Enter Aunt Phyllis
It was a dank, cold day on the dark side of Remulus. Not that it mattered to Chinzon. As far as he was concerned all days were dank and cold and, above everything, dark. He didn't mind in the least. If anything, he felt that it was a bit too hot today. Maybe he should order his fellow Remans to turn on the air conditioning? With a sigh, he got out of bed and started to look for his clothes. His black coat lay neatly on the desk, his uniform had just been cleaned and his boots were… hold on. Where were his boots? Growling to himself, he started running around the sparsely furnitured room, muttering Reman curses under his breath. He had just managed to find one of the black, shiny boots when he was interrupted by an incoming message.
"An unidentified vessel is approaching, Praetor Chinzon", said the raspy voice of his viceroy. Surprised and rather irritated, the young man looked up at the screen in his bedroom and snapped "Send it away then, Viceroy!"
"I have already tried that, Praetor. It would seem that the captain of the vessel thinks she is entitled to be here."
Chinzon was barely awake yet, and the incompetence of his subordinates did nothing to improve his already foul mood.
"I have more important things to do than to deal with things like this! Who is she?"
"She claims to be a long lost relative of yours, Praetor. Shall I shoot her down?"
There was a moment's silence while the young ruler considered this. He was a clone, and knew little of his relatives. There was always that Picard-nuisance, but he would soon be disposed of… however, what if he actually had other living relatives? That woman could hardly pose a threat to him, even if she was accompanied by a whole fleet. Remans were skilled warriors, superior to most species of this quadrant. Chinzon pondered the situation for a while, and realised that he was curious. Maybe this would present him with an unforeseen opportunity. He could always use her as a hostage… Yes, he'd better take this opportunity!
"Viceroy! Let her dock." Chinzon smiled wickedly to himself.
"What a horrible journey! I am completely famished! That ghastly replicator food, I thought I was going to be sick…" A tall, elegant woman dressed in an enormous pink hat and a long purple dress covered with some pattern of unspecified flowers, posed in the docking bay when Chinzon arrived. The Reman guards were standing on either side of her with their weapons drawn, looking angry, but no grim facial expressions in the world could help the fact that they, somehow, looked like little boys with toy knives next to her. The Praetor approached her in as dignified a manner as possible, and stood before her with a casual smile on his lips.
"I am Chinzon, Praetor of Romulus. I understand that you claim to be a relative of mine…" he began. But he never got to finish before the woman in front of him clasped him to her chest in a bone breaking hug and exclaimed "Dear boy, I am so glad I found you! I'm your great aunt Phyllis, and when I heard that you were all alone on this miserable planet, I just had to come!" She kissed him violently on both cheeks before she finally let him go, the young Praetor gasping for breath. She's a lunatic! he thought. And now she's come for me! I must be calm…dignified! Chinzon somehow managed to compose himself and gave her a stern look.
"I'm afraid I've never heard of you…" he started to say, rather frostily, but was again interrupted by the infernal woman, who suddenly grabbed him by the chin and barked "Open wide!" The young man was completely taken off guard.
"What?" he said, or rather tried to say. (It's not easy to talk when somebody is forcing your mouth open.) Great Aunt Phyllis did not reply. Instead she started to examine his teeth, and apparently didn't like what she saw.
"What horrible teeth you have, dear! You do floss regularly, don't you?" Chinzon was too surprised to come up with an answer. Never, since he reached adulthood, had anyone humiliated him like this! And in front of his subordinates! The guards were beginning to look slightly pained. They shuffled their feet and glanced at each other, apparently upset. The reason for their discomfort, however, seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was causing unease among them. She was finished examining her great nephew's teeth and had started looking over his general appearance instead.
"Really, darling…" She shook her head, making her long blonde curls flap to and fro, and looked him over from his head to his toes. "So scruffy! Look at you! Such a handsome young man… and you dress like a… dear, I have no words for it! Some frills ought to cheer up your appearance… yes, and you definitely need to do something about your skin! You are as pale as a corpse, honey, and even if some girls may be attracted to such a look…" she went on, causing the poor guards to squirm and the Praetor to clench his fists in fury.
"I… am… not… trying…to…impress…women!" he hissed, trying hard to control the waves of rage that were washing over him and making him boil. His words did not seem to have the desired effect.
"Of course not, darling… I understand. After all, you do have your viceroy, and he seems to be a… hm, charming man indeed… a little colourless, perhaps…" Phyllis sighed. "And those ears… dear me!"
Chinzon just stared at her in disbelief.
"Are you insinuating that… are you… " he spluttered.
"There, there, young man. After all, you are capable of eloquent speech, are you not? No stuttering."
"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THE WAY I SPEAK, YOU OLD HAG!" the honourable Praetor roared (causing one of the guards to whimper and promptly drop his weapon on the floor with a loud clank). That was a mistake. The Grand Lady's face turned white, her lips suddenly pressed together. Before the Young Ruler of Romulus had a chance to even as much as kill one of his henchmen (and he was usually very quick about doing that, especially when in a bad mood) the woman had grabbed his left ear and was practically lifting him off the ground.
"That's what happens when we are not behaving like a gentleman, my dear little Nephew!"
"Er… isn't he your Great Nephew?" one of Chinzon's unfortunate subordinates interjected. He soon regretted having spoken at all. The crazy woman turned her attention to him immediately.
"Why, aren't we a funny little Reman!" the now not so lady-like woman hissed, gazing icily at him. The Reman gulped and took better hold of his knife. He had a feeling his entrails were slowly crawling up his throat, and it was not an altogether pleasant sensation.
"No, Mam… I mean…er… I just…"
"I ABHOR STUTTERING!" Aunt Phyllis suddenly produced some ancient utensil for keeping rain away and started smacking the poor guard over the head with it. One would have imagined that she would let go of her Nephew - er, Great Nephew – while engrossing herself in such an activity, but she seemed to have forgotten him altogether. Thus, poor Chinzon was still dangling by the ear and was thrown back and forth as the lady in question enthusiastically kept pounding his henchman into oblivion. Finally, the Reman fell to the floor (well, not exactly fell. Wobbled, more like) with furry, purple creatures wearing large pink hats dancing around his head. He giggled and was about to ask his boss where they came from, when suddenly everything went dark. The last thing he heard was the dreaded woman's voice as she said "I do hope that you have central heating in this abysmal place, Nephew!" Shivering with discomfort, the warrior sank into unconsciousness.
On the Enterprise, the crew were getting restless. They had been waiting for the Romulan Praetor to contact them for seventeen hours, and some of them were beginning to believe that it was all just a trap or even a practical joke. Captain Picard wandered aimlessly to and fro on the bridge, urging his personnel to be patient, why he himself felt like jumping out of his own skin. Just as he was beginning to doubt that the Romulans were indeed going to show up, a large ship emerged seemingly from out of nothing. They were being hailed.
"On screen!" the captain commanded, feeling slightly nervous. A grim, Reman face appeared in front of them.
"Praetor Chinzon, it is an honour to…" Picard began, but interrupted himself as he heard a distinct, female voice in the background: "…and have you brushed your teeth as I told you, Chinzon? You don't want to be known as the Praetor- with- the- Bad –Breath, now, do you?"
"Mon Dieu!" the captain whispered, paling slightly, "I know that voice!"
"Sir?" Lt Commander Data sounded puzzled. "Is something wrong?"
The female voice now echoed through the whole bridge: "…and I don't want you to wear those boots, they are simply horrific! Really, honey, they will think that you have absolutely no fashion sense!"
Picard's face was now almost the same colour as Data's (and that is to say something!). He was beginning to shake uncontrollably.
"Quickly!" he hissed, an expression of sheer horror on his face, "Cut the connection! Now!"
"Sir? Are you alright?" inquired Counsellor Troi, looking genuinely worried.
"I SAID, CUT THE DAMN CONNECTION!" her captain screamed. As his crew obeyed, Picard rose from his chair, still shaking badly. At the questioning look on Troi's face he responded with only two words: "Aunt Phyllis!" Then he promptly fainted.