Something went wrong with my night-time waste beam.
Usually all our waste is beamed out into space whilst we sleep, creating big dung rocks for future species to populate. We passed one by accident once, and it had developed its own atmosphere and a race of crazy space beetles.
Anyway, this morning I woke up with a strange desire to despatch an away team from my cargo tube.
I left my quarters in a desperate panic, hoping to reach the transporter room before an unauthorised departure occurred.
I arrived to find everyone else had the same problem. The smell was terrible. Some of the crew didn't have such unwavering control as me. That's what makes a Starship Captain great. Good bowel control.
Scotty was emptying people in batches of five. I asked him how it was going
"I cannae keep up the pace, Captain. I don't have the power!"
I told him that I would go to the bridge and divert power from the shields to help him if he removed the klingons from my starboard bow, so to speak.
He squeezed me in, leaving an unfortunate ensign to relieve herself in the corner whilst I took her place. She was pretty. Especially when she was angry.
After Scotty beamed out the invaders, I sidled off back to my quarters to think about that ensign and get some more sleep.
He looked quite upset when I saw him later.
He said the diversion of power from the shields hadn't made any difference at all. He had only just finished cleaning up after everyone and now he was on his way to the bridge to shout at Spock for not doing his job properly.
I sweated nervously for a moment, then inspiration hit me. I performed a vulcan neck pinch on him.
I figured I could intercept Spock and get him to take the blame. He's three times as strong as me, which meant he might just be able to quell one of Scotty's legendary whisky fuelled rages.
"What are ye doin?" Scotty said, looking at me in utter confusion as I felt his collar.
I ran away and hid in a torpedo tube.
posted by Captain Berk @ 12:11 pm
11 Comments:
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ewwwwwwwwwww
Ah! There's nothing quite like having a cute ensign take a crap in the corner of your transporter room. I'm pretty sure that's something that would appeal to the nerd excrement fetishists of the world. I'm pretty sure that you could make a hefty chunk of change if you had that on video. Or perhaps a nice sum of credits. (You and your crazy, money-abolishing Federation!)
Better watch out...the computer will find your hiding spot!!!
that topedo tube is your favorite place isn't it?
One Sunday morning I suggested to my mates that we put our heads together to create big dung rocks for future species to populate. They looked at me as though I were talking shit.
For the record, I was.
The effects of hot sake, gravity and undesired bowel convulsions leading to experimental rap moves in the dark can be embarrassing if the clarity of footage isn't half bad.
Never run, Captain. It's better to be unconscious and smelling of your own faecal matter than out of breath.
My mother used to say that all the time. She left when I was diagnosed with incontinence as my seventh birthday loomed.
Hiding in a torpedo tube was the best option.
It's good to know you expect your junior staff to deal with all your crap.
Like any good manager should!!
Vamp: Apparently I make that sound in my sleep.
Doug: I'll start raiding the CCTV. I'm sure I could get some amusing footage of Chekov squeezing out an enemy vessel.
Trinity: That's okay. It can't understand Scottys accent, so he will never be able to locate me.
Son: I like the comforting blackness of the dark.
Andy K: You're a bit like that Q fellow that visited the other day. He was all cryptic until I worked my magic on him. He won't be bothering me again. I do experimental rap moves in the dark. It's nothing to do with bowel movements though.
Picard: It usually is.
Toast: Thanks! Creeping up to me will get you everywhere (within starfleet regulations)
When all else fails, there is always the old hiding in the torpedo tubes option. I should have some of those installed in the mansion.
Can't touch this.
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