From: mickey@bach.udel.edu (Mickey McCarter)
>Newsgroups: alt.fan.douglas-adams
Subject: HHG to ST:TNG (Scenes 3 and 4)
Date: 30 Mar 92 04:26:30 GMT
Organization: University of Delaware


SCENE 3	: Last time, the Borg was just about to destroy the Heart of
	  Gold, along with all of its crew, while the Enterprise helps
	  out by making some tea ...

Data	: Captain, I am getting some very strange readings.

Picard	: Explain.

Data	: Well, it appears that the Heart of Gold has suddenly disappeared,
	  and the Borg has just turned into a sperm whale.

Riker	: What?!

Data	: The probability of the Borg's transformation is two to the power
	  of seven trillion, one hundred forty seven million, eight hundred
	  eighteen thousand, four hundred seventy three to one against.
	  That is very improbable, sir.

Riker	: This could be a new offensive weapon that we have not yet
	  encountered, Captain.

Picard	: Agreed.  Torpedoes away!

Two torpedoes speed out from the Enterprise, one of which promptly turns
into ten thousand scoops of whipped cream, covering the sperm whale.
The other torpedo turns into a giant Frontanian mega-cherry, hitting
the whale a second later.

Wesley	: Wow!  A giant banana split!

Data	: Captain, I am getting sporadic readings on the Enterprise.

Picard	: Sqeek-sqeek.

Data	: (crooking his head) Captain?

Data turns around from his console.

Data	: Captain, may I inform you that you have turned into a small
	  blue furry creature from Alpha Centuri.  (turning to Troi)
	  And you, counselor, have turned into Eccentrica Gallumbits,
	  the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six.

Riker	: I'm glad to see that you're getting your hair back, sir.
	  And Deanna, that extra breast suits you well.

Data	: Sir, the probability of you and Counselor Troi's metamorphosis
	  is two to the power of six trillion, twenty seven million, four
	  hundred forty three thousand, eight hundred ninety three to one
	  against.

Picard	: Sqeeek!!

Wesley	: Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Data	: (turning to Wesley)  Interesting.  It appears that your console
	  has just turned into an IBM PCjr.  (looking back at his own
	  console)  And mine has just turned into a Commodore VIC 20.

Meanwhile, Worf has turned into a Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal, and
quickly devoured one of the nameless officers on the back of the bridge,
who, out of pure coincidence, happens to be wearing a red uniform today.
Just before he vanishes into the fangs of Worf, however, a visual contact
with the Bridge of the Heart of Gold was suddenly established for a split
second, for no good reason other than that it's very very improbable.
The rather bewildered face of Arthur Dent flashed across the main viewer.
Interestingly, the only thought that crossed the unfortunate officer's
mind at that moment, upon seeing Arthur's face, was "Oh no, not again!"

The other officers, in blue uniforms, never met Arthur in their previous
lives, and conversant with the creatures of the galaxy, quickly covered
their eyes with their Starfleet-issued auto-inflatable towel-in-a-pip
that they all wear on their collars.

Wesley	: (calmed down, tentatively tapping his PCjr chicklet keyboard)
	  Sir, the computer says that it's tired of opening, and closing,
	  and opening, and closing, and opening, and closing, all the
	  doors on the Enterprise, and that it's now setting course to
	  Ursa Minor for a long-deserved vacation, at maximum warp.

Picard	: sqeek sqeek, sqeeeeek sqek sqeek!

Troi	: Captain, I am sensing a great deal of ... confusion, and ...
	  anger ... from you.  Are you feeling all right?  (battering
	  her eyelashes seductively and sliding her right leg along his
	  furs)  Is there _anything_ I can do to make you feel better?

Picard	: sqeek sqeeek sqeeeek!

Riker	: (staring at Troi)  Captain, perhaps I should get Dr. Crusher?

Picard	: sqeek!

Troi	: Oh, all right.  Wesley, call your mother.

Moments later, Dr. Beverly Crusher arrived at the bridge accompanied
by five thousand Tribbles and a rather nasty Pogolarian snow blizzard.



[commercial for Snuggles fabric softener ... of course.]



SCENE 4	: Now, back to the Heart of Gold, the improbability level is still
	  high, but rapidly coming down.

Trillian: (relaxing on a bean bag, Romulan Ale in hand, the drink rapidly
	  eating through the mug that holds it)  Well, the probability
	  factor has come down to only two to the power of six million,
	  two hundred thirty seven thousand, six hundred and sixty to one
	  against.  Everyone should be starting to feel better now.

Arthur	: (hanging in mid-air, in a rather soapy bubble bath)  Whir ...
	  what's going on?  Where am I?  What happened?  (slight pause)
	  I don't understand ... isn't there any tea to go with this bath?

Zaphod	: (fighting off a pack of Algonian turbo-turtles)  Shut up, monkey
	  brain, you and your tea almost got us killed.  Hey, I'm still
	  missing one of my heads!

Eddie	: Well, guys, how 'bout that!  I sure got us outta that Borg mess
	  in a hurry, huh?  Man!  I sure feel like a song right now.  Let's
	  see... any requests?  It's request time, gang, and all of my lines
	  are open right now.  If there's anything that you'd like to hear,
	  just ... mmm, what the ..., mmm, mmmmmm mmmm mmmm!

Zaphod	: (just finishing up applying Stick-O-Tape over Eddie's speakers)
	  That oughta shut you up for a while.

Ford	: (drawing himself up from the deck with great difficulty)  Wow,
	  that was some hangover!

Trillian: That's no hangover.  Eddie just kicked in the improbability drive.
	  Want some Romulan Ale?  It'll make you feel better.

Zaphod	: Hey, give me some of that stuff.

Trillian: Well, we're down to probability level two to the power of four
	  thousand, six hundred eight to one against.  Everything will be
	  normal in a few more seconds.  (pause)  Where's Marvin?  Marvin?

No answer.

Trillian: Marvin, where are you?

Still no answer.

Trillian: Eddie, where's Marvin?

Eddie	: mmmmm mmm mmmmmmm mmm-mmm mmmmm.

Trillian: Oh, brother.

Arthur	: I think Marvin's missing.

An expression of deep genuine concern failed completely to cross both of
Zaphod's faces.

Zaphod	: Oh, who cares about that heap of junk metal, anyway?  All he ever
	  does is remind us how stupid that monkey-man is, as if we need to
	  be reminded.  Asking the ship's computer for a cup of tea when we're
	  getting blown into bits ...

Trillian: Okay!  We are now back to normal.  But where are we?

Zaphod	: Eddie, turn on the external cameras.

Eddie	: mm mmm mmm mmm-mmm m mmm mmmm-mmmm-mm mm-mmm mmm mmmmm!

Zaphod	: What's he saying?

Ford	: I think he wants you to ungag him first.

Zaphod	: Yeah, right.  I'll just turn the cameras on myself!

Zaphod stumbles over to the console, examining it.

Zaphod	: Hmmmm... anyone know what these buttons here do?

And, from outside the ship, a voice is heard ...

Voice	: All right, open up!  We know you're in there, and we've got
	  you surrounded!



Will the crew of the Enterprise be able to come to terms with their
improbable transformations?  Where's Marvin?  Will Picard like his new
hair?  Does Deanna have to shop for a new wardrobe to match her new
breast?  Will Worf eat the Tribbles?  And finally, who's holding the
crew of the Heart of Gold prisoners?  For the the answers (in full
color and stereo sound) to these, and many other, rather unimportant
questions, watch for the next exciting episode of ...

	The Hitchhiker's Guide to Star Trek: The Next Generation!


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Article 3527 of alt.fan.douglas-adams: