But he didn't care. The Borg could go through

But he didn't care. The Borg could go through its routines. He just wanted his pass and his payment. It's chest opened and he reached for his propulser but

The Borg grabbed it before he could. Everyone was stunned. It was unlike borgs to act on their own accord like this. "Listen to me," it said, "I want you to..."

less than nothing. He was part of a new nihilist segment of the Borg, believing in even less than usual. His cybernetically enhanced

bowling ball had been programmed to dispense perfect White Russians when you placed all three fingers in the grip holes. Captain Kirk was reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra in the

Third Deck Bar in a private corner where he liked to retreat from the worries of commanding a Starship. He sipped on the Thulian Brandy and thought about Yeoman Randy's legs. Why

had Randy put on the red shirt and volunteered to go down to the surface? Why did any of them do it? Each week, someone chose certain death. He was in command, but it was a

Godsend to get out of the ship and stretch the legs a bit. Besides, red was the height of Federation fashion and anything to get away from Spock's yammering. Randy teleported

down to the planet's surface and looked around. "What a dump," he thought, as he walked to one of the slums huts. "So where can I find some crack?" he asked the first person he saw

The person replied, "Pull down your pants there is a crack on your backside." and they walked away... The moral of this story is: Be careful who you ask for crack...