Kim: Whoa! Old-school Klingons!
Klingons: Why don't we blow up our ship? We can stay on yours!
Janeway: Sure, come on over! We're pretty gullible!
Kohlar: You are with child!
Torres: No, it's actually just gas from Neelix's cooking.
Kohlar: Did you conceive about 15 weeks ago in the holy month of Such-and-such?
Torres: Did Seven tell you that? Damn, I told Tom to be quiet.
Janeway: They think your child is their Messiah.
Torres: Says who?
Janeway: An ancient fan-fic author.
Torres: Oh.
Paris: If the fan-fic authors say so...go, baby!
Torres: *skunk eye at tom*
Crewmen: We hate the Klingons! They smell!
Neelix: I love them.
Crewmen: Only because they like your cooking.
C'hregra: Do me, Ensign Eager!
Kim: I'm not that eager!
Neelix: Oh Tuvok, I'm baaaaaaaack! We're gonna be roomies!
*Odd Couple theme*
Tuvok: What is that peculiar sound?
Paris: Honey, dinner's waiting!
Torres: Oh, another P/T* moment?
Klingons: Hail!
Torres: Aaaaa! Groupies!
Paris: Gee, you must be starved!
Torres: Nope, those stupid Klingons are following me. Tuvok is slipping.
Janeway: I am ordering-but-not-ordering you to talk to those Klingons.
Torres: Fine, fine.
T'Greth: You are a mongrel child! Your child is a mongrel! I don't like you!
Paris: You suck!
Kohlar: Lets fool the Klingons. I'm sick of Neelix's food and I want to start a colony.
Torres: I don't like it, but that bad man called me a mongrel child. I'm in.
Doctor: Here, Harry: permission to go get down and dirty!
Kim: She's not dead, a Borg or a terrorist -- I can't date her! I'm going to hide!
T'Greth: You're a Pantywaist!
Paris: Am not!
T'Greth: Are too! I challenge you to fight to the death!
Paris: Okay, I guess.
Janeway: Tom can't fight you, T'Greth.
T'Greth: I knew he couldn't be the father of that child!
Paris: Now you're in for it! The P/Ters will kill you!
Janeway: No, you can't fight because I said so and I'm the captain.
Klingons: But we have to fight! It's our thing!
Janeway: Fine, fine.
T'Greth: Arrrr!
Paris: ARRR!
T'Greth: Arrr--ack!
Paris: Arrr?
Kohlar: Uh, did we mention we're all dying of a disease? No? Our bad.
Torres: You hurt my baby! I'm going to kick your--
Paris: If the P/Ters don't first.
Kim: Neelix, I need your help. This big, bad, Klingon chick won't take no for an answer. Then...then she violated me! *sniff*
Neelix: Oh, get a backbone.
Kim: Here she comes! Hide me!
Neelix: Whoa! Hottie! Play along, Ensign -- I haven't had a date since Season 3!
Klingons: We tried to take over the ship, but man, that Janeway's a psycho!
Janeway: Don't mess with me before I've had my coffee.
T'Greth: We're not sick anymore, so the child is the Savior. Go figure.
Doc: It's time to let my ego shine! Who's da man? Eat my dust, organics! Worship my genius!
Janeway: Doctor....
Doc: Yeah, yeah, the child is the Savior. I get no respect.
Tuvok: What the--? Oh, that is not right!
Neelix: Tom was right! Klingon sex is great!
Tuvok: I did not need that mental image.
Neelix: Don't worry! I'll clean up your quarters and replace all the breakables.
Tuvok: Just go. I must cleanse my mind and disinfect the room, not necessarily in that order.
Kohlar: Take this sword! It is for your daughter. You must come to grips with your Klingon side!
Torres: Yeah right. Thanks, Mom.
Kohlar: Bye!
Torres: Time for another juicy P/T moment!
Paris: Yep! Hey, let's replicate a tooth-rottingly sweet mobile of Voyager for our kid!
Torres: Okay!
Paris: Those Klingons sure did pick the right ship. I mean, not too many Starfleet ships out here. Cool odds.
Torres: It's called a plot contrivance, sweetie.
Paris: Oh. Well, we got a cool sword out of the deal!
Torres: Don't touch it.
Paris: Awww, please?
Torres: I said no!
(Voyager blasts off at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END
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