Bar Trek: The Next Generation. Episode 4: Sore Leave

[Growltigger]

Captain Slog stardate 12.01 GMT

After, ahem, interviewing the dancing leather clad sheep in my ready room, I arranged for their permanent installation in cargo bay 1. I had noticed that the air was getting a big green in the cargo bay, but was amazed when all the methane appeared to be sucked out of the ship and down to a fortress buried under a mountain range on Fart Point.

Given that the Away Team has been silent for the Last few hours, and was a bit incoherent before that, I assume that our brave away team has succumbed to methane poisoning.

This evidence of hostile intentions, together with the laceration of the PEE tube sent up by the planet, leads me to believe that the natives of Fart Point are not friendly.

Given the absence of communication, I must assume that our away team are dead.

My course of action is clear, the Prime Directive (as amended and supplemented by the Growltigga Directive and the Hussein Codicil), requires me to revenge any unprovoked assault upon Galactic Federation starships.

Mr S'Katchoo, you are now acting weapons officer in the absence of our dearly departed Mr Power Man and for the strange silence of Mr Dogscoff.

Sound red alert, bring the ship to battle stations, raise shields, charge phaser banks, load and arm all photon torpedoes, rig the shuttles as ground assault craft, arm all marines with ground attack weaponry and make sure the "planet buster" bombs are ready for launch. Make it so.....

Miss Patsy, please signal the mayor of Fart Point that they are now at war with the Galactic Federation. advise him that he has 5 minutes to hand back my away team, and to deliver the perpetrator of the PEE assault and methane sucking
to our transporter room in chains and mildly beaten.. tell him that failure to comply will result in termination of the planet with extreme prejudice

No methane breathing stinky wizended shindle shanked old tosspot sucks the sheep out of my ship.....