The Quayle Conspiracy


(On the bridge. All appears normal.)

Kirk: Ummm . . . five threes!

Spock: (surveys hand) Captain, I believe I must now call the bullshit on you.

Kirk: Dammit!

Sulu: (boredly) Six fours.

Kirk: Hmmm . . . that’s a tough call.

Uhura: Bullshit, Hikaru. And stop being stupid.

Sulu: What? No one else hates this game?

Chekov: Three fives, Hikaru.

Sulu: Um, bullshit?

Chekov: Aha! (grins puckishly) You lose!

Sulu: Grrr . . . (takes pile) You Russians really ARE better at everything, aren’t you?

Chekov: (smugly) Vell, ve don’t like to brag, but . . .

Sulu: (throws down his cards) I fold!

Rand: This isn’t poker, you know.

Sulu: WELL I WISH IT WAS! (stomps off and into the turbolift)

Chekov: Vhat an asshole.

(In Sulu’s quarters . . .)

Sulu: Grrrf, lousy *mumblemumble* bullshit this, *muttermutter*. . . (starts surfing the intergalactic web) Hmmm . . . ‘Download this sexy Andromidian Chick screen saver now!’ I guess I will . . . (hits the download button)

(The computer beeps softly and begins the download. Suddenly, it emits the electronic equivalent of a squawk. The screen turns vermilion and begins to flash.)

Sulu: What the hell? (beats on it) Not again!

Computer: (in a pleasant female voice) You have been infected with a virus, sir. Would you like to proceed with the collapse of all systems?

Sulu: NO, DAMMIT! (beat) (beat)

(The red screen vanishes, replaced by a warped cartoon version of J. Danforth Quayle, grinning in a most unpolitician-like manner.)

Quayle: Greetings, pervert. This virus is designed to activate on when you try to download the alien screen saver, which I, of course, have the only real copy of. For this obviously not politically correct course of action, my course of action must be to denounce your course of action by punishing you.

Sulu: Huh? (suspiciously) Did Mr. Kyle get into my computer files again?

Quayle: No. I ate him.

Sulu: Really?

Quayle: No. But I may as well have, because he’s in my tummy.

Sulu: What IS this?

(On the bridge. . . )

Spock: Captain, there is a strange image on my screen.

Chekov: Mine too!

Quayle: I am not a strange image. I am just a weird picture.

Chekov: Huh?

Spock: Fascinating.

Quayle: Confusion is the result of not understanding. (looks infinitely wise)

Uhura: Okay, I probably shouldn’t have had all that beer . . .

Chekov: It’s not you, Nyota. Ve all had some.

Kirk: Oh, so he’s just a beer hallucination? Well that’s fine then.

Quayle: (affronted) Drinking is as bad as alcoholism!

Kirk: Hi, Mr. Beer Man! How’s life in the world of beer?

Chekov: Oy way.

Spock: Fascinating. It appears that I am the sole crew member on the bridge who did not imbibe any alcohol, and yet this absurdly illogical terrestrial is still apparent to me.

Quayle: Knowledge is the first step to knowing things.

Spock: Captain, it would appear that this strange man is indeed real. Aside from that, it is my duty as First Officer to relieve you of your post until such time as you are sufficiently sober.

Kirk: Mine! (latches onto the captain’s chair defensively)

(The comm unit bleeps. Kirk punches it.)

Kirk: Yes?

Scotty: (over comm) The engines are havin’ a minor malfunction, sair. Shall I go ahead and take care of it?

Kirk: Scotty . . . is there, by any chance, a weird man in a suit quoting things at you?

Scotty: But you’re on the bridge, sair. (voice takes on a tone of horror) Mother of God, ye didn’t get cloned again?

Kirk: Shut up! I do not quote idiotic things! They’re timeless wisdom, goddammit! (cuts comm link viciously)

Chekov: Can I go to my qvarters, ser?

(Suddenly the turbolift doors open and Sulu rushes in)

Sulu: I’m sorry Captain I didn’t mean it I thought it was just porn but it’s a virus—

Kirk: YOU’RE responsible for this blubbering idiot of a program, Mr. Sulu?!

Quayle: (indignant) Idiots are people too. I’m a person, and you’re a person. We’re all idiots. (looks pleased with his logic)

Kirk: Mr. Spock, can you tell me who this man is?

Spock: Computer records indicate that he is former vice president J. Danforth Quayle. He was running mate to George Bush Sr. during the campaign for the presidency of the United States of America. He was vice president from 1988 to 1992, Earth standard.

Quayle: I stand by all the misstatements that I’ve made.

Chekov: I need wodka . . .

Uhura: I’ll second that . . .

Sulu: Me three . . .

Kirk: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Chekov: Absolut! I have some of that! (all three flee the bridge and go to Chekov’s quarters)

Kirk: (roars) GET BACK HERE! (turns to Spock) Spock, how do we get rid of this thing? It’s causing insubordination among my officers!

Quayle: (with great dignity) I am not part of the problem. I am a Republican.

Spock: Well Captain, seeing as how this is a politician, it will not be easy. But while you were yelling at the rest of the crew I took the liberty of looking into his files.

Kirk: And?

Spock: There might be a way. It seems that Dan Quayle had some problems when it came to speeches and spelling. I will simply ask him to spell various words of increasing difficulty. He will get so flustered that he will leave, as he should have on Earth.

Kirk: Let’s try it! Mr. Quayle, spell ‘cards’!

Quayle: C-S-D-A-R! Did I win? Where’s my trophy?

Spock: Not yet. The next word we must pose to you, Mr. Quayle, is ‘gardens’.

Quayle: G-R-D-N-S! (looks slightly less thrilled)

Kirk: Spell ‘potty’!

Spock: Captain . . .?

Quayle: (eyes light up) Mommy’s favorite word! P-O-T-I!

Kirk: Hm. Gave him too much confidence.

Spock: I am constrained to point out, Captain, that it was entirely your fault.

Kirk: Shut up!

Spock: As you wish.

(vast silence)

Quayle: V-S-T S-N-I-L-S!

(Spock looks ill.)

Kirk: Well, dammit, aren’t you going to say anything, Spock?

Spock: You ordered me quiet, Captain.

Kirk: Shut up!

Spock: Yes, Captain.

Kirk: No, dammit! I meant shut down! No, wait—

Quayle: (looking uneasy) G—W . . . -B?

Spock: (shakes his head) I believe one more will be sufficient. He is obviously a, how you say, doodyhead. Mr. Quayle, spell ‘VCR’.

Kirk: But that’s easy! V-R-C!

Quayle: If we don’t succeed, we run the risk of failure.

Spock: Perhaps it is time to consider suicide . . .

(Quayle looks nervous and begins to stutter.)

Quayle: C—astronauts!—pfglthealiens!—R—AIEEE!

(The monitor short-circuits, crackling and smoking. Spock waits a moment, then cautiously reboots the system.)

Kirk: Is it safe?

Spock: I believe so, Captain. He is gone.

Kirk: Good. Now, where the hell did my officers go again?

(Meanwhile, in Chekov’s quarters . . .)

Uhura: Potato. P-O-T-A- . . . T-O- . . . E?

Sulu: Bwuahhahahahahahahahahaa!!! Oo-hoo can’t shpell!!

Chekov: Damn that Dan Quayle! At leasht he vashn’t born in Russia, ve vould’ve ssent him into Shiberia!!

Sulu: Don’ mention that name, you Russhhhiannn!!! (passes out)

Kirk: (over comm) Get up here or I’ll have you all court-martialed!

Chekov: Yesh *hic* sher . . .

Kirk: Cher? Where?

(Uhura and Chekov stagger to their feet, grab the unconscious Sulu and tote him out the doors to the turbolift.)

(Elsewhere on the Enterprise, Sulu’s computer quietly flickers to life, glowing in the darkness of his quarters.)

Quayle: We don’t want to go back to tomorrow. We want to go FORWARD! AHAHAHAHAHAAAAH!!!!!!


THE END THAT BEGINS ALL ENDS