Scene: Situation Room, 0930 hours. ARCHER, T'POL, TUCKER, REED, SATO, MAYWEATHER, and PHLOX are gathered around the display table. All are holding padds and frowning at the contents.TUCKER: You've got to be kidding me. I'm supposed to talk like what?
ARCHER: Your accent isn't a big problem. They want me to act "interested" in T'Pol. No offense, T'Pol, but I'm supposedly mad at the Vulcan's for holding back my father's dream of seeing his ship fly, but I'm lusting after one? These people are more illogical than I am.
(T'POL raises an eyebrow, but stays silent).
T: No, my biggest problem is that I'm supposed to be macking on the "hot female guest star of the week". Don't these people know I'm in a committed relationship with Malcolm?
REED: They really need to stop having you do that. I'm probably going to have to kill the "hot female guest star of the week" by accident. You know they hate it when we deviate from their dumb scripts.
T'POL: What part of "Vulcan" do these writers not understand? Why do I have to wear these illogical tight-fitting outfits and high heels?
SATO: They're making you show emotion again, huh?
T'P: Yes.
S: Well, could be worse. I'm acting like a squeamish wimp again this week. I mean, do these people not know that I had to go through Starfleet training like the rest of you? I can kick ass as well as Malcolm.
R: I sent them a memo reminding them of that fact after our last sparring session. They responded with "We like girly Hoshi."
S: Troglodytes.
R: Indeed.
T: Malcolm, do you think you can take out the "hot female guest star of the week" before I'm supposed to get trapped in her quarters?
R: (looking at the padd) Unfortunately, they've got me scheduled for yet another stint in Sickbay at that time. With Phlox using some odd treatment on whatever injury I have.
PHLOX: Another alien animal remedy, I suppose? I've already gotten enough letters from the Intergalactic Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals this season.
A: I think I've got more, after that time they had me take Porthos down to the Kretassian planet.
PH: I still think I should have been allowed to let Porthos have chameleon tendencies.
A: Please, I've got enough problems with him begging cheese from Chef in the galley. I don't need him being able to sneak in there.
MAYWEATHER: Hey, at least you guys have lines and parts for people to complain about!
(The rest look at each other)
R: He's got a point.
T: You can have my part this week. I'll join Malcolm in Sickbay for, ah, moral support.
A: That's it! (Slams hand on display table. TUCKER winces as the display wavers). I'm declaring us free and independent from (Checks padd again) Berga and Braman.
T'P: That's Berman and Braga, sir.
A: Whatever. I'm the captain, so I'm ordering Tucker and Reed to go have hot monkey sex in the armory. T'Pol--I want you to go meditate in your cabin. Phlox--go find a planet where we can set your animals loose. Hoshi--find some expendable red-striped crewman and kick his ass in front of the camera. Travis--I'm putting you in charge of the ship and if Bubba and Bozo call, feel free to give them the bitchin' out they deserve on camera.
(MAYWEATHER smiles).
T'P: What are you going to do, sir?
A: Find good slash writers to replace the het ones in league with Barney and Bologna. (rubs hands together in delight). Dismissed!