Startrek Parody

[Sloan]

*giggles* its whacked ;P

[Hedford]

The endgame parody contained more fun....but this one has it's own strange ideas http://expansionfleet.sparks.priorweb.be/ikonboard/iB_html/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif" border="0" valign="absmiddle" alt=';)'>

-------------------

A PARODY...

STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION

This Episode: "Troi, Troi Again"

OPEN ON PICARD IN HIS READY ROOM.  HE WALKS OVER TO THE FOOD SYNTHESIZER.

PICARD: Tea.  Earl Grey.  Hot.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF DISPENSER SECTION OF THE SYNTHESIZER.

A CUP OF STEAMING TEA APPEARS.

PICARD'S HAND LIFTS THE CUP BY THE HANDLE.

CUT TO PICARD, TAKING A SIP OF TEA, THEN SPITTING IT OUT AND DROPPING THE
CUP TO THE FLOOR.

PICARD: Aaaagh!!

HE HOLDS HIS HAND TO HIS MOUTH.

PICARD: Computer, how hot is that?

COMPUTER: Two thousand degrees Centigrade.

PICARD: God!!  Not that hot next time!!

SFX: Door chime.

PICARD: Come!

SFX: Swish of door opening and closing.

PICARD: Doctor, I'm so glad you're here!

BEVERLY CRUSHER ENTERS THE SHOT.

BEVERLY: What's wrong, Jean-Luc?

PICARD'S LIPS NOW SHOW SIGNS OF SWELLING AND REDNESS FROM HIS INJURY.

PICARD: (Still in pain)   Mmmmh!  Hot... lips!

BEVERLY: Oh, Jean-Luc... Yes!  Take me now!

PICARD: No!  Tea!  Too hot!  Scalded!

BEVERLY: (Disappointed) Oh.  Let's have a look.

SHE TAKES OUT HER MEDICAL SCANNING DEVICE AND AIMS IT AT PICARD'S MOUTH.

BEVERLY: Hmmm... cellular damage due to exposure to extremely      high
temperature water... yes, it looks like you were scalded.       But, I
can't be totally sure, so I'll have to run more tests.

PICARD: Sore!  Help me!  Fix it!

BEVERLY STARTS DABBING OINTMENT ON HIS LIP.

SFX: Door chime.

PICARD: Come!

CUT TO SHOT OF THE DOOR AS IT SLIDES OPEN.  TROI ENTERS WITH A GRIMACED
LOOK ON HER FACE.

TROI: Pain!  Such pain!

PICARD: Burnt my lip!  You sense it!

TROI: No... PMS!

BEVERLY: Ah, that time of the week, eh?

SFX: Comms beep.

RIKER: (On speaker:) Riker to Picard.

PICARD: Yes?

RIKER: Incoming vessel.

PICARD: On my way.

PICARD, TROI, AND BEVERLY HEAD FOR THE DOOR.

CUT TO THE BRIDGE, WHERE RIKER MOVES FROM THE COMMAND CHAIR TO HIS NORMAL
CHAIR.

BEVERLY: Hopefully it won't take long for the swelling to go      down.

RIKER: Will you quit hassling me?  I'm going to the Weight      Watchers
meetings, you know.

CUT TO WORF, WHO EXAMINES CONTROLS.

WORF: Unidentified vessel off the port side.  They are hailing us.

CUT BACK TO PICARD

PICARD: Mr. Data, where is that ship from?

DATA: It appears to be of Betazed origin.

PICARD: Counselor, you don't suppose...?

CUT TO TROI, WITH A WORRIED LOOK ON HER FACE.

CUT BACK TO PICARD

PICARD: On screen.

CUT TO THE VIEWSCREEN.  THE STARFIELD IS REPLACED BY A VIEW OF
LWAXANA TROI.

LWAXANA: Hello, dear Captain Picard.  (Blows a kiss at him).

CUT TO PICARD, WHO STANDS UP FROM HIS CHAIR, WIDE-EYED.

CUT TO RIKER

RIKER: Red alert!!

MUSIC: Dramatic Upsurge.

FADE TO BLACK.

<< Insert Opening Title Sequence >>

<< Insert Commercial Break >>

OPEN ON THE ENTERPRISE IN ORBIT AROUND A PLANET.

PICARD: Captain's log, Stardate 49723.4 -- We are in orbit      around the
planet Tribblus IV, where our research teams have      been busy studying
the Tribbles which overrun the planet.       Personally, I think they
should just wipe them out... but they      said that would be cruel... they
called it "extermination".  I      prefer to call it "ethnic cleansing".
We have been contacted      by Counsellor Troi's mother Lwaxana, on a
mission to make sure the Tribble research goes according to the Federation
Animal      Rights Treaty, or F.A.R.T. for short.

CUT TO TRANSPORTER ROOM THREE.  THE MAIN CREW IS ASSEMBLED TO WATCH LWAXANA
BEAM ABOARD.

PICARD: (sighs) Energize.

TRANSPORTER ENERGY APPEARS, THEN MATERIALIZES INTO LWAXANA TROI.

PICARD: Lwaxana Troi!

LWAXANA: Captain Picard, you are so glad to see me again!

PICARD: I am?

LWAXANA: Don't forget... I can read your mind.  Let's you and I      get
married right away!

PICARD: I'm not marrying you!

LWAXANA: Then let's have a passionate sexual affair then.  My
quarters, in, say, ten minutes?

PICARD: No!

LWAXANA: Okay, have it your way... your quarters in five!

PICARD: (to Deanna Troi:) Counsellor, I believe your mother is experiencing
hot flashes due to menopause.

TROI: No, Captain, she's always been horny.

LWAXANA: You're pretty aroused yourself, Jean-Luc.

PICARD: What?

LWAXANA: Look at the size of your lips... I've heard human lips      swell
during arousal.

PICARD: You're wrong.  I burned my lips on hot tea earlier.

LWAXANA: Sure you did.

LWAXANA EXITS THE TRANSPORTER ROOM.

PICARD: (to Deanna Troi:) Counsellor, please make sure your      mother
doesn't cause too much trouble during her stay aboard      the Enterprise.

TROI: I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything.

LWAXANA: (Voice-over, with echo:) Come, Little One!

TROI: Excuse me.  My mother is calling.

TROI LEAVES THE ROOM.  WORF STEPS FORWARD TO JOIN PICARD.

PICARD: Mr. Worf, keep a close eye on Mrs. Troi, will you?

WORF: Aye, sir.

CUT TO DATA IN HIS QUARTERS.  HE IS STRUGGLING TO GIVE HIS CAT, SPOT, A
BATH IN A SMALL TUB OF WATER.

SFX: Door chime.

DATA: Come in, please.

SFX: Hiss of door sliding open, then closed.

GEORDI: Data, what are you doing to Spot?

DATA: I am giving Spot a bath.  She does not appear to want      one,
however.

GEORDI: Of course not.  Most cats HATE water.

DATA: But cleanliness is important for a cat's health.

GEORDI: I know, but cats wash themselves.

DATA: But they use their saliva, then lick their genitalia.  I      am sure
that you do not bath in your own saliva and lick your      genitalia.

GEORDI: Thanks, Data.  I was just about to go for lunch.

SPOT MANAGES TO GET FREE AND LEAPS FROM THE TUB, SPLASHING WATER ALL OVER
DATA AND GEORDI.

GEORDI: Pfffttt!!

SPARKS BEGIN TO FLY FROM GEORDI'S VISOR.

GEORDI: Dammit!! I can't see anything!  My visor's shorted out!

CUT TO THE BRIDGE.  PICARD IS SEATED IN HIS COMMAND CHAIR.

PICARD: Picard to Troi.

TROI: (On speaker:) Troi here.

LWAXANA: (On speaker:) Troi here.

PICARD: I wanted to speak to Counsellor Troi only.

LWAXANA: Fine, then.  Request permission to leave the ship.

PICARD: (Under his breath:) Please do.

LWAXANA: Ah, ah... PICARD: Mrs. Troi...

LWAXANA: That's Ambassador Troi.

PICARD: What is your purpose in leaving the Enterprise?

LWAXANA: To oversee the research on Tribblus IV, of course.

PICARD: Very well.

LWAXANA: Thank you, dear.

PICARD SHUDDERS.

TROI: This is Counsellor Troi, Captain.  You wished to speak to      me?

PICARD: Yes... but I forgot why, now.

CUT TO THE SURFACE OF THE PLANET BELOW.  IT IS A STRANGE SURFACE, WITH
GREEN GRASS AND ODD VEGETATION RESEMBLING DWARVED PALM TREES.  TRIBBLES
LITTER THE GROUND.

TRANSPORTER ENERGY APPEARS AND LWAXANA TROI MATERIALIZES.

CUT TO A LARGE BOULDER.  A FEDERATION SCIENTIST, DR. JONES, STEPS OUT FROM
BEHIND THE ROCK.

JONES: Ah... You must be Ambassador Troi.

CUT TO A TWO-SHOT OF JONES AND LWAXANA.

LWAXANA: I am.

JONES: And I'm...

LWAXANA: Doctor Cyril Jones.  Your grandfather was Cyrano      Jones, the
man who almost caused a Federation disaster over      eighty years ago.

JONES: Oh, yeah.  You're the mind reader, aren't you?

MUSIC: Ominous-sounding theme to imply that Jones is concerned.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF LWAXANA, NODDING.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF JONES.

FADE TO BLACK.

<< Insert Commercial Break >>

OPEN ON BEVERLY AND GEORDI IN SICK BAY.  BEVERLY IS WORKING ON GEORDI'S
VISOR, TRYING TO GET IT OPERATIONAL.

GEORDI: I tell ya, Doctor, one of these days I'm gonna throw      that cat
into the warp coil!

BEVERLY: Oh, come on now, Geordi.  It's only a minor      inconvenience.

GEORDI: Minor inconvenience?!?  I could have been      electrocuted!  What
if the ship was under attack and there was      something wrong with the
engines or phaser control?  I wouldn't      be able to handle it.

BEVERLY: Your blood pressure is rising, Geordi.  Calm down.

THE DOOR OPENS AND WORF ENTERS.

WORF: There is no sign of Data's cat.

BEVERLY: You mean, Spot's on the loose?

WORF: Yes.  She must have been scared of the bath and left      Data's
quarters.  Data is still searching Ten Forward.

GEORDI: That thing better not get into the wiring in the      Jeffries
Tube, or there'll be #### to pay.

WORF: I will continue my... ahh... ahh... ahhh... AHHH-CHOOO!!

BEVERLY: Are you getting a cold, Worf?

WORF: (sniffs) No doctor... I believe Spot is nearby

WORF LOOKS DOWN.

CUT TO DOWNWARD CAMERA ANGLE AS SPOT BEGINS RUBBING AGAINST WORF'S LEG.

SFX: Cat meow.

CUT TO BEVERLY, SMILING.

CUT TO WORF.

WORF: It appears that Spot has found me.

HE SUDDENLY DIVES FOR THE FLOOR, KNOCKING THE EXAMINATION TABLE AND GEORDI
FLYING.

CUT TO THE DOOR AS SPOT RACES OUT.  WORF SCRAMBLES OUT AS WELL.

CUT TO TRIBBLUS IV, WHERE LWAXANA TROI STANDS WITH DR. JONES.  LWAXANA
HOLDS A TRIBBLE IN HER HANDS.

LWAXANA: Well, I think I've seen enough for one day.  Just be      sure
these adorable little creatures stay down here.  If so      much as one of
them gets loose aboard a starship, you know what      can happen.

JONES: I do.

LWAXANA: Good then.  (Hands the tribble to DR. JONES)       Enterprise,
this is Ambassador Troi.  One to beam up.

LWAXANA DEMATERIALIZES INTO TRANSPORTER ENERGY.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF LWAXANA'S DISAPPEARING FEET, WHERE A STRAY TRIBBLE SITS.
IT BEGINS TO DEMATERIALIZE AS WELL.

CUT TO TRANSPORTER ROOM THREE, WHERE ENERGY REMATERIALIZES INTO LWAXANA.

SHE STEPS OFF THE TRANSPORT PAD, AND EXITS THE ROOM.  SHE PAUSES FOR A
MOMENT, AS IF SENSING SOMETHING, BUT THEN SHRUGS AND CONTINUES OUT.

THE CAMERA PANS BACK TO THE TRANSPORTER PAD, WHERE THE TRIBBLE SITS.  IT
SUDDENLY SCUTTLES OFF.

CUT TO A CREWMAN SQUATTING ON THE FLOOR NEAR AN OPEN VENTILATION SHAFT.
HIS BACK IS TURNED AWAY FROM THE SHAFT AS HE EXAMINES AN ELECTRONIC
NOTEPAD.

THE TRIBBLE RUNS UP TO THE SHAFT AND CLIMBS IN, UNNOTICED BY THE CREWMAN.

MUSIC: Dramatic upsurge

FADE TO BLACK

<< Insert commercial break >>

OPEN ON ENTERPRISE IN ORBIT

PICARD: Captain's log, supplemental.  Mrs. Troi has returned to      the
ship, and is on her way to the bridge to report her      findings to me.
Just to be on the safe side, I think I'll have      Mr. Worf present as
security.

CUT TO PICARD IN HIS COMMAND CHAIR.  HE TAPS HIS COMM PIN.

PICARD: Picard to Worf.

SEVERAL SECONDS GO BY, BUT WORF DOES NOT ANSWER.

PICARD: (tapping his comm pin again) Captain Picard to Mr.      Worf.
Respond please!

CUT TO WORF'S QUARTERS.  WORF APPEARS FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN,
BARECHESTED.

WORF: Worf here!

PICARD: (on speaker) Please report to my ready room at once.

WORF: (scowls) Er, yes sir!

A PAIR OF FEMALE HANDS REACH UP AND CARESS WORF'S CHEEKS.

WORF: I must go now.

CUT TO OVER-THE-SHOULDER SHOT OF WORF LOOKING DOWN AT HIS BED, WHERE DEANNA
TROI LIES.  ALTHOUGH BLOCKED FROM CAMERA VIEW, WE CAN DETERMINE SHE IS
NAKED.

TROI SMILES AT WORF.

CUT TO THE BRIDGE, WHERE PICARD RISES FROM HIS COMMAND CHAIR AND HEADS
TOWARD HIS READY ROOM.

PICARD: You have the conn, Number One.  And hold all my calls.

RIKER: Aye, sir.

CUT TO THE READY ROOM INTERIOR, AS THE DOOR OPENS AND PICARD ENTERS.  HE
SITS DOWN.

SFX: Door chime.

PICARD: Come.

THE DOOR SLIDES OPEN AND WORF ENTERS.

WORF: (Still miffed about his interrupted visit with Troi:) You      wanted
to see me, sir?

PICARD: I want you to stand guard while I have a conference      with Mrs.
Troi.

WORF: (now looking concerned:) Uh, sir, I...

PICARD: It's just a precaution, Worf.  You know how she, er,      wants me.

WORF: I believe so.

SFX: Door chime.

PICARD: Come.

THE DOOR SLIDES OPEN.

LWAXANA: Honey, I'm home.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF PICARD ROLLING HIS EYES.

CUT BACK TO LWAXANA

LWAXANA: Interesting place, that Tribblus IV.  You know --

SHE TURNS TO GLARE AT WORF.

LWAXANA: How could you?

PICARD: What's the matter?

LWAXANA: This... this... forehead!  He's sleeping with my      daughter!

PICARD: Mrs. Troi, I make it a policy not to interfere in the      affairs
of my crew.  What they do intimately is not my concern.

WORF: So, you wouldn't mind if I asked Vash out next time she's
aboard?

PICARD: Worf!!

WORF: (sulking) Sorry, sir.

PICARD: Now, what is the situation on Tribblus IV?

LWAXANA: Well, they are still doing their research, but it      appears
that the Tribble population has reached a point of      critical mass.  The
planet simply cannot support them much more      before disease will set in
and wipe most of them out.

WORF: I have no problem with that.

PICARD: I beg your pardon?

WORF: Klingons do NOT like tribbles.

PICARD: I am not concerned with your hatred of the creatures,      Mr.
Worf.  I am concerned about the ecological problems of the      planet.

LWAXANA: They're very prolific... In fact, most of their      anatomy is
geared toward reproduction.  Speaking of which...      What are you doing
tonight, Captain?

PICARD ROLLS HIS EYES AGAIN.

CUT TO THE LOWER DECKS OF THE ENTERPRISE, WHERE A GRUBBY CREWMAN IS TOSSING
BAGS OF GARBAGE ONTO A HEAP.  ONE OF THE BAGS RIPS OPEN.

GARBAGE GUY: Aww, d*mn!  Oh well, I'll get it later.

HE WANDERS AWAY.

THE CAMERA CLOSES IN ON THE BROKEN BAG, WHERE A HALF-EATEN SANDWICH SITS.
FROM THE SIDE OF THE FRAME, THE TRIBBLE APPEARS AND COVERS THE SANDWICH.

MUSIC: Dramatic upsurge.

FADE TO BLACK.

<< Insert commercial break >>

OPEN ON EXTERIOR SHOT OF THE ENTERPRISE.

CUT TO GEORDI IN ENGINEERING.  HIS VISOR STILL BEARS SCORCH MARKS FROM THE
SPARKING.  HE EXAMINES A FEW COMPUTER PANELS, THEN WALKS OVER TO THE
CONTROLS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM.

GEORDI: Now, let's see what... What the ####...?

HE TAPS HIS COMM PIN

GEORDI: LaForge to Bridge.

RIKER: (on speaker:) Riker here.  What's up, Geordi?

GEORDI: I think you should come down and see this reading.

RIKER: Can't you tell me?  I can't leave the bridge right now.

GEORDI: Data could take over.

DATA: (on speaker:) You do not understand, Geordi.  Commander      Riker is
stuck in his chair.  He cannot leave the bridge until      we have freed
him.

GEORDI: Hummh... RIKER: So what's wrong?

GEORDI: Well, I've noticed that the Enterprise has gained some
additional mass.

DATA: Yes... Commander Riker.

RIKER: Knock it off, Data!

GEORDI: I'm serious.  There seems to be something reproducing      at a
dramatic rate.  I'll run a level-three diagnostic.

CUT TO THE BRIDGE.  TWO CREWMEN ARE TRYING TO PRY RIKER LOOSE FROM HIS
CHAIR WITH CROWBARS.

RIKER: Any theories, Mr. Data?

DATA: No, sir.

CUT TO THE SHUTTLE BAY.  A MAINTENANCE WORKER IS WASHING A SHUTTLECRAFT.
BESIDE HIM IS A BUCKET OF WATER AND A FUZZY CLEANING MAT LIKE THOSE USED TO
WASH 20th CENTURY CARS.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF THE BUCKET AND CLEANING MAT.  A TRIBBLE APPEARS AND
BEGINS CHECKING OUT THE MAT WITH CURIOSITY, SINCE THEY LOOK VERY SIMILAR.

CUT TO SHOT OF THE WORKER, OBLIVIOUS TO THE TRIBBLE'S PRESENCE.

CUT BACK TO THE TRIBBLE AND MAT.  THE WORKER'S HAND REACHES DOWN AND GRABS
THE TRIBBLE INSTEAD OF THE CLEANING MAT.  HE DUNKS IT INTO THE WATER.

SFX: Tribble squeal, in water.

CUT TO THE WORKER HOLDING THE WATERLOGGED TRIBBLE IN AMAZEMENT.

CUT TO LWAXANA AND TROI IN LWAXANA'S QUARTERS

(DEANNA) TROI: Mother, will you please stop bothering the Captain?

LWAXANA: But he likes it, Little One.  I can read his thoughts.

TROI: Well I don't sense the same feeling.

LWAXANA: Of course not, Deanna.  You're only half Betazoid.

TROI: Mother, let's not get into the same old "my telepathy is better
than yours" routine.

LWAXANA: Ah, I gather it's that time of the week, huh?

TROI: Mother!!

LWAXANA: And you stay away from that Worf!  Do you realize what      you're
getting yourself into?

TROI: Yes, do you?

LWAXANA: (Pauses for a few seconds, thinking) Um, well, no...      but I've
heard that Klingons like to torture their mates.

TROI: Worf's not like that... He just tells other Klingons that      he is,
so he doesn't appear to dishonor his family.  Now can we      get back on
the subject of the Captain?

LWAXANA: Oh, that's right.  Do you know if he prefers the      missionary
position or...

CUT TO ENGINEERING.  SUDDENLY, THE LIGHTS GO OUT AND THE EMERGENCY LIGHTS
TAKE OVER.

GEORDI: d*mn!

RIKER: (On speaker:) Riker to Engineering.  Geordi, what the      #### is
happening?

GEORDI: I don't know.  I'll get on it.

CUT TO THE OPENING TO THE JEFFRIES TUBE.  GEORDI OPENS IT UP AND DATA'S CAT
SPOT RUNS OUT.

GEORDI: Yep, I knew it!

SFX: Tribble purr, with echo.

GEORDI: What...?

CUT TO INTERIOR OF THE TUBE, AS GEORDI CRAWLS IN.  NEAR SOME SPARKING
CIRCUIT BOARDS IS A GROUP OF TRIBBLES.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF THE TRIBBLES

CUT TO GEORDI.  HE TAPS HIS COMM PIN.

GEORDI: Uh, LaForge to bridge.  We've got a problem.

CUT TO THE INTERIOR OF LWAXANA'S QUARTERS.  SHE IS DRESSED IN AN EVENING
GOWN.

SFX: Door chime.

LWAXANA GOES TO THE DOOR AND OPENS IT.  PICARD IS STANDING AT THE DOOR.

LWAXANA: You're late, Captain.

PICARD: This is not a social visit, Mrs. Troi.

LWAXANA: Please, call me Lwaxana.

PICARD: I want you to tell me where this came from.

PICARD HOLDS OUT A TRIBBLE WHICH HE HAD BEEN HIDING BEHIND HIS BACK.

LWAXANA: What is that doing aboard?

PICARD: You tell me.  There are now over one hundred of these      roaming
the ship.

LWAXANA: Well, I certainly didn't just start bringing them here.

PICARD TAPS HIS COMM PIN.

PICARD: Picard to all senior officers.  Report for a meeting in      the
observation lounge in five minutes.

CUT TO THE OBSERVATION LOUNGE.  THE SENIOR OFFICERS HAVE GATHERED.

PICARD: I've called you here to discuss a major problem.

ALL: Lwaxana Troi!!

PICARD: Er, yes.  But it's more than just her.  It's what has      happened
as a result of her not being careful.

DATA: Mrs. Troi is pregnant?

PICARD: No no...  She failed to notice that a tribble had      transported
aboard with her.

CUT TO TROI, WIPING HER FOREHEAD IN RELIEF

CUT TO GEORDI.

GEORDI: We checked the transporter logs and found that there      was a
tribble at her feet the moment she transported.

CUT TO WORF.

WORF: I say we bathe the ship in high intensity radiation.

CUT TO PICARD.

PICARD: That would kill them.

CUT BACK TO WORF.

WORF: (Grins:) Exactly.

PICARD: No, that would be too cruel.

BEVERLY: We could round them up and transport them back to      Tribblus
IV!

PICARD: That is one option, but the planet is already overrun      by them
anyway.

WORF: We could transport them out into deep space.  Wide      dispersion.

EVERYBODY GLARES AT HIM.

WORF: What?

PICARD: Any more reasonable suggestions?

RIKER: Why don't we look for another planet that can support      them, and
then beam them down?

WORF: I still like the idea of deep space.

PICARD: I think the only humane thing to do is to find them a      new
home. (Taps his comm pin) Picard to bridge.  Start a      medium-range scan
for any uninhabited world compatible with a      tribble's biological
requirements.

MUSIC: Upsurge.

FADE TO BLACK

<< Insert commercial break >>

OPEN ON EXTERIOR OF ENTERPRISE IN ORBIT.  HOLD FOR THREE SECONDS.

CUT TO DATA SEATED AT HIS DESK IN HIS QUARTERS.  THE DOOR IS VISIBLE IN THE
BACKGROUND.  THE DOOR SLIDES OPEN AND SPOT ENTERS, A DEAD TRIBBLE IN HER
MOUTH.

CUT TO DATA, AS SPOT JUMPS UP ONTO THE DESK.

DATA: Hello, Spot.  Where have you been?

DATA TAKES THE TRIBBLE'S BODY FROM SPOT.

DATA: Spot, this is not a mouse.  When the current crisis is      over, I
will endeavor to educate you on the appropriate feline      prey.

CUT TO TEN FORWARD, WHERE TROI AND LWAXANA ARE SEATED BY AN OBSERVATION
WINDOW.

TROI: You couldn't sense the tribble at your feet?

LWAXANA: No... apparently Betazoids can't sense their thoughts.

TROI: And it never occurred to look down at your feet?

LWAXANA: Well, er, no.

SFX: "Brommp" of a trombone.

LWAXANA: What was that?

TROI: (Smirking:) Well, either Commander Riker's about to play      his
trombone, or Guinan's been serving her Pork-N-Beans recipe      again.

CUT TO PICARD AND BEVERLY IN SICK BAY.

BEVERLY: I've analyzed the body of a dead tribble Data's cat      dragged
home. These tribbles have been feeding on garbage down      in the lower
decks.  If we stop putting garbage there, we'll      stop them from
reproducing.  That's about all they do.

PICARD: The only problem is making sure we get every last one      of them
off the ship.  I've noticed that several of the crew      have taken a
liking to them and are keeping them as pets.  It      may be difficult to
convince them to part with the creatures.

BEVERLY: I can have Troi stand by to help them get over it.

PICARD: Hmmm... Speaking of Troi, her mother is now becoming
unbearable in her advances.  You know, she has started leaving      me
X-Rated recorded messages on my voice mail.

BEVERLY: Well... I could help you.

PICARD: How?

BEVERLY: I have a bit of a plan.  The next time she tells you      she's
coming to your quarters, don't tell her not to.  Just cut      the comlink.
She'll show up at your door and find it      unlocked.  When she enters,
she'll see you and I making out.       Maybe that'll make her see that
she's not for you.

PICARD: Do you really think it'll work?  She's telepathic, you      know.
She'll be able to sense deception.

BEVERLY: So we'll forget about deception.  I want the real      thing,
Jean-Luc!

PICARD: Uh, well...

CUT TO EXTERIOR SHOT OF ENTERPRISE.

RIKER: (Voice-over:) First officer's log.  We have managed to
successfully round up all tribbles on board and transport them      down to
the planet Grelti III, where I'm sure they will      prosper.  Lwaxana Troi
is preparing to leave us as we      rendezvous with the USS Butthead.

CUT TO INTERIOR OF TRANSPORTER ROOM THREE.  LWAXANA IS STANDING ON THE
TRANSPORT PAD.

LWAXANA: Ready to transport.

SHE DISAPPEARS INTO THE GLOW OF TRANSPORTER ENERGY.

CUT TO THE BRIDGE.  PICARD ENTERS, AND SLOWLY WADDLES TO THE COMMAND CHAIR.

RIKER: Captain, I heard Mrs. Troi discovered you and Dr.      Crusher as
you planned it.

CUT TO CLOSEUP OF PICARD.  HE NODS.

CUT TO RIKER.

RIKER: How'd she react?

PICARD: (In hoarse voice:) Not very well, Number One.

RIKER: What in the world did she do?

PICARD: Let's just say that I don't have to worry about birth      control
for a while.

HE GRIMACES AND COVERS HIS GROIN WITH HIS HANDS.

CUT TO VIEWSCREEN, DISPLAYING GRELTI III BELOW.

PICARD: That's where you put all of the tribbles?

RIKER: Yes sir.  They should survive quite well.

SUDDENLY, A PHOTON TORPEDO'S GLOW ZOOMS DOWN TO THE PLANET.  A FLASH
APPEARS AT THE POINT OF IMPACT.

CUT TO RIKER, WHO COCKS HIS HEAD TO THE SIDE.

RIKER: What the ####...?

CUT TO WORF, A HINT OF A GRIN ON HIS FACE.

WORF: What?  Oops... wrong button.  Oh well.

CUT TO EXTERIOR OF ENTERPRISE LEAVING ORBIT.  IT THEN ACCELERATES INTO
WARP.

SUPERIMPOSE PRODUCER CREDITS

FADE TO BLACK.

<< Insert commercial break >>

OPEN ON ENTERPRISE IN SPACE

ANNOUNCER: Next time on Star Trek: The Next Generation...

CUT TO THE AREA OF THE BRIDGE NEAR THE VIEWSCREEN.  A BRIEF FLASH OF WHITE
LIGHT AND Q APPEARS.

Q: Bonjour, mon Capitaine!

CUT TO RIKER, STANDING UP.  HE COCKS HIS HEAD SIDEWAYS AND BACK.

RIKER: Red alert!!

ANNOUNCER: A visit from Q throws the Enterprise for a loop... literally!

PICARD: Now, let's break for lunch.

THE CREW STAMPEDES OUT THROUGH ONE OF THE TURBOLIFT DOORS, LEAVING ONLY TWO
NON-DESCRIPT OFFICERS TO WATCH OVER THINGS.  SUDDENLY, THE OTHER TURBOLIFT
DOOR OPENS, AND THE CREW RE-EMERGE.

PICARD: What the ####...?

CUT TO LATER, WHERE TROI, DATA, WORF, AND RIKER ARE PLAYING POKER.

WORF: I am experiencing nIpaH... the feeling of having done      this
before.

ANNOUNCER: And things become desperate when the Borg become      involved.

CUT TO THE BRIDGE.

TROI: (Pointing at the the viewscreen:)  Look!

CUT TO THE VIEWSCREEN WHERE A BORG SHIP IS SEEN, FIRING ITS WEAPONRY.

RIKER: Red alert!

ANNOUNCER: And an experiment goes awry...

PICARD: Mr. LaForge, disconnect the emotion chip immediately.

GEORDI: (On speaker) I can't, Captain.  It got welded to the      interface
link.

CUT TO STAR TREK: TNG LOGO

ANNOUNCER: Next time!

FADE TO BLACK.

<< Insert end titles >>

[T Hain]

whacked yes but also great! :P

[Will Karelia]

ROFLMAO!!!

[Will Karelia]

Read my 'Voyager Parody' topic near the bottom of the forum...

[T Hain]

omg hahahaha thats great