Write your own Star Trek episode.

Darth Vader has kidnapped Captain Picard and is holding him prisoner in a double wide mobile home in Bosier City, Louisiana. Using his Hypnotic Jedi Powers, he has replaced Picard in command of the Enterprise…

Vader: Mr. Rike…er, Number One, pull the drain plug.

Riker: But Captain, that will evacuate all the air on the ship!

Vader: (using his Hypnotic POwers) Yes, and everyone will die. Pull the plug.

Riker: Yes, Captain.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Darth Vader, but beknownst to us in the engine room:

Geordi: Data, if I can instigate a cascade multi photon pulse in the DVD array, I can seal the drain with a force field and thwart Darth Vad, er, Captain Picard!

Data: This is true, Geordi. However, you will be violating the Captain’s direct order. I must use the Vulcan Death Grip.

Geordi: Data, there is no such thing as the Vulcan Death Grip.

Data: Oh.

To be continued…

And now… CONTINUED!

Up in the holodeck, we find Wesley Crusher trying to hack into Riker’s “XXX Hardcore Sex” program (so he can finally get some). However, he is interrupted by the opening of the holodeck doors. He spins around and sees Worf.

Wesley: “Hey! Uh… I wasn’t doing anything!” (The lying little snot)

Worf just falls forward… apparently dead. A tall, hairy figure appears in the doorway. It growls. The universal translator converts the growls into English.

“I am the ghost of Chewbacca!” the wookiee (yes, it’s a wookiee) says. “Avenge my death! Kill R.A. Salvatore!”

Wesley just stammers. “Uh… who’s R.A. Salvatore?”

“Wait a minute… aren’t you that Crusher brat?” the wookiee says (through the UT system again).

“That’s me!” Wesley exlaims. “I’m as perky as Britney Spears and twice as annoying as Jake Lloyd playing Anakin Skywalker!”

With a gutteral howl, the ghost of Chewie surges forward and begins tearing Wesley limb-from-limb. The smarmy little git screams in pain.

“Not in the face!” he yells. “Not in the face!”

The holodeck doors close just as a spray of blood flies across the room…

To be continued…

“I’m sensing great joy,” muttered counselor Troi over Wesley’s screams. Attempting to avoid a Jamacian accent she continued, “from all over the ship.”

Captain Picard and company takes the Enterprise-D to chart a nebula and SUDDENLY…

Recieves a trans-temporal transporter lock on the bridge.
An officer with a strange uniform materializes.

"Greetings, Captain Picard. I am Captain Ralph Boku, Captain of the USS Enterprise-K, about 120 years in the future. There are spacial/temporal anomalies in the area, and future history is in a state of flux.

" Therefore, you are ordered to proceed to these co-ordinates," (hands Picard a PADD),“and contact the representative of the Cardassian Union, to establish a peace treaty.”

Just as Picard tells Wesley to plot a course and engage,
ANOTHER Captain Boku materializes.

“CAPTAIN! Belay that order! You must return to Starfleet Command for further instructions.”

Picard is in a bind. He must preserve the timeline, for the sake of the Temporal Prime Directive.

BUT WHICH TIME LINE?!?!?

(Cue opening credits…)

“Mr. Data!” Barked Picard. “Analysis!”

Data frowned. “Eeeny, meeney, miney, moe. My Mother told me to pick…”

“That will be enough, Mr. Data!”

Beverley Crusher and Seven of Nine froze the moment the ship’s alarm system burst into action. Seven reached for the showerhead:

“This is no time for gusset gushing, Seven, my love”

“That is correct, Doctor, but I must wash the suds from your flawless, alabaster breasts”

Beverley, already awash in the glow of passion, gasped as the head erupted across her. Reaching instinctively for the wall, she braced, threw her head back open-mouthed and then succumbed to Seven’s ever urgent multi-directional, sensory driven, tri-circuitry hosing. Life, as we know it, didn’t get much better than this.

But 5 minutes later they’d finished drying and dressing each other and were heading for their stations. The elevator doors opened:

“Remind me to shine that cute Borg metal plate a little later, honey” whispered Beverley as she patted Seven’s rear.

“Affirmative, Doctor. The Bridge”

As the doors closed, Beverley sighed. She quickly made her way to the Infirmary past the Jeffries tube. Something was strangely amiss, the tube’s entrance was agape.

“You and me both” breathed Beverley as the Infirmary door opened.

Does your MOther know…
never mind.

Sorry ** carnivorousplant**, it’s been a very long week. Just needed to write something completely silly. FWIW, it did me good. Apologies again.
MEANWHILE…

Man. This is like the best episode ever.

London_Calling, I had this great idea where Han Solo and Geordi LaForge get into an arm wrestling fight… where a Star Destroyer and a Romulan Warbird get caught in a quantum transpatial subtemporal flux and merge into a single, ultra-powerful vessel… where Captain Picard and Darth Vader have a contest to see whose head is shiniest… where a stormtrooper and a redshirt meet, fall in love, and have a child they name “Kilmee”… where Captain Janeway and Princess Leia meet up and discover that they’re long-lost sisters.

I had all that planned.

But upon reading your post, I lost the will to write it out.

“Well, this is damn confusing.” Captain Kirk had the crew from three series and a movie involved, but few seemed to have read the same script.
“Bones, find out how this Wesley can be ripped limb from limb in one scene, and at the helm the next. Set phaser to ‘emasculate’. Spock, see that the guy with the barette on his face tranquilizes the photons or whatever. You in the red shirt, say something to the Wookie about his Mother. I’m going to check out this shower thing.”
“Jim, if you need help…”
“I’m FINE, bones.”
“Captain, you chances of success are 46.9999999999…”
“47, Spock, the answer is 47!”
Kirk checked his phaser and toupee. He set his phaser to ‘Do You Come Here Often?’ and boldly strode…er, strode boldly towards the gaping Jefferies tube of a previous post.

:smiley:

Well, this is silly but why the heck not…

Meanwhile…as Kirk attended to another Jeffrey along the corridor of deck 22, Beverley realised today was a Tuesday, Seven’s ‘special’ evening. Having readied the Infirmary and instructed the assistants, she sat and took a moment to wonder what tonight might bring.

Her tri-corder had, thankfully, been able to repair the soft tissue bruising the restraints and Seven’s unique toys had left the previous week. With palms flat on the desk, Beverley arched involuntarily at that memory, at the prospect or more, of yet more… Seven’s skills had taken her boldly into unexplored quadrants of her own neuro patterns: Deep, dark regions in which time, space, pain and pleasure defied all comprehension. Who needed Hump Night on the Holo-deck when a chick like this was twiddling with your Jefferies tube: The tannoy burst into life:

“Attention all crew members” barked the freshly shaven Piccard. “Three Klingon cruisers have just uncloaked off our starboard bow and it’s not a pretty sight. Until they get dressed again, we’re on Red Alert. Piccard out”. Beverley pushed her auburn mane from her eyes, brushed her fingers against the reassuringly cold, unyielding and anonymous metal of her chair arm and, with a deep sigh, adjusted the ridden up hem of her oh-so-cutsie-whootsie uniform. Time for work.

“Now Wesley! Will you stop that you naughty, naughty boy I’ve got a ship to run! Stop it, stop it…ohhh…mmmm…Make it so”

Beverley moved to facial expression number three: Confused - Jean Luc had forgotten to switch off the inter-ship telecommunication system. She and Seven weren’t the only one’s exploring strange new worlds.

“Oh, that oil’s cold, young man!. And don’t get any on my mid-22nd century, traditional, hand-crafted by Trappist-like Clerics from the planet Erasmus 31A dressing gown”

Beverley hoped it was just a teen phase for Wesley and resolved to speak to him. But not tonight…

[sub]written by me many years ago as a skit for student television in college. Sadly (or fortunately) it was never filmed…[/sub]

STAR TREK: THE NEXT DEFENESTRATION

*The scene: a bunch of people in a large car or station wagon…some or all of them are wearing Starfleet uniforms or something Trekky looking

The characters: Captain Picard is in the front passenger seat, Wesley in the driver’s seat, even though he can barely see over the steering wheel…in the back seat are Troi, Riker, and Geordi (holding a banana over his eyes).*

Voice-Over: Highway 15-501. Just another stupid frontier. These are the voyages of the Carship '76 Buick. Its daily mission: to seek out young buxom ensigns, fast food and an occasional movie.

Riker: Captain, unidentified object approaching from rear, sir.

Picard: Counselor, analysis?

Troi: (turns around and sees biker guy from “Raising Arizona”) I sense hostility!

Geordi:* (turns around, lifts banana and looks for himself) *No shit!

Riker: SHIELDS UP! RED ALERT!

Picard: Fire all phasers!

Riker: Belay that order!

Picard: What? I’m the captain here!

Riker: May I remind you about the Prime Directive, Captain?

Picard: Aww, screw the Prime Directive! And I’m not going to take any insubordination on my ship. #1, go to the brig.

(#1 sighs and puts a paper bag labelled “Brig” over his head)

Troi: They’re closing in, Captain!

Picard: Ensign Crusher, warp seventy, engage!

Wesley: I can’t, sir, the helm’s not responding, sir.

Picard: What’s going on, Geordi?

Geordi: I’m working on it, Captain…I think it has something to do with the tachyon array emitter destabilization…doodad…thingy.

Picard: Layman’s terms, Mr. LaForge!

Geordi: We’re screwed.

Picard: Thank you. Hail the vessel.

(Wesley hands Captain the CB radio)

Picard: Breaker, breaker, good Starfleet buddy, can you hear me?

(silent pause)

Wesley: No response, sir.

Picard: (sarcastically) Thanks, I’d guessed that. Geordi, any progress?

Geordi: I’m working on it, Captain.

Picard: I need answers NOW, Geordi!

Geordi: (sighs) All right, already!.. What’s our speed?

Wesley: Thirty-five, tops.

Geordi: Computer, estimated time of intercept…

(Troi looks back out again, checks, puts hands over mouth and does computer voice)

Troi: Twenty five point three five eight seconds and counting.

Geordi: Wesley, how old are you?

Picard: Is this relevant?

Troi: Wait, this may be important!

(everyone looks at Wesley)

Picard: Well?

Wesley: (swallows hard) I’m twelve.

All: WHAT?!

Riker: How in the hell did you get a license to drive this thing?

Picard: Never mind that. Geordi, what’s the point?

Geordi: Simple. He can barely reach the gas pedal.

Picard: (sighs) I’m going to have to have a nice long talk with Starfleet Academy. But it can’t be helped now. Load the torpedo bays!

(Geordi produces a full grocery bag, and tries to hand it to #1, but he’s still in the brig. Annoyed, Geordi rips the bag off #1’s head. #1 takes the grocery bag and rolls down the window.)

Troi: Hey, those are my groceries!

Riker: Torpedoes ready, sir.

Picard: Fire!

(lots of neat laser sound effects, but all we see are tomatoes flying out the window. Cut to shot of exploding biker. The car pulls off the road.)

Riker: Well, I hope you’re happy sir, that’s the third new life form you’ve obliterated this week. Why don’t you talk to Starfleet about that?

Picard: Did I ask you to leave the brig, #1?

Riker: I was needed at the torpedo bay, sir, and-

Picard: Did I ask you to leave the brig, #1?

Riker: No, sir.

Picard: Then get back in it!

Riker: Aye, sir.

*(#1 puts bag back on)

(pause)*

Picard: And take that silly bag off your head. You look like an idiot.

Riker: (grumbling) Aye, sir.

(pause)

Troi: Is someone going to pay for my groceries?

Geordi: (looking out back window) Is someone going to clean up that mess?

Wesley: Is someone gonna give me a decent line in this stupid skit?

All: NO!

Wesley: (whining) I don’t need this. I’m leaving.

All: GOOD!

Wesley: Permission to disembark, Captain.

Picard: Granted. Mr. Worf, report to the bridge.

(Wesley leans down out of camera range, puts on scary mask, sits back up)

Worf: (to Captain) RRRRrrrrr.

Picard I love you, too, Mr. Worf.

(shot of car driving off)

Wake me up when we get back to Beverly Crusher, Seven of Nine, and the shower…

(What? WHAT???)

The Enterprise is conducting experiments on constructing a Man-made wormhole…
Suddenly, The Millenium Falcon and an X-Wing fly from the
anomaly…

Many days later…

Worf and Chewbacca are beating the shit out of each other in the holodeck,
C-3PO, R2-D2, and Data are plugged into each other in a 3-way conference call,
Riker is sleeping with Leia,
Solo is sleeping with Tasha Yar,
Luke is sleeping with Wesley,

and Picard finds out that some guys named Darth Vader and
Emperor Palpatine Really Really REALLY want to meet Q.

Oh, yeah. And Geordi trades transporter and replicator technology for Hyperdrive.

MEANWHILE: Captain Picard goes back in time and meets Professor X who he discovers is his twin brother, seperated at birth by the borg.

MEANWHILE: Captain Kirk goes back in time and meets T.J. Hooker…

SUDDENLY: The doctoe holds up a vial and intones portentiously: This vial is filled with Nanoprobes that will turn Osama Bin Laden into Barney the Purple Dinosaur. As soon as we deliver this it will be as if all of this had never happened.

When Q suddenly appears on the bridge, holding Vader by the scruff of the neck. He throws Vader onto the floor and turns him into a pet store turtle. As the now powerless reptile slowly shuffles off Q looks disdainfully at Picard and says “I gave you humans an oportunity to redeem yourselves and this is what your vaunted ‘popular culture’ has degenerated into. The Continuum would thank me for destroying you and your entire universe. . .”

(Q sees Seven of Nine out of the corner of his eye)

“Except for this one. She interests me.”

Kirk swallowed a handfull of asprin.
“Can’t these people keep it in their pants?” he demanded.
“and get this turtle off my bridge!”

And then a crazy guy goes running through the set shouting, “Quantum tribbles! Quantum tribbles!” A half-dozen security guards chase after him.

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott springs onto the bridge. “Bonjourrrrrrrr, ya cheese-eatin’ surrender monkeys!!” He looks around, startled, and slinks sheepishly out of sight.