Archer: Hi, everybody! Before this week's action-packed episode, we'd like to address something that's caused concern among our readers. It seems that some of you think Porthos was cooked and served as chili in "Terra Nova" last week.
T'Pol: In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Captain Archer did advise me not to eat the chili, but that was because Tucker, in his latest attempt to kill Phlox, had filled it with many, many poisons.
Phlox: Interestingly, I was immune to them all.
Tucker: You just wait till next week, you son of a--
Archer: Anyway, we the senior staff of Enterprise apologize for any misunderstandings we may have caused. And to prove once and for all that Porthos is not a chili dog, here he is, in the flesh.
"Porthos": Rowf!
Reed: Um, Captain? That's not Porthos. That's an Aibo.
Archer: Keep your voice down....
Tucker: We never do anything fun. You know, like intruding on peaceful monks.
Archer: Archer to bridge. On the advice of my chief engineer, we're making a detour.
Tucker: I didn't actually advise anything.
Archer: I know, but I'll need someone to blame if things go wrong.
T'Pol: Sigh...I just know those two are going to embarrass me.
Phlox: Could be worse. I could be coming too.
T'Pol: If you're determined to go make fools of yourselves, I'd better at least explain the rules so you don't make fools of yourselves.
Archer: Did you follow that, Trip?
Tucker: I got as far as "determined" and then gave up and started thinking about football.
Archer: Hey, me too. Who do you like in the Grey Cup this year?
Tucker: The what?
Vulcan Elder: Welcome to our monastery. Now get out before someone sees you.
Archer: Like who? The blue aliens behind that partition?
Elder: No, they'll probably leave you alone unless you attack them.
Tucker: I'd say that's our cue.
Shran: GRAAAAAAAAR!
Archer: "GRAAAAAAAAR"?
Shran: Just announcing my bullheadedness and aggression. Now what are you pinkos doing here? And why did you bring this model?
T'Pol: I'm flattered.
Shran: What I meant was a model of deceit and condescension.
T'Pol: And like I said, I'm flattered.
Elder: Now that we're captured, I should probably explain. Those guys are Andorians from Andor....
Tucker: And/or what?
Archer: Ignore him. You were saying?
Elder: ....and they think we're hiding a really big sensor from them.
Tucker: Do they think it's on a ship? Because censorship is wrong, you know.
Archer: Trip, do I need to duct-tape your mouth shut again?
Shran: Give me your information or I'll punch you again.
Archer: What kind of threat is that? You've missed every time.
Shran: For the last time, those were not misses. They were practice swings.
Reed: Reed to Archer. What's going on down there?
Shran: (over the comm) Nothing unusual. I'm Archer, by the way. Have I mentioned that lately?
Reed: Are you okay? Your voice sounds different....
Shran: The air down here is, um, thick. But don't worry about Captain Archer, who is me. All is well.
Reed: Gee, "Captain Archer," I really think you should come back. Your wife Porthos is worried about you.
Shran: Tell her I'm just fine, and make it very clear that I have not been kidnapped by Andorians.
Reed: Oh, I will.
T'Pol: We need a plan.
Elder: What a brilliant observation. The humans pay you for this?
Archer: Actually, we only pay her to stand around in that catsuit. The rest is extra.
Elder: I had a feeling. Anyway, if you absolutely have to have a plan, you can go get the rusty old transmitter in our catacombs.
Archer: We're devising our own plan, you Vulcan snob. Trip, how's it coming?
Tucker: Well, I've figured out what to do with the rhinoceros, but I'm still stuck on how to get it here.
Archer: ....In conclusion, let's get the transmitter.
Initiate: This dark tunnel seems oddly bright...HEY! Commander, will you please stop setting fire to our honoured ancestors?
Tucker: But they burn so well! Nothing bursts into flames like old, dried-out Vulcans. Hey, got any marshmallows?
Archer: Here, you can share my blanket.
T'Pol: I'm tired of your attempts to get me to sleep with you.
Archer: In a sense, you're doing that already. So the logical thing to do would be--
T'Pol: Oh, who gives a hoot about logic?
Vulcans: GASP!
T'Pol: Oops. Ummm...let's just pretend it was my evil twin who said that, okay?
Tucker: There, it's working! Tucker to Reed...are you getting this?
Reed: Sure, "Commander Tucker." Heh. Glad you called -- your son Porthos was getting worried.
Tucker: What? Oh God, NO! I knew that shore leave on Caninus 2 would come back to haunt me!
Reed: Okay, you've convinced me you're Tucker. And now I really wish you hadn't.
Archer: If you take me out to the atrium, I'll give you information.
Shran: Is that a transparent ruse aimed to let you test a hypothesis?
Archer: Actually, it's aimed to get me beat up again. You Andorians have awakened my innate masochism.
Sato: Ready to beam down, guys?
Reed: Just a sec. Where's the rhinoceros? It was here just a minute ago....
Phlox: (over the comm) AAAAAA! Oh God, there's a rhinoceros in sickbay! Somebody help!
Reed: My mistake -- that part of the plan is under control.
Tholos: Hey baby, what's your sign?
T'Pol: Before you continue with these pickup lines, it may interest you to know that I'm 130.
Tholos: Okay, that's way too freaky for me. I'm outta here.
T'Pol: Heh...wonder if he'll eventually realize I was talking about pounds.
Reed: CHARRRRGE!
Shran: Uh oh. Quick, everybody into those tunnels.
Tholos: But it's dark in there!
Shran: Not to worry -- those flaming mummies will light our way.
Archer: All things considered, I think the best solution to the problem is a violent gunfight in your sacred reliquary.
Initiate: Fair enough. I'll come along and shoot random things.
Shran: Die, you fool! DIEEEE!
Archer: Hey, not to spoil the mood, but doesn't that giant metal door look like it might have a sensor array behind it?
Shran: There's only one way to find out: killing you!
Archer: How about opening the door?
Shran: Hmm...now that you mention it, that could also work.
Archer: Time to test your loyalty, T'Pol. I order you to give Shran your scans of the sensor.
T'Pol: Okay.
Archer: And your issues of National Geographic.
T'Pol: Fine.
Archer: And your videotapes of Trip in decon.
T'Pol: Captain, be reasonable!
Shran: Thanks, Arch-boy. And sorry I kept beating you up.
Archer: Hey, I'd be more inclined to complain if you'd landed a single punch.
Tucker: Good to be back on board...but now I have a difficult task to undertake.
T'Pol: Oh?
Tucker: I need to come to terms with my estranged son.
T'Pol: T'Pol to Porthos. Hide.
(Enterprise blasts off at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END
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