My log entry today is going to be kind of different from my usual fare. No, we didn't go any absurd away missions or meet any nazi aliens or energy beings. Today was pretty fucking lame as shit and slice of ass butterscotch boring, to be honest. Today we just went to a regular star fleet command meeting, I didn't go around pogo-fucking anyone or anything like that.
Today is my least favorite day in the world, the day after Shitmas. Yeah, I read in history books that they used to call shitmas "crissmast" or some retard bullcrap like in ancient times when wooly mammoths, saber tooth tigers, and nazis roamed the earth, but whatever. They changed it to shitmas so everyone in the federation would have a day to bitch and moan about all the shitty stuff in the world, unfortunately everyone in the federation is either a mindless joy filled drone or suicidal (like me) and so the day after everyone is in a sickeningly good mood (and the one's who wouldn't be are all dead). It makes me fecally incontinent just thinking about it...*
*after writing the above I shat myself and had to force a nurse to serilize sick bay while I tried to look up her skirt in the reflection on the floor*
So anyways, I was sitting around in sick bay smoking crack and pretending to work when who else came in but that nosy fucking Vulcan. At first he didn't say anything but then he asked if his "package" had arrived. I had to special order some frilly pink condoms for him because none of the ones we had onboard were large enough for his sasquatch-esque alien weiner.
I gave it to him and said "Go easy on Jim's ass this time, Vulcan, I don't want to have to do any more reconstructive surgery." Then he started going on about logic or something, blah blah blah, like I give a crap. After he wouldn't shut up I felt like giving him a face full of my cock. I thrust with enough force to cave in the skull of a klingon kla'gmor beast if it made contact but he dodged my three foot fleshy sledgehammer with his superior reflexes and gave it the nerve pinch. Fucking asshole, I couldn't get it up for hours after that.
He took the package and started saying some bullshit at me about the first big star fleet command meeting of the post shitmas season we all had to attend and he said I should clean all the shit off myself before going to make a good impression... YEAH RIGHT! Those assfuckers scouted, interviewed, and hired all while my skivvies, anus, and thighs were crusted with thick crusty shit and as such shall I go forth to meet with them!
Me (complete with shit streaks up the wazoo), Jim, the vulcan, that hot cunny waft negro dyke, and some redshirt beamed down to stat fleet headquarters. We took a redshirt, cause, well... you never know. The party was pretty lame (star fleet, go figure). I mostly just tried to avoid the guys from the human rights and medical malpractice commissions. Jim and the vulcan performed a mind among other kinds "melding" on top of the chip and dip table while a bunch of ugly teenage sluts cheered them on. I yelled "DAMNIT VULCAN! I'm not putting his coxix back together again goddamnit!"
Also I think there was a speaker talking about some amazing archeological discovery on an alien planet that turned out to be an ugly lop sided pot with block figures on it. Big fucking whoop. THough to tell the truth I was too shit-faced within the first thirty minutes to have a clear recollection of the events, though I'm pretty sure all the fucking dorks (see: everyone in star fleet) thought it was pretty cool. Pretty much I fucked around with my still shrivled and pulsating horsecock and pinched girls' asses all night long.
Oh yeah, and the redshirt died. Uhura got really fucking crunked up on some bad meth and shit (seriously, human feces). She was fucking hooting and hollaring and really chimping out and she accidently blasted him with a plasma riffle she was fucking around with. Yeah, right in the fucking nuts. It didn't kill him, though. Jim was like "Wait the fuck up aren't you a doctor or something?" Now goddamnit I was just trying to stay in the corner and suck on the keg but he wouldn't fucking shut up about it. It was clear there was nothing I could do to save him (at least not by the time I got there which was after like an hour) so I had to put him out of his misery myself by knee-bashing him in the fucking skull a couple dozen times untill his fucking cranium turned to dust and his brains had the consistancy of bloody pudding. "He's dead Jim. I fucking killed him."
You know, I think his name was Porkums or something. anyways, the plasma fried him up pretty good, and we brought him back on board the enterprise and Jim made him up into some delicious steaks. Mmmm mmmm.
Well, I gotta go now. Porkus didn't agree with me so well, so I gotta go take a sloppy ass fucking dump (you can tell how they will be beforehand) and the nurses said I can't keep shitting in the bags of unused syringes because they need to be sterile. Bitch, bitch, bitch...
