Five-Minute "Drive"

by Zeke

Doc: Give up my holodeck time? But I wanna golf!
Torres: What's more important to you: golf, or my and Tom's happiness?
Doc: Golf, but I'll do it anyway.

Kim: Quite the ship you've got here.
Irina: The better to betray you with, my dear -- I mean, thanks!

Paris: I recommend this race because it's cool.
Tuvok: I disapprove of this race because he sucks.
Janeway: I approve this race because I'm bored.

Paris: Oh no, I forgot about the vacation plans! I'm dead!
Doc: Quiet, you're messing up my aim.

Torres: It's okay, you can go on the race.
Paris: Will you resent me for it?
Torres: Yes.
Paris: Well, no big deal.

Torres: I'm going to break up with Tom.
Neelix: Uh oh...I think I hear the distant roar of P/Ters grumbling.

Paris: Hi, nasty competitor. Wanna be my friend?
Assan: No.
Paris: Aw, you're mean. I'll go make fun of Harry instead.

Seven: Tom likes me better than you. Ha ha.
Torres: Maybe you're right. I'd better intrude on his joyride.

Paris: What are you doing here? I don't want you here! Go away!
Torres: No.
Paris: In that case, let's kiss.

Janeway: Mr. Tuvok, waste a torpedo!

Neelix: I'm tired of annoying one person at a time. I wanna annoy everybody at once.
Seven: Here, use this intercom.

Paris: You did remember to study for this course, didn't you?
Torres: Rats! I forgot. Here, let me make it up to you by getting us past those other guys.
Paris: But I don't want you to do that!
Torres: That's life.

Doc: Irina's copilot just got injured by a suspicious console explosion.
Kim: Sounds like fun! I wanna try!

Tuvok: I found this random sabotage gizmo.
O'Zaan: Guess we'd better call off the race.
Irina: No! Then I wouldn't get to blow up the -- I mean, that wouldn't be very nice.
O'Zaan: True. Never mind, then.

Torres: You know, our relationship must kind of suck if Harry's doing better than us.
Paris: Good point. Let's talk about it.
Torres: No thanks, I'm not done pouting yet.

Kim: You blew up my console and pulled a gun on me! I'm starting to think you might be up to something.
Irina: Who, me? Hey, give that back!
Kim: I think not. You can just sit in the corner until you say you're sorry, young lady.

Paris: Let's engage the thrusters.
Torres: Okay, you jerk.
Paris: I know you are, but what am I?

Irina: Who's winning?
Kim: The Delta Flyer.
Irina: Excellent. BWAHAHAHAHA! I mean, nuts.

Torres: Jerk. Jerk. Jerkjerkjerkjerk....
Paris: That does it, I'm stopping the ship.
Torres: Hang on, I'm not done yet. Jerkjerkjerkjerk....

Kim: You're planning to blow up those spectators, aren't you?
Irina: No, I'm not. You are.
Kim: I'm not falling for that one again.

Paris: Sorry I upset you, B'Elanna. Can we make out now?
Torres: Hmm...make a few more sappy romantic statements first.

Irina: Just so you know, I most certainly did not sabotage the Delta Flyer's fuel converter. That is something I did not do.
Kim: Liar! Aw, but you're so cute, though....

Paris: According to Harry, we're about to blow up. By the way, will you marry me?
Torres: Um...let's go eject the core.
Paris: Whee! That was fun. Now will you marry me?
Torres: Um...is there any other way I can stall?
Paris: Nope.
Torres: In that case, sure.

Captain's Log: Tom and B'Elanna just got married, but we didn't let you see the wedding. Ha ha! Losers! In your face!

Torres: Sure is nice to finally be married.
Paris: I'll say. If this doesn't shut up those blasted P/Ters, nothing will!
(The Delta Flyer saunters off at Leisurely Speed)

THE END

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