Voyage Blower (of the Rings)

Star date 50699.21 (Shire Reckoning 1471)

But look reader, what is that figure cruising silently through space? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it an 8472 bio ship? No, it's Voyage Blower, the most feared ship on the high sea, which would have some meaning if it were actually on the sea, which it wasn't. It's crew 200 strong, it's armory deadly to behold, and it's captain terrible to comprehend (especially if you're a man twenty years younger than her)…

Captain Janeway stalked silently around the bridge, rubbing her hands together gleefully. Ever since they had been thrown back in time by the Nazaween (a really un-humanoid species; they don't even have that little line from your nose to your forehead, they're so alien!!), Janeway had been joyfully sampling the new smorgasbord of handsome innocents she could corrupt. Her long time favorite was Leftenant Hornblower, and she was slowly gearing herself up for the next bout of sexual harassment she was about to give him. She was almost ready, and she gave Hornblower a sidelong smile that he didn't have the experience to recognise. (Ensign Kim, Tom Paris, the Doctor and, to some extent Neelix, had all learned to recognise that look, and usually had enough speed to make it to the nearest jeffries tube before Janeway could launch an attack. Chakotay, however, was not so lucky, and his left buttock is now permanently remolded into the shape of an inverted hand). Then she struck with full force.

Every male pair of eyes on the bridge watered with sympathy. By the look of that grope, the shockwaves probably passed right through to Hornblower's testicles and sent them slamming into the wall of his over-starched pantaloons. Horatio himself, being of the old world, was far too polite to say anything except in a particularly high pitched voice "Madam, kindly remove your hand from my hind." Then he added for good form "Or it might fall off."

The remark was made in jest, of course, but it went straight to Janeway's libido and she removed her hand immediately, terrified of losing her new hobby. (Before Horatio, her hobby was of course banging the Irish hologram, but she found that his program destabilized when she decided using radioactive synthesized ice cubes in her zealous flirtations was a good idea). Tuvok sniggered. When she discovered she's been manipulated in such a way, she stomped out of the bridge immediately to give Wellard a good whipping, for it always soothes her hurt pride.

At that moment, the ship received a hail from an unknown vessel. Not wishing to call back Janeway in the middle of a whipping session, and deciding that Wellard's ass was far too pansy and a beating may do it some good, Hornblower decided to answer the hail himself.

"This is Leftenant Hornblower of the Federation Starship Voyage Blower," he said in the most imperial voice he could manage after being as subjected to sexual harassment from a middle-aged woman as he had been. "State your name and your business."

"My name is Frodo," said an unusually pale faced and wide-eyed figure. "And who might you be, 'one whose pants are putting unusual strain on his package'?!"

"My name, if you don't mind, is Hornblower, if you were listening" snorted Hornblower.

"Oh yes, I heard you well enough" gibbered Frodo hastily. "It's just that in the Elven tongue, hurn-blowur literally means 'one whose pants are putting unusual strain on his package!'"

"Oh," said one whose pants are putting unusual strain on his package, "Well if you don't mind, I'm not Elvish. State your business right now, or clear off."

"Yes, right-o, jolly good then," fluttered Frodo. "Yes, ah, I'm here because I've been sent here by a friend of mine to ask your help, you see, and ah…"

"And what you pasty maggot?!" snapped Hornblower.

"And, and, and…" stammered Frodo. (A little known fact about Frodo is that he was in fact a paranoid, manic depressive schizophrenic. Putting it lightly, he was a very screwed up Hobbit. During his short discourse with Hornblower, he was already battling with his alter egos, trying to decide which one he would obey. Luckily, his usual persona asserted itself just enough, otherwise Hornblower could have found himself knee deep in bad Elven poetry, wound tightly around a stake a daked, invited around Bag End for tea, or subjected to a reading of the entire volume of The Council of Elrond. The latter usually resulted in internal hemorrhaging. All other options just resulted in indigestion).

At this point Frodo was shoved aside and replaced with an extremely hairy, and by the sounds of it, extremely senile old man. "Now yarrghh listen 'ere, ye boggins!" he roared, "mah nam's Gandalf, ya gottit? Nah, tak meh to yah leader, yaallrighty?"

Horatio, not daring to risk seeing if the flecks of phlegm hitting the viewscreen would magically keep flying and hit him in the face, rushed into Janeway's ready room. Wellard, to Hornblower's utter amazement, had a look of stupefied pleasure on his face, as well as a seedy grin. Being only 15, of course, Wellard had absolutely no concern where pussy came from just so long as he got it. Plus he thought he was hard, banging an older woman and all. Just like Pacey from Dawson's Creek.

"Captain!" panted Hornblower urgently; "We have received a hail from an unknown vessel, they demand to speak with you!"

"Sure thing, sweet cheeks" said Janeway happily, and walked salaciously past Hornblower, stopping only to whack Wellard's ass as he lay on her desk.

When Janeway reached the bridge she addressed the viewscreen majestically; "I'm Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyage Blower. We are on a mission of peaceful exploration and…"

"Yaarrghh, shuttup, yah ol' bag!" growled Gandalf. "Nah listen 'ere. Mah nam's Gandalf, and dis handsome piece o' tushy is Frodo, an' dis even handsomer piece of tushy is Sam." He gestured towards a very small and frisky looking Hobbit, who looked as enamoured with Frodo as a dog does to its master. (If he has bacon down his crotch). "Weh here to ask yah for help against da evil Spanish Black Borg Riders, if yah be so willin" Gandalf continued.

"The evil Spanish Black Borg Riders!?" exclaimed Janeway and Horatio together.

"Dat's whadda said ain't it?" said Gandalf. "Nah, in exchange for ya service, I offa yah dis handsome pait o' Hobbits for yah perusal. I hear ya quite dah ones for payment in crewmembers, heh heh heh!"

Frodo looked aghast. "But Gandalf!" he stammered, "Surely you don't mean to…"

"Don't worry master, I'm sure we'll be alright" said Sam vehemently, hugging Frodo around the waist affectionately.

"Oooh, he calls him master!!" squealed Janeway in delight. "That so turns me on! You have a deal, Mr Gandalf!!"

Two hours later, Frodo and Sam were beamed aboard the Starship Voyage Blower. Sam still hadn't removed himself from Frodo's waist, and was effectively found there by Janeway. She found it extremely disconcerting to have a Hobbit stuck on the leg of what was, in a kind of sadistic Hirogen sense, her prey.

"Come, come" she said, in a surprisingly sedate fashion, "You can't stay there all day."

"I have before!" said Sam defiantly.

"Really?" gasped Janeway. "All day?"

"Yes!" beamed Sam.

"Uh, yes," said Frodo, a little uncomfortably.

"Oooh," said Janeway.

Hornblower felt the need to intervene. "Captain," he said. "I'll take care of these two, they may not be worth the time you have. If I were you," he added, "I would spend it doing something productive."

Janeway got the message, and went off to find Wellard.

"Oh, thank you sir" said Frodo adoringly, and wrapped his own personage around Hornblower.

"Now, stop that, you mincy little dwarf…"

"Hobbit."

"Hobbit! Be a man, and face Janeway with some chauvinistic machismo!" he scolded. "Stop being such a pansy!" (Pansy: 1. wuss, wimp, yellow belly, 2. Homosexual, Bi-sexual, Roman Legion, Julius Caesar, Vampire Lestat, Vampire Armand, 3. Daisy, 4. Sensitive new-age male, 5. Hornblower, 6. 'one whose pants are putting unusual strain on his package'.)

"Oh yeah?" said Frodo, detaching himself from Hornblower's waist. "And what exactly have you done, Mr Hornblower? Doesn't seem like you've got her back in the kitchen making you pie, huh?"

"Stop that! You know I'd slap her around a bit if I could…"

"What's stopping you?" snarled Frodo.

"Well, ratings for one," said Hornblower. "If I started slapping around Captain Janeway, we'd have every lesbian (that is, feminist. Politically incorrect to say the least) in town knocking at our door, demanding that I be put off the ship and court marshaled. You can't be so politically incorrect in the public eye."

"That's what you think, you wuss!" yelled Frodo. "I'll teach that bag how we keep women in check in Middle-Earth alright! Out of my way!" and Frodo barged his way out of the transporter room as best he could with Sam still clinging to him.

Hornblower ran after him (that's overstated, he took a few steps and was ahead of him, considering that Frodo was half his size and carrying another Hobbit with him) and caught him in the hallway. "You can't be serious about this!" he snapped. "Even I couldn't do anything as stupid as this…"

"Oh yeah?" snarled Frodo's alter ego. "You seemed to have no problem with jumping off cliffs, blowing up buildings, all that sort of crap."

"It's all in the name of Machismo!!" said Hornblower. "What your about to do is make pansies of the lot of us…"

"I'd say you're one already, SAILOR!!" piped in Sam.

"Quiet you!" said Hornblower, turning red.

"Oh, that's very nice, isn't it! After all, all those days at sea, no women, only pretty boys with pink cheeks and red lips…" snickered Sam.

"QUIET YOU!!"

"…whips, chains, leather, laubmen…"

By this time Frodo and all his other personalities had reached Janeway's ready room. He barged in and puffed out his chest.

"Now listen here, you slag" roared the splintered mind of Frodo (the particular alter ego who said this, Frodo had named Butch). "You get your bitch ass back in the kitchen, and make me some pie!"

This did not go down well, especially from Frodo's perspective. Janeway merely laughed.

"Oh my precious," Janeway said ironically, "What exactly are you going to do, huh? What your about to embark on is the most politically incorrect scheme I could possibly imagine, if I imagine correctly. I'm the captain of this ship, and I can perve on people as much as I like. It serves 'em right too," she added, "for putting Seven of Nine into that cat suit. If that doesn't deserve some buttock reconstruction, I don't know what does!"

At this, Frodo was lost. So were his personalities. He had no idea how to combat this.

Then suddenly, a shimmering ghost appeared in the corner of Frodo's eye, yet no one else seemed to see it. He wore a white robe and had a white beard. "Use the Force, Frodo" it said, "Trust your feelings."

There was a lengthy pause.

"Hang on," said Frodo, "I think you're in the wrong parody."

"Oh, no I'm not," said Obi-Wan. "They had to make cuts for the Voyager series, so I'm here merely for the lack of extras. All those ensigns being killed off…" he muttered.

Frodo was more confused than ever. "What am I supposed to do?" he shouted.

"Oh, ah, did I not make that clear?" said Obi-Wan. "Oh, yeah, whoops, I said the wrong thing…ahem…USE THE RING, FRODO, USE THE RING!"

Suddenly it became clear. Frodo whipped out the ring in his pocket and thrust it in front of Janeway's face.

"ARRGHH!" screamed Janeway. "Arrghh! It's the symbol of ultimate feminine slavery! A wedding ring!! Arrghh! I must succumb…I must succumb!…" Janeway gasped and spluttered, clutching at her stomach. "Arrghh, arrghh, arrghh…"

And then she was no more. Janeway, the ultimate symbol of matriarchy and feminine dominance had been destroyed. By a wedding ring. The very symbol of sexual restriction. Even the idea that it would be unmoralistic of Janeway to continue her flirtations in that most sacred of circumstances destroyed her.

"Wow," said Hornblower, "I think Wellard will be disappointed."

"Actually," said Frodo, "I think Wellard and Sam would get along quite nicely…"

The End

P.S. I really do think Sam is gay.

P.P.S. I also really think that Hornblower is gay.

P.P.P.S. I don't have a problem with Janeway banging who she wants to bang, she can bang anyone she likes for all I care, nor do I have a problem with her banging or doubt her banging ability. I just think that banging in general is pretty funny, especially when you call it 'banging' you know. I mean, I can understand why she'd be wanting to bang a lot, lots of people want to bang a lot, in fact, banging has been in fashion for a long time, people never seem to get tired of banging, in the long term I mean. Just bang bang bang all day long and all night long, am I boring you with all this banging? I wouldn't want to bore you with the banging, not that banging itself is boring, of course, I mean talking about banging, but people still seem to like that a lot too, ya know. How can ya bang on the phone anyway? Do ya just say 'bang bang bang' down the phone? Should work, in theory of course.

But some theories aren't real of course, like the Big Bang. Now, I hear lots of creation stories about gods banging to make the world, and this is no different. Just these scientists giving it all funny words like hydrogen and stuff, all they mean is that there was one big orgy going on, the BANG the world was there because of the massive bang. They don't even say WHO was banging, I think they'd know that, being all scientific. Like hydrogen and helium and the omega molecule, all banging together. I mean, I know I came from a bang, but it turns out everything else did too, even the rocks and stars and stuff. Lots and lots of banging.

With banging being the reason for life the universe and everything, makes you wonder, huh? Why would some people choose not to bang? If God does exist, and he's got all, this banging going on, don't you think he'd be pissed off if some people said 'nup, I'm too good for banging'? It's like God'll say 'HEY I BANGED TO GET YOU HERE, NOW YOUR SAYING YOU'RE TOO GOOD FOR IT? GO OUT AND BANG YOU BASTARDS!'

Anyway, what's with this life, the universe and everything stuff? I mean, if life, the universe and everything came from banging, it must mean that 42 is the number of times you should bang before it all makes sense! The ultimate question must be 'How many times must you bang to make sense of it all?' 42 is a good answer. But you'd think some people have banged more than 42 times. Maybe God says 'NUP, ALL THESE PEOPLE IN THE WORLD ARE TOO GOOD FOR BANGING. I DON'T SEE WHY ANYONE SHOULD FIND THE MEANING TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING IF THERE ARE STILL PEOPLE AROUND WHO CAN'T BE PERSUADED TO BANG!!!' and everyone who's coming close to their 42nd bang suddenly gets hit by a car or something. That's why priests and stuff live so long, they never bang. So they never get hit by cars. Maybe those people who die of heart attacks and stuff during a bang suddenly realize it's their 42nd bang and God goes 'WUH-OH, FORGOT TO GET THAT BUS LINED UP AS HE CROSSED THE STREET!!' and BANG they get a heart attack while they're banging and die before they get to know the meaning to life, the universe and everything.

Oh, why cannot we bang more than 42 times!? Oh why must we be hit by buses and trains simply because there are nobby people who fail to bang anyone…

There is only one solution to this. BANG THE PRIESTS!!

Oh dear, I'd better go to bed. Got lots of banging to do in the morning, you know.