La Forge: Sir, we've arrived at Haven.
Data: I fail to understand the significance of that name.
Picard: This planet is rumoured to be the most peaceful, beautiful, restful world in the whole galaxy.
Riker: Sounds like we can expect trouble here.
Picard: Agreed. Stand by to go on Red Alert.
Yar: (over the comm) Commander Riker, you're needed in Transporter Room One right now.
Riker: Is it more important than a holorecording of two lovely young harpists?
Yar: I SAID NOW!
Riker: Right away, ma'am.
Scary-Looking Box: I come bearing gifts for Deanna Troi! (BANG!)
Troi: Oh no! Wedding presents! Jewels and riches beyond my wildest dreams! WAAAA!
Riker: Wedding presents? For you? Exactly what is that supposed to mean?
Picard: Welcome aboard, future husband and in-laws of Deanna Troi.
Mrs. Miller: Pleased to meet you, future stepfather of Deanna Troi -- if Mrs. Troi has her way.
Picard: What?
Mr. Miller: (to wife) You weren't supposed to let that slip out, dear.
Mrs. Miller: Oops.
Troi: Where is my mother anyway? And what are those papers?
Wyatt Miller: What papers?
Troi: The drawings in your hand of a beautiful woman who looks nothing like me.
Wyatt: Oops.
Lwaxana Troi: Where is everyone? Why do people always run when I enter the room?
Troi: I'd love to answer your question, Mother, but I'm late for an important meeting.
Wyatt: I'm a doctor.
Troi: I'm happy for you. And I'm a practicing psychologist. We could work in concert.
Wyatt: I said I'm a doctor, not a musician.
Troi: Are there any men on this ship who aren't morons?
Data: An unknown ship is approaching Haven, sir.
Picard: It's Tarellian.
Data: How can that be? The Tarellians all died of a plague long ago.
Picard: Well if they were all extinct, we wouldn't have much of a plot for this episode, now would we?
Data: I thought that logic was my specialty, sir.
Picard: Use it or lose it, Data.
Lwaxana: Earth traditions suck!
(BONG!)
Mrs. Miller: Betazoid traditions suck!
(BONG!)
Data: (to Troi) What is the significance of the gong which Mr. Homm keeps sounding?
Troi: It's a traditional feature of Betazoid pre-wedding feasts.
Wyatt: And of Earth boxing matches.
Yar: Incoming message from the Tarellian plague ship, sir.
Ariana: (on viewscreen) Allow us to land on Haven. We believe the planet will cure us.
Troi: And I believe you look like the fantasy woman in Wyatt's drawings.
Picard: Well, that's an interesting twist which no one expected.
Wyatt: I've come to tell you that I'm canceling our wedding and that I'm going to join Ariana on the other ship.
Troi: I always suspected that you were a two-timing womanizer.
Mrs. Miller: What are you carrying in that box, son? Stolen medical supplies?
Wyatt: No, Deanna's engagement jewels. I'm taking them back.
Troi: I always suspected you were a cheapskate, too.
Wyatt: (over the comm) Isn't it amazing? Ariana drew portraits of a fantasy man who looks just like me! She's a fellow artist!
Mr. Wyatt: Does that mean the two of you will be working in concert?
Troi: Forget it, Mr. Wyatt. That kind of question flies right over his head.
Lwaxana: I'll be leaving now.
Picard: Goodbye, Mrs. Troi.
Lwaxana: Captain! Shame on you for thinking what you just thought!
Picard: Preposterous! Starfleet regulations prohibit officers from having impure thoughts about visiting dignitaries!
Lwaxana: "Impure" isn't exactly how I'd describe a comment like "And good ridance!"
(Picard runs out of the Transporter Room at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END | 
