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Uh-oh, Klingons! by The V Man


(A small warship sporting red maple leaves painted on the hull floats along)

[Bridge of the CMS Convenient Plot Device II]

Fron: Ensign status!

Unnamed Ensign: *sigh* The same as you asked 5 minutes ago - still NOTHING.

Fron: Don't get lippy with me or I'll have you recarpeting the hull within the hour.

Unnamed Ensign: Re-carpeting the hull?

Fron: What, you think this ship is made of metal? Do you have any idea what that would cost?! Besides, the floor's so much softer this way.

Unnamed Ensign: Uh...

Fron: What?

Unnamed Ensign: Aside from my concerns about serving on a ship made of carpet?

Fron: YES aside from your concerns about serving on a ship made of carpet.

Unnamed Ensign: A ship just decloaked off our port bow!

Fron: The port bow again? Is this who ship port bow? What about our starboard side?

Unnamed Ensign: No ships decloaking there, just powering up weapons.

Fron: *phew* Good. Now what about that decloaking ship that has long since been decloaked?

Unnamed Ensign: It's a bird of prey sir, they're hailing!

[The viewscreen shows a swarthy man]

Fron: Uh-oh! Klingons!

[An unnamed Laundromat in Irvine, CA]

(Several CWALers are loading their laundry into the washers)

Talruum: I still don't see why you felt it necessary to set off a paint grenade in the common room.

Arcturus: Uppity Canadians, 'nuff said. And besides, since when do you have laundry?

Talruum: I've been made!

(Talruum stops loading the laundry into the washing machine and runs-err, floats out the door and down the street)

Arcturus: Uh-hunh.

(Nearby Lothos opens a dryer full of fresh clothes)

Lothos: (deep breath) Ah, the smell of innocence before the ineviable defilement.

Arcturus: (from the background) I'm pretending I didn't hear that.

(Lothos leans too close however and static electricity makes its move, several socks and miscellaneous garments leap from the dryer and latch onto the Kiwi)

Lothos: Aaaa! I'm under attack! Man the escape pods! Women and Televisions first!

Arcturus: (Hearing the commotion) What the ?

Lothos: Hoist the main sail! Bail the bilge!

Arcturus: (noticing the capering and approaching) Uh-oh! Cling-Ons!

[A Washroom in Paingiver Productions Studios]


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