembly, protesting angrily.

“I've heard you potty mouths: opening a can of Whup Ass TM” said Damar. “don't try and frak with this Cardassian dammit!”

In protest, Vedek Yassim hung a Christmas ornament from the painting of a sad clown in the temple on the promenade. She danced the dance of life and no one watched because she did it wrong. Garak sighed.

"Do I have to do everything for you? I really must protest at this, who is responsible? Well?" He frowned.

The authors whistled nonchalantly and pointed all their fingers at the sentient narrator. The narrator shook his head frantically and tipped his head, and drool poured out. The narrator's phaser opened fire on the posters behind this. Stunned, the posters ceased posting for all of five seconds, until they remembered that...

“Well done," Tain quipped snidely as he drank his coffee.

“Man, you whack," said Molly.

“I've killed smaller, cuter kids for a lot less, little girl... now go fetch my knickers and don't lollygag about. If you hurry back, I'll let you hold a vole.”

"I eat voles for breakfast," boasted Morn. "They're great with cornflakes".

"Tell me more..." Tain demanded, his hand reaching for his other hand. He was sure to carry his best glass of rare kanar that Damar gave him for a handful of magic beans. These beans, when planted in the tangled roots of O'Brien's hair at the stroke of midnight, left a hint of gray, and the Minbari kidnapped O'Brien and coloured it unnaturally black to represent the hole in his mind (too much beer).

"Get out of our galaxy!” the Prophets hollered. "You don't have any jurisdiction here! Scram! Get the hell out of this fictional universe and go back to your own. We are the last, best hope for reasonable plotlines to return...and now for a song!”

“'Reasonable' is overrated," Zaphod noted.

"Well said, that man" nodded Sam Vimes who led an investigation into the mysterious disappearance of Rom and concluded the culprit was none other than the infamous purple-suited and -hatted Dukat, who, jealous of Rom's ability to match wits with any Cardassian going (no mean feat that), had framed Rom's cousin's stepsister's father's older brother's former roommate in law's first housekeeper's godson for the malicious murder of Col. Mustard in the library, with the intent to cause a disturbance in the Schwa-a-a-a-rtz.

“Quick, fast forward to the end of the thread!” the befuddled cast pleaded. "We're starting to wish this was all a terrible bad dream!”

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Londo turned his head and said "Great Maker, I want a cheese sandwich.”

G’Kar looked at the Prime Minister and offered him spoo.

“Why on Centauri Prime are you here? Haven't you plagued me enough with your tomfoolery, get out!”

“If I'm going, you're coming to my nephew's Bar Mitzvah, and you will lift the skirt around your mid-drift or you'll define spoo for me!” (cue evil laughter)

"Define spoo?" Mollari sputtered. "Define spoo --, pah you Narn are all alike, even when your toes stink.”

At that point, the Prophets banished the alien aliens, because Babylon 5 characters don't belong on Tarok Nor. Yes! Tarok spelled with an "a" because Mentok the Mindtaker wills it!

Then, everyone was in awe - shock and awe, to be exact - as Kira dis-robed in the middle of the story, before the denouement but with much elegant glory. Dukat departed for a shower. A cold shower. Using this opportunity to also try out the new pulsing water jets.

“Now, Rom!” ordered Chief O’Brien, “do it now!”

He motioned, and Rom cut off all the cold water as O’Brien turned the sewage valve, laughing madly as he did, and flooded three cargo bays.

“Might be some collateral damage” said O’Brien, while Nog’s quarters were cordoned off by Odo, who had really enjoyed the new bucket Kira gave him but now wondered: was there more to life than digs? His fairy godmother appeared, and gave him a pep talk and a bag of humbugs.

“You shall go to the brig, where you will remain until this story makes sense”.

“So don’t hold your breath”, muttered the readers to themselves.

A new day dawned. Awakening, bright eyed and bushy tailed, Ezri Dax stretched and yawned. Peacefully, she got dressed. Then...she poured herself a bowl of leeches.

“Leeches!?” she shrieked, “Julian! I told you to pay off Little Jimmy Jack-knife before he kneecaps you again. Leeches are his calling card”.

“I’m channelling Phlox” Julian said, “it wasn’t gangster reprisal as per the standard cause just my ability to recapture historical events in an intelligent manner and creep you out”.

Dax glared, angry at the mere thought of worm-like creatures used like this.

Meanwhile there was a crisis brewing on the good ship Lollipop. Weyoun skipped a light fandango, turned around fast and knocked Talak’talan’s escort over and onto her bottom. Talak’talan burst into tears, which melted the floor beneath the vault at the first national bank and Morn stole all its latinum (again). Quark signed a check for “services rendered” and then pouted meaningfully at the Grand Nagus, who looked on disapprovingly and sighed.

Odo escaped from the brig disguised as a throw pillow, and the Fairy Godmother crazily turned nearly everything into pumpkins, or squash, zucchini and katterpods.

“PICK SOME CROPS!” blared Sisko through a quantum triphasic megaphone.

"The Emissary has spoken" praised the manager of the hydroponic farm. The people of the hills, who were damn tired of cucurbits, wanted to lick the legs of the Roast Beast, but the dammed English stopped them because the Beast is classified as a torpedo munch ball.

"I shall now grant three wishes to the first thousand characters on this list. Morn, Damar, Tain, Macet ,Daro, Rusot, Bareil, Winn, Russol, Bugs Bunny, et cetera. Need we continue?”

“Excuse me" interrupted Dukat, "do you happen to have a point in making this list?”

"I think that you have mislaid your cough medicine! Ahaahaahhaahh!" cackled the first Legate of Cardassia's favourite pharmacological research division. He initiated a series of massive attacks on rival companies, kidnapping their manager's top pharmacists at phaser-point and forcing them to serve the Glorious Cardie-cough-a-lot Medicine Company on pain of...well, pain. "Encouraged" by the "prod-a-lot" patented poking devices, the 'volunteers' created a health system so efficient Bashir became obsolete in the skill of kissing the kiss of life. He would often hum John Denver classics by the hour in the infirmary, resulting in his patients screaming loudly, "Stop! Stop!"

Accordingly, a hearing was called to sort out this mess and Bashir was convicted of mass traumatization of his patients, and sentenced to listen to polka and Michael Bolton recordings until he understood what true suffering really was. Tain totally approved.

“Tain's been here all along?!" asked the cast.

"Well, duh - every story needs a daddy-figure and Tain fits nicely".

"Objection!” said Garak. "He's not MY daddy-figure...even though he does read me stories at night...well, not really stories, they're just op ads. Still, it's the thought that counts."

And Sisko thought, "Yeah, ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-ght. Somebody's got issues... I'm just going to...be over here."

“I heard that," Garak said, “Don't talk to yourself if it makes you particularly horny."

These words of advice were wise enough that the Prophets laughed their way to the bank. Ira Behr did too.

"We were talking about me,” said the entire Cardassian race in a magnificent raising of mellifluous voices that echoed through the whole quadrant. The resulting sonic vibrations caused massive casualties in the rift and Dr. Bashir became relevant for the first time ever.

"You all just became nurses bi-otches. Suck it up!" Bashir said, forgetting that he was British and supposedly above such abuses.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"I have just the outfit for my new Jem'Hadar doll!” said Molly, who forgot that she was in charge now. Surprisingly, Molly had been made supreme ruler of the known universe. Her ability to scream at ear-shatteringly high pitches made her an ideal candidate for performing sonic root canals.

"You know," Bashir said, "she sets my teeth on edge. I wonder if Miles would consider replacing her with something a bit less shrill. Maybe that nice little girl from the orphanage in Dahkur Province".

"Let's adopt an orphan!" said Dukat, enthusiastic about this idea.

"What's the plot, Dukat?" asked Weyoun, a poet who didn't stow it.

"Quiet, Weyoun" Dukat whispered. "They'll hear you. You know what they are like!"

The tension in the room led to the rather lazy dispersal of the gathered for application of hand puppets to their hands. Novel, that. Who used these puppets to demonstrate oo-mox? Leta, of course, because she was in on Dukat's adoption plan and knew it involved oo-moxing the officials at the orphanage. Besides, the puppets would entertain the little children and disguise the unsavory nature of their new daddy, Dukat.

Rom secretly seethed as his feud with Dukat is established over Leta's heart, mind, and sweet, sweet scent. "If only I was crazy-sexy like Cardassians!" he lamented, "woe, woe!" Dukat said, the text being stomped.

Mocking Rom was too easy, so they carried on doing it. "Rom is so slow that it takes him two hours to finish his whining rant on his blog. Two hours!"

"Is this true?" demanded Quark, whose disdain for whiny bloggers was equaled only by his lust and greed. Rom shamefully left forever, leaving Dukat chuckling over his defeat.

"At last, I am the sole monologuer of this story. Nothing can stop me in my quest to overwhelm the known galaxy by using my orphans to convince trillions of gulllible fools to buy stock in my pah-wraith artifacts store. Then, pah-wraiths will collect enough royalties to overthrow the Prophets: then they'll give me and all who love them...candy!!!"

"You told us you wanted to change your ways - now we find out that you are just selfishly after candy. For shame".

The looks of disappointment and disapproval upset Dukat, who threatened the evacuation of his bowels to new Delphi. "I laugh in the general direction of your face you English pigdog!"

The Queen roared "off with exceedingly good relish on her salads!" at the Romulan chef.

"Why, what did I do?" squealed the Romulan, fearing that...

Suddenly the clock struck, and silenced our fears, and our heroes took a potty break. The orphans, dismayed that Dukat insisted on the pink wig, reacted with much insolence and stole his purple hat. "Noooooooooooooooooooo!"

The cry echoed through the entire thread: Dukat was emasculated. The orphans decided to throw violent tantrums, and refused to return his hat, so Dukat agreed to find them homes. Things did not go as smoothly as hoped, however, for those who believe in Vaal shall find the path to the forest outhouse to be riddled with poison ivy and all manner of wild beasts.

Bashir smirked, "I'm pleased that someone made this discovery. I need a hot towel.”

"Doctor, what about the casualties from the alternate dimension? Do you plan to do anything or shall we callously disregard this plot device?" As he considered it, Sisko casually began throwing baseballs at Quark's feet.

"Dance for me!" roared Sisko, mad with power and hammy exuberance, his voice modulating strangely.

"But Sisko, Rule of Acquisition 231 clearly states: Dance the Jig, and the fog of war shall revel itself, thereby leading to increased war profits and jellybabies for all species."

"Exactly," Sisko agreed, "so dance and growl like a dog."

Molly kicked Sisko's shin. "You're not in charge, I am, so tell me a story!"

The story of The Sisko: "Once there was an irritating girl named Molly, who backstabbed her way to the top. The hero, a Mister Sisko, put her in time out. The wicked Molly turned to her allies, Dukat's orphans, making them naughty. Everyone got drunk. The End."

"That's a pretty poor story," said Garak. "I can do Sisko in if you want."

Molly gave a thumb’s up. Everyone paused to consider Garak and the choice of book he had used to thump Jasad with. It was the Book of Death: now Sisko wasn't up on his Egyptian and so would be cursed. "Oh no, not another Mummy arising in shocking disrespect of canon!" moaned Damar, who hated Garak's random cursed book attacks with a vengeance.

"How can you not use 'Tellarite Love Slave' to curse instead?" demanded Tain who thought that the day he taught Garak cursing was mildly againist character. "I'm the spy-master and patriot, not a father figure! Who wrote this?"

"Don't start!" the Sentient Narrator warned the irate Cardassian "there WILL be consequences. For instance, you will be denied any more kanar and possibly even Earth sing-alongs."

"I'll be good" said all the Cardassians hurriedly.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

At this point the cast simultaneously vomited. Behr was furious. The sentient narrator had a full case of kanar, which he knew was one of the best ways to jumpstart the Camaro in Cargo Bay 7. Unfortunately, that cargo bay was blocked by a large shipment of vintage novelty breast pumps so the plot thread went along quite well, thanks to the Editors' unfeeling, draconian policies.

Molly stamped her feet, demanding another story, right now! NOW!

"Let Uncle Quark tell you the story of Brok and his weapons-grade trilithium acquisition."

There was nothing but respect for the original source material as Quark passionately recited the incantations of the Kosst Amojan and kept every listener enthralled until suddenly a Pah-wraith rose up and demanded some breakfast.

"Uh, what do Pah-Wraiths eat?" said Quark while offering it his best Warp Core Breach.

"The same thing we do" suggested Kira, offering Jumja - POISONOUS jumja - which caused the deaths of several unpopular characters, including some forgotten ones such as...as...you know, the one that...ummm...I forgot.

Anyway...Wesley, perhaps? He's unpopular, though Lieutenant Commander Leland T. Lynch is a more interesting candidate. They took Lynch's corpse to the promenade for a last drinking session before the end of this sordid chapter in the history of Cardassian-Bajoran comparative death studies.

"Stop this free form posting" came the order from Admiral Ross, accompanied by great fanfare (and Section 31 agents) and written orders from all Ross' grandchildren, who with crayons hath decreed the following orders:

One: Starfleet uniforms replaced with flannel jammies and bunny slippers.

Two: All Klingon vessels will be painted pink - pink! - and outfitted with giant bunny slippers whilst being used for the Romulan annual target practice contest (Romulans just hate bunny slippers).

The Romulan Senate met today to gossip about Neral's new choice of curtain (it was a great bargain and furthermore had a great colour scheme), but soon the controversy began to sprial out of control.

Senator Veraul of the Kotach District had some shocking news about rayon and cotton blends, that would most definitely cause many severe and unsightly allergic reactions. However, they approved of polyester, which offended the Tholian ambassador because polyester melts when heated.

"At least it's not Reman linen. That stuff is flammable! And oh-so tacky, too, plus it holds wrinkles horribly. And it's soooooo last year."

Garak beamed at the talk, simply overjoyed by the appreciation of all things tailor-y. He decided that when it was over, he'd make everyone embrace total fabulousness or else they would have to wear sack cloth and hair shirts.

Damar felt somewhat put upon by the rotting carcass of the elephant in the room. But the elephant also annoyed O'Brien. It interfered with the promenade's feng shui, which might mean Keiko would be nagging him even more than usual, and we all know what would happen, another epic bromance - assuming bromances can be "epic" - featuring O'Brien and his pal My Little Pony. Sparkly edition. Garak preferred the ultra-chic Bratz, which reduced his overall coolness by a factor of 47. Inverted. Minds were blown by the use of this common ST motif in a story that, if one could charitably call it thus, was all kinds of awesome albeit perhaps a trifle...disjointed (and that's the truth!)

Odo forced some degree of order from chaos, that Founder eh? Reluctantly, the denizens of DS9 gathered together in one place and ate a dead lizard. This had the end result of giving everyone smelly gas. It also horrified the Cardassians, who eat lizards live, because who likes dead meat? Nobody actually eats dead bloody meat! Nobody with a palate, anyway. Except Fedder wussies. Something about those Starfleeters makes me...just then actual plot happened!

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Dukat strutted down the catwalk, too sexy for his Purple Hat. He turned, hat tilted at a fetching angle, because that's how he rolls, man! He said, "Whatcha think about my proposals for a new tax system that punishes the weak and rewards the strong: Us. Yes, us”.

"I actually like the previous system, which ensured a fair coverage of all," squeaked Keiko.

"Pah, have you forgotten the history of your own pathetic TV network? You know, the Cardassian Union could use your spare VHS and DVDs as mulch on its vast fields of manly, manly rocks. We like our rocks and deserts like we like our men: Weed-free, in other words.”

Howls of laughter issued out of the speakers, so loud that the balance of power shifted in Dukat's favor which left the poor in a bad predicament. Who would represent them now? Just then Damar stepped forward. "Weaklings, you're screwed," he said.

"But you are Damar the great leader... and you're out of character!"

Damar laughed wickedly. "Fools, I am Mirror Damar. Consider yourselves fortunate if I do not sing at you! Show tunes, like Hello Dolly! and The Unsinkable Molly O'Brien. Let's do the Time Warp and wonder where the marbles went. What say you now?"

Bashir, who was already dressed for musical theater said sheepishly, "Can I wear a bra?"

"No!" Garak insisted. "It's unfashionable unless you have moobs, and unfortunately, yours are too small in an Ezri kind of way."

Bashir, not to be deterred, ordered five crates of Guinness and poured it away, laughing at an anguished Miles O'Brien. The evil Mirror Damar grinned wolfishly, demanding fresh sweet corn or else he would unleash...the Cloaked Corn Pickers of Doom! Tremble, corn-haters, for your time right now is 1539 precisely. Trust me, this is NOT Sparta. I should know, I have been to Mirror Sparta!

"Behold the power of Mirror Britain, where our waistcoats are shiny, more colourful, and we all drink coffee. And Margaret Thatcher still rules a dying nation with millions out of work until the Alliance enslaved them. Which was nice, apart from the whipping. We don't like that sort of thing, it's too fluffy and nice and squishy.”

"This slave's defective" cried Overseer Thot Mog, "he needs to drastically improve his color coordination or else he'll be so gauche that no one will want to eat off his tablescape. Not even sweet corn would be enough to appease him".

"He needs a purple hat! A manly purple hat of course requires the finest raw materials - to install Gul Madred's lights upon the hat's expansive brim.”

Quark hosted a karaoke party but insisted everyone sang only Pat Boone songs in Klingon, because he knew that Worf couldn't stand any other music for very long. This shocked Worf, a closet Slayer fan. "First of all," he grumbled, "the speakers are poor quality. Secondly, since when do you recite a death dedication after such music? One should sing sombre songs before death dedications! Pat Boone songs are not suitable - though better than Bolton's - although that's not saying a lot, but I'd prefer singing Cardassian rap myself. It's far more appropriate for the occasion, given that we find ourselves in such a weird story lately and besides, Boone is passé.”

The cast agreed with this sage advice from Worf, whose knowledge of all forms of schlocky pop music scored 39 points on "Popmaster". The Klingon Empire discommended Worf and celebrated with a rollerdisco. The Romulan Star Empire took a different, less schlocky approach: that of a Blues night, and bigger shoulder pads made for the Obsidian Order, who had had enough of unpadded garments. Thot Mog agreed, naturally. Garak worked with the Romulans and then, remembering what happened. "Why, it seems like yesterday,"

"It was. We teamed up to take on the blighters who stole Tain's knickers again".

(Editor's Note: You may have noticed Tain misplaces his knickers quite often in this story).

The Romulan Colonel smiled at their newly unveiled secret weapon: sartorial theft. Smiling Romulans were stuffing accessories into shoulder pads and constructing additional pylons on Dukat's hat, with Madred's lights. "There are four lights!" shouted the Department of the Obvious.

"Three is more chic," said Thot Mog, branching out into eclectic electrical eccentricity with gusto. For what better use of teeny tiny bulbs than a bold fashion lesson and the breaking of a human's will?