If you haven't read my story "The Anomalous Cheese Sandwich Anomaly", then some things won't make sense. They won't make sense if you read it either, but that's beside the point!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or anything else one might sue over.

Claimer: I do indeed own the right to make milk shoot from your nostrils in a shower of laughter and/or screaming.

BEGEEEEN!

Picard: Captain's online diary, stardate… eleven. Will and I had a fight. He wanted to play World War Three again but I wanted to play Pirates and everyone knows pirates are better than cyborg war machines! And then he threw sand at me and--

(a beeping sound is heard)

Picard: (sigh) Enter.

Data: You wanted to see me, Captain?

Picard: Ah yes, Data. (turns to Data in his seat and smiles) Yes, yes, yes. (clasps his hands together and places them on the desk) Indeed.

Data: (waits, blinking)

Picard: (exhales sharply and looks around the room)

Data: Captain?

Picard: Yes, Data? What is it? (smiles brightly)

Data: Is there something you wished to discuss?

Picard: No, no.

Data: (pauses) Then… I'll be leaving, sir?

Picard: Alright then, bye bye. (waves)

Data: …(leaves through the door, returning to his place on the bridge)

Riker: (from his chair) That's the sixth time today, isn't it?

Data: Seventh. (presses buttons)

Troi: (enters) I am sensing that everyone is suffering from acute stress-

Riker: But we haven't even been doing anything for over a week--

Troi: (raises her voice) and we all need a--

Riker: And we're still in Earth's orbit--

Troi: (starts to yell) AND WE ALL NEED A NICE VACATION. (narrows her eyes) Now piss off. (exits after a short pause)

Everyone on the bridge: (immediately run cheering from the room, excluding Data)

Data: I suppose I will go insane. (puts a bucket on his head and crashes through the main window, depressurizing the bridge and sending everything out into space)

MEANWHILE, in Troi's quarters or whatever…

Crewman 574: Things have been difficult since I discovered my anonymity. PERILOUS DANGER lurks behind every consol, in every strange alien soufflé! (twitches and looks around erratically) I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! (screams and digs his fingernails into his eyes) AHHHHHHHHHYEEEAHNUUUHAHAGHYA…NNG (sobs)

Troi: (is wearing sunglasses and a bikini and using a three-panelled mirror to sunbathe under a large lamp) What part of vacation don't you understand?

Crewman 574: But what about my declining mental health? What about this horrible crippling TERROR I have to constantly grapple with?

Troi: (groans) FINE. FINE THEN. WHATEVER. (rips off sunglasses and glares at him) You should face your fears or something. How about you go to the holodeck and… do that.

Crewman 574: D'you think it'll work? (looks desperate)

Troi: No, I think it'll end in some horrible disaster from which no one will escape.

Crewman 574: Uh… (pauses) Face my fears, eh? Sounds good! (gives a thumbs up and leaves)

Crewman 574: (walking down the slightly crowded hallway) What a wonderful idea! I'm feeling better already!

Picard: (appears around a corner) LASER TAG!

Worf: (jumps from a nearby door and makes a hideous battle cry) WOODALOODALOODALOORAWR! (pulls out his phaser and starts to shoot randomly)

Picard: (pulls out two phasers and flails his arms around while shooting and running down the hall)

Random Crewmembers: (run screaming, many ending up shot)

Crewman 574: AHHHHH! WHY? WHHH-HHY-HYYY? (ducks down and scurries to safety like some kind of cowardly rodent-baby that has just wet itself out of fear)

Will Crewman 574 avoid a mental breakdown? Will Troi finally achieve the Perfect Tan? Can this get any more insane?

No, of course, and, YES. IT IS A MEDICAL FACT!