misc | home

Roy Orbison on a Class M Planet

Ensign Ulrich Haarbürste's Log, Stardate 2335:02:07:01:13:32

My commanding officer Operational Lt. Roy Orbison and I are summoned to the bridge of the Federation Starship USS Enterprise. Captain James Tiberius Kirk greets us. "Hello, Lt. Orbison. Hello, Ensign Haarbürste. We must on an away mission. We have received a distress signal from the Terrapins of Jetta IV. They are under heavy attack by the Klingons. You will accompany Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock and myself to the surface to assist the peace-loving Terrapins in their time of need."

"It is an honor, sir," says Operational Lt. Roy Orbison, gazing venerably at the Captain through his trademark black sunglasses.

"I as well find it an honor of great immensity, sir," I add.

The Captain presses the communicator on his green velour uniform. "Mr. Scott, four to beam to the surface."

In the haze of Jetta IV's Class M atmosphere I cannot see Captain James Tiberius Kirk's green velour uniform, nor can I not see Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock's blue velour uniform, nor can I not see my own black velour uniform. I can only see Operational Lt. Roy Orbison's red velour uniform.

"Operational Lt. Roy Orbison, sir," I say. "There appears to have transpired some event not entirely unlike a transportational anamoly. Our velour uniforms appear to have rematerialized on one another's bodies. Please, do not move."

Just then, the distinctive sound of phaser fire is heard. The equally distinctive Operational Lt. Roy Orbison's voice, too, is heard, a suprisingly terrifying sound in this instance, despite all of the greatest guitar and singing songs he has given to the galaxy, as he falls to the ground, the red velour of my uniform hugging his body singeing and smoking.

"Klingons!" Captain James Tiberius Kirk scowls. "Set phasers to kill, gentlemen, and fire at will."

Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock and myself quickly dispatch of the racially inferior Klingons.

"Well done, men. Now, to the Terrapins' aid!" says Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

"But sir, must we not first attend to Officer Orbison?"

"We leave the red shirts, Lieutenant. You know that."

"But sir, I am the Ensign. Operational Lieutenant Roy Orbison is the Operational Lieutenant. There was, you may recall, a transportational anomaly in which our velour uniforms rematerialized on each the other's body. He is the man in black, not I."

"Mein gott!" Captain James Tiberius Kirk's jaw drops. "You are right! But how are we to save him!"

I look to Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock, who looks to me. He then looks to Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

"It would be highly logical were we to wrap him in clingfilm, sir."

"Klingon film? This is no time for cinema, Mr. Spock."

"No, sir. Clingfilm."

"Would Klingon clingfilm suffice?" asks Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

"I suppose so."

The captain, Mr. Spock and I quickly set about searching all of the dead Klingons for clingfilm, but to no avail. Then the epiphanous hits me.

"The Terrapins will certainly have clingfilm!"

"Yes, but is it Klingon clingfilm?" asks Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

"No, it is not Klingon clingfilm, but Terrapin clingfilm, the strongest, most durable clingfilm in this sector of the galaxy!"

The Terrapins quickly come and give us many rolls of shimmery strong Terrapin clingfilm.

Captain James Tiberius Kirk presses the communicator on his green velour uniform. "Bones, I need you to wrap a dead body in clingfilm."

"Dammit, Jim," comes the reply from USS Enterpise Ship's Doctor Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy. "I'm a doctor, not a Congressional Aide."

"I am at a complete loss, and also I am at a total loss," says a dejected Captain James Tiberius Kirk. "Who now is there to wrap Operational Lieutenant Roy Orbison in Terrapinian clingfilm?"

"I can do it, sir," I resolutely volunteer myself as a clingfilm wrapper. "As an Ensign serving under Operational Lieutenant Roy Orbison I am highly trained in the uses and strategic deployment of clingfilm."

"You are, then. You may. Please, then, proceed," says Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

I begin to unwind the first of the rolls of the Terrapinian clingfilm the Terrapins have given us. I start at the high-traction space boots, unraveling slowly, pinning the shiny film with the butt of my palm, smoothing out creases and any potential air pockets. I consult my tricorder periodically to guarantee that a perfect state of vacuum has been attained.

Next I proceed to wrap Operational Lieutenant Roy Orbison's legs. The black velour of his trousers rejects the adhesive qualities of the Terrapinian clingfilm. To a novice clingfilm wrapper this would be a great obstacle for the overcoming, but to a seasoned Operational Ensign like myself it is nothing. I simply wrap the clingfilm so it is very taut. It then binds to itself, adhesive chemistry touching adhesive chemistry. I next begin to wrap the torso, applying the same technique to the red velour of my uniform as I had to the black velour of his trousers, keeping it taut, clingfilm to clingfilm.

"You appear to be approaching your task with quite a bit of precision engineering," says Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock.

"I am. I do," I reply. "To me it is a labor of love."

"That is a most illogical, Ensign Haarbürste."

"Love is a most illogical, Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock."

Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock quickly sets his phaser to stun and aims it at Captain James Tiberius Kirk. "Only for a little while, Jim," he says, before firing directly at the communicator pinned to Captain James Tiberius Kirk's green velour uniform. Captain James Tiberius Kirk quickly falls to the ground. Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock quickly begins to wrap the feet of Captain James Tiberius Kirk in Terrapinian clingfilm.

"It is most illogical," I say, "to find myself on Jetta IV a Class M planet with Mr. Spock, a famous Vulcan officer, wrapping two most famous men in Terrapinian clingfilm."

"It is most illogical," says Chief Science Officer Mr. Spock. "But then, so is love."

Jean Luc Picard presses a button and pulls his chaffron robe about himself a bit tighter. "Earl Grey, hot," he tells the console.

Charles Grey, the Viscount Howick, materializes suspiciously close to the bed. "Hello, Georgina." He breathes heavily. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to get away for such a while, but I do promise I shall make it up to you most presently."

I must remember to thank Beverly, thinks Picard.

"On the Afghan then, like proper Whigs?"

I really don't spend enough time on the holodeck.

Back to Ulrich's Roy Orbison in Clingfilm Site

this site fine art prints the web