Five-Minute "Genesis"
by Marc Richard

Crusher: Hello Reg. How's my favourite hypochondriac?
Barclay: Terrible! I'm sure I've got Terellian Death Syndrome!
Crusher: Reg, get a grip. You're talking about a disease whose first and only symptom is instant death.
Barclay: Your point?

Crusher: Hmm...this looks like a case of Urodelean flu. Most people are immune to it, but you're not.
Barclay: This is awful! Doc, you've got to give me something for it!
Crusher: All right -- this special T-cell booster shot should do the trick.
Barclay: Uh...does it come as a chewable tablet? I'm scared of hyposprays.

Crusher: And how are our two expectant mothers doing today?
Ogawa: I'm fine, and Spot's kittens should be along anytime now.
Crusher: Good. Data, would you like to know the sex of the kittens in advance?
Data: Not for the moment. I must first determine why I spent years mistakenly thinking that Spot was a male.

Worf: I am humiliated to report that our test torpedo has veered into the asteroid field and failed to detonate.
Picard: Data, you're with me. We'll take a shuttlecraft and retrieve the torpedo before someone else finds it.
Riker: Is that necessary, sir? The torpedo casing clearly states, "If you are not the intended recipient of this weapon, please destroy it immediately."
Picard: Will, I've been telling Starfleet for years that confidentiality notices and antimatter warheads were not meant for each other.

Worf: Waitress! Five more plates of racht and make it snappy!
Ten-Forward Waitress: The racht or the service?
Worf: Both, you insolent and strangely attractive imbecile! And send the food to my quarters, where I can devour it in peace! (leaves)
Troi: There's something very fishy here. I've never seen Worf go ape like that.
Waitress: Neither have I. Anyway, here are the two gallons of water you ordered.
Troi: Yum.

La Forge: We've finished our report on the torpedo malfunction.
Riker: On the what? Oh -- right...the torpedo, uh, thing.
La Forge: Are you okay, sir? You look a little distracted.
Riker: I couldn't sleep last night. There was a lot of noise coming from Worf's quarters next door...I think he was watching a rerun of King Kong.

La Forge: Some kind of enzyme is dissolving this conduit. We should get a sample analyzed.
Barclay: Noproblemsir! I'lldoitrightaway!
La Forge: Reg, slow down! You've only got two hands, not eight!

Troi: Worf is acting so strangely! He came to my quarters and bit my face while I was taking a hot bath!
Crusher: The bath you were taking fully clothed in the middle of your Bridge duty shift?
Troi: I had no choice. My snowsuit was too bulky for me to get into the ship's sauna.

Ogawa: Doctor, look at what I've found on Mr. Worf's neck!
Crusher: My God, it looks like a venom sac! I wonder if he can use it to....
Worf: SSSSSSSSSPIT!
Crusher: ARRRGH! I'm melting, I'm melting!

Data: The torpedo has been secured.
Picard: Very well -- set course for Enterprise. Meanwhile, I'm going to finish this novel.
Data: What are you reading, sir?
Picard: The Island of Doctor Moreau. Scientifically laughable, but still reasonably entertaining.

Data: Enterprise is now in visual range.
Picard: I see that I'll need to tighten shipboard discipline. I leave for just two days and the pilot's already amusing himself with slow-motion barrel rolls.

Distant Voices: Whooo-OOO-ooo! Grrr-ROWR! HisssSSS!
Picard: Where did the crew go, Data? Could they be making those noises?
Data: Possibly. My tricorder is picking up several humanoid hybrid creatures -- primates, sloths, reptilians, insectoids, aquatics....
Picard: But no avians?
Data: None, sir. How did you guess?
Picard: Just a hunch.

Picard: Counselor, can you understand me? What happened to the crew?
Amphibi-Troi: Gloup-gloup! Bloob-bloob-bloob!
Picard: That's of no use to me at all!
Data: It appears that Counselor Troi is regressing to an earlier stage of development.

Picard: Will, please leave my fish-tank alone.
Neander-Riker: Oog? ROWRRRRR!
(ZZZZZZZZZZAP!)
Picard: Good shot, Data. I'm glad we stopped him before he could harm Livingston.
Data: (looking in aquarium) So am I. It would have been unfortunate if he had killed Starfleet's only known pet trilobite.

Data: An airborne T-cell virus has activated the crew's normally dormant DNA introns. It is causing people to mutate into their evolutionary ancestors.
Picard: So that would explain why Commander Riker is now so thick-skulled and stubborn that it took a sustained phaser blast to bring him down.
Data: Yes, sir. You could even say he has become completely intronsigent.

Picard: Curious...your pet cat has turned into a lizard but her kittens are perfectly normal.
Data: Her amniotic fluid antibodies may have protected them. If so, human amniotic fluid might provide a basis for curing the crew.
Picard: Do we have any pregnant females on the ship at the moment?
Data: Yes, Nurse Ogawa.
Picard: Anyone else?
Data: Assuming Mr. Worf hasn't yet tracked down Counselor Troi, no.

Arachno-Barclay: Clickety-clickety-click!
Picard: AAAAAH! Data, what was that?
Data: I believe it is Mr. Barclay. Fascinating -- he has turned into a spiderman.
Picard: "Amazing" would be a better word.

Proto-Worf: (outside Sickbay) GRRROWRRR!
(BAM-BAM-BAM!)
Picard: AAAAAH! It's Worf! What does he want?
Data: You are standing right next to her, sir.
Picard: Oh. Well, uh, keep working on the retroviral serum while I try to lure him away.
Data: I should be the one to go. The risk is too great that he will catch and kill you.
Picard: Not if I run fast enough. If I'm doomed to de-evolve into a cowardly lemur, I might as well put those abilities to good use!

Data: (over the comm) I am ready to release the serum into the ship's ventilators, sir.
Picard: Go ahead.
Data: Were your lemur tactics successful in defeating Mr. Worf's armoured, poison-spitting, gorilla-like body?
Picard: Yes, I electrocuted him in a Jefferies Tube.
Data: It is unfortunate that Aesop died thirty centuries ago. He would no doubt have come up with an interesting moral for that incident.

Barclay: It's good to be back to normal...even if I now have a new disease named after me.
Crusher: Cheer up, Reg. You already spend so much time in the medical database that it's only fair for a little bit of you to be part of it.
Troi: In the meantime, I want you to book some counseling sessions with me to help you deal with having been the indirect cause of all this.
Barclay: But I'm dealing with it fine! Just last night, for instance, I dreamed that Data was affected by a de-evolution computer virus that affected him and nobody else.
Troi: Really? What did he mutate into?
Barclay: Would you believe a toaster?
(The Enterprise sails away at Ludicrous Speed)

THE END

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