Five-Minute "Drive"
Paris: Sure is nice to have a new Delta Flyer!
Harry: Hey, didn't we already have one last week?
Paris: Um...er...uh...hey, let's race that alien!
Harry: We should not be doing that! Well, unless she's cute or something.
Doc: Give up my holodeck time? But I wanna golf!
B'Elanna: What's more important to you: golf, or my and Tom's happiness?
Doc: Golf, but I'll do it anyway.
Harry: Quite the ship you've got here.
Irina: The better to betray you with, my dear -- I mean, thanks!
Paris: I recommend this race because it's cool.
Tuvok: I disapprove of this race because he sucks.
Janeway: I approve this race because I'm bored.
Paris: Oh no, I forgot about the vacation plans! I'm dead!
Doc: Quiet, you're messing up my aim.
B'Elanna: It's okay, you can go on the race.
Paris: Will you resent me for it?
B'Elanna: Yes.
Paris: Well, no big deal.
B'Elanna: I'm going to break up with Tom.
Neelix: Uh oh...I think I hear the distant roar of P/Ters grumbling.
Paris: Hi, nasty competitor. Wanna be my friend?
Assan: No.
Paris: Aw, you're mean. I'll go make fun of Harry instead.
Seven: Tom likes me better than you. Ha ha.
B'Elanna: Maybe you're right. I'd better intrude on his joyride.
Paris: What are you doing here? I don't want you here! Go away!
B'Elanna: No.
Paris: In that case, let's kiss.
Janeway: Mr. Tuvok, waste a torpedo!
Neelix: I'm tired of annoying one person at a time. I wanna annoy everybody at once.
Seven: Here, use this intercom.
Tom: You did remember to study for this course, didn't you?
B'Elanna: Rats! I forgot. Here, let me make it up to you by getting us past those other guys.
Tom: But I don't want you to do that!
B'Elanna: That's life.
Doc: Irina's copilot just got injured by a suspicious console explosion.
Harry: Sounds like fun! I wanna try!
Tuvok: I found this random sabotage gizmo.
O'Zaan: Guess we'd better call off the race.
Irina: No! Then I wouldn't get to blow up the -- I mean, that wouldn't be very nice.
O'Zaan: True. Never mind, then.
B'Elanna: You know, our relationship must kind of suck if Harry's doing better than us.
Tom: Good point. Let's talk about it.
B'Elanna: No thanks, I'm not done pouting yet.
Harry: You blew up my console and pulled a gun on me! I'm starting to think you might be up to something.
Irina: Who, me? Hey, give that back!
Harry: I think not. You can just sit in the corner until you say you're sorry, young lady.
Tom: Let's engage the thrusters.
B'Elanna: Okay, you jerk.
Tom: I know you are, but what am I?
Irina: Who's winning?
Harry: The Delta Flyer.
Irina: Excellent. BWAHAHAHAHA! I mean, nuts.
B'Elanna: Jerk. Jerk. Jerkjerkjerkjerk....
Tom: That does it, I'm stopping the ship.
B'Elanna: Hang on, I'm not done yet. Jerkjerkjerkjerk....
Harry: You're planning to blow up those spectators, aren't you?
Irina: No, I'm not. You are.
Harry: I'm not falling for that one again.
Tom: Sorry I upset you, B'Elanna. Can we make out now?
B'Elanna: Hmm...make a few more sappy romantic statements first.
Irina: Just so you know, I most certainly did not sabotage the Delta Flyer's feul converter. That is something I did not do.
Harry: Liar! Aw, but you're so cute, though....
Paris: According to Harry, we're about to blow up. By the way, will you marry me?
B'Elanna: Um...let's go eject the core.
Paris: Whee! That was fun. Now will you marry me?
B'Elanna: Um...is there any other way I can stall?
Paris: Nope.
B'Elanna: In that case, sure.
Captain's Log: Tom and B'Elanna just got married, but we didn't let you see the wedding. Ha ha! Losers! In your face!
B'Elanna: Sure is nice to finally be married.
Paris: I'll say. If this doesn't shut up those blasted P/Ters, nothing will!
(The Delta Flyer saunters off at Leisurely Speed)
THE END
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