Episode Report Card Keckler: B- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Melded Cheese on Melda Toast
By Keckler | Season 2 | Episode 14 | Aired on 02.04.2003
"I'm sorry you don't understand the complexities of our culture, Captain," Dr. Ensign says. I don't think he's really sorry. Dr. Ensign wants T'Pol packed up and ready to roll in thirty-six hours. Wow -- a whole day and a half to pack up a Veronica's Closet robe and a ginger-peach candle? She better start packing right now. This is where Quantum throws the medical book at Dr. Ensign. He cites all these things that T'Pol is entitled to: a hearing in their current orbit, a brace of pheasants every other Tuesday, and a pint of ale when she takes her exams. That last one is a bit outdated, as she'd have to appear in full armor and salute the proctor with her sword in order to get it. "The accusation against T'Pol stands, it is not open for debate," Dr. Ensign tells him. "Where I come from, everything's open for debate!" Quantum loudly contradicts. He's going to make sure T'Pol has her day in court. "You're wasting your time," Dr. Ensign comments. "It's mine to waste!" Quantum grits out. He's just getting all the zingers tonight, isn't he? Dr. Ensign says his little class action won't delay their departure, and orders it take place the next afternoon. "Tomorrow afternoon, fine!" Quantum says to Dr. Ensign's back.
Sick Bay. Although you'd think it was a high school beach party, what with the six-pack we get shoved in our faces. It's May-$^&&*%. Is there some list of unwritten rules that he cannot appear on the show unless he is going to be maimed, lobotomized, or showing his extreme buffness? I don't go in for that -- I really don't. Muscles so big that you can barely walk or let your arms hang naturally turn me off. I prefer a lean, wiry body. When I saw the pythons May-Abrasion has been hiding in his sleeves, it just made me realize how pea-like his head is. Apparently, our favorite disappearing ensign was playing some game with the Dekendis, and he got hurt. "Just because they asked you to participate doesn't mean you had to," Phlox tuts. May-Bruise comments that the game "looked easy enough." Yeah, well, so did that movable rock face you climbed on Risa. Did anyone ever check the expiration date on May-Bang's brain after his minor lobotomy? "You're lucky this creature didn't strike a bit lower," Phlox comments, scanning May-Slip-And-Fall's side. May-Fallen-And-Can't-Get-Up winces at the idea of losing his other favorite pastime. "If I may ask, what is the purpose of this --" Phlox pokes at May-Accident-Prone's muscles. I don't know that they serve much of a "purpose," really. They're just the result of Montgomery having absolutely nothing to do on set other than use his Bow-Flex. "-- sport," Phlox finishes. Oh. May-Contusion explains, "They got these fargans -- they're kind of like cows with humps -- and they love melons -- I think they're melons. So, four guys get into this big circle filled with fargans and throw these melons back and forth. They use sticks with metal baskets at the end. Do you play Monkey-in-the-Middle on Denobula?" May-Boo-Boo asks. This is the second sport that bears a resemblance to lacrosse. With that and the massive amounts of water polo, I'm beginning to wonder about Bermaga and their pre-occupation with Choate-y sports. By the by, I love the name "Choate" -- it sounds like an insult or something supremely disgusting.