Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/misc/2401

Text File | 1995-08-20 | 16KB | 315 lines

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From: [e-mail] (GURAL, ANDREW R)
Subject: 2410, a lark with apologies (full text)
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240l
(with apologies to Mark Twain)
by A. Gural,
Concordia University.
I wrote this sometime in l993 as a lark for a friend. Enjoy.


    Yesternight, took my lady a fantasy, such as she sometimes
hath, and had to her cabin those that give orders, follow them
and suchlike in thecompany of her daughter, upon whose vessel
my lady did visit. These being Captain Jean-Luc Picard, his
beardiness Commander William Tell Riker, Commander Geordi LaForge,
a moor,  Beverly Crusher, a surgeon, her son Wesley, which being
but sixteen had yet to murder one of his school mates while
attempting a feat of tremendous stupidity and danger, Lieutenant
Worf, a Klingon and my lady's daughter Deanna Troi who keeps
company with all above as a counsellor. A right strange mixing
truly, of mighty blood with mean, the more inespecial since my
lady's grace was present as likewise these following, to wit:
Chief Petty Officer Miles Edward O'Brien and his wyfe Keiko,
the privateer Okana, the illustrious Mr Data, and great
Romulan Tomalock.

    I, Mr Hum, being her ladyship's cup-bearer had no choice
but remain and behold the high holding converse with the low as
upon equal terms this being the twenty-fourth century and an
egalitarian one at that.

    A great scandal did the universe hear thereof. In the heat
of the talk, it befell that one did break wind yielding an
exceeding mighty and distressful stink whereas all did laugh,
and asked my lady, 'Really, in all myIah, in my years have I
heard the fellow to this fart! It did seem by the great sound
and clamour of it to belong to a gentleman, yet the belly it
did lurk behind should lie flat against the spine of him that
has been delivered of so stately and so vast a bulk; whereas
the guts of those that do quifsplitters bear stand comely
still and not deflated like an old condom. Well, who laid it?
Will my Dr Crusher testify?'

    And answered the physician, 'Excellency, my tricorder
indicates the air pressure in the room has increased by an
additional cubic meter of gas. There is no possible way I
could contain the additional volume without severe abdominal
distension causing pain on the diaphragm and abdominal vault.
It was not I who could generate enough methane, nitrogen or
hydrogen, or swallow enough air to generate such an
overpowering and masterful fog, this nebulous organic brew. I'm
afraid you'll have to seek further.'

    And said my lady, 'Perhaps the gallant Romulan had done
us this favour?'

    And answered Commander Tomalock, 'So please you madam,
most beautiful lady, my limbs are feeble with the weight of
five and two hundred winters and it behoves me that I be
tender unto them. Should I have contained this wonder I
would have taken the whole evening for the dribbling of it
out, not launched it suddenly in its matchless might like a
newly-commissioned Warbird Dreadnought out of dock, taking
my own life with violence, rending my weak frame like light,
rotten rags. It was not I, your ladyship.'

    And said my lady Lwaxana, 'By the Great Bird's name,
who had favoured us? Has it come to pass that a fart shall
fart itself? Not by a freak worm-hole I trove. Young master
Crusher, but no, it would have sundered him like kleenex!
The lady Keiko? OhQ! Don't blush, woman. You'll have to
roger many an I.R.A. thug before you'd blowing out
a maelstrom like this. Was it you, my learned and ingenious
Captain?'

    And replied Picard, 'So tremendous a blast in all my
travels, my ears have never heard. Nor a scent so
interesting yet toxic. I suspect that it was not a novice who
performed it, but one of veteran experience, else had he
failed of confidence the consequences might have courted
disaster for all aboard the Enterprise. But, in the end, it
was not I.'

    And asked my lady, 'Commander Riker?'

    And answered Commander Riker, 'Not from me did this
muzzle flash burst forth, your grace. And it is not from
some mediocrity such as myself that this miracle can issue.
Though I did eat the Ydorap ambassador--they having strong
resembelance to a plate of kolbasa and cheese, for which my
service record has black tick.'

    Though the subject be but a fart yet will this unlettered
dolt tediously philosophize; meantime, did the foul and deadly
stink pervade all places, to that degree that never did I smell
the like. Yet dared I not to leave the presence albeit though
I was like to suffocate. Then asketh my lady, 'What say the
worshipful Mr Data?'

    And replied the commander, 'Given my singular status, I
can honestly proclaim my innocence, though the religion of
Kakabendi lX have foretold the coming of a most desolating
breath from a two-cheeked monster that shall scour the universe
of all life; and that a gas-bag creature living on the Jovian
world in Earth's solar system is a cigar-shaped bladder living
in the storm-tossed clouds of that gas giant has an expurgatory
function createing lightning storms ten-kilometers long;
and several creation myths on a number of worlds claim a giant
trolling thunder created sound when the planet itself split
open to admit noise into the world; yet, I have no anus, hence
it was not I.'

    Then was there a silence, excluding the rumbling of the
ship. And did all eyes turned to Worf, that burnished,
bloodied and axe-throwing warrior, who, rising up, and
simpering, did say, 'Most gracious lady, forgive me,' he
said turning, 'Captain, Commander, It was I did it, but
indeed it was so poor and frail a note compared to such as
I am wont to furnish, that I was ashamed to call the weakling
mine in the presence of my superiors. It was nothing, it
was less than nothing.' Commander Data started at this
logical puzzle but my lady's daughter did shush him down.
'I did it but to clear my nether-throat and keep it in
practice, for flatulence can be useful in hand-to-hand
combat. But, had I come in readiness, then I should have
delivered something worthy of an Enterprise crewman!
Bear with me, please, until I can prove myself worthy.'

    Then did the ape deliver himself of such an unthinkable
and genesis-device-like, moon-shattering blast that all
were fain to stop their ears. And coming after it did come
scent dense and black stinking fog such that the one which
went before did seem a first-season special effect beside it.
Then said the monster, feigning a purple blush and that he w
as confused, 'It appears that I am weak to-day, and cannot
do justice to the Klingon race's natural prowess in these
matters.'

    Then sat him down as though in the Klingon manner to
challenge any in the *Perd*, the Klingon buttgust duel,
as to say, 'While it is not much, any being in the room
with an anus and backside to spare is free to match it if
he thinks he can!'

    By God! If I were Lwaxana Troi I would tip this
swaggering braggart out of the cabin and let him air the
grandeurs, and talents of he and his kind in the vacuum beyond,
lest all we asphyxiate before the moor, LaForge, could
siphon fresh air from the remainder of the ship.

    Then did everyone fall into a conversation of the customs
of the many different bump-headed and pointy-parted peoples
in the galaxy, and Captain Picard did speak of the book by
Sir Ira Graves where was contained a chapter that described
how widows on the eastern continent of the planet Pustulous
who, being still active and in vigor, do drive about in
carriages wearing fashionable laces and linens capturing
young boys and having their lustful ways with them to
siphon their life's fluid in an attempt to retain their
youth. Whereas my lady did laugh and said, 'Hot damn! It's
about time for such thinking. That's what feminism is all
about: the right for women to be sexist as well. Hey Commander,
like the beard, it gives me something to hang onto!' she
said punctuating her words with a pelvic thrust.

    Captain Picard continued to remark that Sir Graves had
also spoken of a certain Emperor of such mighty prowess that
he did take ten maidenheads in the progress of a single night
while his empress staged a palace coup, and, blackmailing him
with the holographs, chained him to a pole for the
rest of his days.

    Whereas Keiko said the Klingon Targ is the emperor's
superior, for a stag Targ can tup above a thousand dams in
the course of a single mating season's night. And if not
satisfied, the hormone that controls seed production in the
male will continue to produce, bloating the Targ until he
explodes like a bomb, showering all objects in the region
with his guts and seed.

    Then spake the damned fool Okana of a people in the
uppermost parts of Excretia's third moon who only copulate by
rubbing their foreheads together and shouting in the shrillest
of voices a limerick beginning with, 'There once was a Vulcan
named Spock,' in an attempt to release their genitals from
clamshell like doors in the skull which but at a
particular pitch.

    And said my lady, 'How does Wesley like that? Shall the
captain send you there so you can try out your singing voice?U

    And answered the boy Wesley, 'Oh, no! I make too much in
additional Holo-Deck time by selling drugs and potions from
my mother's medicine cabinets. I'd be giving up a tremendous
corner of the market, which I learned from a Feringhi is
something not done.'

    And muttered Commander Riker, 'Perhaps his fascination
with Holo-Deck video-games will weaken when Mr Lackbeard
feels his first testosterone storm.'

    And answered Master Wesley, 'No, sir. It's happened
already. You have no idea how embarrassing it is to ask your
Mum to give you shots to clear up Denebian clap,' he blushed
as his parent cuffed him.

    Then did my lady speak of how she met Admiral Kirk when
she was but fifteen and he told her of a man his father knew
who had detachable bollocks, whereupon a controversy erupted
upon the spelling of the word. The contention running high
between our host Captain and the idiot but firm first officer
who insisted that it should spelt with an x. Until at last
the good doctor, wearying of it all said, 'Gentleman, what
does it matter how you spell the word. As long as your plumbing
works when our taps start to flow who gives a flying turnip
about the spelling! When I'm tiddling someone's hypothalamous
I don't stop to consider the spelling of it. And Deanna, be
content, they'll beat against your buttocks all the same no
matter what the spelling be.'

    Then said the Romulan, ignoring the android's separating
his ballocks for juggling, 'The Romulan poet Serendipitous
has a tale of a constable who arrested a suspected democrat
and threw him into a cell for brutal torture. Kneeling to give
thanks to the Great Bird for this chance to vent  his sadism on
someone not in any position to hit back, the constable became
enraptured in prayer; but the Commodore, spying through the
keyhole, saw the chained victim and flayed reformer with a
knout. Thus when the bully looked up, he saw that his chance
was gone, as he could not step close to pummel the prisoner
for fear of having his back broken himself.'

    Then did they converse of religion, and the mighty work
the old, dead Surak did do. Then next about poetry and Mr
Data did recite a part of his *Dishwashers by Moonlight*,
which it seemed to me to be a collection of white noise
and machine sounds heard on a poorly-tuned sub-space radio,
yet they praised its ending, one and all. The same did
read a portion of his *Scanning Your Hart for Love* to their
prodigious admiration whereas I, being sleepy and fatigued
with all, did deem it but shit. But again discomforted as
the bloody Klingon fiend seemed desired to put wind in
our ship's sails again, and did turn his tiny mind to
farting with such vim and zeal that I was like to choke.

    God damn this windy ruffian and all his breed, for he
put Riker, the buccaneer Okana and Crusher the younger in
mind of competition as they all began farting in tune.
I would that hell might get them.

    They talked about the wonderful defense Sir Samuel
Cogley lV made for himself in the time of the late Romulan
Emperor Marius, which was an unlucky topic to broach since
it fetched out my lady with a, 'Pity that he, that had so
much wit, did not have enough wit to save his daughter's
maidenhead for her marriage bed,' and my lady did give the
captain a look that made him wince, for she had not forgot
that he had spurned her advances not long ago.

 There was silence uncomfortable now, it was not a good
turn for talk to take. Yet if my lady was not bemused by
the notion that occasionally organs were stiff and others
not unwilling to work the stiffness out of them, who in this
company was sinless? Behold: was not her own daughter the
mother to a child who nearly destroyed the Enterprise
before he turned back into a bright glowing thing? Was not
LaForge now barred from the Dolticon system for copulating
with three Feringhi maids in the capitol building's library?
Was not the boy Wesley born on his mother's wedding day? And
were not the brave commanders and worthy foes Tomalock and
Picard, gigolos from the cradle, chasing peasant girls in
their villages from the moment their voices cracked?

    In time they came to discourse of several authors and
poets. Fine words and dainty phrases from the ladies and
black-sea sailors now. One or two of them being, 'In other
days, pupils of that poor actor Kirk, himself...' and I
marked how Picard and Tomalock did fidget to discharge some
venom of sarcasm, yet dared they not in the presence of my
lady. There be they that, having a specialty and admiring
it in themselves, be jealous when a neighbour does assay it,
nor can abide it in them long. Whereupon I observed that my
lady waxed uncontent; and in time, a laboured, grandiose speech
from the mouth of the mechanical man who manifestly did take
pride in his ability to bounce sound off the walls such that
his words were underlined with sound-effects to aid our dulled
imaginations as he discussed the different copulatory practices
of many worlds, did quite exaust my lady's endurance, who
listened 'till the gaudy speech was done, then lifted up left
brow in the fashion of a famous Vulcan, and mincing did say,
'Oh, shit!' And everyone did laugh save the Romulan whose home
was much troubled by the agitations of this man.

    Now was the Captain reminded of a tale once related to
him by an old insane admiral about an Earth ambassador to the
Klingon Empire who was about to be buggered by a dozen warriors
on a charge of spying. The ambassador did accuse their leader
of being his controller and Romulan *agent provocateur*,
whereupon the became angry with him and he voiced
his suspicions troop were disloyal. When the distrust gave birth
to mutual accusation and carnage he was able to slip behind a
tapestry and out a window without a bruise upon his flesh,
proving once and forever the stupidity of police states.