SUMMARY: Oh, god, NOOOOO! The crazy little brat wrote a sequel! Yes, this is sort of a follow-up to "To Seek Out New Forms Of Entertainment". It has a lot to do with boredom, mine and the crew's. In this one, they take a wrong turn in the Monotony sector while on their way to rescue colonists on Banality Seven before they die of boredom. People act funny when they're bored senseless.

DISCLAIMER: All hail Paramount and the Roddenberry family, for they have the power of Trek. All hail whoever invented the Potty Putter (yes, it's a real product.), for they added to my amusement.

ARCHIVING: Ask me. Please. augustdragon81@netscape.net

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I saw a commercial for the Potty Putter one day on the Sci-Fi Channel, and I knew instantly that I would have to find a way to work it into a story. I just couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. My evil demon-muse sits on top of the computer and tells me what to write. He's been very talkative lately.







Return of the Boredom

by: Jamie August

*********************************************************



Captain's Log, Stardate 47474.7: I am bored. Bored out of my mind. We've been traveling through the Monotony sector for the past two weeks. We should have come to a planet three days ago, but all we've seen so far is endless space. I think Commander Riker took a wrong turn somewhere around Tedious Three. I know it wasn't me. Anyway, to keep up crew morale, I believe I have hidden my boredom quite well.

First Officer's Log: The captain is bored again. Nothing good can come from this. Oh, and I think he made a wrong turn somewhere around Tedious Three.

"Number One, I most certainly did not!"

Riker looked up at the captain, wide-eyed. "You know, sir, it's very rude to eavesdrop on a person when they're recording a log entry."

Picard gestured around the bridge, where they both sat in their command chairs. "If you want privacy, you should go to the other room instead of simply hunching down in your chair and whispering to the comm unit."

"Oh. Right." Riker rolled his eyes. Why should he go to the other room? Picard had recorded his log entry while standing in the corner pretending to inspect the bulkhead.

"I saw that, Number One."

"What?"

"You rolled your eyes at me. I could have you court-martialed for that."

Riker rolled his eyes again. These days, the captain's favorite threat was 'I could have you court-martialed'.

"You did it again, Number One!"

"Oh, so what? You're the one who got us lost. Sir," he added sarcastically.

"I assure you, I did not get us lost!"

Thus far, the rest of the bridge crew had remained silent, watching the argument. Now, however, Worf decided to ask the question everyone had on their minds. "Then where are we, Captain?"

Picard glared at the Klingon. "We are in the Enterprise, headed in that --" he flapped his arm toward the viewscreen "-- direction. Any more questions, Mr. Worf?"

"No, sir."

Deanna Troi leaned forward, concentrating on something. "Captain, I am sensing that we are lost."

"Gee, you figured that one out all by yourself?" a helmsman muttered.

Picard switched his glare to Deanna. "We are not lost. And why do you even have a chair on the bridge, anyway? I've never quite figured that out."

The counselor blinked. "Captain, I believe you are projecting your frustration about the situation onto me."

Rolling his own eyes now, Picard turned to Riker. "She's your girlfriend, Will, can't you do something?"

"Only if you admit that you got us lost."

"I will not! You were the one at the helm."

"And I followed your directions!"

"You did not! You turned the wrong way!"

"I did not!"

"You did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"No, I didn't. You told me to turn starboard, and I did."

"You did not! You turned port!"

A shocked silence fell over the giggling crew when Riker jumped up and began kicking his chair. After several minutes of chair-kicking, he turned to face the helm. Sweat pouring down his flushed face, he said, "Commander Data. Which way is starboard?"

Even Data was a bit frightened of the First Officer's outburst. He'd turned his emotion chip on that morning, but now he considered switching it off. "Starboard is right, sir."

Riker grinned triumphantly at the captain and sat down in his battered chair. "See? I told you so."

The captain frowned. "Are you sure? I could have sworn starboard was left."

"I assure you, Captain, starboard is right. Port is left. You may find a mnemonic device helpful in remembering the difference. Perhaps you can remember 'port' as being 'left' by recalling that each word consists of four letters. As for 'starboard' --"

"Thank you, Mr. Data," Picard growled through clenched teeth.

"You are welcome, Captain."

Several members of the bridge crew giggled. Picard directed an evil glare around the room, letting his gaze fall on each crew member individually. "What are you laughing at? I could have you all court-martialed!"

Riker, Troi, Data, and Worf rolled their eyes.

"I saw that! You're all going to be court-martialed!"

* * *

Chief Medical Officer's Log: I have just finished examining the corpse of a young crewman, and am reporting my findings. Ensign NoName was in Ten-Forward with two friends when he collapsed onto the floor. Apparently, just seconds before his collapse, he made the comment, "I'm so bored I could die" then took a bite of his Arsenic Sundae with strychnine sprinkles and fell to the floor, dead. The body also shows several small puncture wounds, but I'm told that's because his girlfriend poked him several times with a fork after his collapse, just to see if he was really dead. When I asked why she didn't just scan him with a tricorder, she shrugged and said, "I dunno. I guess it was just more fun to poke him with the fork." My conclusion is that this man died of boredom. End log.

Dr. Beverly Crusher covered the prone body of Ensign NoName with a sheet and sighed. Looking around the otherwise-empty Sick Bay, she decided to go down to Ten-Forward. She suddenly had a craving for an Arsenic Sundae with strychnine sprinkles.

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

"Shut up, Number One."

"Well, we'd be there already if you hadn't gotten us lost."

"Captain, I'm sensing great anger."

"Shut up! Don't make me turn this ship around!"

"But, Captain? Isn't that exactly what we should do?"

"Yeah, especially since the planet is back that way."

"Number One; Counselor; you're both going to be court-martialed if you don't shut the bloody hell up!"

* * *

Chief Medical Officer's Log: Well, I got called back into Sick Bay before getting a chance to taste my Arsenic Sundae. I had to treat Commander Riker's bloody nose and black eye. He refuses to tell me how the injuries occurred. No, I take that back. He claims he was injured by a malfunctioning turbolift door, but I don't believe him. I have relieved him of duty with instructions to go relax. Now I think I'll go back to Ten-Forward and see if my sundae is still there.

* * *

Ship Counselor's Log: I have to be really, really quiet because the captain is standing two feet away from me -- no, three feet -- no, two feet -- well, now it's four feet --

"Counselor, what are you doing?"

"Me? Uh, nothing, sir. I could tell you about the emotions I'm sensing around the ship if you want - -"

"No! That's all right, Counselor. Carry on."

Counselor's Log continued: Where was I? Oh, that's right, I don't know where I am because we're lost. Lost, lost, lost, and the captain refuses to admit it. I think he's becoming rather unhinged. He keeps screaming about court-martials and then he punched Will. You know, I'm no boxing expert, but Captain Picard appears to have a pretty wicked left hook. He --

"Counselor, I know you're doing something over there."

"No, sir. Nothing."

"Nothing? It looks like you're talking to your breasts."

"Uh, I am, sir. They don't stay this perky without an occasional pep-talk, you know."

"Oh. Well, by all means, carry on, Counselor."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Chief Engineer's Log: Five minutes ago, the captain brought the ship to a full stop and ordered that we turn around. Then he asked me if there was any way I could make this bird fly faster -- those are the words he used -- faster than our top speed. I tried to explain to him why we can't go any faster than our top speed, that's why it is our top speed, but he told me to save my techno-babble for someone who cares. I'm not entirely sure, but I think he may be going a little soft in the head. Riker came down here right after the captain called, and he told me Picard forgot the difference between port and starboard, and that's why we're turning the ship around. We had a good laugh about that. Anyway, I'm going to pretend to be trying to give the warp engines more power, just in case Picard decides to come down here and check on me. End log.

"Are we there yet?"

Geordi LaForge whipped around and came face to face with Wesley Crusher. "Wes! What the heck are you doing here?"

Wes shrugged. "I dunno. So, are we?"

"Are we what?"

"Are we there yet?"

"Where?"

"Wherever we're going." Wes rolled his eyes. "Duh."

Geordi shook his head, wondering how the doctor's son had ended up back onboard the Enterprise. "Uh, no, we're not there yet."

"When are we gonna be there?"

"Barring any unforeseen circumstances, two days."

"What are we gonna do when we get there?"

"Rescue a colony of people before they die of boredom."

"Why?"

Sighing, Geordi shook his head. "Because this sector prides itself on being the most boring in the universe, and these colonists didn't realize that when they set up camp."

"Why?"

"Because they're morons."

"Oh." Wes waited approximately five seconds before asking again, "Are we there yet?"

"No, I told you --"

"Well, when are we gonna be there?"

"Wes, I told you, we'll be --"

"Are we there yet now?"

"ARGH!"

* * *

Captain's Log, Stardate 47474.8: LaForge informed me yesterday that Wesley Crusher has somehow appeared on the ship again. And just when I'd finally managed to forget about the bloody little twerp.

"I heard that, Jean-Luc!"

Picard backed away from his corner and turned to face Beverly. "Oh, hi. I was just inspecting this bulkhead." He ran his hand over the wall and nodded. "It seems okay."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You were not. You were bad-mouthing my son in an official Captain's log! How could you?"

"Well, it's actually rather simple." He stared at the doctor. "What are you doing on the bridge, Beverly?"

"You're not on the bridge, Captain. You're in Sick Bay. You came here complaining of a headache, remember?" She ran a medical tricorder over his head.

"Stop that! Of course I remember; do you think I'm going senile or something?"

"No, no, of course not," Beverly said soothingly. "But I would like to run a few tests . . ."

"Absolutely not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed on the bridge." He walked out of Sick Bay and turned right.

"Uh, Jean-Luc? The bridge is the other way."

"I knew that."

* * *

Captain's Personal Log: I am not going senile. So I've forgotten a few things. So what? I can't be expected to remember everything, can I? Why is everyone staring at me? I think they're planning something. Plotting against me. Yes, that's it! They're planning mutiny! It's a conspiracy! It's --

"Captain, we're all staring at you because your fly is open."

"Oh. Thank you, Number One."

"No problem."

Captain's Personal Log, continued: Okay, so my fly was down. So what? I was in a hurry this morning, that's all. Hmm, that explains why all those small children in the corridor screamed and ran away from me. At the time, I thought it was just the usual screaming and running away. Anyhow, Mr. Data informs me that we should be at the planet Banality Seven, our original destination before Riker took that wrong turn, in twenty-two hours.

"Captain, what are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing, Counselor. Nothing at all."

"Really? It looks like you're talking to your, um. . . lap."

Picard glowered at Deanna. "Well, I'm certainly not giving anything down there a pep-talk."

She hid a smile. "Whatever you say, sir."

* * *

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

Geordi gritted his teeth, determined to keep his cool. He usually had patience with the boy, but now his patience was wearing thin. "Wes, wouldn't you rather go see your mother? I'm sure she'd be glad to see you."

"Nope, I like it here in Engineering. So, are we there yet?"

Sighing, the chief engineer went back to pressing buttons on his console at random, trying to look busy. Actually, he was getting a nice little tune from the different beeps each button made. With a little practice, he thought he might be able to play 'Mary Had A Little Lamb'.

"Geordiiiiiiiiiiiiii," Wesley whined. "Are we there yet? Huh? Huh?"

Geordi did his best to ignore him, still pushing buttons. Ah, there, that sounded like the first line of 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'! He wondered why so many children's songs had the word 'little' in the titles. It occurred to him that maybe it was because children themselves were little. Well, he amended, except for the children on Gigantious Five. Those kids made Worf look like a tribble.

"Hey, stop ignoring me! Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there y --"

"Does it look like we're there yet?! Believe me, Wes, I'll tell you the minute, no the second, hell, I'll tell you the millisecond we get there! Okay?!"

Wesley blinked at Geordi's outburst and nodded silently. The engineer and the boy stared at each other for a moment before Geordi went back to pushing buttons on the console. Wes waited another minute, then said very softly,

"Are we there yet?"

* * *

Chief Engineer's Log: I finally managed to get away from Wesley Crusher. I was only able to escape after he drank twelve Big Gulps and realized there's no bathroom in Engineering. And to think, I used to complain about there being no bathrooms. Life is ironic sometimes. What's even more ironic is the fact that I'm now hiding in the captain's master bathroom. I figure it's the one place Wes won't dare search. Note to self: ask Dr. Crusher if there's any chance Wesley was cross-bred with a leech.

"Mr. LaForge? What are you doing in my bathroom?"

"Oh! Hi, Captain. Uh, I'm hiding from Wesley Crusher. What are you doing?"

Picard sighed. "Hiding from Dr. Crusher. She keeps trying to scan me and run tests." He shuddered.

"Oh. Um, sorry to hear that."

"Yeah." The captain brightened. "Geordi, take a look at this."

Geordi was suspicious. He'd heard about the captain's odd behavior and wondered what, exactly, the man could possibly want to show him in the bathroom. "What is it, sir?" He readied himself to run.

"Come over here by the toilet."

Holding his hands up, Geordi backed away. "Uh, sir, I really don't think --"

"It's a Potty Putter!" Picard exclaimed proudly.

"Huh?" Geordi blinked and stared at Picard. "A what?"

"A Potty Putter. See?" Picard indicated the piece of green fabric that lay on the floor in front of the toilet. On top of the fabric, there was a small green cup with a small white ball in it. A stick with a triangular flag at the top protruded from the cup. "It's a bathroom golf game. So, while you're sitting on the toilet, you can practice your putting technique. Get it? A Potty Putter."

Raising his eyebrows, Geordi nodded. "It's. . . very nice, Captain. Where did you get it?"

"Remember those cryogenically frozen people from the twentieth century that we picked up several years ago? Well, one of the men programmed the Potty Putter's pattern into the replicator. I found it a couple days ago and decided to give it a try. And look, the Potty Putter also comes with these little golf clubs!"

"Sir, could you please stop saying 'Potty Putter'?" Geordi was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "You know, maybe you should let Dr. Crusher run those tests."

"Just what is it you're suggesting, Mr. LaForge?" Picard narrowed his eyes menacingly.

"Nothing, Captain."

"Oh. Okay." Picard held out a golf club and gestured to the toilet. "Here, why don't you sit down and take a swing at it?"

"Uh, sir? I'd really rather not."

"Come on, Geordi."

"No, Captain. . . ."

"Do it!"

Geordi gulped. "Yes, sir."

* * *

"Geordi? Where are you? Are we there yet? Geordi?" Wesley Crusher wandered through Engineering. He found it hard to believe Geordi had given him the slip. Why would he want to do that? Oh, well. He shrugged. Maybe there would be something to do in Sick Bay.

Walking out of Engineering, he spotted a blinking red button on a panel in front of him. He stopped and watched the light. It seemed to be blinking in a pattern, instead of just blinking. He watched it for another minute. Yep, definitely a pattern. When it quit blinking, Wes hit the button in what he hoped was the same pattern. The button turned yellow for a second, then went back to red and began blinking in the same pattern as before. Oh! He thought he had it now. When it stopped blinking, he punched the button in the same pattern as it had previously been blinking. The button lit up a solid red and stayed that way. The computer chimed and a computer voice spoke up, "Congratulations! You have just activated the all-Celine Dion, all the time intergalactic radio network! Enjoy!"

'My Heart Will Go On', the theme song to Titanic, began to play over the Enterprise's comm system.

"Whoooooops." Wesley glanced quickly around Engineering, then put his hands behind his back and exited the room, whistling innocently.

* * *

First Officer's Log, Stardate 47474.9: Hey, cool, I'm in charge of the bridge! Uh, I haven't seen the captain since yesterday, but I saw Geordi a few hours ago, and he was muttering something about Picard and the bathroom and golf. I'm not really sure what he was talking about; he seemed a bit incoherent. Anyway, we'll be at Banality Seven in approximately five hours. Of course, we would have been there five days ago if the captain knew right from left, but --

"Will, I really don't think you should put all that in the official log."

"Deanna, I'm the captain and I'll do as I please."

"You are not the captain."

"While I'm sitting in this chair, I'm the captain. Don't argue."

Deanna rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

First Officer's Log, continued: As I was saying. . . Oh, I don't know what I was saying. Nobody's been able to shut off the radio station that Wesley brought in, and who can think with that song playing over and over and over and over and over and over --

"Will, are you all right?"

"No, I am not all right! I can't stand this! How many times can a person hear this song and remain sane? I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! ARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!"

"I sense that you hate it."

Riker stared at the counselor for a moment, then stood up and began kicking the captain's chair.

* * *

Captain's Personal Log: Although I don't condone Wesley's actions, and I fully support Riker's decision to throw him in the brig, I must admit that I rather like this music. I think this Celine woman is a fellow French-person. Oh, and I finally took Geordi's advice and let the doctor run her tests on me. Turns out I'm not going senile after all. I just had a touch of the Loonius brain fever. Apparently it's going around. But now I'm back to my old self, fit as a fiddle. I think I'll go back to playing with the Potty Putter now. End log.

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Wesley asked the security officer in charge of the brig.

"No."

"When will we be there?"

The man shrugged. "Hell if I know. They don't tell me squat."

"Oh. Are we there yet?"

"I think I understand why they put you in here."

Wes shook his head. "No, they put me in here cuz I was the one who turned on the radio and couldn't figure out how to shut it off."

"Wait a minute." The security guy gaped at Wes. "You're the one who turned this crap on?"

"I didn't mean to. But it's not so bad if you put your hands over your ears and hum, like this." He demonstrated.

"I've got a better idea." The security officer un-holstered his phaser and shot the speaker in the security room. The room fell blissfully silent. He glanced over at Wesley. "You didn't see that."

"Yes, I did."

"No. You didn't."

Wesley's eyes lit up in comprehension. "Oh! Right! I didn't see a thing."

"Good."

"So, are we there yet?"

"Hey, kid? Don't you think you're wearing the 'are we there yet' bit a little thin?"

Wes shrugged. "I dunno. Will you tell me when we get there?"

The security officer gazed speculatively at his phaser. "Oh, yeah. I'll tell you."

* * *

Chief Medical Officer's Log: Well, it seems Jean-Luc wasn't the only one suffering from the Loonius brain fever. Thirteen other cases were reported. I treated them all and sent them back to work. I am now preparing to receive the colonists from Banality Seven. As long as nobody takes any more wrong turns, the colonists should come onboard in approximately an hour. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what to do with them. It would seem that they'll need several hours in a holodeck instead of in Sick Bay. Come to think of it, that's a good idea. I'll have to run it past the captain. Oh, and I'll have to see about getting Wesley out of the brig. It's not fair. He didn't know what that button did. They ought to have things better labeled around here. Then again, maybe it is fair. That stupid song is driving me crazy. I mean, really, how many times can your heart go on and on and on and on and on and on - -

* * *

"Captain, isn't there any way to shut that music off?" Riker whined.

Picard shifted in his now-mangled chair and frowned. "You know, Number One, we really need to talk about these little chair-kicking episodes of yours. They're unbecoming of an officer. Not to mention you messed up my chair."

"But, Captain, the music. . .?"

"I rather like the music. This Celine person has a lovely voice."

"Well, you're the only one who likes it, then. While you were playing bathroom golf - -"

"Potty Putting, Number One. It's called Potty Putting."

"Whatever. While you were doing that, I had several reports of the music driving people to commit acts of violence. One ensign even went so far as to gouge her own eardrums out with a spoon."

Picard sighed. "All right. I don't know what can be done that you haven't already tried, but --"

"Captain, if I may?" Worf spoke up. "I believe I have thought of a way."

"Are you sure?" Riker nearly begged.

"I am sure."

Picard nodded. "Oh, fine. Make it so."

* * *

Every crewman in Engineering looked up sharply when Worf entered the room. He surveyed the area, eyes finally landing on the control panel with the red button. One side of his mouth curled into a snarl as he aimed his phaser at the button. When they saw what the big Klingon had in mind, several engineers dove out of the way a split second before he fired. Worf continued firing on the red button for well over a minute, only stopping when the panel was little more than a smoking black lump on the floor. He cocked his head toward the ceiling, listening for the music. Hearing nothing, he smiled, then looked down and gave the charred lump a few kicks for good measure. Satisfied that he'd done his job, he gave a pleased grunt and exited Engineering, ignoring the stupefied crewmen who gawked at him as he left.

* * *

"You murdered an innocent control panel?" Deanna cried.

Worf nodded stiffly. "It was the only honorable thing to do."

Riker shifted in his chair, trying to avoid a very friendly spring his chair-kicking episode had dislodged. "I'd hardly call the panel innocent. It was playing that horrible song over and over. It was driving everyone insane. Good work, Worf."

"Thank you, Commander. I had to do something. It was either that or ritual suicide."

Raising his eyebrows, Riker stared at Worf. "Wow. You Klingons have a ritual suicide for everything, don't you?"

"Just about."

"Well, you saved my sanity, anyway. I mean, that damn song must have played over a thousand times."

Data turned to face Riker. "Actually, Commander, it played only three hundred fifteen and one-half times."

"Then it was three hundred and sixteen times too many!"

Data knit his brow. "I do not think that is possible, sir."

"It's just an expression, Data." Riker shifted again, still trying to get away from the friendly spring. "What's our ETA?"

Picard beamed. "See, Number One? Isn't that much better than 'are we there yet'?"

"Yeah, right, whatever. When are we gonna get there?"

Picard sighed.

Data calculated for about a nanosecond. "At our current rate of speed, we will arrive in eleven minutes, thirty-two seconds, twelve milliseconds, forty-one microseconds. . ."

* * *

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

The security officer clenched his teeth and drew upon every ounce of his will to keep from lowering the force-field and strangling the kid.

"Hey, you said you'd tell me when we got there! Are we there yet?"

Suddenly, another security officer poked her head into the room. "Hey, Bill, we've arrived at the planet. Just thought you'd like to know, since normally no one tells you squat."

"Thanks."

Wesley grinned. "So we're there now?"

Security Officer Bill sighed with relief. Finally, the kid would shut up with the 'Are we there yet's. "Yeah, we're here. Happy now?"

Wes nodded. "Yep." He waited approximately ten seconds, then said,

"So, when are you gonna let me out of here?"



* * *

In Chapter Two - - The crew comes face to face with the most boring planet ever; Wesley plays with another blinking button; meet a kid who's possibly more annoying than Wes; and Data and Geordi trash a hotel room! All this and more in Chapter 2!

Comments, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?