The crew of the USS ENTERPRISE stands at attention in a single line as CAPTAIN KIRK addresses them. DOB walks next to KIRK, smirking like an asshole, his shirt untucked and a cigarette behind his ear.
KIRK Ladies and Gentleman, this is Mr. O'Brien, he'll be joining our crew as a reporter of some kind.
DOB Space Journalist, Jim, and it's a pleasure to be here. But, please, "Mr. O'Brien" sounds so formal, call me "DOB."
KIRK Very well, DOB.
DOB Mister DOB.
KIRK ...I'd like to introduce you to the rest of our crew. This is SPOCK, my trusted friend.
DOB Yeah, how's it going.
KIRK ...Dr. McCoy, our medical officer, we all call him "BONES."
DOB Uh huh.
KIRK This is Mr. Sulu.
DOB Right, how ya doin'.
KIRK This is Ms Uhura, Communications.
DOB Ooh, wassup girl, yeah, what it do, baby?He flashes some GANG SIGNS. UHURA shifts nervously in place.
KIRK This is CHEKOV.
CHEKOV (Russian accent) Pleased to be meeting you, Sir.As KIRK introduces the rest of the crew, DOB continues to stare at CHEKOV, uneasily.
KIRK Basically, we explore the final frontier, make contact with alien races and spread peace throughout the galaxy.
DOB (Leaning in to CHEKOV. In a menacing whisper) Hey. Hey. Having a good time? Comrade?
CHEKOV I'm... I'm sorry?
DOB Kruschev, gorbachev russkin rasputin, eh? Kremlin!?
DOB You heard me, Boris. That's Russian for "I'm on to you, Commie Pig. You won't get away with this."
CHEKOV I don't think it is.
Captain KIRK and SPOCK are engaging in a game of ridiculous space chess.
SPOCK Your move, Captain. Though I shall tell you, after your next move I will have you in check mate.
KIRK (With a slight smirk.) Have I ever told you it's irritating to play a game of chess with you?
SPOCK Irritating, ah yes, one of your human emotions.
DOB This is fucking stupid.Ignoring DOB, KIRK moves his chess piece to a surprising spot on the board! SPOCK is irritated.
KIRK I guess you do understand irritation.
DOB We're in space for shit's sake, why are you playing chess?
SPOCK (Ignoring DOB) Only because my ancestor took an Earth Woman as a wife.
DOB Oh, hold up, for real? You're, like, a Vulclatto, or whatever?
SPOCK That's, perhaps, the most crude way you could have phrased that, but, yes.
DOB Sweet, okay, so I'm thinking about doing a little cross-racial porking of my own, if you catch my space drift. (Pause.) I'm going to have sex with the black chick who hangs around on this ship. What's her name? Hurptutu?
KIRK Her name's Uhura. And she's directly behind you, like three inches away from you.She was clearly there the whole time and now stares at the floor, the personification of uncomfortable.
DOB I know.
The crew is gathered around, looking at what appears to be an abandoned, ancient ship.
KIRK Any survivors?
BONES It's possible, I am detecting some faint heartbeats.
SPOCK The damages to the hull are considerable, but not enough to make the ship impossible to live in.
CHEKOV The ship looks like something out of a history book, an old, ancient American wessel.
DOB (under his breath) This fuckin' guy.
KIRK I didn't know any Earth vessels made it this far before.
SPOCK Historically speaking, they haven't, Captain.
KIRK Can we check the starship registry?
SPOCK It's unlikely that we'll find the ship registered, Sir. Records that far back are, at best, fragmentary.
KIRK I wonder... I wonder if this might be a lost ship, floating idly for years, the crew preserved in some way.
DOB Should I fire all the missiles?
KIRK Circling the strange galaxy, desperate for contact, searching for their lost home.
BONES Judging by the look, they'd have to have been cruising since the late nineties. They've probably long since abandoned all hope. Just imagine.
KIRK Cut off from outside contact for centuries, desperately holding out hope.
DOB (Hitting a random combination of buttons.) Firing all the missiles.
ENTIRE CREW NO!
CHEKOV is eating alone in the space cafeteria. DOB approaches and swiftly knocks CHEKOV'S food to the ground.
DOB You may have everyone fooled, Stalin, but not this guy. This guy's been around the space block.
CHEKOV I don't even know what you're accusing me of!
DOB Don't play dumb with me, Commie, these colors don't run.
CHEKOV You think I'm a communist? You don't really get how the future works, do you?
DOB I'm watching you, Raskolnikov.There is a long pause, while DOB continues to glare.
CHEKOV I'm...I'm sorry, how long is this going to take?
DOB Just until I run out of Russian names to call you, Fievel Mousekewitz. I - Nope, that was the last one. Take care!He exits, whistling.
DOB enters SCOTTY'S room, a six pack of SPACE BEER in one hand and a NINJA THROWING STAR in the other.
DOB SCOTTY! What's the happy-haps, my man?
SCOTTY HI!...Oh...Hey, I'm sorry. The Captain...Captain says I'm not s'posed to talk to you anymore.
DOB Why the hell not?
SCOTTY He said it's on account of how last time we hung out you made me beam CHEKOV to an abandoned planet and leave him there.
DOB For the good of ship!
SCOTTY Anyway, Captain KIRK says you're a bad influence.
DOB Pssh. Captain KIRK. More like Craptain Jerk, am I right?
SCOTTY Heh. Hehehe, yeah. I guess you are right.
DOB Awesome! So we're pals?
DOB Great. So, I beamed down to this planet to search for alternative sources of fuel, right? And I met this green alien chick. Or kidnapped her. Whatever. Anyway, do you want to film me porking her?
SCOTTY Yes. Yes I do.
DOB Shit yeah!
DOB approaches an already uncomfortable UHURA on the bridge.
DOB Whoa ho ho! Why, hello there, Uhurba.
UHURA It's Uhura.
DOB Yeah, we're having a good time.He glances at his crotch and reacts in mock shock, widening his eyes and throwing up his hands.
DOB WHOA! Is that an erection in my pocket, or am I just boner to see you?
UHURA That's not how that joke works.
DOB (Adjusting a dial that for some reason exists on the front of his space pants.) Beep boop. Setting wiener to "stun," Captain, beep boop.
UHURA What are you-
KHAN, a leader of EARTH'S EUGENICS WAR of the Nineties, lays in a bed in the sickbay of the Enterprise, seemingly unconscious. BONES enters to check on the patient. As soon as BONES gets close, KHAN grabs him by his throat and holds up a scalpel, stolen while BONES was out DOING SOMETHING. DOB sits over in the corner, his shoes off, his feet propped up on a desk. He eats an apple.
DOB (Chuckling) Oh ho ho, shit, he got you, Boner.
BONES (Terrified.) O'Brien, hurry, grab a security officer, KHAN must've gotten a scalpel while we weren't looking!
DOB Oh, I saw him.
KHAN It's true.
DOB Yeah, he does his thing, I do my thing. We're cool.DOB and KHAN shoot each other some "What's up" nods.
DOB Yeah. We're cool. He seems like an okay guy.
KHAN Thank you.
DOB Ain't no thing.
BONES For God's sake, he headed Earth's Eugenics War!
DOB Uh huh.
BONES He tried to wipe out entire races of people.
DOB Get right outta town.
BONES He's choking me right now.
DOB Maybe he is maybe he isn't. I'm not a doctor, that's not my call to make. Ask the doctor.
BONES (Turning blue) I'm the doctor.
DOB Word? (low) Hey, can you get me some Space Percocet or what?
The bridge is shaking and sparks are flying. Emergency lights flash and sirens blare as red-shirted crew members fall to their victimless deaths. KIRK, his hair mussed and a bit of blood trickling down his forehead, holds onto the controls, firmly against the violent rocking of the ship.
KIRK Alright, we can get through this, but I need everyone to work together on-He is interrupted when DOB throws a large bundle of trash right at him.
DOB SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP HOLY FUCKING SHIT SHUT UP WE'RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE!
KIRK We're going to be fine, we just-DOB continues to pelt him with trash.
DOB WHY AREN'T YOU SHUTTING UP!? I hate you I hate you I hate you.He flips off CHEKOV and runs away.
KIRK Okay, that's fine, we didn't really need him.
BONES What kind of journalist is he?
CHEKOV I've never seen him take down a single note.
SULU He stole my throwing stars...
KIRK It's fine, we'll get rid of-
CHEKOV Uh, Captain, I think you should take a look out the window.We see DOB, wearing two space suits, cruising away in an ESCAPE POD. He's also managed to set off every single remaining escape pod, somehow, and they sail listlessly through space, completely empty.
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
How did these hyper-specific tropes spread so quickly?
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.
It's easy to work the system and win these awards even if you don't deserve them.