Poop: The Final Frontier. I should get a pair of these, since every woman in my life calls me a man-baby and I do like to cosplay as Captain Picard. Doody-free preferably. I like my number one on the bridge. In the chair next to me. With a beard. Not in a saggy diaper that leaks and gives me a rash. Make it so!

I like my number two shot out of the photon torpedo tubes so it can freeze and twirl and spin before breaking into a million pieces against that Ferengi ship off the port bow.

“Any Klingons Number One?”

“Not a one sir. It all just broke on impact. Not a single bit clinged-on.” *Sly grin*

*Picard grins back. Sits back in the chair.*

Data looks perplexed.

Worf Sighs.

“Our work here is done. Engage!”

End episode!
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