The "Five World" tale, in full.

[Deranged Nasat]

Rom was known for having a dubious motive behind his many profit-making schemes. "Rom is...charitable," Quark spat out his chewing gum, placing it in the garbage can.

A Jem'Hadar acrobat jumped up and began an interpretive dance, inspired by Martha Graham's moves. Odo's hips began to sway as everyone lined up to place bets on how long before the next crazy detour, like Shakira making an appearance. Seconds passed; nothing weird happened, driving the 5-world writers to toss computers out their windows. The collective tossing created a break for Shakira, hips gyrating. Odo said, "Hips don't lie." The intoxicating rhythms on display led to a spate of hands of GO FISH. This caused Thot Mog to say "I will" when Garak proposed.

"What did Garak propose?" asked Tain, suspicious.

"Nothing of consequence".

"Business venture. Tailoring and fashion that will revolutionize this station”.

Tain said, "especially the use of hand built warp sheds even stronger than true love”.

“I must protest!" exclaimed Gul Jasad, who was grumpy and still could not believe that it was not butter.

"What is it with all your adverts and their stupid slogans?” asked the Cardassians, who hated the commercials interrupting their state-sponsored monologue festivals, which are famous for the monologuiest monologues anywhere. For who could hope to outmonologue a Cardassian, except Johnny Carson?

“So you think," said Dukat, "you can dance? You must leave your friends behind. And if they don't dance, well, they're no friends of Cardassia”.

"I can dance!" Sisko exclaimed.

"Then step up, bee-yotch!" Dukat said, "Time to get funky".

Quark meanwhile had started a betting pool on the dancers.

Jake Sisko was in the mood for another one of his biting satirical reviews, slamming the authors of this story because they were vastly better at improvised comedy and intellectual debate than they were at hedge fund management. This was not really biting satire - we don't want to be sued here!

"I'm sueing!" cried someone, predictably outraging the Order, who removed this disruptive malcontent and applied some of their best methods of firm but benevolent reconditioning, resulting in only a few side-effects like vacant, haunted eyes, more outbursts before silence settled, and then slight, uncontrollable drooling.

"Does anyone else have any more ideas about sueing the great and powerful writers of this divine comedy of errors?" asked Tain. No one dared to speak, save a babbling Bashir:

"But master Tain, I didn't quite understand your underlying argument".

But before Tain could move to "disappear" him, Bashir scarpered and joined the British Foreign Legion's regiment located in Quark's closet, the cowards. With O'Brien at their lead, they planned to valiantly keep drinking Real Ale and singing sea shanties till dawn broke.

Meanwhile, deep in the darkest dreary depths of Quark's sink, something foul and unholy stirred. It was Zek's earhairs - ALIVE!! Even the cursed and dammed former members of Dukat's band, "The Egos" were horrified at the sight of living earhairs. Living earhairs...that could FLY! They immediately ruined Morn's brunch, but through the mayhem Sisko used his phaser to burn them. How anticlimatic. Oh well, here's Jake, reporting live from the Cardassian front where the deadly orbital platforms in the Chin'toka system have started singing annoyingly and are currently being blown out of all proportion.

Therefore, the Cardassian goverment has ordered me off the air because, as Weyoun sang like Sinatra, Jake got into his replica Runabout resembling a 90's Ford Windstar with a thumpin' stereo and chrome rims. He activated the Useless Device, which uselessly utilized unused plot points to fire up the converters, and used the self sealing stembolts to recalibrate the phase coils and pop-start it in 2nd.

"Now I'm cruising," smiled Jake.

But Nog's envy of Jake's runabout festered in his heart; he knew he had to sing in perfect pitch or at least something resembling it. Pitching a perfect game, maybe? Or, maybe, a two-hitter. Or that odd Altairian two-header that 90,000 saw in person. In the end, too busy to indulge these North Americans, Nog instead followed his roots - therefore ending up at the Piggly Wiggly buying frozen pudding and waiting for the end.

A hillbilly Bolian recommended MoonPies so Nog went in search of moon rocks and pie crusts, and searches to this day.

Lost forever in the mists of another loony-binn, Bashir slowly came back into consciousness. He demanded that Quark give him "five" down low, but they were out of trojans.

So Bashir, not one to ponder the deep meaning of anything, prepared an ode to the greatness of the Dutch method of dating economics, meaning that the Trade policies of the Intergalactic Pastry Chef's Union were insoluble, maybe even preposterous. This was no barrier to their Mafioso practices spreading across the sugary cosmos, reaching throughout all of the Federation worlds (and some non-Federation ones, too), though Cardassia was spared due to being sucked into a parallel universe filled with the manliest purple hats in existence, hats "sweeter" than any pastry sold at promenade kiosks.

(Editor's Note: I love the sound of nonsensical rambling in the mornings. Sounds like...the "Five World" story!)

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"This is the voice of the Mysterons and we are rising to new heights if we could only locate our sombreros!"

"The Attendant was known to have a surplus of sombreros in his back bedroom."

A glimmering tiara worn by Garak won scorn from Rusot, wearing really bright pink human lipstick which frightened nearly everyone (except for Garak who was weary of such theatrics). Intrigue ensued and everyone watched with bemused fascination, mingled with fear as the computers caused chaos via endless PONG games on the station monitors twenty-six hours per year, since that's all the time we have folks. I'd be leaving, if I were you.

Odo tried looking patient and failed miserably, looking impatient...until the wormhole opened and sucked most of reality inside, then re-emerged in the form of Barney the Dinosaur. Horror!!!

"I love you, you love--"

"Major! Photons!" howled the Sisko, as the station was attacked by Barney's abominably horrid singing.

Gul Madred appeared, and said, "we must be calm for there are five lights to be seen in Barney's mouth, and if you don't agree I will order Barney to grab your buttocks, and sing out, creating temporal pulse shock that will spread purple happiness to all galaxies throughout the ages like a gentle cottony cloud".

Sisko contemplated self immolation, escaping an entire universe set in the land of purple dinosaurs. Instead he ordered 100% phaser overload in order to blow out the birthday candles that threatened to consume the entire closet of vintage "Niners" uniforms.

Crisis averted! All hail the Supreme Emissary of Funk! Everyone join me in a toast - ''May the wings of liberty cover you via the power of Greyskull! All hail the men who wear padded bras" - while Weyoun still sang Sinatra.

Nog, embarrassed for his comrades, attempted to muffle Weyoun's truly bad singing by shooting him point blank in the balls. This made Weyoun scream in agony until his balls, located inside his mouth, could leap out and bounce around the station.

"Follow the bouncing balls!" suggested the Suggestively Suggestive Suggestor of Suggestus.

"Get my butterfly net!"

"At once, sir". His butler carried it in a golf bag along with a sterling silver stick of several dozen surprises, each more surprising than the last. The butterfly net was spread with evil intent and even more evil implementation of the kind civilized worlds frowned upon. On such worlds, a fool's empire could be built with only a replicator and a dream. And plenty of Kanar for everyone who wishes to drink and play poker.

Nog sighed. THAT dream wasn't about a naked Pakled monk! His lucid dreaming lessons had made him doubt the great and powerful OZ was ever the man behind the curtain, but the frightening alternative was a Lovecraftian horror so unspeakable even Cthulu would be horrified.

"I must go to Miskatonic and drink a misky tonic".

But O'Brien objected quite strenuously. "Remember Arthur Guinness!" was his rallying cry, and, storming the bar, he stole Quark's Guiness.

"Genuine class!" praised Dr. Bashir.

"I keep a keg behind the bar for just such an occasion. It helps keep the authors inspired to write scenes about hope and life. Not dark and depressing stuff like Mistral's”.

But the cheery, sappy bile that studio heads shlep out to the needy didn’t find a niche. This was because Quark sought a licensing bill. It wasn’t profitable, so he threw a tantrum and ran for President of the Promanade. He won, so he began his campaign for Space Pope, which convinced the Maquis that he had become a threat. Odo gratefully helped them. Their anti-papal plan was to spread comfty chairs throughout the promenade, tripping up passersby. But they didn’t count on Morn’s ability to ruin upholstery.

“Damn you, Morn!” Odo hollowed.

Morn flipped the bird before cartwheeling off down the hall.

“I don’t allow cartwheels on my watch. When I’m off my expiry date and therefore expendable, I request that all citizens be solemn and dignified”.

But, knowing that was impossible, Odo just accepted the fact that law and order was, frankly, a lame cop show. CHiPS was Odo’s favourite show; one character looked like Worf because of that 70s hair and warm personality which made it all worthwhile.

“Bring me sunshine, all the joy you bring, bring me sunshine, all you biatches while I sing. I do apologise; I simply must sing” Odo said, embarrassed.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Quark’s lobes sensed a weakness, something he’d never felt before: a lack of profit motive.

“Oh, Great Commerce, what the hell is wrong?” Quark lamented, as he locked up a rare bottle of Austi Spumante and poured a fine Brivari, saluting the great and powerful Londo Mollari, who got his favorite (and manly) purple jacket and draped it over Quark, and said unto him; "Quark, you are the Chosen One. You shall lead the Galaxy aimlessly from bar to bar, everybody will know your name, and they're always glad you left, because you're a cheap, souless chiseler".

"You honor me", Quark sobbed, “and yet I must pursue both profit and lace”.

All cursed Quark, crying “how can you pursue both, Quark?”

The canny Ferengi merely smiled and said, “prepare to endure Weyoun screaming into your ears!”

“Not that Vorta jackal!” cried Leeta, flinging herself down at Rom’s feet; “protect me, dearest!”

Rom looked at them in utter shock, causing Cardassian voles to fly around the room – but Weyoun killed them all through the power of smug rays. Yes, rays of pure smugness spilled down upon the miserable mass of mooks. So, as they ran screaming, red ants climbed their legs and all the men fell, causing the ground to shake. And also rattle and roll, because what earthquake would be complete without hot dinner rolls?

The general chaos upset the Federation Health Inspector, who had once vowed to prevent chaos in all its forms. The vow, made over the body of a three-breasted Orion named Johnson, was so important that not even a farmer trapped in a Cardassian collective monologue (which had the effect of white noise) could cause the overwhelming monologuishness to abate, despite their best efforts. Crops in the general area of the monologue marathon matured in the hallowed halls of Himmel, where there's no beer.

"Excuse me, anybody have a safe place where I can store an extremely fragile, valuable Cardassian chorus girl?" Garak asked.

"In my quarters," Dukat replied.

"You Cardassian pig!" Kira shouted.

"She can stay in mine!" Sisko shouted a bit gleefully.

Kassidy arched a brow and tapped a Latin rhythm on the cowbell Sisko loved to play. All agreed that more cowbell music would start a riot and so, with much dignity, the Guls of the Central Subcommand, underappreciated as they are by the bigger Guls who sported the finest purple hats, declared martial law- their law.

And man, was the law tough. Anyone even suspected of defying Thot Mog's fashion edicts would face a squad of sarcastic Glinns who would laugh and generally mock their choice of Folgers over Maxwell house.

However, the Xindi (who are here to collect funds for WMDs for the children) asked Cousin Gaila to support their drive to kill all humans by bribing the Palamarian Regent with massive...erm, incentives that the elderly Regent sadly rejected.

"You realise that this means war!" cried the Xindi.

"I suspected as much, but you shall pay me royalties" warned the authors who, frankly, were a bit smelly with B.O.

Despite the overpowering smell, the song he sang was beautiful. The Regent, softened by wine, was secretly half-Cardassian, which is a requirement if one wanted to chew on cud. Did the Regent wish to share his cud with Damar?

Damar, not a ruminant, declined.

Sisko ordered all Guls arrested, first the Black-Backed and Herring (He forgot to specify spelling), the largest variety of Guls. Amid much squarking and floods of shrieking fangirls, Damar entered, hair and teeth gleaming heroically, throwing chunks of bread everywhere.

"Bread and circus peanuts for all, at least all who can squark instead of squawk. So I declare, and so pledge to all Cardassia, patriots of our great and glorious Union - let no one squark!"

"All hail the great Damar!"

Everyone then stood and threw bread to the gulls, while the Guls danced a jig.

Guls Just Wanna Have Fun! blared from Dumar's oversized boombox, followed by Fat Bottomed Guls and lastly, Guls, Guls, Guls.

Thot Mog's Dyes and Guls was not the hit he was expecting, as no Cardassian would pay the price for the outrageously priced single release. Thot Mog decided to exact sweet, sweet revenge, but got sidetracked by bitter, bitter coffee. This led the foolish Breen to "improve" the vile beverage with a rare vintage of Saurian brandy, made from actual Grade A, greenhouse-grown Saurians and chopped up black olives.

"You don't like my coffee?" Sisko demanded, as he ate a passer-by's liver with chopped olives on the side and was hailed as a cannibal of most ill repute.

"It makes you jittery, Captain", Kira said, stating the obvious.

"Raktajino addict," Sisko taunted back.

"Go play baseball," Kira sneered.

"I'll go 'Hank Aaron' upside your downside if you don't join me in the holosuite this damn instant!" Sisko howled.

Kira hissed, "Take me out to your stupid game, Benjamin."

"I wasn't aware we were going into extra innings, Major!"

"Innings and outings, Ben, but how do you expect to excel with that lazy attitude?"

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Dark laughter echoed though the Promenade as swirling mists oozed over and around the vast space. This caused everyone to flee in abject terror from the sight of Sisko's thong. With a thunderous blast the deceptive mist solidified into: Gigantor! Gigantor was good at Spades.

"Giant robots are not allowed in this damn bathroom. So please leave," scolded Jadzia.

Gigantor cried, and then went home, gigantic face rusted with tears. Satisfied, arms akimbo, Jadzia whirled about and decided to try out for the all-quadrant cheerleader laundry detergent commercial contest. She practiced perky smiles for weeks and poured raktagino on white Starfleet issue panties to compare the carbination theory. That theory had its detractors, nonetheless she was determined to win the contest, come hell or high inflation rates with the result of last night's football game.

The Andorian nuns reappeared and presented to all the cast, the narrator, and the authors (who were a bit funny - funny as in "peculiar," naturally), censers of holy water sanctified by Lucifer Himself.

"Hang on to the altar while I say the following sacred chant: Make my Funk the P-funk, 'cuz we got da funk".

Garak protested; "Ridiculous pandering religions are no substitute for good monologues and manly purple hats (which is the official Cardassian position on the matter)!"

Kira stood for election as a Commissioner for Missing Missionaries Committee and won a resounding victory. This was the crowning moment of her increasingly pathetic existence, which was only alleviated by running for insignificant offices and pandering to religious pedagogues, who were waiting in the shadows, hoping for someone to grope.

"Please don't fear the Reaper, nor The Sisko, nor The Kosst Dukat, instead fear me, for that which unsettles even the lawyers of..."

However, just then, Odo started a fire drill - but everyone ignored it because with his deputies racing around on repulsorlift golf carts, there was a far greater danger of losing latinum on bets.

"How does that help us?" wondered Kira, dodging Jake's cart.

"It means that I am generating side bets on getting hit!"

Quark wasn't about to miss hitting Rom with his cart. But Weyoun struck Quark first, knocking him aside with maniacal glee, exclaiming, "take that, Ferengi!"

"I'll take that, you...you...Daffy Duck suck up. Just wait until the Nagus hears how you ate head lice."

"Umm, yeaaaahhhhh," Weyoun said, backing away, scowling. "That's a lie!"

"An ugly lie," Odo nodded. "We were racing carts, fools!"

"Yes," Weyoun said, "And I only eat lice deep fried - you know, like fried rice".

"Call it what you will" said the ignoble young man, demonstrating his ignorance of arachnids and other lower life forms...including humans, Cardassians...all non-Founders who dare to stand against the self-proclaimed and gooey deities that were comprised of yogurt (which is a big surprise as Weyoun couldn't stomach yoghurt).

"What you can or cannot withstand is of no concern".

Thus spake Drex, who arrogantly played a harmonica blindfolded. The sheer gall inherent in such a display provoked Kai Opaka to revoke.

Q considered turning them ALL into cheese-filled pinatas, but magnaminously forbode, so natural evolution prevailed, and things returned to their confused and rambling narrative.

"Uncle Narrator, is there any chance of setting a firm example by restricting these authors to a well structured narrative for once?"

Through his tears, the Narrator consented and ordered the implementation of Sanity Code 56413, which mandated the immediate arrest of both RobertScorpio and Thor Damar(along with the execution of Deranged Nasat. He escaped). Alas, even punishing those fiends was not enough to prevent the silliness (besides, Thor Damar escaped by stealing a uniform from the Ice Giants and provoking the wrath of Ymir and Thor, who led a vast mob against Narrators and all who would serve them. So ended the reign of Narrativias the First).

The next chapter in Jake's novel would pay tribute to them with Haiku and Koans respectively.

"Haiku?" said Bashir.

"Gesundheit!" replied O'Brien. "And many happy returns!"

"No sneezing on the Promenade" sniffed Odo. "Here's a Koan".

"But without any ice cream?"

"No ice cream," snapped Odo.

"Disappointing" mused Bashir, before leaving a request for a series of Haiku, bless you, about the elemental wonder of punning.

"Words meaning one thing,
yet they do have the
effect of lettuce alone," wrote Jake.

"What happened to your novel?" asked Odo. "You ruined it with your insistence on punning away every time we get anywhere. It's like the Puns of Navarro or Punning with the Devil, or The Pun Also Rises. Crime and Punishment. This is the pundit of puns reporting live from Puntanamo bay with Cardassia's Punniest Home Videos, and Some Like It Pun.

"No one is pun-miester like Weyoun Five, he has puns up the yin-yang. Once he came up with a pun so outrageous, it forced Bashir to fart loudly. Everyone fled in terror, since it was so noxious it threatened to file a lawsuit against the pun to end all punnery.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Kai Opaka suddenly appeared. She was armed with a smile and red lipstick. Sisko had decided to go the extreme and rock the Casbah like there was no hope of ever stopping. A passing Bolian observed the weirdness and noted in his journal, "today I went insane. Yep".

Worf brandished a golden bat'leth that sparkled in the light like Kahless's tears. "This is the mythic bat'leth of Khronel, and...SPAAAAAAAAAAARTA!"

He knocked Dukat out cold, much to the joy of the bloodthirsty crowd of spectators, hoping to catch Dukat's purple hat. But his enormous head made the chances of catching the hat impossible. It was stuck tighter than Quark's purse strings on payday.

Dukat began laughing. "Fools, you cannot stop me! Soon I will own every tonka toy!!!"

"Tonka toys are rarer than Corvan gilvos" confirmed Quark, stroking the black cat on his lap. He turned to his iPod, and played the song Surfing on the Great Materiel which drove all customers forever mad - maad, maaad, maaaad, maaaaaaaaad!

The supreme Legate strode towards perfection. And anyone who stood in his glorious path was in danger of losing their sanity as the greatest Cardassian turned to them and smote the coat of a stoat, and thus I quote: note the pea-green boat, Lear wrote.

"It's started, hasn't it?" moaned Jake. "From punning to rhyming, this trend heralds the arrival of O'Brien..in drag!!"

O'Brien frowned. "I thought we had agreed to not reenact scenes from The Rocky Horror Show; you know, the one with the Time Warp. I am the very model of the proper way to handle a hydro-spanner, but I don't ever use a daily planner".

"That excuse will not suffice" said Kira, not being nice.

"What, then, is your advice?"

"Tap your heels together thrice, and then cup your left elbow. Now that's very nice. I believe that should suffice".

"Now let's get on with eating rice. Who brought the jambalaya with the Cajun spice?"

"I did," grinned Joseph Sisko.

"Let's eat!" exclaimed Nog, who had plans. Oh yes, big plans to eat a bowl of soup with a side dish of curried tubegrubs. This lovely repast was enjoyed by Nog, however everyone else seemed, "coincidentally," to have just eaten and instead wandered off.

Nog grabbed a passing female, and demanded, "Give me Oo-mox, woman!"

She backhanded him, of course, across both ears.

"Owww, bitch!"

"What? Oo-mox rough style is all the range! I know because I did it to pay my way through college, and boy, was it fun!"

Nog was repulsed, yet attracted. "What is thy name, woman?"

"It's Mae West, you freak!"

Nog tripped and fell forward, accidentally going south on West, and northing could stop it.

"Come up and see me!"

"You're way too easty for me," Mae West purred, swiveling her swively parts and shimmying across the quadrant. She arrived in Odo's office, sans makeup, and proceded to mock the changeling for his lack of style. The constable merely rolled himself into a pillbug shape and launched into Quark's, disturbing Morn's morning constitutional drink: milk, vodka and sythale. Brunt (FCA), fined Quark for insectile lifeforms without a permit. Outrage!

Quark flattened Brunt with a left hook and Mae West's left jab went south of the border.

Odo scuttled away on all seven dwarves, who carried him into the next Congregational story. This one featured an interesting murder mystery involving putrified corpses, an alcoholic priest, and the Illuminati touring band.

The Klingon Empire declared this a cosmic risk, and declared drunken war on the station, as Sisko sighed.

"Get off my station, you turtle-headed twits!"

But they engaged Odo's deputies in a hellacious fire-fight on the Promenade; Dax and Kira were told to help repel the Klingons. Pink bows did the trick.

"Pride...gone!" screamed Gowron, writhing in terror. "They fight like cheerleaders, dishonourably displaying prettiness to distract our strong and handsome warriors with their ribbons and bows".

Dax took a bat'leth and added a spirit ribbon, which signaled the beginning of the end of the beginning. Gowron took this as a cue to exit stage left. Dukat returned with his manly hatrack, which stood proudly upon Sisko's desk, by his baseball and his signed photo of Buck Bokai, which Jake had bartered for in an epic display of haggling that would make any Ferengi weep tears of gold-pressed latinum.

Quark noticed his Pokemon cards were missing and considered his options. "I want my Pokemon cards back!"

He became suspicious of everyone who had ever visited Quarks'. Particularly the Wadi, whose love of games made them prime candidates for anything remotely related to Pokenapping. Quark rang the Wadi on his cell phone, the ringtone annoyed the heck out of Rom, who was actually trying to get his ears waxed. Brunt returned to the plot, with some difficulty, of course, as there was the small --

--the shield of Kahless, won--

--"Stop interrupting, Worf!"--

--...matter of the fall of the Narrator which wasn't over - a bottomless fall down into the cold, damp areas of slash fiction...but we must draw a firm line against this abomination lest we unleash the horror of poorly written prose. That I cannot abide!

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"Who are the Knights Who say Ni?” a passing python asked, slithering like a taunting Frenchman.

"I know nothing of these nattering knights who care for nothing but purple prose and plumed hats and, of course, banana pudding flavored soft drinks purchased from the replimat which Rom was considering purchasing to rival Quark's, insane as that sounds. Really, who've thunk it?"

A little competition might, however, be good. Quark didn't see it that way, and hired Nausicaan thugs to dance the light fantastic dance of brilliant scintillation. It brought Rom to tears, and also explosive diarrhea which exploded harmlessly into lifesaving bits of cotton candy and candy corn.

Thot Mog returned and said words that no one understood.

"Is the universal translator broken?" asked the Prophets, who were vacationing from the wormhole. They took a keen interest in horticulture, to the delight of...they looked at each other before realising that they had been linear for far too long.

"We are of Bajor, so there. What are you going do to make a profit?"

Then F'red the Pah Wraith answered:

“Sell purple beach balls!”

“Oh”.

“Yeah, oh!” said the Ori, “then comes P and Q”.

“No ABC's on the Promenade!”

“No, they’re savages” moaned Q, who was banished for being just a snippet too smug about alphabetical superiority.

“Banished? Q?!”

“Yes, banished”, smirked R with even more smug smugness than Dukat and Damar combined, which was a lot of smugness! Dukat alone produced enough smugness to make an Andorian nun. And making Andorian nuns wasn’t like dusting crops, boy. Actually, Q can make Andorian nuns. But at a terrible cost! Namely £15.30 per nun. Terrible!

“Hey!” Bashir cried. “Moneyless, remember?”

“Better moneyless than monkeyless!" Nog asserted. That boy loves monkeys.

His monkeys, however, were vicious, those damn dirty apes! Just try keeping their paws off. Nog trained one to steal Sisko’s Bud Bokai baseball card (‘Twas Buck holding a beer.) Sisko demanded every simian onboard be fed two bananas or he’d make sure that nobody got any chocolate pudding for breakfast.

“Breakfast, Ben?” questioned Dax.

“It’s almost time for brunch!” he exclaimed, running for the brunch buffet at the new Bolian/Vulcan fusion restaurant on the Promenade. Even though Vulcans despised Bolian food, which was acidic, the mandatory “buddy” arrangement required such an unholy pairing, which is why Cardassian/Klingon roommates were also permitted.

“Bother” said Pooh. “I’ve eaten all the Breen honey, every drop!”

The Sisko laughed at a Milne-esque pun...until “Pooh” morphed into a rather unique lifeform comprised of Hershey's chocolate syrup.

“No, this will not do”.

Quark mixed Chocolate-Pooh into milk but the resulting concoction sprouted mould. He left it out and it curdled delightfully into caramel flan, the perfect custard.

The literary invasion continued with a herd of Heffalumps stampeding horribly, with woozles tagging along and jagulars dropping from the Promenade's upper deck like thunderbolts from Blind Io. Archchancellor Ridcully has booked Sisko's office, intending to have a light meal consisting of only five platters of the finest Bajorian cuisine, plus a zabo steak or four. Mr Stibbons was not impressed by this apocalyptical thread and wrote a thesis detailing how to eradicate it though the medium of Irony.

"Irony is a dish best served blazing hot," said Bashir.

Garak had to smirk as he preferred his irony chilled and his sarcasm wounding.

"My irony is chilled, Federation dogs!”

The President of the Federation, upset, fired his golden phaser.

"The human with the golden phaser angers me," sneered Dukat. "My purple hat deflects your golden phaser with the light of Little Mary Sunshine. She's mean and green, and she is coming to the screen!”

“The Breen took my spleen!”

“What a scene!" spoke a cadet. "I'll tell the dean."

Sisko muttered, "What d'you mean?”

Ziyal burst in. "C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER!!!!”

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Damar had to smile at the thought of forcing Sisko to cancel his lunch date with the space pope. He bit his lip in frustration and cried out with passion, "I...I...love you, Sisko-wisko!”

The silence lasted until the Jem'Hadar swing band performed Tangerine, at which point everyone got up to get down, and Lindyied their asses off, man. Losing profits in commodities ubiquities gave all men red boils. But that's not important right this minute. Or is it? The Prophets spoke of this, but saw no profit in it.

A trio of Tosks appeared, and killed an army of Klingons before harmonizing beautifully on "Yesterday", to which the whole cast joined in, although Dukat was definitely off-key. Kira punched Dukat for...everything, but especially for singing badly. Aamin Marritza led the chorus with his high, soprano voice. This led to sopranos being granted sainthood.

Tony Soprano, newly appointed saint, made a bid for Kai.

"@$%& this $#@&!" h@$%& this $#@&!" he campaigned.

"Blasphemous!" accused Kai Dava, sadly. Tony had the Kai whacked.

"Criminal!" accused Winn, quite outraged. Everyone ignored her as they had simply lost faith in all wearers of funny hats.

"My hat, it has three Turnips, brought from the far, fabulous corners of Epsilon 5”.

"Your hat is fugly!" Jake exclaimed.

"And not manly!" Dukat added, snorting some strong cocaine.

"Hey, where did you get the blow?"

"Space Hippies," Dukat explained through more snorting, and continued, "They were looking for Woodstock, so I traded them a map for their coke".

"A deal almost Ferengi-worthy, Dukat," said Quark in approval.

"Praise from a swindler!" chortled Garak.

"Get stuffed, tailor," Quark snapped.

Thadial Bokar arrived, menacing in pink ruffles and a bonnet accessorized with a beaded clutch and a bejeweled shoulder holster, a gift from drunken Cardassians, purchased on Risa at a flea market short on fleas.

Sisko thought, "Why me, lord?”

Alas, Lord Mclinkiny was quite amused, sipping his martini noisily, saying, “Tough cheese, old boy”.

Annoyed, Bashir sedated Lord Mclinkiny.

“Captain, we have a visitor. Says her name is Buffy”.

“What’s a Buffy?” Sisko replied.

“You have a vampire problem”.

“Oh, you know about baseball?”

“Forget baseball! Worry about vampires!”

“Oh, vampires! They don’t exist in this universe - you must - *gack*"

A vampire bit Sisko. Salt vampire, as it turns out, but within seconds, Sisko had a bumpy forehead and it was clear he'd contracted the wrong people. The Empire ran a public service announcement offering contracts to vampire hunters with an emphatic demand that they not violate the regulation of wearing purple hats in a less than manly manner, in the original Cardassian so trumpeted by those who considered other languages to be inferior.

“We are the bestest, superiorest, coolest cats on the block, causing all others to agree with our fashion sense and generally being awesome”, noted the Supreme Legate of the Cardassian Self-Promotion Society. He nodded with elegant poise and turned and was staked by Buffy.

“Murderer!” shouted Damar with great phony outrage, secretly actually pleased at this turn of events. Buffy, unwisely, slept with Damar after one too many kanars, as O’Brien muttered, “Damn Cardies!”

Damar sneaked out before Buffy woke, and lost his soul! O’Brien laughed at Damar’s predicament, which was quite foolish, as the Soul-Capturer now pursued him! But Damar had a plan - yes, he’s a slippery one! - and he forced the two, Buffy and the Soul-Capturer, to go back in time and rig Super Bowl CCX, because then --

“How does that help?!”

“Hush! Don’t be so impatient!”

But he paused, thinking it over.

“Gambling on past sporting events is illegal in several Empires, but I do need money for my rather odd desires...Mr. Pibb, Red Vines, crazy frog ringtones...stuff like that”.

He was summarily executed. His death did not mean much to Buffy; the cold hard truth of the matter is that Cardassians are too “demonic” to have a place in heaven. But the firecaves are warm and waiting for new age philosophies to be adopted.

"Can I get a amojan?” Dukat asked hopefully.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

The Grigari wiped out Cardassia and created a Kirk themed fun-park for an increasingly irreconcilable plot line; namely, the simple fact that peace between Bajor and Cardassia was never EVER a possibility. Except in Parallel universe no.441 where starships were pink with bubble domes and tail fins and really wild mag rims and the hula dancer dashboard sang "Kumbaya" when activated properly.

"This universe is pleasing" said the Prophets.

"Well, fine then, you can go and..."

Alas, Weyoun did not see the insurance salespeople, there was a one-eyed, one-horned flying purple people-eater among them, and it was too horrific to acknowledge. Not that it's ever stopped salespeople from grabbing your attention.

Meanwhile in a faraway galaxy, a little lost puppy prayed for the strength to smite the evil cats who had overthrown his father, the Emperor Bow-wow Doggington the Fourth. Young Bow-wow Dogginton the fifth knew evil usurper Felinious Whiskers was on his way to capture him, and so he travelled to the homeworld of the mice - Magrathea! Mice hate cats, and especially these cats (they had laughed at their planet of cheese).

"Good rodents, having great honour and valour unsurpassed in the annuals of civilization, direct me to Bajor, and let there be fireworks so that I may find the lost Orb that was my father's best hope of defeating those vile and lazy cats".

Kai Winn agreed to look at the claims that the Orb of Fleas was in fact a rather problematic relic; traditionally no Orb may leave the Alpha Quadrant without the blessings of the True Prophets upon it, so that no schism of Bajor's faith could shatter the fragile barriers between the wormholes leaving the whole religion unsettled.

Garak popped up, and shot a few treacherous words at the masses who then defected to the cats.

"Bow before your Gods" said Garak who saw that all the worlds needed the love resulting from Cardassian/Cat rulership. And thus the mighty Catassian Empire was formed. Bow-wow and Kira cried out in fear and attacked the Catassians in a desperate attempt to stop the unification of these two great peoples. But, alas, she was unsuccessful and the pair were imprisoned!

How Dukat did laugh and - However, once Weyoun came along he saw an opportunity to - “I'm still laughing here!" moaned Dukat, "and planning torments for Nerys and that little dog!”

“Sorry” Weyoun said, insincerely, "I didn't mean to interrupt your gloating, but the Breen are attacking”.

Thot Mog said "&*£$@~#/", which translates to “Cat fur: this year's fashion must-have”.

The Catassian fleet wiped tears of frustration from their eyes and proceeded to kill the Breen. With his dying breath, Mog told his killers that they lacked style. Dukat was shaken at this act of sacrilege and used his hat to demonstrate his manliness by restoring Thot Mog to life. Weyoun sauntered over and received a punch from a random Jem'Hadar for daring to interrupt this tender moment. Damar shook hands with this Jem'Hadar and gave him a medal. The Cardassians and the Jem'Hadar realised they couldn't count very well because no-one had dared tell them the color of letter zee.

(Editors Note: That marked the return of the American posters; we had a full night of British posters only – upon realizing the fact that they were undisputed at present, the British posters began inserting the letter “u” into as many words as possible and insisting that it’s “zed” not “zee”. The Americans returned with a vengeance the next morning).

"How dare U" cried Tain.

"Shoin yer shoes, guv'nor?" mocked Thot Mog, strangely articulate and non-Breen-like for the sake of interstellar peace, which occurred when everyone held hands and sang: "I'd like to punch Weyoun in the mouth!"

Weyoun was tired of being the butt of such jokes and cried, "I've had it! From now on, no one is able to"...but Rom landed another punch. Weyoun saw red stars and knew that he had to fight back.

“Vorta attack mode 123...”

But Garak knew that one.

“He's going to whine our ears off!”

So it proved: "my ears!" cried all non-Cardassians (for Cardassian hearing is weaker - with reason!) Garak and Damar teamed up on Weyoun, who called Keevan a traitor. He died at 2pm sharp, note that down in Vorta's log, supplemental. Also take care to list cause of death: in this case Whineatic fever compounded by irony, coupled with advanced beaten-to-a-pulp-itis and blunt farce trauma to the funny-bone. A horrible combination to contemplate, much less behold, much less suffer.

"Poor devil", Dukat stated disingenuously, trying not to snicker. "Really, Dukat, have some manners. When did you start talking to yourself, Dukat?" Dukat asked himself. He didn't answer. How could he, since his inner voice was out to brunch with Kirk's Log Narration.

"What I'll miss about Weyoun is his keen bootlickery skills" chuckled Damar, himself recently deceased, as Louis Armstrong suddenly appeared.

"He had all the time to sing, yet didn't. Sad, like a dead clown, yet like his 23rd century appearance at the intergalactic music hall, ultimately disappointing."

 

[Deranged Nasat]

O'Brien started guffawing, then Keiko, annoyed, swatted him with world-destroying force, causing the deaths of many Bothans and the destruction of a giant, turd-like whale-probe, as Satchmo played his horn.

"If only Weyoun were here, he would know what to do".

"Can we clone him?” suggested Oscar Goldman. "We have the technology to make him into a greater and better lackey. A lickspittle of epic proportions”.

And now from our sponsors, we bring you the greatest product of all time, a slicing, dicing, smashing, trashing, sledge-o-matic, suctionless, rust-resistant, totally portable Vorta, Weyoun Ten!

He bowed so deeply his nose touched his elbow, a feat few have achieved and very few ever wanted to see. "Behold the wonders of Weyoun!" cooed Keevan, in his creepy manner, leering lustily like a pedophile, "Weyoun Ten's skin is so tender -“

And Dukat had had enough. “Enough Vorta backslapping," Dukat spat, "I was running the Catassian Occupation when you were microbes,"

However the Goa'uld had other plans for Weyoun Ten's body: eeeeeeeeevil plans, needless to say, and Weyoun became host to Baal. Disco lights began flashing, as Weyoun Ten/Baal strutted down the promenade smirking at the foolish Klingons, who were about to buy stock in Dukat's latest business venture: the Ultimate Sham-Wow.

"Everyone likes a shiny ship, and there's nowt as shiny as one that's been cleaned and buffed with a Sham-Wow! Just look at my Hat'ak!”

Not knowing what a Hat'ak was proved an embarrassing mistake by Worf. "Who's a 'p'tak?'"

"What the frak?" Dukat said, "where is my spice rack?”

"Here!" replied Garak, whacking Dukat while tying a square knot.

"Pah! Sham-Wow is for Federation suck-ups and space trailer trash!" he said as Dukat reeled in an impressionable lad with his ability to count backwards.

"Five, four, three, two...er....”

"One is the loneliest number of all" mused Laas, who then shapeshifted into a tribble which had nowt to say because tribbles aren't very loquacious. But they don't half love anyone; it's all or nothing with those guys. "What is love? Baby, don't hurt me”.

“Haddaway is overrated," Sisko declared, “but I do so love Chopin."

"Chopin broccoli?" smirked Dr. Bashir.

"NO MORE PUNS!!" roared the live studio audience, in a moment of shocking intrusion into the narrative. "We demand whimsy and charm, possibly Irish in nature. And more antics certainly couldn't hurt after all this repetitively banal pop culture satire filled with manly purple hats. What is your response?"

"Erm, we are the writers, and as such are like unto gods to you mere mortals!"

One member of the audience shouted ''All hail the great and powerful writers. May their blessings shine down upon us and may terrible punning lead to accolades and cash money, as it would be natural justice!"

Other audience members, though, were unconvinced. They began throwing rotten scoundrels at the stage.

“NO!” screamed the unfortunate scoundrels. "We are definitely not suitable projectiles for you to take your marksmanship competency exam with”.

"What possessed you to assume we could all copulate with fish?”

“Translator's wonky again; fix it, O'Brien, without your purple hat!"

O'Brien worked his magic and the translator also made toast, per Mr. Scott's Toaster Mod-47.

“Toast without bread? What wizardry is this?!" asked Martok. "You dabble in dark arts indeed!”

“He's a witch! Burn him!"

“Done and done", Kosst Amojan said, soaking O'Brien with accelerant.

“Don't I have a say?” asked O'Brien, bursting into flames.

"A vote! Should O'Brien burn, or merely sizzle, we ask?”

"How to choose?!" cried Ah-Kel.

"Let the wheel decide!" suggested Leeta, spinning the dabo wheel with elegance enough to drive a hard bargain.

“O'Brien! Noooo!”

The Dabo wheel flew apart, thereby extinguishing O'Brien's flaming body.

"That was a real gas!"

Bashir tended O'Brien's wounds, appalled at the misspelled tattoo on his left buttock that read “They're goes a grate villain/ two smart fore his own good". "

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"This really must stop” insisted a nosey Kai Winn, who despised improperly spelled tattoos. Her voice was full of sappy sweetness and condescension, because she was raised by Sting.

Roy Orbison appeared, crooning sweetly, alongside Elvis 2.0, the cloned Vorta with a penchant for snazzy sequined jumpsuits, often with capes. His fashion sense alone could bring down the Romulan Empire. But his singing voice - that was a thing of awesome beauty that also aroused Odo. Sweet, sweet music soothed the ears of all who heard. Crowds backed-up to see him.

“We’ll be waiting here forever!” cried out Leeta and Kira, who then vowed to rush the stage in hopes of finding a receptive audience for their unique brand of Bajoran belly dancing (for the singers), and especially hoping Elvis 2.0, who was a Vorta, wasn’t also a eunuch. They craved additional pylons, which caused DS9’s acoustics to rock the house! Rock it like a hurricane; that all-Cardassian Scorpions cover band was not to be trifled with, ever.

Do you know what happened to the last no-good Romulan tax collector who came trying to give the cover story that the Senate had passed a resolution that clearly stated (under subclause IV), that the parties mentioned hitherto were convening conference containing countless counts carrying the clubs for Tiger woods?

"What happened to him?" asked a man, who sipped tea.

"You don't want to know."

“I know” said Garak, smugly. Many eyes rolled at this predictable response. Therefore, Garak unpredictably mooned the entire crowd. The sheer horror...the...horror.., caused Morn to fall to his lowest listless limp lifeless lethargic state. People pleaded with Odo to revitalise Morn, but while all this was happening sinister siloutettes began to appear on screen.

“Behold thy masters and tremble in fear at the true DS9 lords - the Teletubbies!”

“The foul and evil teletubbies are here to invade our station as part of Bajoran Kid’s Network, live on scene”

“So, Sally can wait” hummed Jake, who indeed looked back in...fear, at the slimy Teletubbies, who were preparing to spawn!!!

“They'll breed, we’ll die” warned Odo, Morn, Nog, Dukat, Shakaar, and Thomas Riker. Unfortunately it wasn’t possible on DS9 for Teletubbies to exist, thus Quark sold them to a Pakled who believed they were smart! No one heard from them again.

Meanwhile, Jake got away with murder most foul...actually just standard murder, but drama sells. He snuck up behind the narrator real stealthily, like, and bonk, bonk on the head! Yes, like Maxwell's silver hammer.

"We've all been there" said Sisko. "Let's get on with things without dwelling on secret desires to slay irritating people. Just love, love me do!”

“Someone has a guilty streak, and should just admit to this shocking felony" sighed Odo.

"I'm a nice guy" sang Dukat.

"Of course you are" sneered the Niners who knew the real deal, but still were polite enough to refuse a complete vilification; he did once avoid kicking a puppy...hard.

Only because the Breen attacked! And we saw who they are...they're really us posters, infiltrating the fictional universe and causing the story to develop as a secret broadcast to the Conservative Party. The Tories spluttered and blamed the BBC for bias.

“There is another side to us, for we are a friendly party concerned with spreading laughter and jolly fun throughout the cosmos, whatever our opponents' poisonous burps tell you. I'm a little teapot, short and stout” stated the Tory leader.

Elim Garak asked Bashir just who these 'tories' where....

“Where?!" exclaimed Bashir, "Here, man!! Begone with your exact grammar and crazed punctuation, because we are about to enter the Thunderdome! Two men enter, one shall...receive a free gift certificate for a day of debauchery at Quarks!”

“Yes YOU, minion of orthodoxy” Garak exclaimed.

“Minion?” miffed Bashir. “Sounds fun!”

In Thunderdome, Bashir’s opponent was his own sense of insecurity. But, using this to his advantage, he was able to disable the traps around him, pushing himself close to breakdown. But, just when all seemed calm, a red-shirted Bashir twin...led a long and happy life! Far happier than Bashir's future self, who glared at younger Bashir and said, "Just you wait till I kick your ass!"

But Masterblaster had other plans, as he donned red shoes and began to dance uncontrollably. Whooping and cheering, the Bajorans collectively danced a jig in celebration. However, noone could understand why Nog was suddenly dressed like Ronald McDonald.

"I'm loving these giant (and fashionable) shoes but the high salt content caused hermoids to appear on my bunions - a medical mystery - and so now I feel dirty...oh so dirty!"

But still, there is the case of Jones Vs Cardassia, wherein Cyrano Jones duped Gul McSweeney (an old established family) into selling his purple hat - but the gul was too proud to let it go without a deadly game of 3D Candyland - the X-treme(!!) Edition. Cyrano was accused of cheating with an overclocked GPU, and was ordered into the arena to face a hairlipped Nausicaan.

“No, he can’t win!” wailed worry wart Weyoun, “We won’t stand for this!” So he sat down.

But the surface was filthy, worse than Morn’s mouth after a six day bender in the dirty clothes hamper with Bashir.

"Why always me?" moaned Weyoun. "What did I do to become butt monkey of this story?!"

"Well, for starters, you left dirty dishes in the Defiant. Plus all the cheese-curds, plus there's the smarminess – euw. And another thing...don't panic!”

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Suddenly, three armored Tosks fell down the stairs.

“Oh great”, groaned Odo. “Just when I thought my paperwork was finished, another incident report. Anyone see how this mess happened?”

The Tosks sang “Hare Krishna”.

Quark looked at Odo and said, “I saw the whole thing; Sisko pushed them. It definitely wasn’t my rather suspicious cousin (who owns a moon) and who licks rabbit ears”.

“They were hares” said Gaila.

“They were wabbits” Elmer Fudd whispered.

“Be wery, wery quiet”, added the mysterious behatted hunter who seemed to have a terrible speech impediment, "I'm hunting and grunting, and bunting."

"Bunting?" Sisko asked. "Could you besure to eat this burrito?"

“This stuff's gold" grinned Jake, furiously scribbling. "I can use similar ‘hunting rabbits' material for my entry in the Vogon poetry reading tonight".

“That's tonight?!” cried Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz, “I must go change!”

“Prepare for POETRY!”

“Oh gaseous famdangles and odious sheep, please take a number of globes that smell, see that I froodle in wimples so deep, that it fabdangles the heck out of the marshmellow man”.

There was a stunned silence.

“Vibables cause me...”

The Vogons appeared to be allergic to common sense. "Let’s go kill ourselves, brothers”; and off they went, leaving only a fat tab at Quark's, and a bad smell. Quark made a terrible, choking, weezing sound that became a Top 40 Hit in the Gamma Quadrant, winning “Gammerican Idol" with little controversy. This made Molly O'Brien envious of Quark's undeserved singing success. Her revenge would be dark and cuddly, like her nature. Stuffed targs might be involved. Then again, they might not. It all depended on what DS9's gift store had stocked.

“Curses! Only clearance priced cookbooks?!”

“Blame Bajoran Commerce Ministry Guideline and Practices for this mess”.

“Oh, I will” said Molly. “They too will kneel before me, lest unfortunate consequences - NAP!”

Molly hit the bed like an Alvanian cave sloth, to find a large, green gooey Alvanian melon there already.

“Odd, how did this get here?”

“I’m glad you asked” Rumplestiltskin replied, “It arrived from another land, far off across the open seas of space, through the usual channels. The fee? Copper pennies on your eyes, and thirty pieces of silver bound around your waist”.

“Now, I'm tired so I'm staying out of this," said Keiko.

"Keiko! Molly's going all Vader on Quark's ass!" hollered Miles, secretly enjoying watching Quark scramble away from a small child. Quark fled to the only safe haven: the all-night washateria for naked, hot oil wrestling.

Some greasy Pakled offered Quark a shoulder to cry on. Quark declined, then tricked him into signing away his savings for a nagging housewife android. Harry Mudd tried to warn the frogs in his bladder about the dangers of time shares - particularly in this economy - but since he was a particularly entertaining host, the frogs invited him to Frogstar B. Dukat went to Frogstar C, and sat on a lilypad. He didn't croak, however, because of a ribbiting conversation he hopped to have. But unlike Dukat, the Frogstarians were not manly enough to sort out time share leasing arrangements, thus the entire operation had to be outsourced to the Ferengi in Black, an ominous organization founded in secrecy fifty years ago for this very purpose (planning ahead is essential).

“I would ask you to consider joining us" they told the Cardassians in Grey. They also approached Pakleds in Magneta and the Klingons in Brown, but no-one would join them due to lack of employee protection seatbelts in their mobile starships. Gul Macet read out the charges:

"Ferengi in Black, you are changed by the power of the full moon and the manly purple hat, into werevoles. This cannot be tolerated in this universe. Behold the anti-werevole decrees of yore".

And the Ferengi were laid low by high intensity bursts of Law and Order. Gusts of gussets buffeted them roughly until they could stand no more.

"We can standeth none further!” The Ferengi clawed at their bars of gold-pressed latinum, in a futile attempt to save their souls by offering the bars as payment for fancy new hat-racks for the inside of the Celestial Temple.

“No deal" the Prophets said, ''We don't need any linear head gear. Your corporeal decor would be an utter insult - we've seen Winn, that's enough!"

The Ferengi decided to rethink their strategy. "Help us, or we will perish in the coming apocalypse. Yes, the apocalypse, which will tear down the walls of creation and lay off thousands of hard working nanites who will be forced to take fast food jobs in the most unsavory locations”.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Most detestable of all locations, the Promenade's retro Klingon diner, is where one will find K'ntCH'i Fried Targ, the best blueberry muffins, and roach infestation. Its proprietor: a 300 lb. book-loving male orangutan who suddenly cried, "Aho! The Megapode!", i.e., "Ook, ook, ook, ooooook!"

The Megapode this year was hit by the wizard’s staff and the explosion of love beads created a major hazard throughout the Alpha Quadrant. These small, multi-colored, moduels were tiny anti-matter containers that could multiply, divide, and even extrapolate the meaning of life from whosoever passed them, such as Eddington, Jake, Molly, Sloan, Laas, and other kids, traitors, changelings, and nymphomaniacs. They gathered at the planet Sha-ka-ree, in the center for the performing arts. It was there that professional banjo, ukulele, and mandolin players gathered and played JOHN DENVER songs. Rocky Mountain High was best representative of the folking out, "best" being a relative term. Then - horrors - the FILKING began, but soothing "Country Roads" soon took them home, to the place where they beloooOOOooonged! West Virginia...and so on and so forth.

"London calling, to see if we can import warm beer and stuff, innit?"

"Quite" confirmed Churchill, satisfied with the way his aide handled his car insurance.

"We shall BURY YOU!" growled Chairman Khruschev, downing some wodka wery w-rrrapidly while smacking around President Nixon, who thoroughly deserved it. Churchill smoked his great cigar and had fallen asleep, so Nixon sneaked up behind him and balanced a teapot on his waistcoat, second button down. Then Broca told Dukat that he wanted to smack Nixon, too, because, face it, who doesn't? Had all of the Cardassians taken their turn, the bruises would be EPIC, and the recovery period lengthy. As it was, his skin was Cardassian-grey with a few purplish blotches, so they took him to Prime and transformed him into...Cardassian Nixon!

"We have done well!" Dukat said. "Soon we shall revel, to a ludicrously fiendish degree, in our cunning!" He giggled.

Macet sighed and smote his idiot cousin, because smoting is not illegal. Dax, who was watching from under the bed, also giggled.

"Giggling is not honorable" snarled Worf. "If you must laugh, guffaw!"

"Or chuckle" chuckled Weyoun, tears of mirth dampening his cheeks.

The side of the mirror in the room cracked. "Oh, no!”

"Stop laughing!" Cardassian Nixon roared, "the story is not coherent!”

“Casualties of words," Macet smirked, "four down, six letters: Bird.”

“Turkey!" offered Nixon, a champion of Alpha Quadrant birds everywhere.

“Birds love me and I get aroused in their presence."

“Way too much information, Nixon”, growled Macet, shaking his head. Suddenly Bajoran Jimmy Carter arrived with a bag of peanuts, and pot smoking Willie Nelson. Macet KO'ed Bajoran Jimmy Carter, whose body pulled an Obi-Wan out of a hat like ringing a bell.

"Go, Jimmy Carter, go!" cheered Bashir, smiling, weeping, emotionally unstable, unsure what the source was, but reveling his own desire to touch the Easter Bunny, especially when evil Vorta Tony Blair started belting "God Save the Queen" and draping Lords in ermine after a large cash donation.

Macet became flustered and pulled out of the election at the last moment, leaving his supporters feeling confused, even betrayed. They rose up as one and smote the voting populace. Dictatorship commenced! Oliver Cromwell awakened from the grave and said "Lord Protector? Memories can be beautiful, and yet God does not allow for my resurrection. Guess I'll return to that long, narrow bed under the earth".

"Sure, sure", said George Washington "we're not zombies or anything like that. However, we do eat brains."

"Only sometimes," noted Cromwell fussily.

John of Gaunt, munching on some Cheetos, denounced Richard II, pledged allegiance to Chester Cheetah. Thot Mog interjected, "Why are we snacking on these...things? They taste so decidedly horrible."

“One of life's mysteries, Thot".

“Some say the day-glow orange of Cheetos soothes troubled spirits, while others claim special additives give super powers, such as the power of finding thing that are orange. Also the power to call a Lawyer by his actual demon name."

"Rubbish! No self respecting Demon goes without Cheetos for too long!”

Satan laughed politely and welcomed the Cardassian government, the Dominion and the Federation to a grand coalition, who's goal is to smear gargantuan quantities of jalapeno peppers on all meals.

"'Gargantuan', I like that word”.

Quark was confused as they excluded the Andorian nuns from the station's circle of life.

“Are not the nuns important?”

The Andorian nuns worship false snack foods.

"This disgusts me."

The Prophets declared snack foods were evil, and warned all wormhole travellers that they would bury them. The Pah-wraiths, who LOVED Cheetos, predictably, and lived in Nacho Cheese Caves, were also fond of Fignewtons.

"As engrossing a discussion as this isn't, I must insist that all women worship my vintage teakettle collection. It is as valuable as it is because it was once owned by Buster Crabbe, the famous doily maker" said Weyoun, clapping his hands in girlish glee. "We need crumpets," he chortled, "and we need them forthwith!"

“Not crumpets, strumpets!" crowed Dukat.

"Strumpets, whheeeeee!" beamed Garak gaily.

“Grow up, 'gentlemen,'" Macet growled.

"Yeah, gonna make me?" pouted Dukat. "Besides, who eats crumpets?"

Bashir raised a hand, but just then, The Sisko appeared. Then another Sisko. And another.

“TOO MANY SISKOS!" Dukat howled.

"Dukat!" all Siskos present pointed to their kickass goatees and said "This!", then they exploded, goo flying everywhere.

"He slimed me!” whinged Dukat. Damar just felt sick. "This human stain is intolerable," he said, heaving. "BRING ME KANAR OR BRING ME DEATH!”

"Death - " Quark recalled. "Two parts of cake please." The only taker was the real Sisko.

“Will the real Ben Sisko please sit down. You are going to prove you're real by knowing when to shut the airlock behind you with a toy-poddle chasing you. We always had great poodle races back in the day, before...before the accident. Which we never speak of," said someone.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Just then, a Bolian bowler in bowling shoes was bowled over by Quark's bowl of chilli. The spices allowed him to see through the cunning plot to raise the dead, and have them perform as mimes - and minor in Klingon opera at Julliard.

"No one should have to hear Yoko Ono sing, but if it was forced on you just grin and arm yourself for the inevitable conflict”.

"Who's on first?" Dukat asked, greatly concerned at his ignorance. Macet rolled the hard six and to the delight of everyone won the pot. He celebrated by breakdancing on Quark's holosuite and became the most sought-after celebrity of the Goth movement, which spread across the whole Union.

"Cardassian Goths? Cardassians aren't pale enough; surely there can be no grey goths. That would be silly to the max!" Dukat moaned. "I'm more the preppie type."

I broke the fourth wall, though it's been broken before.

“I want that wall repaired, but we so rarely get what we want”.

The Ori could not understand what they were doing on DS9, so they asked Quark, who charged one credit per question, and 5 for "whining" - and 6 for "whinging", because he could.

"Can we get some umbrellas for our drinks? Plus a side of crispy cow balls, a bunch of heretics and the rights to Galaxy Quest? We will remake it for modern audiences. This is the plot: Tim Allen got some tools and he traveled 129 years into the past, no wait, the future, no an alternate past-future where lens flares ruled the night sky and the heroes were young and nubile, with flowing robes and locks, and articles in Space Teen Beat advocated enthusiastically in favor of twentysomething hunks becoming starship captains."

“An intriguing premise" admitted Quark.

"It's raping my childhood! NO REBOOTS!"

"But the profit could be gargantuan!" hoped Quark. "Even bigger than 'humongous' or 'ginormous'! Big!”

“'Galaxy Quest' in name only!”

"Wouldn't work." explained Odo. "There are too many variables, too few opportunities for the average viewer to understand the core theme of the franchise."

"Don't give me any of that 'creator's vision' tripe," hissed awareness of the unaware beings, a mental capacity oddly equipped with perssssonality, of a sssssssort, and though strangely independent of a corporeal form was still capable of taking an aggressive stance against copyright infringement, journal articles, and people who wear unsightly ego concepts. The monks of Mendalas Prime are such people.

“bbbewares sssuch aaarrogance" hissed Awareness of the Unaware Beings, "it llleads to ssstarting of wwwars!"

"So do other things," intoned The Spirit of Reason, "I bring you a gift of reason."

"Well, no kidding," said the Spirit of Trekmas Past.

The Andorian nuns returned and presented Morn with the coveted bad habit of excessive liquor. But Morn already had one, so shrugged listlessly and stowed away to the Mirror Universe. There he met Mirror Martok, and Mirror Morn, the teetotaller.

Mirror Damar (also teetotal) said “I'm no longer evil, but I like the drama of a villainous monologue, same as your Dukat. I shall challenge him, actually, to the title of Supreme Monologuer." A Cardassian would never refuse such an august title. "I will destroy the opposition. Indeed, I will eviscerate him and send his heart as proof that I am the greatest Cardassian monologuer in the whole damned galaxy. This I vow, for my son, and for all our sons who are waiting to reclaim all that was Cardassia's."

"Still on about the trophy from the Great Cardassian Fishing Expedition by the Obsidian Order are we?" sighed Kira, "Bajor should have denied you the privilege of casting in our lakes, rivers, seas, and oceans. We won, fair and square!"

Morn interrupted, and he said, “I really love the fishies and I'm gonna eat them!"

The fishies had other plans. Their leadership collective, The School, had lawyers in their pen, more lethal than great white reams of pleadings and briefs.

"They're gonna eat you alive in court if anything happens to us!"

"I'll risk it. Fire up the deep fryer!" ordered Sisko. He and Morn danced and sang: "I'm gonna wash that fish right outta my dish, and send it to you via first class -"

“Postal strike!" Royal Mail grinned, because they had a plan: Total conquest via parcel delivery.

“Deliver us from evil!" cried the Postmaster General, allergic to fish and other sea creatures.

"Well, we just cancelled the ‘All You Can Devour Seafood Tuesdays', and replaced it with 'Karaoke Night at Quark's.' Who dares complain now? Anyone? Well!" Sisko stated.

Worf was first to boogy on down, and after being followed by Dax, he started the party a'swingin'. Dax began singing, "Hot Stuff”, making Dr. Bashir's jaw drop and Garak to stare phasers.

(Editor's Note: When in doubt, have the characters start dancing).

 

[Deranged Nasat]

At that moment, a pair of spheres the size of Quark's round, plush holosuite beds appeared, hovering while muzak played. Clearly, they were more than capable of ruining Worf's rhythm, which was not a good idea as Grilka would laugh. The Klingon code of honor requires that such an insult be swiftly avenged...with Silly String versions of Helter Skelter. Why, once an Andorian locksmith insulted Kang, and before he knew the love of a woman, he lost his main antenna, afterwards only receiving AM stations.

Silly String cuts off antennae?

Silly String (Battle Version) does.

My mistake, carry on.

Anyhow, the floating spheres continued to influence the lives of mortals and hilarity ensued: Odo became unreliable, forcing his replacement by Sisko, but his replacement was a blow to Kira, who was found tied up by Nog, who would write Penthouse, which ceased publication in 2022.

But no one told Nog.

Cardassian Soupy Sales appeared, laughing, briefcase full of dehydrated soup. This was due to a rash of dehydrated soup thefts, which Cardassian Soupy had planned with intent to leave personnel unsouped.

"Unscrupulous!" decried Bashir.

"Yes, doctor" sniggered the culprit. "Without Soupy Sales, we'll be sadder”.

“Hey, Soupy Spoonhead!" shouted O'Brien while taking aim with a soup spoon. What else? He wondered if he could ever find satisfaction for his raging bigotry, yelling, "No soup for you!"

Soupy left in his souped-up jalopy with Cardassian Whitefang, chuckling heartily. "Can I have tomato?"

WhiteFang bared his teeth in concentration. "Ooh, I know this!” He grinned in triumph. "it’s NO, because we only have your word for it, traitor!”

“Traitors, here?!" roared Darhe'el, slamming his fist on the table and making Natima Lang jump.

"This is the result of falling standards in schools" concluded Lang in her new book, entitled "Cardassia: The Grim Truth". But the New Cardassia Party ordered all copies burnt. Lang led a successful movement against the Party, and poured water onto the fire. Illiana Ghemor was drenched.

"You moron!" she yelled, "how can I cause apocalyptic what-have-yous when I'm dripping and my mascara is ruined? There shall be retribution!"

"Uh-oh" exclaimed Lang, looking for a holophoto of Quark. She needed one to remember him by. Where to locate one?! Ah, if she went to Quark's (where a holophotographer roamed between tables taking unnecessary pictures of Romulan diners for Vulcanoid Diner Monthly)...

The mirror universe was overrun by hippies, who soon converted every possible object into bongs and just chilled, man, until Supreme Legate Dukat got high and, like, totally disgraced himself by ordering the entire Alliance to contemplate clouds and smoke, and get him some eats.

"Dukat, explain yourself!" thundered Worf, who fell over and killed himself to reclaim his honour.

(Falling over is not acceptable for a Klingon!)

Morn returned to our universe to find his barstool...gone!

Gone? Whatever shall he do? This is dire. Someone help our non-hero regain his roosting before Happy Hour is over!

Thot Mog brought a stool and Morn bought him a -

Dukat had a plan that interrupted the story flow. It wasn't quite what Mog wanted; he would have preferred a resolution to the Morn plot, but he came to realize that Morn had no idea how to resolve his storyline and was floundering in creativity. Fortunately, the writers had a backup story: One day, Morn developed a severe allergy to all alcohol -

Morn growled here, seriously displeased with this development.

"We're this close to another incident between the writers and characters: send in the clowns!" Sisko ordered. At that, a tiny car pulled over, honking at the spectators. A dozen funnymen exited, elongated shoes flapping, custard pies at the ready and flowers primed for squirting. The clowns threw their pies with precision, hitting both O'Brien and Bashir squarely in the face. "Let the fun begin!"

"Begun, the Clown Wars have," intoned Vedek Fala seriously. All prepared for a very silly war. Klingons slaughtered many clowns that day - songs would be sung, unflung pies would be eaten (by drunken fools who for some reason never learned any manners). Funny bones snapped and were set by Bashir. Discovering the pies weren't custard, everyone returned to their duties.

"What we really need now is love," said Cardassian Shakira.

"Underneath your clothes...is a primitive, but effective, device designed for hip-shaking," Cardassian Shakira purred.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"Seltzer bottle?" asked Bolian-Bozo as he sidled up to commander G. Best, who had been charged with the task of recruiting Cardassian Shakira into Starfleet. Her hips don't lie, and it is generally accepted that when you're that flexible, you pull in the fans like geeks on 4chan.

Commander Best walked into the bridge.

"May day! May day!" shouted Odo.

"Forward to the workers!" Marx noted - Groucho, not Karl, naturally. The comedian-turned-revolutionary demanded, "bring me Gul Dukat's head!"

"So it's my head you want, you cigar-puffing rabble-rouser? I'll have you know that my swollen head is so large that I can't fit it inside of Morn's fat-free tuna casserole dish. And also, hold on, my line -"

Dukat's fly-fishing line was tangled.

“We've done the fishing arc”, complained a clown, feeling neglected.

"Sod off, clown," O'Brien cursed.

“Such language, child!" intoned Winn.

“Aww, get bent, ya crone”, Sisko said.

"Damn! That felt like an insult!" realized Winn.

"Bravo," Morn responded, clapping as he began to sing a classic ancient sea shanty about R. Kelly's, "Bump 'N' Grind".

"You realize, this means war!"

"You declare war so often that even the UN doesn't care," Sisko sighed. Dukat, infuriated, grabbed his Manly Purple Hat (tm) and yelled, "For all Cardassiaaaaaa!”

“You are about to die, wretched humans!" howled Damar, as he led a fleet of freight haulers crewed by ferocious yet pacifistic Rigellian mariners with peace signs on their uniforms. This was the only fleet willing to accept the wretched humans as their enemy. The hope was that there wouldn't be bloodshed, only minor bruising.

"State your intentions," Sisko commanded.

"What, all of them?" wondered one interchangeable Rigellian space mariner, "aw man, you're bringing me, like, down, you know? Dude."

"Captain, I know their lingo.", Dax said with confidence. "Hey, you froody Rigellians, like, chill!"

Suddenly, a large three-legged Martian war machine trundled across a Wal-Mart parking lot, threatening to destroy all competition for the next ten centuries. Then you'll see! We'll show you!

"Wait! WWWAAAiiiiit!!! Where are the tribbles?! There is nothing we can do without tribbles to soothe us, to entertain us, to make us better people. Besides, darn it, they're cuuuuute and they're on sale now for $5.99 a case. Supplies are limited due to Klingon target practice and hunting season.

Quark's plot to displace Wal-Mart was thus disguised behind tribble fever, a peculiar consumer condition characterized by powerful urges to revere little balls of fluff and appetite. So serious was the outbreak of infurmity that a tribble dose of sedatives didn't quell the hair-raising pandemonium. They did, however, cause Sisko, who was immune, of course, to become quite enraged.

"QUARK!!"

"Commander, I can assure you that I am not a bit responsible for this madness".

“That's Captain Sisko to you!”

“Pah, I deride your rank because I'm not Starfleet, therefore free to be quite disrespectful."

And then, he farted. Sisko struggled against the urge to sniff it, but then he fainted due to the Jem'hadar disko session, which was held in the Gamma Quadrant but was so wild the Borg could hear it from the Delta Quadrant.

"Turn down the Bee Gees or be destroyed".

The Jem'Hadar couldn't hear (obviously) because victory was staying alive, they've been kicked around since the dawn of all time.

"We shall rise up and dance on our toes like..." Alas, the First had no basis for comparison; Jem'Hadar dancing skills are non-existent.

"Why then do we try, First?"

First Noname'given shot the Second for daring to search for logic in all the wrong places.

"Third Twinkle'Toes, you are promoted to Second and Fourth Runnin'joke, you are demoted to Fifth because I don't like you".

Fifth R'em'kin was rather shocked because now what number was he?

"I have a crisis, sir; may I be excused?"

First Noname'given paused and glared off into space. Memories flooded back...

"The year was 2370 and I experienced my first kill, it was a rogue Vorta who was trying to paint the Founders in a bad light. Such blasphemy! He deserved to have his arguments strongly refuted by my phase rife!"

"And did he, sir?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did he accept the wrongness of his actions thanks to your... robust debating style?"

The only answer was a stony frown. "Was that irony?" growled the First, "I remember that dammed Vorta getting very sarcastic too, you catch my meaning?"

Just then the resident Vorta appealed to the Narrator and had the First kicked out of this thread forevermore. Everyone, pleased at the spin-off's launch, bought new manly purple hats!

"Royalties to me!" Dukat preened, hoping Quark wouldn't get wind and be in discomfort all because he wasn't getting any, in more ways than one.

(Editor's Note: The short-lived spinoff featured First Noname'given and his loyal warriors and should still be available if you check the archives...)

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"I desire attention!" noted Leeta, who had, unusually, been ignored by everyone.

"Whaddaya want, chica?"

"First, don't patronize me, bub!”

Rom smiled at his wife and said "if you do, I'll form...a...a..union!"

"Not that lark again" moaned Brunt (FCA) "I told you to stop violating Ferengi tradition. Now go fetch me a brewski”.

"I'm really mad. And hurt. My vengeance shall be sweet" whispered Leeta, still annoyed by the slight. "Soon my evil plot will come to light”.

Nog overheard this, and assumed the best. "I can use this plot development to my advantage: when my hot stepmother claims vengeance, I can sell a recording of the event to everyone with an interest on pay per view!" He gleefully ran to his quarters, dancing a jig of avarice. Unfortunately, this jig was exactly what caused the great financial collapse amongst pay per view viewers.

"How can I stop this disaster from becoming even a mere blip on the Grand Nagus' radar? If he finds out about this, I'm going to lose a lobe!"

“I'll replace it," Bashir promised.

"Zek wouldn't leave enough lobe for a Cardassain vole, and so that promise is hollow!"

Thot Mog nodded quite sagely. "Have you considered artificial lobes?"

"Haha! How much for that doggy in the window? The one with the waggly lobes?!”

"If you have to ask, then you've failed the game! The Obsidian Order won't believe your story and they will pinch your ears until you tell the truth! Agent Entek is a master pincher and he shall force you to confess to crimes such as leading the people of Atrek to believe in the heresy of charity! That's right, altruism!”

"Behold the power of greed!" crowed Zek, before coughing awkwardly. "I will sell the best pipe-weed in the Southfarthing now that Fatty Bulgar is doing time 'upgalaxy'." Zek then had Maihar'du give the Hobbits Hupyrian Beetle Snuff. Bilbo grinned as Cardassian Pele played soccer. Cardassians call it "football," naturally. Cardassia United played a blinder, wowing the crowd but angering their opponents Cardassia City. The crowd went wild as riots did not happen because Cardassians don't do riots, my dear.

A certain Cardassian in a manly purple hat strutted onto the pitch to loud catcalls.

"Get off the field, you dandy!" roared the crowd.

"Who's the punk in the purple chapeau? The one with no chin?"

The Cardassian stood there and waited for the perfect moment. But it never came...

"I will create a perfect moment! For I am the Timelord victorious!"

"You are?" queried the cast.

“Oh yes!" he said with that irritating smirk of his, "it's all due to timey-wibby stuff!”

“HOLD IT!!" roared the Narrator. “Why is there an banjo?"

"My eccentricity" Time Lord Dukat stated, "is known throughout the cosmos, so banjos are entirely appropriate!"

 

[Deranged Nasat]

The Narrator was furious, which made the producers nervous - but the writers assumed power and replaced the banjo with the bagpipes, appropriate to the story, for we now return to bonny Scotland.

"Why?" asked the British. "We have no interest in - oh hello, McHaggis!”

“Hello there British people! How are ye - say, are ye aware that there's sixty million of ye, and we're actually very jealous of ye's accents and such?"

"You are us!"

“Not bloody likely, lad. Now Scotland is independent! We declare that all left testicles will be covered by kilts. Safety rules and regulations are to be created immediately. First, all roasts are to be eaten outside, so hot grease won't stain the table linens. Second, the Royal Shakespeare Company must take over the UK and teach everyone that ultra-cool accent that Ian McKellen uses, because it's just amazing".

"Scottish tyrants!” roared Patrick Stewart in a rage over poor Macbeth performances, "My accent is much cooler than yours so sod off all you Macbeth-wannabes”. Macbeth doth murder sleep. The King - that's Elvis to you - also slept (at the heartbreak hotel) but was he murdered? Well? It was a mystery...one Odo vowed to solve! He arrested Quark and then asked leading questions in an attempt to find the killer. "EHOUGH MURDERS ARE UNSOLVED ALREADY, QUARK!”

Quark merely lay back in imitation of an ironing board to taunt Odo, for he knew Odo had trouble imitating fabric covered wood. "Hrrumph!" Odo scoffed. "I'll waterboard your lobes," he said, as he found a plank fitted for large Ferengi ears. Before he could begin, however, the Great Link arrived - all eleventy zillion litres of it - and began pestering Odo to rejoin the linky goodness.

"No!" the constable snapped, "I am tired of these dry-cleaning bills. No immersion in liquid for the sake of communal lifestyles is my new life's vow, so cram it you liquid hotdogs!"

"I also wish to avoid any Dominion entanglements" Han Solo said, passing through and smuggling any sense of decorum and logic past customs.

"We're logicless!" cried out the voles.

"What do voles know?" dismissed O'Brien.

"Their logic is frequently flawed. And, more importantly, they are lying little half-wits," said Bashir.

"I won't take that personally", said the Vole King, "instead, I'd like to talk to talk to your leader about, about curing this stutter."

Bashir made an appointment for him but a Vole coup deposed the easy-going but tongue-tied king, bringing the tyranny of Vole-demort, the dirtiest vole ever seen, who invaded the nearby system.

"This rodent is out of order and I, Thot Mog, declare open season on voles, so let's grab our guns for some rootin', tootin' hunting stuff”.

“Now shh, I'm hunting Quarks" said Odo, "real pests they are so go away!”

Sisko preferred fishing over hunting, but as his Father said, “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! He's a bad, bad mutha!”

The Enterprise arrived at DS9 to aid in vole hunting by using a new form of ritual human sacrafice. The humans ritually sacrificed voles. What did you think that meant?

"I ate humans?" the Jabberwock wiffled. "What was I thinking? My cholesterol levels must be mimsy! My doctor'll be frumious! In uffish thought I'll stand, missing my favorite tum-tum tree! The Verminous Bandersnatch took it!”

“That thieving bastard!" Sisko said.

“Permission to raid its den?”

"Granted, but wait till brillig or he'll gyre and gimble looking for Superman's symbol and other rhymes"

"Forget it!" a frustrated Worf said, "I'm done with this crazy story!”

"Come now, Commander," said Quark, "consider it a reinterpretation of Kahless' epic acid trip of 1967."

"Not acid," Worf growled. "Placid. Kahless was chilled. Chilled on Lake Placid, of course. He is a native New Yorker, where the borogroves grow. And mimsy they certainly were, after Kahless was sick on circus peanuts, a Klingon weakeness dating from the First Empire”.

Meanwhile, the vole hunt took a turn for the worse, as the voles damaged Enterprise morale with malicious slander of the Galaxy-class starship's design aesthetic. Picard was beside himself with chagrin, not to mention distaste.

“If I know Captain Picard, first he'll try diplomacy. Then he'll go all 'Lethal Weapon,'".

"Who's going to be Murtaugh?"

“I'm getting too old for a new alien every week," huffed Sisko. "That's not what passes for writing on my space station. I have class! Which I'm now late for, but I can still share my appreciation for Yoruba masks."

Author's note; An Yoruba mask isn't an Oralian recitation mask so we need not discuss the value of cloaking technology; Oralius doesn't see us anyway.

Bashir had a solution to the Oralius problem: a vaccine. Don't catch Oralius-ignoral! Be seen following the current fate lines and live with the tendrils of destiny. "May the Guides shine light upon your souls, and led you towards the special place, where the sun is shinin' and the weather is suitable for beach volleyball".

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Thot Cog strafed the station, dismaying a shaken Thot Mog, who declared war on his hemroids by shooting them with photon torpedoes.

"What an overreaction!”

And then, the ship exploded. Not be be outdone by this, DS9 exploded. Yes, the entire universe exploded, and then we all went home. NO! This will not stand! In fact, Odo dreamed it all.

Really? The whole thing, or just the last few posts?

"Last posts", said the Narrator, "the explosion, possibly the Jabberwock, but not the..." (the writer didn't really know, though). We --

"Wake up, Jake! It's time to get things started on the fixing of this story!” his father shouted. Jake groggily sat up, pen in hand, the muses whispering inspiration through his dreams. He smiled slightly and wrote "A Thousand Elephants!!”

Jake smiled inwardly. "This is the big one, the blockbuster of the last 100 years, that will launch an sequel so great and terrible that the original will look like meh! The Editor (brother of the Narrator) will be responsible for this effort”.

"What about the authors? Don't we care about continuity?"

The authorial committee held a meeting, and decided big bucks trumped continuity concerns. Five world continuity is hard after all. Sisko nodded gravely and launched the quantum torpedoes through the numerous plot holes and onto the Cardassian colony, angering Nerys Ghemor. Sisko was demoted at last, and true justice was done!

(Editor's Note: A reference to an avatar contest running at the time, and a wonderful piece of art from Nerys Ghemor depicting Cardassian wanted posters in protest over Sisko's actions in the Eddington affair).

“A legal drama?” Jake mused, delighted with his brilliance. “I am writing gold, people. Here, let’s try this out for a plot: Worf is accused of a crime he didn’t feel guilty of. He did do it, but without guilt, the schmuck!”

The Editor laughed and crumpled Jake's script, throwing scorn on Jake's talent. "You utter hack, you're murdering this whimsical story!“

And did Sisko? In fact, Sisko did not. But NBC did. They needed women who were known to have keen insight into Bajoran physiology, so that many different murder victims could be identified. Garak P.I. will be on Tuesdays at 9 p.m. on HBO and his unique methods of getting information will be enjoyed by sadists, psychopaths and the criminally insane. However, not many of them will survive his interrogations.

Dukat was fuming. "How the hasperat did Garak get his own show while I died in the Fire Caves?! Where's my agent? I haven't marketed my manly purple hat nearly enough! I need to represent! Mack my masterful manliness and strut my stuff!" He DJed a club nite as "The Dukat in the Haat" and laid down some beats in Quark's ears, causing a run on the Pound.

"Bloody hell!" yelled O'Brien.

"Damn Cardies!" corrected the director, "Reshoot that”.

O'Brien notoriously hated reshoots, so instead he suggested that they just use CGI and sound-alike actors. He suggested Brad Pitt for himself, to which Keiko heartily agreed; it meant her lifelong dream of meeting "Joe Black". However, Pitt was actually a Changeling. "Yes, Dominion rule is better for the movie industry. Bow at our director, he deserves praise for infiltrating the set so successfully!”

"Bonus DS9 theme category!" cried a contestant, not realizing this isn't the avatar contest.

(Editor's Note: 'Infiltration' was indeed a theme in the same contest as Nerys Ghemor's poster-avatar).

"Whoops, my bad! How's the spin-off doing?"

"I'm busy at present, but it will be continued."

“I'm bored" interjected Weyoun, whining again. "I want to see --“

Damar killed Weyoun using a secret phrase that is deadly to any that read it. Saying it aloud, however, is okay so...

"STOP" Damar ordered.

"In the name of love?”

This outburst of concern made Sisko decide to crack down, before cracking up. Thot Mog played chess with Dukat, then told him a very strange story about a kleptomaniacal masseuse who collected tiny straws made with the stiffened hair from - where else? - Zek's ears.

"Ewwww" said virtually everybody. "Eww. Ewwwwwwww!"

"Don't blame me" Zek shrugged, “that thief stole my follicles”.

“Then let us go on and look back at the Dukat-and-Mog chess game which should almost be finished”.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

There was no abudance of chocolate cookies on the Promenade, and some Pepperidge Farm Chessmen who were arguing over whether they were in check. Anyway, watched as Dukat made a clock, did Yoda. Syntax strained, and with no urinals around, rushed to the bathroom, he did. Wonderful, the relieving sensation was.

“TMI!” the assembled cast moaned.

The Narrator was on hold and therefore kind of cranky so this sort of thing was -

"There is no such thing as ‘the brown noise’", said Molly O'Brien, "my daddy said it was only a myth”.

“We have unexpected visitors, Captain."

The Nausican Mime Troupe arrived, startling the Andorian nuns who turned Quark into a Romulan, briefly.

“My ears are pointed!!”

“Serves you right" mumbled Broik, secretly grateful for the speaking lessons he took at the Marcel Marceau School of Voice.

“The nuns got magic?”

“Yes, freaking voodoo magic, mon” said Mother Superior Randomandorian zh'Character, who had been known to sexually propagate various high-protein food grains.

“Change me back, plant-pimp!”

“Irate transfigured Ferengi, stand down!”

Quark reached for a dictionary. “Is t-r-a-n-s-f-i-g-u-r-e-d insulting?" he wondered.

“In Bolian, it means 'person who stubbornly refuses to learn piano' - a grave insult indeed, for to not be able to play piano...why, is completely uncouth. Bolians prize piano and "Greensleeves" is their anthem".

Quark thanked the unnamed person and turned Ferengi again. Unfortunately, he still couldn't play piano so was in the wrong state of mind for Bolian.

Bitter Bolians boycotted the bar, bellowing blasphemy, bitterness and bile. Beer brewing Benzites bemoaned the better bars, bantering brilliant bon bullocks battering blue boys by billions. Before boasting, banana boats bellowed bawdy Balinese ballads by Bajoran expatriates secretly living in Kai Winn’s used hats.

“We have no bananas today; they were stolen by mischievous monkeys masquerading as marauding marsupials. Mainly meddling male macaque minions mobilizing massive majorities mostly maintaining more mimsy”.

The Jabberwock groaned. “More?”

“Oh yes!" exclaimed the Joker, who was planning horrific mayhem as per his MO but without the trademark bloody murder. Garak stepped in and stopped in the pale moonlight, impressing all but his fellow Cardassians, who mistrusted such stunts. The Central Command issued a directive, Joker coveted Damar's manly purple hat...Gul Rekor of CC reminded him it's Dukat who has the MPH(tm). Dukat swaggered onto the scene. "Speak his name, and give praise unto Him!"

The Joker considered it, but decided not to encourage Cardassian vanity. Instead, he announced his candidacy for PM of the UK because he thought K=Kardassia.

“Vote Joker, and let the chaos begin!" was NOT his slogan, but should have been. Although he'd spell it "Kaos."

“I for one welcome our new prankster PM," Dukat lied with a smirk. The KKK (Kardassian Kentral Kommand) secretly began a resistance movement against the homicidal clown.

“Begun, the Second Clown Wars have".

(Editor’s Note: Can you believe it? This is indeed the second time the Clown Wars have broken out in this thread)

As the Imperial March blasted from their communicators, Cardassian officers sent a mighty fleet to successfully drop bombs on the Joker's army. He surrendered immediately thus confusing everyone.

“The moral is, don't mess with da boys of Prime!"

“Well, that was a diversion”, said Macet. "Let’s turn to a dive known as DS9, also called 'Terrok Noir'."

"Actually, it's Terok Nor, which means that no matter how you spell it, what matters is that the ore is mined!"

“Meh," Dukat said. "Mining is dull and for Bajorians only. I prefer conquest, world domination, etc., and a game of Balderdash. Not to mention monolguing and MPHs(tm). Conquest is empty without them”.

All the Cardassians agreed except Macet, who considered purple unflattering and considered beards to be something Cardassians can't grow.

“He can do what he wants, because he's a made man and made men are known to do what they want”.

Damar rose and stated for the record, "I did not enjoy this conversation without kanar, because it can inspire me to great heights of monologosity."

"I drunk Kanar with Damar!"

“Now this dialogue intrigues me".

"Indeed, we don't know who said it; it may be or even me, however their identity will be apprehended!"

"It was a T-shirt slogan, very popular on Tellar Prime back when the free-sex movement took off and kanar was free" said Damar, "I served kanar to the finest creatures around: middle-aged Tellarite slobs”.

"Were they good tippers?" asked Pa'Dar.

"Yes, so T-shirts were approved by Thot Mog forthwith. They were sold for five strips a gross - a bargain the likes of which heretofore was unknown on Tellar".

 

[Deranged Nasat]

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" shrieked Thot Mog's followers, who were embedded in the consciousness that was merry with poppings of kanar korks - we mean, corks - and chimney sweeps' merry jigs.

"Cor blimey guv'er" spake Spock, "Oi'm suddenly speakin' bad Cockney! Fascinating".

"Spock, why are you talking like that?" asked McCoy, wearing a top hat and Groucho glasses. Nobody knew why. It was as if madness had never left this thread! And...it hadn't. Cockney, MPHs(tm), the Joker, and so on.

"I agree" said the sentient computer. Smiling, McCoy jauntily cocked his top hat over one eye and then began to yodel.

"Let me at him!" growled the surly Narrator, who was offended by off-key catawauling, among other things, such as sudden plot twists and bad justifications for Worf's ongoing activities, Cockney accents, not enough MPHs(tm)...

Gowron's eyes bulged.

"What now?"

"Now," Sisko stated, "we dance."

His feet blurred, his boots blurred with them (duh), and he danced across the promenade like Astaire in his prime.

"What's an astaire?" inquired Rom, an ignoramous RE. movie classics, but a great engineer according to half-witted Yridian day traders. They know what they're talking about, except when the topic turns to women. They have a contract which stipulates that women and self-sealing stem bolts may not be discussed by anyone except the space pope.

Cardassian Jimi Hendrix appeared, wailing, until said pope calmed him by giving him a large papal pardon for whatever had possessed him. Literally: his wailing was starting to curl the fluids Odo was made of.

"Be gone, foul demon!" screamed Quark. He looked positively terrified as the possessed Cardassian chuckled, like possessed Cardassians often do.

"Fear the Kosst Dukat!" advised a second possessed Cardassian: Dukat.

“Hang on" mused Praetor Neral, "why do Cardies get all the airtime on this thread?"

"We kidnapped the writers' children”, explained the Cardassians. Neral accepted this with a shrug. "Fine”, he said "but we want Romulan presence from now on".

Subcommander T'vas strode onto the station and got in everyone's way. The Warbird Verlok opened a Romulan Fast Food Deck and sold great Romulan delicacies.

"Romulan, Romulus, Kali-fal, Jolan'tru, D'deridex”.

Everyone applauded the list of Romulan-related terms. "Now for balance and fairness here is a contingent of Reman paratroopers in drag."

"You honor us," proclaimed T'Vas, "with your fuschia leg warmers and tennis shoes”.

Thot Mog had a different opinion. "My Reman friends, this is not the time for gender-confused antics. The annual galactic fashion festival is due and there are two categories: best shoulder pads and best Australian Architecture Inspired hats".

Winn was the five year champion but this year faced competition; Mr Bob Hunter from the Replimat Cleaning Staff. He had a brilliant design for a hat, although Winn's agents spread lies about his ability to truly capture the essence of opera houses. The Phantom was disappointed, and in his rage he melodramatically carried out all the young women.

"Unhand them, you mysterious genius who is even now disappearing into the dark underbelly of this station!" cried Odo.

Leeta slapped everyone a la the three stooges.

"Oh, they deserved it!" she said.

"Wise guy eh?" Quark asked.

"No, wise girl" Leeta reminded the Ferengi, slapping him again.

"THE WOMEN!!" shouted a Vulcan doing a passable Spock impression.