Tucker: I'd say the right approach is to beam everybody down and offer the aliens a beer as a sign of friendship.
T'Pol: Yeah, but you're stupid. We'd be better off following the guiding philosophy of Vulcan.
Archer: Logic?
T'Pol: Voyeurism.
Archer: So we'll be sending you to reconnoiter, counting on your extensive experience in undercover work.
Sato: I'd like to point out that--
Archer: And I'd like to tighten T'Pol's catsuit, but it isn't going to happen.
T'Pol: In fact, studies have shown that it's physically impossible.
Archer: Who got to conduct those studies?
Tucker: Phlox. It's one of the reasons I want him dead.
Sato: Boy, I look great as an alien. Almost a shame you'll have to return me to normal afterwards.
Phlox: Um, yeah. Return you to normal. Heh.
T'Pol: Uh oh -- I'm detecting neutrinos.
Archer: Those are little Spanish neutrons, right?
T'Pol: Of course, sir. Our sensors are very good at determining particle nationalities.
Mayweather: T'Pol, will you please stop rolling your eyes so fast? You're throwing us off course!
Tucker: Ah've been workin' on the raaaaailroad all the live-long dayyy....
T'Pol: I still don't see why we had to bring him.
Archer: Phlox requested it for some reason.
Sato: Those people look sick. See the bumps on their faces?
T'Pol: That's part of their generic alien makeup, isn't it?
Sato: No, look closer. They've got both the generic alien makeup and other stuff.
T'Pol: I don't think that's enough information to draw conclusions.
Sato: How about the medic-alert bracelets?
T'Pol: That's probably enough, yeah.
Archer: I feel a little guilty about breaking in here.
Tucker: Don't. Who says that's a crime on this planet?
Archer: Oh, come on -- we both know that all Earth-like planets have exactly the same laws.
Riann: Stop, you criminals!
Archer: See?
Riann: Ow. What hit me?
Archer: Something other than a phase pistol, I swear.
Riann: Wow...you're all persuasive and stuff. Let's kiss.
Archer: Not a great idea. Not only is it too early, but the last woman I kissed immediately shriveled up into a scaly green thing.
Reed: (over the comm) Firing all weapons probably won't break that force field, but we won't really know till we try.
Archer: Dream on, gun nut. Guess we'll have to go see the store's owner.
T'Pol: I'd advise against that.
Archer: Why?
T'Pol: I advise against your ideas out of habit. What were we talking about?
Archer: Explain yourself, alien-boy.
Garos: I'm completely innocent. The mysterious sickness is being caused by some other unknown alien with a futuristic device.
Tucker: And the crop circles?
Garos: Someone else, I swear. All I have is a simple machine that creates food and clothes..."replicates" them, if you will.
Archer: Do you think we're idiots? Nobody could make something like that!
T'Pol: Don't mind me, guys -- have a nice little romantic chat.
Archer: So...do you have plans for this evening?
Riann: Are you asking me out?
Archer: To spy on Garos, yeah.
Riann: Well, that sounds o--hey! Is she stealing my stuff?
T'Pol: What part of "don't mind me" didn't you understand?
Phlox: Well, this explains the sick people.
T'Pol: There's something in the water sample?
Phlox: What sample? I discovered that their only TV channel plays nothing but Tom Green movies. I'm surprised they're still alive.
Archer: While we spy, let's share personal trivia. I talk to my dog.
Riann: What's this about chili?
Archer: Uh oh -- the translator's malfunctioning! Quick, let's kiss!
Riann: Oh, so now you're okay with my shriveling up.
Garos: Now my alien allies will retrieve this cargo, furthering my evil, evil scheme! BWAHAHAHAHA!
Riann: What a jerk. Let's beat him up.
Archer: You're new at this, aren't you? We have to beat up one of his thugs instead so he'll still be around for the climax.
Thug Guy: You called?
Archer: There, we've found our way into Garos' lair of evil. Now it's time to mess up and get caught.
Riann: How 'bout this panel? If we push a button, we have a 50-50 chance of being wrong.
Archer: Not good enough. Let's push both at once to make sure.
T'Pol: Oh shoot -- it's a huge ship!
Reed: Aye aye, sir. Firing all weapons.
T'Pol: Sigh...you took "shoot" literally, didn't you?
Reed: Nah. I was just getting impatient about not having blown anything up today.
Garos: (over the comm) You two can go. I don't really care about you.
Archer: Really?
Garos: Yep. You can defeat me and my men in a gunfight as far as I care.
Thug Guy: Will you quit giving him ideas, sir?
T'Pol: Let's--
Tucker: I object!
T'Pol: You haven't heard my plan yet.
Tucker: Would it have involved killing Phlox?
T'Pol: No....
Tucker: I rest my case.
Riann: We can beat these guys if we heat up that oil.
Archer: How hot? Hotter than chili?
Riann: Oh, you're always talking about your dog.
Mallurians: (over the comm) Wait! Don't kill us! We know the Question to the Ultimate Answer!
T'Pol: I don't care.
Mallurians: We have the cure for the Drakh plague!
T'Pol: Who needs it?
Mallurians: We know what really happened to Porthos!
T'Pol: Keep talking....
Captain's Starlog: "Garos" is an easy name to mock. It sounds like "gross."
Archer: Alas, I must leave you. Wish I could stay.
Riann: Why? This is a lame backwater planet with no importance.
Archer: Yeah, but T'Pol said something about the aliens telling her my deepest, darkest secret.
T'Pol: (over the comm) You better believe it. We need to have a little chat....
Riann: About chili dogs?
T'Pol: Lucky guess.
(Enterprise heads off at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END
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Colin 'Zeke' Hayman has been parodying Trek for over a year now at his website, Five-Minute Voyager, where ST episodes are reduced to "fivers" of one-twelfth their original length. He promises not to drag out this Porthos thing too much longer.
