Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!prodigy.com!news.glorb.com!border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!nntp.giganews.com!newsread.com!newsstand.newsread.com!POSTED.monger.newsread.com!not-for-mail Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Approved: ascem@earthlink.net Organization: Better Living Thru TrekSmut Sender: ascem@earthlink.net Message-ID: From: "longbeachtrekstar" MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEML@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEML-owner@yahoogroups.com Subject: NEW: "Aqua Teen..." 1/1 (TNG x ATHF) [PG-13] Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Lines: 336 Date: Thu, 21 Oct 2004 12:55:03 GMT NNTP-Posting-Host: 209.198.142.218 X-Complaints-To: Abuse Role , We Care X-Trace: monger.newsread.com 1098363303 209.198.142.218 (Thu, 21 Oct 2004 08:55:03 EDT) NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 21 Oct 2004 08:55:03 EDT Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated:85157 X-Received-Date: Thu, 21 Oct 2004 05:55:05 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Hmm. No takers for my MILF story. Was it the pregnant part? Because it really wasn't that squicky. I think it was rather tender... poignant, even. Well, as tender and poignant as Pregnant Trek Sex can be. Lemme throw something else on the front steps and see if the dog eats it. Then throws it up on the carpet. Then eats it again. (I gotta stop writing late at night.) If there is ever a "Weirdest Crossover With Star Trek" challenge, this is my entry. If you don't know who/what the Aqua Teen Hunger Force is, you're not watching enough late-night Cartoon Network. Title: Aqua Teen Hunger Force Experiences Star Trek Author: longbeachtrekstar ( longbeachtrekstar @ yahoo . com ) Series: TNG x ATHF Codes: none, actually Rating: PG-13 Parts: 1/1 Warnings: Bizarre-ness. Beta: You're kidding, right? Not even Lyra's dog would listen to this. Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. Cartoon Network owns ATHF. This is not for profit, just for fun. Archiving: ASCEM, others please ask. Feedback: Yes please, here or by email. But don't tell me it's stupid. I already know that. Notes: Apologies to Birgit et. al. for my friendly goofing on the German language. Summary: The ATHF goes to the Star Trek Experience. "Aqua Teen Hunger Force Experiences Star Trek" by longbeachtrekstar, October 2004 [Living room interior. Meatwad opens the front door.] Carl [in doorway]: Would you mind telling me why you were throwing fireballs at my house? Meatwad: We were playing Star Trek. Your house was a Klingon spaceship, and we were shooting photon torpedoes at it! Carl: You were throwing flaming gasoline-soaked tennis balls! You melted my aluminum siding! Master Shake: Well, we were *going* to visit the Planet of Vulcan Loves Slaves, but... well... no girls would play with us. Carl: Big surprise. Frylock: Give 'em a break, Carl. They're just excited because we're going to Las Vegas to see the Star Trek Experience at the Hilton. Carl: The Hilton, huh? Hey, that Paris Hilton can melt my siding any day, if you know what I mean. Meatwad: Paris? I thought we were going to Las Vegas. Carl: And hookers are legal there too! Hey, can I come along? ***** [Hotel room interior.] Meatwad [entering from bathroom wearing Spock ears]: Whaddaya think? Master Shake: *What* are those? Meatwad: They're Vulcan ears. I'm a Vulcan! Master Shake: The Star Trek Experience is the *Next* Generation. [waves hand dismissively] Vulcans are *so* the Original Series. Get rid of them. [Meatwad looks dejected, starts to leave] But leave the ears. [Master Shake tries on the ears himself.] Frylock: Dammit, Shake. You told Meatwad not to wear those ears. Master Shake: And he fell for it! What a moron. What a simpleton. What a... huh? [Meatwad enters wearing a visor.] Master Shake: Now what? Meatwad: I'm the Chief Engineer. *This* is Next Generation, right? Master Shake: Yes, but *I* must wear the visor. You're not qualified to be an Engineer. [snatches visor off of Meatwad] Meatwad: Hey! Frylock: Now that's enough. You don't need ears *and* a visor. Master Shake [putting on visor]: But I'm Geordi LaSpock, the black Vulcan Science Engineer. Frylock: You're not black. You're a shake. A *vanilla* shake! Master Shake: Stop oppressing me! Why is the Man always trying to keep me down? Carl: If you girls are finished, let's get down to the show already. ***** [Entryway to the Star Trek Experience.] Master Shake [browsing the artifacts]: Look! They have the William Shatner toupee collection. See, here's 1968... and here's 1979... '86... '93... Meatwad: Let's read the timeline. Master Shake [reading a display]: What? Look at this. It says the standard Star Trek communicators operate on a frequency of 347.24 megahertz. Everyone knows they operate on 347.2*5* megahertz! Meatwad: And look here. It says the Bolian planet is in Sector 58. Master Shake: Blasphemy! Philistines! It's in Sector 59! Meatwad: Well, that's what I'm saying! Frylock: Lighten up, guys. It's just a TV show. Master Shake/Meatwad: *Gasp!* Frylock [realizing he made a mistake]: Oh, brother. Master Shake: *Just* a TV show? JUST A TV SHOW! You... are... *dead* to me! [turns his back dramatically] Frylock: Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Master Shake [to Meatwad]: What was that? Did somebody say something? Meatwad: I didn't hear nothin'. Frylock: Fine. I'm going inside. Master Shake: Hey, wait for us! [aside to Meatwad] Geez. Some people are so touchy. Meatwad: I know. He needs to lighten up. ***** [Inside the Experience, they enter the holodeck.] Frylock: Carl, there you are. Holy-! What's going on here? Carl [sitting in a lounge chair in a night-club setting, surrounded by naked, very young-looking girls]: Heeeyyy, fellas, check it out. That talking wall-thingy over there will give you anything you ask for. Watch this. Hey, eh, Computer. Give me the naked Marilyn Monroe edition of Playboy. [Carl holds out his hand and the magazine materializes in it.] Carl [opening to the centerfold]: Not bad, eh? Hey, Computer. Give me the *real* Marilyn Monroe... naked! [Marilyn Monroe appears, naked.] Marilyn Monroe [singing]: Happy birthday, Mister Pwesident... Carl: Now, make her come over here and suck my- Frylock: Carl! Stop that! And who the hell are all these girls? Geez, they don't look a day over fifteen. Carl: They better not! I asked for fourteen-year-olds. Frylock [sputtering]: That-that-that's outrageous! It's immoral! It's illegal! Carl: On Earth, maybe. But we're in outer space. Frylock: We're in Las Vegas! Carl: Same difference. Frylock: Get rid of all this. Right now. Carl: Even the naked fourteen-year-old girls? Frylock: ESPECIALLY the naked fourteen-year-old girls! Computer, turn all this off! [All the holo-characters disappear, and the scene fades to the empty holodeck.] Carl [left sitting on the floor]: You are a real cock-blocker, you know that, Fry-dude? Frylock: Now wait a minute. This stuff isn't supposed to be real. Meatwad: It's not real. It's force-fields and light projections. You see, photonic emitters on the walls project- Frylock: No, I mean this isn't supposed to be a real holodeck. Computer, is this a real holodeck? Computer: This holodeck is fully-functional. Frylock: No, I mean real, as in "is this a real spaceship?" Computer: This is the U.S.S. Enterprise-D, currently on deep space patrol. Frylock: And how did *we* end up here? Computer: Insufficient data. Incomplete script reads only, "insert techno-babble here". Frylock: Great. C'mon everyone. We better get up to the bridge. Master Shake [punching buttons at the computer console]: You guys go ahead. I'll catch up. [aside to Carl] Hey, Carl. How'd you get those girls to show up? ***** [Frylock and Meatwad enter the bridge. The viewscreen shows the bridge of another spaceship, with Ignignokt in its command chair and Err beside him. They are Mooninites, and look like low-tech video arcade characters. Ignignokt is green and larger than Err, who is purple.] Ignignokt: Prepare to suffer our wrath, Earth vessel! Err [to Ignignokt]: Hey, man. It's my turn to sit in the chair now. Ignignokt: Shut up. I'm threatening them. Meatwad: We better load the tennis balls. Frylock: What do you want from us? Ignignokt: We demand you hand over Captain Ripley. Frylock: Who? Ignignokt: Ripley! She who fights aliens in teeny tiny panties! Meatwad [from off-camera]: Fire one! Frylock [hit in the back of the head by a tennis ball]: Ow! [turns and sees Meatwad behind an automatic tennis ball server] Meatwad, stop it with the tennis balls already. Ignignokt: *I'm* an alien. I want to wrestle her. Err: Me too! Ignignokt: Teeny eenie weeny panties. Err: Gonna tap dat ass! Frylock: Ripley is from "Alien", you idiots! Not Star Trek! Meatwad [crossing the bridge with a lit torch, mumbling]: Time to fire these puppies up! Ignignokt: Panties... very small panties... Frylock: Will you shut up about the panties. And Meatwad, put that torch down. [Suddenly the ship is rocked by a blast. The video transmission turns garbled, then is overridden with a new transmission. We see Oglethorpe and Emory. They are Plutonians with undefined, ragged shapes. Oglethorpe is orange, and Emory is green.) Oglethorpe [with fey German accent]: Hello, dare, over dare on zee shpaceship. Frylock: And what do *you* want? Oglethorpe: Vee are going to shoot you into leetle tiny bits. Emory [with laid-back, surfer-dude accent]: Hey man, sorry. But, like, he just got this new laser cannon, and he's been trying it out on everything... Remember the Moon? Frylock: Remember it?! Emory: Don't worry. Earth looks really cool with a set of rings around it. Oglethorpe: Yah! Vee haf been all zee time shooting things to bits. Minen new cannon ist sere goot! Meatwad: Uh... I think we got a little problem here. [He is standing behind the tennis ball launcher, still holding the torch. A bucket of tennis balls beside him is on fire. The fire has obviously gotten out of control and is spreading around him.] Frylock [rubs eyes with two of his French-fry hands]: All I wanted to do when I woke up this morning was visit a cheesy hotel tourist trap. Could things *get* any worse? Master Shake [materializing from a transporter beam in the middle of the bridge]: Success! I have mastered matter-to-energy teleportation. Frylock: Well, why don't you teleport the hell on out of -- hey! [notices two female gymnasts, one on each of Shake's arms] Who are they? Have you and Carl been messing with the holodeck again? Master Shake: No, no. Even better. We beamed down to the Planet of Mary Lou Retton Clones. These girls are wild and crazy! ... At least I hope they are. Clones [speaking simultaneously]: You are the Hunger Force? We want to eat you! Master Shake: See what I mean? These girls are ready for action! Frylock: Shake, these girls are hungry athletes who haven't had fast food in a long time. They don't want to have sex with you. They really want to eat you! Meatwad [as flames continue to spread out of control]: Fair enough. I'll be medium-well in a minute. (End) ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ASCEM messages are copied to a mailing list. Most recent messages can be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML. NewMessage: