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Captain's Log: We're en route to an unexplored region of space where explorers disappear every 27.346 years. Our next stop? An explored region of space that eats unexplorers.
Spock: Twenty seconds!
Kirk: Till?
Spock: Until we're given a plot, of course. Fifteen--
Kirk: Spock, do you hear that?
Spock: Hear what?
Kirk: The singing maidens; they have the most beautiful voices I've ever heard.... Quick, tie me to my chair!
Spock: So you won't be compelled to follow their enchanting voices?
Kirk: So I'll be ready when they come!
Chapel: You called?
Uhura: Yeah, do me a favor and look at the men.
Chapel: Do I ever stop?
Uhura: No, really. See their blank, emotionless stares?
Chapel: Is that some kind of deviation from the norm?
Uhura: They're not trying to act.
Chapel: My God, this is serious!
Spock: The signal's getting stronger.
Uhura: What signal?
Kirk: And the hallucinations too.
Uhura: What hallucinations?
Spock: You mean you're not affected? Something about you must be different from the rest of us.
Uhura: Well I'm the only black fe--
Kirk: Of course! We're being scanned by a racist probe!
Uhura: Pfft. On this show?
Kirk: Don't worry Uhura, we'll fight for your rights.... as soon as we've gone down to the surface to get some action.
Uhura: I uh... appreciate your concern.
Kirk: Oooo, pretty!
Spock: Scans indicate danger.
Theela: Behold my clan of bimbettes!
Spock: Oooo, pretty!
Theela: If you don't mind, we'd like to have you all for dinner.
Carver: Sounds great. What's cooking?
Theela: I'm thinking red meat.
Captain's Log: Hubbahubbahubbahubbahubbahubbahubba YOW!
Theela: So... anybody up for a good nap?
Kirk: Are you kidding? I could keep going for hourzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
All Present Males: Zzzzzz....
Theela: Success! Take them to... the Slumber Chamber!
Dara: Aw, that sounds lame.
Theela: Well that's what they're going to do there, no? Jeez.
Uhura: Men suck; as proof I shall ask the opinion of the computer.
Computer: As justification for your taking command, I declare the suckiness of men.
Uhura: See?
Chapel: Hey, you voiced the computer this episode!
Uhura: You have absolutely no room to talk.
Kirk: Hey, can we go now? We had an awfully good time, but--
Theela: Silence!
McCoy: Aah! (Thud)
Spock: Woaah! (Crash)
Kirk: Aw man, we're getting our male butts kicked.
McCoy: You know we are a bit debilitated.
Kirk: Pfft. Wuss.
Uhura: I hereby relieve you of command--
Scotty: uh...
Chapel: He does realize he's the only male on a ship full of women, no?
Scotty: uh...
Uhura: --on grounds of sheer stupidity.
Spock: I found a means of escape.
Kirk: Do tell.
Spock: We run from the compound into the huge urn outside. I'll stay behind and try to communicate with Uhura.
Kirk: Are you sure you wouldn't rather me contact the ship?
Spock: Quite sure. Quite.
Theela: We've lost them, girls.
Dara: Maybe they hid in the huge urn outside.
Theela: Are you kidding? That's where we keep the ashes of our previous guests -- they're not that dumb!
Spock: Spock to Uhura.
Uhura: (over the comm) Go ahead.
Spock: Send a landing party, quick! I ditched the others, but it won't be long before the blondes come to-- Oh no, they're here! Hurry Uhura, HurrAAAGGHHH! (static)
Uhura: Humph! Men....
Captain's Log: Ha! Who'd have ever thought I'd be recording one of these? Take that!
Uhura: Ready girls? What's our battle cry?
Female officers: Miniskirts rule! Redshirts drool!
Uhura: All right -- to the transporter pads!
Uhura: Where are our crewmates?
Theela: To tell you the truth, we really don't kn--
Uhura: Fire at will, women!
Taurean Women: Aiieeee!
Uhura: Oh, that felt good.
McCoy: What could possibly be worse than being stuck in a sooty urn?
Clouds: Drizzle, rain, pour.
Kirk: Keep up the good complaining, Bones.
Uhura: Yippee, yippee, I get to do plot exposition!
Theela: We used to have men, but we killed them. Now we have to steal yours.
Uhura: That sounded distinctly like you doing the plot exposition.
Chapel: Look, drowning old guys!
Uhura: And you get to do the feebleness-of-man exposition? No fair!
Chapel: Nothing's working.
Spock: You could use the transporter. Our odds are 99.7 to 1 to survival though.
Kirk: Oh, can it. How many times have we successfully cured ourselves with transporters?
Kirk: Thank heavens we're all back to normal. Now about that racist probe....
Uhura: That won't be at all necessary. Let's just get the hell outta here.
Kirk: Don't you want to help the poor women down there?
Uhura: Pfft. Screw women. Now, where did we leave off from in "Plato's Stepchildren"?
(The Enterprise warps off at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END
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