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Mortimer Harren's Personal Log, stardate 56791.1
I went into the mess hall today, my replicator rations exhausted on numerous (and thoroughly enjoyable) glasses of synthale. It was supposed to be leola root casserole day. Notice 'supposed to.' I stepped in, and noticed that it was - shock of all shocks - quiet! No nasal little voice from the tribble on steroids. No sounds of squealing as a batch of pleeko rinds catches on fire in a pan. No nosy gossip. Indeed, Mr. Chell just gave me my plate of plasma leek soup (I admit he has a childish attraction to puns, however, even that's preferable to Neelix's irritating chats), a smile, and sent me on my way to turn to the next officer in line. Well, I thought, just slap on some silicone ears and call me Vorik, I'll be damned. Seven years I've been on this fucking ship and every fucking time I've had to go through a fucking conversation with Neelix. They fell into a few predictable categories. The I Still Love Kes Though I Haven't Mentioned Her Since She Left conversation, the I'm SO Useful Cook Ambassador Handyman Morale Officer And All Around Ship's Annoyer, or the Naomi Is My Goddaughter Isn't She A Cutie Patootie I Could Eat Her (and as far as I'm concerned only a moron with the vocabulary level of a five year old would ever use Cutie Patootie in a sentence, and still have self respect). I always felt like saying "Well, I suppose anything's possible, I mean you yourself look rather edible, Neelix. Maybe barbecued, with a nice marinade..." Of course, we can't mention cheese anymore, since he nearly destroyed the entire ship with his cheese bacteria last time he tried to make it. How many cooks can nearly destroy their ship with their culinary explorations? Only Neelix.
I always had a weird feeling about that whole Kes and Neelix thing, too. Neelix seemed like a Talaxian pedophile, since he was doing a two year old (it's even more disgusting than the notion of Harry and the Captain getting together, but not as disgusting as Seven and Chackers), but on top of that, it was like Beauty and the Beast, Cyrano de Bergerac retold. He was the ugly assed cat from Chernobyl, and she was the half-decent looking chick with enough brains for half a dozen houseflies. Oh, all right. Maybe two houseflies, but you know what I mean. See? That's what happens when you reject Spandex. You get the disgusting perverts.
Now that Neelix is gone, I can see dozens of reasons why our prospects are rosier. We'll be happier, we'll have more time to do other things now that we don't have to talk with him and participate in his pointless talent nights, we won't have to pretend Naomi is the Baby Jesus, the crew will be healthier since they'll actually want to eat...the possibilities are endless. Now all I have to do is convince Chell to use those remaining leola roots for alcohol - they may be bad as casserole, but anything tastes great as liquor!
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I know, I know, I'm supposed to do Harry next...but I really can't think of anything bad about him...he's near perfect!