HOPI: The Archive: "All Good Things, Part II"

HOUSE OF PAYNE INTERNATIONAL: Archive

The Archive: Plays

"All Good Things, Part II"

by John Payne

August 1999

SCENE ONE

PICARD: [voiceover] Captain�s log, Stardate one-nine-one-eight-two point seven point three. We are en route to Bligelious VII for a humanitarian relief mission. This mission calls for the utmost caution, as we are passing very close to Ferengi territory. Mr. Data, Mr. Worf, and myself are in 10 Forward having a friendly chat over some drinks.

[Scene opens in 10 Forward, with DATA, WORF, and PICARD seated around a small table.]

DATA: You seem to be uncomfortable, Worf.

PICARD: Yes, Mr. Worf. What the devil has been troubling you? You've been as sulky as a little girl who's lost her lollipop.

WORF: Well, if you really want to know...

DATA: Please do not mistake my seemingly considerate question to be one which belies an underlying sympathy. As a humanlike android, my pinocchio syndrome pushes me to want to be human, but I have no interest in Klingon feelings or moods. I am merely feigning concern as part of my studies on how to become more human.

WORF [grimacing in typical Klingon fashion]: I will...keep that in mind.

DATA: Do you need me to repeat my original insincere remark? I ask only because you do not seem to be intelligent enough to remember it after my previous lengthy discourse on the subject of my disinterest in your well-being.

WORF: No, I remember. You said that I seem uncomfortable.

DATA: In case you are extremely stupid, I will provide a list of synonyms-ill at ease, nervous, dicombobulated, flatulent-

PICARD: That's plenty, Mr. Data. I think he gets the point.

WORF: Yes, yes, I understand. And if you must know, I am feeling a little uncomfortable.

DATA: Sir, were I human, would this be the appropriate place to pry?

PICARD: Correct.

DATA: Fascinating...
WORF: The problem, you see, is that I am feeling what we Klingons refer to as Khfar krotchkik'Kaa.

PICARD: Ah, yes... Khfar krotchkik'Kaa...

WORF: Or in other words, it's been a long time since I've had a chance to kick some booty.

DATA: So you are suffering from a lack of opportunity to inflict violent trauma? How curious. Understand, of course, that I am not really interested. This is only the behavior that my protocol chip says is appropriate in this type of situation.

PICARD: Your interest is well-feigned, Mr. Data. Almost human in its transparent insincerity.

DATA: Thank you, Captain.

WORF: In fact, you have only missed one thing.

DATA: I do not understand. I have performed the function that my protocol chip calls for. It must be defective in some way. I do apologize. What have I missed?

WORF: You forgot to ask me how I was going to solve my problem.

DATA: I will make an attempt. Worf, how do you plan to ameliorate this discomfort, anxiety, or gastro-socio-intestinal distress?

WORF: I am going to take a shore leave to enter the Galaxy-wide Tough Man competition and you are going to come with me to be my manager and bookie. This is what humans call an obligation. It is a burden you must bear or suffer immense guilt. You may attempt to make an excuse, if you wish.

PICARD: Well done, Mr. Worf!

DATA: This is highly irregular... I am not quite sure what to do or how to refuse...

WORF: That is common. Unfortunately, you are obligated beyond reasonable hope of escape. The best thing to do is to smile in an uncomfortable way. Your usual smile should do just fine.

DATA: Like this?

WORF: Yes. Very good. I will meet you at oh-nine-hundred in the shuttle bay. Bring civilian clothes.

PICARD: Very good, Mr. Worf. I shall make the necessary notations in the log.

WESLEY [passing by with a full tray of food and drinks]: Captain, I must protest! This is a very serious mission! We�re going to need both Data and Worf. This is no time for a vacation.

GUINAN [Approaches the table and slaps Wesley]: Shut up, Wesley! You have tables to wait. Now get moving and mind your own business!

WESLEY: I am not a waiter! I am a Starfleet officer! I am-

CRUSHER [Appears out of nowhere to interrupt Wesley with a slap]: Shut up, Wesley! And show some respect for your elders!

GUINAN: Now that�s what I�m talkin� about.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

SCENE TWO

RIKER [voiceover]: Ship�s log, first officer William Riker, Stardate three point one four one five nine. En route to Bligelious something-or-other, the Captain is sleeping off a wicked hangover and has left me in control of the bridge.

[Scene opens on the bridge, with RIKER in the Captain�s chair. TROI, WESLEY, BARKLEY, and a couple of other anonymous crewmembers are at their stations. In the background, it can be seen that one of the redshirts is played by Mr. T.]

RIKER: Counselor Troi. Please join me in the Captain�s ready room for a... special... um... conference. Barkley, you have the conn.

BARKLEY [nervously]: uh... Commander Riker? Sir?

[TROI and RIKER exit the bridge, holding hands and giggling.]

BARKLEY [sighs]: Aye, sir.

WESLEY: Barkley! You know they�re just going in there to make out.

BARKLEY: Shut up, Wesley! I�m doing the best I can!

WESLEY [urgently]: Barkley!

BARKLEY [with his hands on his head]: Aauuuggghh! I can�t take the pressure! Mr. Barracus, you have the conn. [runs off the bridge]

B.A. BARRACUS [one of the redshirts]: Aye, aye, Murdock.

SCENE THREE

[Scene opens in a stadium crowded with aliens and humans. In the center is a ring, like the kind used for boxing or wrestling. Standing in the ring are the ANNOUNCER, the REFEREE, WORF, and Stone Cloned Steve AUSTIN. DATA and Austin�s MANAGER stand outside the ring, in their fighters� respective corners.]

ANNOUNCER: Ladies and Gentlebeings, your attention, please! In the ring tonight, for your delight, weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds, from the Galactic Wrestling Federation�s cloning labs comes Stone Cloned Steve Austin! [Austin steps out of the corner with arms uplifted to acknowledge cheers.] In the other corner, weighing in at two hundred and fifteen pounds, from the United Federation of Planets, comes the Klingon who walks like a man, Wildman Worf! [Worf also acknowledges some applause. He is dressed in his Klingon sash, black boots, and black-and-red shorts with the starfleet logo on the behind.]

REFEREE [to the two fighters]: Now I want to see a nice clean fight out here tonight. No kicks to the groin, no eye gouges, and no phaser fire. Okay? All right, shake hands, and let�s get going.

[The bell rings. The fighters leave their corners and circle each other warily. WORF growls.]

COMMENTATOR: Now, this is going to be a great matchup. Right, Scott?

COLOR MAN: That�s right, Bob. Austin is slightly larger and he�s bio-engineered to be nearly perfect, but Klingons have a real reputation for sheer athleticism, and I think Worf is no exception to the rule.

COMMENTATOR: Austin has a hold of the Klingon, and he�s throwing him into the ropes- looks like he�s going for a clothesline here! Oh, but Wildman Worf slipped right under his arm, and there�s a nasty dropkick to the back! Clone or not, Austin�s got to be feeling that one!

COLOR MAN: That�s exactly what I�m talking about here, Bob-- athleticism. Austin�s really going to have to keep his eye on Worf.

COMMENTATOR: [Laughs.] He�s got a few tricks up his sleeve for sure. Now, it looks like Austin�s got a hold of Worf again. He�s not taking any chances this time- he�s not going to let him go. He�s going for a bodyslam. Ouch! They don�t get you ready for that in the Academy, do they, Scott!

COLOR MAN: No, they don�t Bob.

COMMENTATOR: Worf is down on the mat. He appears to be in a lot of pain. Austin�s getting up on the turnbuckle. And now he�s jumping off- it�s going to be an elbow drop- No! Wait! Worf rolled out of the way at the last minute!

COLOR MAN: It�s that athleticism factor again, Bob.

COMMENTATOR: It looks like Austin may be a little stunned.

COLOR MAN: That was quite a fall, Bob. And the bigger they come, of course...

COMMENTATOR: Right. And Worf is standing up to acknowledge the cheers of the audience.

COLOR MAN: Bad move.

COMMENTATOR: And oh, no! It�s Stone Cloned Steve Austin with a vicious slide tackle! Wildman Worf goes down to the mat! He�s got him in a figure four! And, what�s this? He�s got a crowbar! And he�s hitting Worf in the chest with it! Un-believable!

COLOR MAN: Now, that�s going to hurt, Bob, but not as much as you might think, because Klingons do have two of almost every major organ. So, there�s going to be some internal bleeding there, but Worf should be able to finish the fight.

COMMENTATOR: All the same, Scott, the ref doesn�t like that one bit, and he�s calling Austin for a foul. But, uh-oh, what�s this? Austin has got the ref to turn his back while they argue, and his manager just hit Worf with a folding chair!

COLOR MAN: That�s gotta hurt, even with that armored forehead!

COMMENTATOR: There�s a DDT from Austin. Worf is just taking a lot of punishment today.

COLOR MAN: That�s what Klingons are built for, Bob. They take a licking and keep on tickin�.

COMMENTATOR: Austin is leaving Worf on the floor, and once again, it looks like he�s really hurting. Austin certainly isn�t worried about him. He�s just taking that applause. The crowd really loves him. But, look, Worf is getting up. He�s up on the turnbuckle! And there�s a flying elbow! And a forearm smash! And another! And another! The fighting Klingon is on a rampage! Now he�s got Austin in a sleeper hold!

COLOR MAN: It looks like Austin�s manager doesn�t like that, Bob.

COMMENTATOR: That�s right- he�s pulled out a phaser, and it looks like he�s going to try to take out Worf the old-fashioned way. But, what a surprise, here comes Worf�s manager, the android. He takes out Austin�s manager with a folding chair right as Worf pins Austin. Wow!

COLOR MAN: What a match, Bob! And it all came down to athleticism in the end.