Captain's Starlog: The Kreetassans have left in disgust forty minutes after first contact. Since this is a new record for us, I've given the crew the day off.
Sato: I'm depressed about failing to understand the aliens' language. Somebody cheer me up.
T'Pol: Don't worry, Travis, I'll handle this. Ensign Sato, I just want you to know that even though you're an utter failure, my opinion of you hasn't changed.
Sato: You've always felt that I'm an utter failure.
T'Pol: And that opinion hasn't changed.
Tucker: Hey, T'Pol. Where's the captain?
T'Pol: Off sulking in his ready room. Not that the "brooding man of mystery" thing doesn't work for him -- it does, a lot.
Tucker: Did you just lick your lips?
T'Pol: You're seeing things.
Archer: Go away, Trip.
Tucker: Look, would it make you feel better if I told you T'Pol was coming on to you? And that it makes me jealous, and I may cry?
Archer: There's only one thing that'll make me happy. I think you know what it is.
Tucker: Oh no. Not --
Archer: Water polo.
Sato: Did anyone else just hear a blood-curdling scream of despair?
T'Pol: You're hearing things.
Porthos: (over the comm) Ruff! RUFF!
Mayweather: What's that, boy? You're hearing things?
T'Pol: Ignore the dog.
Mayweather: All r--
T'Pol: I was talking to Porthos.
Rostov: The environmental system's completely shot -- it's not just Engineering, it's the entire deck.
Kelly: You'd better go investigate.
Rostov: Right. When I'm not back in ten minutes, send out a search party.
Kelly: A one-person search party?
Rostov: That's the spirit.
Mayweather: This movie'll have lots of explosions, I promise.
Reed: Yeah, but what are promises worth? Take that author guy: he promised at least one new fiver per day, and what came of it?
Mayweather: I think he's aiming to average one a day.
Reed: Optimist. Oh look, Phlox is on the screen.
Mayweather: What? Hey, this is supposed to be that movie with the explosions! You know, Citizen Kane!
Phlox: (over the comm) I've got stuff here I can blow up.
Mayweather: You're not helping.
Rostov: Investigating, investigating, la la la la la....
Alien Blob: If this gets any worse, I'm eating him.
Rostov: This is the song that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends....
Blob: Gyaa! I meant a little worse!
Tucker: I can't believe you're making us watch this.
Archer: Have you got some kind of problem with a pool full of scantily-clad men?
Tucker: Add two letters to that sentence, and no. As it is, please, please kill me.
Archer: After polo.
Kelly: Paul? Paul?
Blob: I don't get the reference... better eat her too.
Archer: I don't think you were watching that last part. I'll rewind and slo-mo it for you.
Kelly: (over the comm) AAAAA! Please, somebody save me!
Tucker: Welcome to my world, Crewman.
Blob: I'm getting hungry again.
Archer: Rostov! Kelly! Don't worry, I'm here now with redshirts!
Blob: You know, the timing on this ship is really good.
T'Pol: Okay, this meeting will now come to order.
Mayweather: Does that mean no more paper airplane throwing?
T'Pol: No, it just means throw them at Reed instead of me. Anyway, point one: the blob has Archer, Tucker, Bruce Campbell, and five valuable uniforms. Any ideas, gentlemen?
Sato: We could try communicating with it.
T'Pol: Good idea. Next we could try communicating with the Crystalline Entity, then the Horta, then the bulkheads, and one day perhaps even Mr. Tucker.
Sato: All right, all right. You don't have to be sarcastic.
T'Pol: How little you understand the Vulcan mind. Now does anyone have a good idea?
Reed: I do. First we evacuate the ship, right? Then we get to a safe distance and start throwing these really big rocks made of laser beams --
T'Pol: Mr. Mayweather, if you would, please.
Reed: Ow! OW! That hurts! Stop it!
Mayweather: Mental note: the first test of the Extra-Sharp Paper Boeing NX-01 fleet has been a success.
Phlox: (over the comm) Phlox to senior staff. Please activate your screen on the Emergency Medical Holographic Channel.
T'Pol: You're aware that you're not trapped in Sickbay, right?
Phlox: I'm sure my programmer will find your theories fascinating, but for now, let's stick to procedure. I'm about to begin the alien autopsy.
T'Pol: Then why are you wearing a containment suit? Aliens are safe.
T'Pol: Hey, just trying to run the ship the way Captain Archer would want me to.
Mayweather: Looks like an earthworm. I'm afraid.
Sato: Could be worse. Could be a bunny.
Phlox: (over the comm) I'm beginning the scan... oh my. This is no earthworm, Jim. The blob may well be sentient.
Reed: That means we can kill it, right?
T'Pol: Don't make me sic Travis on you again.
Sato: So what do we do? Communicate, obliterate, or capitulate?
T'Pol: You forgot "dilapidate." Anyway, my orders are to (a) shoot it and (b) shoot it.
Mayweather: What if that doesn't work?
T'Pol: Then we try shooting it.
Archer: Everybody okay?
Rostov: Zabel and Kelly are unconscious.
Archer: We have a security guard named Zabel? With a Z and everything? I'm giving that guy a raise.
Rostov: Odd... I just heard Tucker thinking "What a doofus."
Tucker: That's not odd -- I think it at least six times a day.
Rostov: You're missing the point. I think our minds have been "Attached" in some way.
Archer: You mean someone or something has mentally "Attached" us?
Rostov: Okay, now he's thinking "The parallel is obvious enough without your help, people."
Reed: Die, you mutant blobby freak! DIE!
Phlox: (over the comm) Oh no. Call off your men, Reed! You're hurting Archer and the others!
Reed: But I'm hurting the alien too, right?
Phlox: Yes, but --
Reed: So if I keep firing, it dies, right?
Phlox: Yes, but --
Reed: Die, blob! DIEDIEDIEDIE-- ow.
Phlox: Whew. Good thing T'Pol sent Travis just in case.
T'Pol: Okay, force isn't working. That leaves us eighteen other options.
Sato: Is communication one of them?
T'Pol: Yes. Get to work, failure.
Mayweather: What about --
T'Pol: The others are all force.
Reed: Where am I?
T'Pol: In sickbay, recovering from plane-related injuries. We'll let you go, but you have to promise not to go berserk again.
Reed: What, never?
T'Pol: No, never.
Reed: What, never?
T'Pol: Well, hardly ever.
Reed: All right, I promise. I guess I can just invent the force field or something.
T'Pol: Thank you, Lieutenant. Phlox, you can release the force field now.
Phlox: Okay, but I think there's something a little odd about this....
T'Pol: You're thinking things.
Tucker: AAAAA! Captain, for the love of God, PLEASE stop thinking about water polo!
Archer: Why? It's not like you can hear my thoughts or something.
Rostov: Wow, he's really losing it.
Archer: He needs to follow my good example. Here I am, stuck in the belly of some giant alien gumwad, and yet I've remained a model of decorum and tranquility the whole time. And you know why?
Archer: 'Cause I've got faith of the heart, baby.
Mayweather: Aha! I've found the Kreetassan ship.
T'Pol: You're finding things.
Mayweather: No, seriously, it's them. I can tell by the bumper sticker that says "GO AWAY."
T'Pol: You can read their bumper sticker? Wow, you're doing better than Hoshi already.
Sato: Shut up! It takes a lot of very difficult work to --
T'Pol: Difficult, eh? Sounds like fun. I'll help.
Sato: Travis, if you've ever cared about me, throw one of those planes at her.
Reed: Mind if I borrow your blobsicle? I'd like to give it a lot of small electric shocks.
Phlox: I refuse.
Reed: Awwwww. Why?
Phlox: Haven't you seen "The Alternate"? Using shock therapy on a nascent amorphous lifeform will result in its biting you in the @$$ down the line.
Reed: Someday you'll have to show me how to do that talking-in-punctuation thing.
T'Pol: Any luck?
Sato: No. Again. Next time, leave more than five minutes before asking.
T'Pol: Sorry, I guess I'm pressuring you. Would you prefer this to be a touching scene of reconciliation between us?
Sato: To be honest, yeah, I would.
T'Pol: Then I guess it sucks to be you.
Kreetassan Captain: You have offended us, mate-eaters! We demand satisfaction!
Mayweather: Sorry, you can't get none here. Say... don't I know you?
Captain: Of course not.
Mayweather: You look familiar, that's all. Moving right along... where does the blob come from?
Captain: First, apologize immediately for eating in front of us!
Mayweather: You object to public eating?
Captain: It's not so much that as what you were eating. I mean, what on earth was in that --
Mayweather: Never mind. I apologize for your mistake, and I offer a technological advancement in exchange for Blobobia's location.
Captain: Intriguing. What do you offer?
Mayweather: I'll explain. First, take a sheet of A4-size paper and a thin duranium razor blade....
Reed: Force field's ready, T'Pol. Stay tuned for next week when I invent the lightsaber.
T'Pol: Well done. Ready to translate, Ensign?
Sato: More or less. I'm still getting "yes" and "no" confused.
T'Pol: I'm not explaining it again -- one beep is yes, two beeps is no. Now let's talk to the blob.
Blob: Oh, so they're gonna do the translating thing. I'll give 'em a good show. (ahem) KROONY FOOGA!
T'Pol: What did it say?
Sato: "I will eat you and drink your blood"... or possibly vice versa.
T'Pol: Tell it it's willing things.
Reed: I get the feeling this is going to take a while.
Captain's Starlog: After T'Pol and Hoshi FINALLY got a good chat going with the blob, it released me, and I've resumed command. Oh yeah, it released other people too.
Mayweather: I still think we should call this planet Blobobia.
Archer: You've already got one reprimand for giving the Kreetassans paper-airplane technology; are you shooting for two? Now let's just unpack the blob and let it rejoin the Great Link.
Blob: Hey, thanks, guys. I can get back to plotting the destruction of all life now.
Archer: What did it say?
Sato: It wishes us all the best.
T'Pol: Blob, you're --
Blob: Wishing things. I know, I know.
(Enterprise heads off at Ludicrous Speed)