Out in the neither regions of the galaxy, there is a lone outpost, where the search for new plots and even weirder charachters is ever ongoing. Out there, Scarfeet maintains one outpost ... it's mission -- higher ratings. The name ... S T A R D R E K ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lame Parody Nine Star Drek: Lame Parody Nine (c) 1993 DigiT.W.I.T. Ink. UnLtd Written by Woody All rights reserved, all dogs go to heaven. Personae: ============================================================================= Commander Sanfran Sisco Scarfeet commander of Lame Parody Nine, a old, broken down space station and ice hockey rink. Major Bitch 'nuff said. Chief Potatoes O'Brien Head Engineer of Lame Parody Nine. Constable Bono Head of security, and ex-mayor of Palm Springs. Lieutenant Sax Bill Clinton in Babe's clothing (and body) and Science officer. Dr. Pepper Medical doctor and head horndog of LP9. =============================================================================== As our show opens up, we see Lame Parody Nine, an old broken down space station come into view. Clearly visible are the clear nylon strings holding the model up against the background of stars. The station itself clearly looks shot the hell up. The external lights flicker on and off. A sign shows on the left side of the station: "Model by Revell" A single Scarfeet starship is heading for one of the docks. Inside the starship, Commander Sanfran Sisko and Chief Potatoes O'Brien are looking out of the window, at the station they will be disembarking at in a few minutes Cmdr Sisko: I wonder why Scarfeet is sending us here to this Godforsaken place? Chief O'Brien: Oh, thats an easy enough question. They wanted a more "down-to-earth" show. Although, how we're going to find a "down-to-earth" show here 30,000 light years away from Earth is BEYOND me. Soon, the starship docks and Sisko and O'Brien disembark onto the station. They are met by a female with a bad nose job. She salutes. Bitch: I am Major Bitch, and I'll be your second in command, like it or not. Sisko: Well, now I know where you got your name from. By the way, what are you anyways? Bitch: I am a Spayjoran. Our reproductive capabilities are severely restricted, and in the female of our species, it results in hormone overflow. We have, what you humans call PMS, roughly 30 days out of every month. Let's get things straight. My loyalties are to Spayjor, that planet that this damn station is circling around. I don't like Scarfeet, I don't like you, I don't like ... this damn uniform, and I don't like .... aww dammit, I don't like these earrings...waaaaaaaa Sisco: There, there, it's not that bad.... Bitch: WAAAAAAAAAAAAA yes it IS!!! O'Brien: Damn, they really do have PMS all the time... Bitch: Take that back dammit!!! O'Brien: bu...bu...but, I-I'm just repeating what y-you... Bitch: BUT WHAT? Listen mister, you insult me and my people, I'll turn you into MASHED Potatoes O'Brien. That clear? O'Brien: Y-yes ma'am! Sisko: Well, it looks like you two will get along just fine... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- LP9 Commander's Log. Stardate 324812.231.00.002.110122.and one tenth. We have arrived somewhat safely onto Lame Parody Nine, which orbits Spayjor. The Spajorans are a very testy race, who seem to have genetic bad nosejobs. They have recently been at war with the Creditcardassians, who are a race of compulsive shoppers. Recently, the fighting came to an end when the first Benihana franchise opened up on Visa. Apperantly,Creditcardassians the were so interested in watching Benihana chefs do their thing, that they forgot all about the war. Before withdrawing, they destroyed all means of the Spayjorans to manufacture tampons. After our meeting with Major Bitch, my second in command and Spayjoran liason officer, we see how important this is. Thusly, I have requested that Scarfeet transport 10,000 tampons to Spayjor to avert disaster. After two days here, my opinion of the station is this: It is shot to hell. How life support is maintained, I have no idea. Although it is messy right now, the producers have assured me that this will me a state-of-the art fully functional station by the second episode. The other members of the crew here are Constable Bono, who claims to be a singer. From what I've heard so far, I'm inclined to disagree strongly. He has taken a liking to a Spredum female named Chair. A coincidence? I think not. Lieutenant Sax is an old friend of mine, we played Arsenio together. I am not sure if I am to call Sax a he or a she, and this question is making me question my own sexual orientation. Doctor Pepper, well, there is nothing this guy will not do to get laid. Its amazing he hasn't contracted one of the alien STD's floating around there, like the Straian Purple Spotted Penis Disease or something. But I figure he will sooner or later. Thusly, I have asked Scarfeet for a new medical officer. They have told me that the minimum time is two weeks, but that should be fine -- he oughta have something by then. There is also, amazingly a gambling establishment called Atlantic City, owned by Donald Trump XXIV, on the Promenade. The executive owner of this franchise is a Ferengi named Bark, and as far as I can tell, that's all he does all day. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Two weeks later... Scarfeet have left two scout ships at LP9, for the use of the crew. The crew of the station have been using them to inspect the outside of LP9 for damage, and to screw in new lightbulbs on the outside. On this particular mission, Commander Sisco and Major Bitch were looking for Sisco's lost Diary, which had been accidentally dumped out with the morning trash. Sisco: We've been searching for two hours now, and still no sign of the thing. Bitch, I think we're wasting our time, let's head home. Bitch: Okay, but don't say we didn't try, you know... Sisco: Hey, a question: Why is it that on a station of 5000 people, the commanding officer and second in command have to pilot the scout ships? Can't we have dedicated scout pilots? Bitch: Oh, the thing is that we're the main charachters, and although it would be very logical for us to have scout crewmen, its too complicated for our audience to follow. Take, for example, Star Drek: The Next Load of Bull. Wilma Stryker is ALWAYS the one who leads an away team on the Enterprise. And you notice how he always takes members of the Bridge crew with him? What about the thousands of people on THAT ship? Sisco: Oh, I get it. Oh! Hey there! Three o'clock... there's something out there. Take us over there, quickly! Bitch: Take us here, take us there ... do this, do that. Why can't you do it yourself, huh? Sisco: Because you're at the controls. Bitch: SO?! What's THAT gotta do with anything? Sisco: Oh shut up and drive. Bitch reluctantly steers the ship towards where Sisco wanted. Soon the object comes into view. It's a small plaque with a red button on it. Floating out in the middle of space. Bitch: What do you suppose THAT is? Sisco: A plot device? Bitch: BESIDES that! What's it doing out here? I wonder if we should press the button. Sisco: Hmmm, I guess we should, otherwise this episode will go nowhere. I'll activate the robotic arm. Sisco activates the robotic arm, and controls it with a joystick. After a few minutes he uses the arm to push the button. A blinding flash appears before them. When they can both see again, they look out the windows to see what happened. A terrible sight appears before them. A pair of gigantic lips, reminicent of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, has appeared before them. As they watch, the lips open up and a gigantic bowl comes out. The lips disappear in a flash, leaving the huge bowl, which dwarfs the small scout ship. Bitch: Dear God, it's a Spambowl! Sisco: A Spambowl? I thought those only existed elsewhere. It was true. The Spambowl was larger than any Spambowl Sisco had ever heard of before. This Spambowl had just put Lame Parody Nine on the map. Sisco: Woah ... we just put Lame Parody Nine on the map Bitch: How do ya know that, huh, hotshot? Sisco: It just said so. Bitch: Oh. Quickly Bitch and Sisco fly back to Lame Parody Nine. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- LP9 Commander's Log. Stardate 124312.131.01.222.11 to the third power. We have discovered a most amazing thing. There apperantly is a large Spambowl here by LP9. There is apperantly enough Spam in the thing to feed Somalia many times over. At any rate, this has apparently become a very strategic area, as many life forms in this part of the Galaxy use Spam for various needs. As the head of the Scarfeet contingent in the area, it is my duty to claim as much Spam for Scarfeet as I can. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two hours later, on the bridge of LP9. The Bridge of LP9 is both high and low tech. While the walls are filled with the most modern of equipment, the healmsman has a old wooden wheel to steer by. The Science and Medical Officer's position are right next to one another. Dr. Pepper: Hey Lt. Sax, how about we go over to my place after hours and you can ... blow my horn Sax: I don't think so homey, this slug don't play dat! O'Brien: Attention on deck! Sisco: Hey, you don't need to do that. This is Scarfeet, not the Marines. Anyways wha- Bitch: Commander Sisco! Radar shows Creditcardassian ships heading towards the Spambowl! Sisco: Okay. How far are we from the Spambowl? Bitch: About 400 kilometers. Sisco: What we have to do is place LP9 in between the Creditcardassians and the Spambowl! Mister O'Brien! Do it! O'Brien: Okay, helmsman, engage the rectroactive gravity movement devices and quadra-glass plasma drive units three and four. Be sure to keep the speed under warp otherwise we'll break up! Helmsman: What, sir? O'Brien: The thrusters, turn on the friggin thrusters! Helmsman: yessir! Sax: Sir! Incoming Creditcarassian transmission from their lead ship! Sisco: On screen! Bad Guy: Move your puny station away from the Spamhole or else we will destroy you and your Spayjoran brownosers! Bitch: Hey! That's a low blow! We don't have brown noses! Sisco: In the name of Scarfeet, I must protest this incursion into Spayjoran territory. Bad Guy: Whatcha gunna do about it, eh? neener neener neener! Sisco: Okay, you've pissed me off. MISTER O'BRIEN! RAMMING SPEED! O'Brien: B-b-but sir! W-w-we can't RAM them... Sisco: Why not? O'Brien: We'll die in the collision. Sisco: Shit, it worked for Kirk. Okay, scratch that. We'll use our secret weapons on 'em. Everyone on LP9:Sir???? Sisco: Well, they're Creditcardassians, right? We brought along two IRS employees along. We'll use THEM! Bad Guy: Nevermind! We'll retreat .... taxes ... euuuuuuuu ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Epilogue: Two days later Sisco: Well Bitch, I guess we showed them Creditcardassians, eh? Bitch: Yup. They agreed to not come close to us. A true victory. Sisco: Bitch? Bitch: Yeah. Sisco: Can you help me program this VCR? ============================================================================= And so it was ... THE END Woody Is it contact or just reaction? CLuNK 911:5150/19 Is it revolution, or just resistance? The Horse & Anvil Inn BBS Is it living, or just existance? [PMS/JPL/DigiT.W.I.T.] -N. Peart