It was 2300 hours on the Starship Voyager, and all the crew were relaxing in their quarters. Captain Janeway was bathing in Coffee. Ensign Harry Kim was fondling his clarinet, rubbing a polishing cloth along its shaft whilst fantasising about a Seven-Kes wet T-Shirt competition. Tuvok was completing a range of logical puzzles, to sustain his logic, which was a very logical thing to do. Chakotay was contacting his dead hamster Opaylotchoca through a Native American sprit walk, to enquire about the meaning behind his existence. Two of the crewmates however, decided to break out of the general monotony of the ship and actually engage in sexual activities!
Lieutenant Paris rubbed his fingers along the ridges of B'Elana's forehead speaking softly into her ears as she rubbed her hand along his spine, culminating in a cheeky bum grab. "Let's try again" she spoke seductively to her moronic lover. Paris, hovering above his lover, positioned himself on all fours, only to be met by a look of bottomless displeasure. "What!" he barked.
"Tom, it's not working! We've been trying for 5 weeks now and your... warp engine, it needs recalibrating! It's as floppy as a Cardassian river eel!" Paris, feeling like Kirk in a sandpit adorned with Orion Slave girls wearing chastity belts, turned away in aggravation.
"I'm sorry B'Elana, I do dig Klingon women... and in no way would I rather be polishing Harry's clarinet! I just... It's broken... okay!"
"Well that's an understatement," she sniped. Paris, pacing around the room picked up his com badge. "Where on Earth... The Delta quadrant are you going Tom?"
"To the doctor, this needs to stop!"