Not Mine, Never Mine, Usual Disclaimers.
'I'm dying,' moaned Jim from where he lay curled up on the bio bed in sickbay.
'Don't be dramatic,' scolded McCoy, 'it's food poisoning at worst, and it's unlikely to kill you anyway.'
'Define unlikely.'
'Less than three percent,' commented Spock, entering the room.
'How the hell did you come up with that number, did you pick it out of a hat?' grouched Jim.
Spock ignored his captain's sarcasm and answered, 'I simply calculated the odds of you actually having food poisoning against what you consumed at lunch.'
'Seriously, Jimmy, consuming a whole pizza, three milkshakes, a hotdog, half a dozen bread rolls, and a third of a pie in a day isn't healthy, let alone in one meal!'
'I was hungry,' muttered Jim into his pillow.
'You are likely suffering from a stomach ache,' concluded Spock.
'Feels like I swallowed hydrochloric acid.'
'A really bad stomach ache,' snapped McCoy, 'now you are going to sleep this off while Spock and I look after the ship and crew.'
'But Bones-'
'No. There will be no "But Bones" or I'll sedate you, understood? If I'm wrong about this being either food poisoning or a stomach ache, then you've probably picked up a bacteria that left untreated will eat through your stomach lining, turn your bones to mush, and cause your eyeballs to liquefy out of your skull.'
Jim only pouted as the other two men left, leaving him to his misery.
As soon as the door shut Spock turned to McCoy, 'Doctor I am unaware of any such bacteria which behaves in such a way as you just described.'
McCoy looked at Spock, 'That's probably because I made it up, and before you say anything, Jim doesn't need to know, just like he doesn't need to know that I slipped him a laxative in his second milkshake, he'll work it out for himself soon enough.'
With that he left a speechless Spock and returned to his duties.
