MEANWHILE

A flabby person was sitting in a lawn chair in front of the television, eating cereal and watching "Boston Legal."

ALSO MEANWHILE

Somebody shat in Ryan Seacrest's coffee.

AND AT THE SAME TIME, BACK ON THE ENTERPRISE

McCoy paced back and forth in Sickbay, puffing furiously on his bubble-pipe. He was wearing his Sherlock Holmes hat and was speaking in a ridiculous English accent.

"Dammit, how can I solve this mystery without any clues?" he grumbled, stroking his glue-on sideburns. Nurse Chapel walked in with a data-pad.

"Sir? Doctor, you have some medical releases to sign in your office-"

"Shut up, woman! Can't you see I'm ruminating?"

"Can't you ruminate and sign papers at the same time? These release forms are really starting to pile up..."

McCoy cocked one thinning eyebrow, Spock-style. He released his bubble-pipe with a click and did one of those hood-sistah head-bobs. Chapel backed off nervously. "On the other hand...I see you're busy...it can wait til later..."

"Damn right." McCoy snarled dramatically, and blew a gigantic bubble.

Back on Earth, Sydney Lynton sits in front of Nashoba Regional Highschool, wondering if her life could get any worse

"My entire life is a shamble," she said to herself, dropping her head into her hands. Nothing was going right in her life. Her whole house had burned down during a freak lightening storm that fried her CPU and erased her English paper. She had been in the shower during the sudden fire and had been forced to run outside in nothing but a half-melted shower curtain that freakishly fused to her body and she had been forced to go to school the next day with it still stuck to her. The other children pointed and laughed and a little piece of Sydney died inside. Also, she had to rewrite that English paper.

Sydney was the only kid left waiting to be picked up, except for Josh Sherman who sat behind her, reading a House fan magazine and smacking his lips loudly every time he turned the page.

"Stop smacking every time you turn the page, Josh."

"I'm not. I'm smacking every time I see a hot picture of Thirteen."

"Well...stop."

Josh shrugged and turned the page. He smacked slowly, loudly, and ravishingly as his weird eyes with weird thick eyelashes fell upon another glossy page of House goodness. It made a man feel good to be alive.

Sydney glared.

"I said stop!"

"What? I did!"

"No you're not! You're still smacking!"

Josh sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh my gosh, Sydney, I'm promise you I am not smacking when I see a picture of Cuddy or whenever I turn a page. I'm smacking every time I see Wilson looking repressed."

"But you're still smacking."

"Yes."

"Well, if you could not make any smacking noises at all, that'd be great."

"It would," agreed Josh. He finished reading the page and smacked again.

"Josh!!" she half-screamed in frustration.

"If it would make you feel better, I'm not smacking. I'm just experimenting with the suction abilities of my eating-hole."

Sydney dropped her head in her hands in surrender. Her life just could not get any weirder. She looked up again to plead with Josh and an alien with giant pointy ears, flared pants and high-heeled boots from the sixties rode past them on a children's bike. He was talking into a crappy flip-radio.

"Enterprise. Captain Kirk, do you read me?" she heard him say as he whizzed by. Josh stopped smacking.

"Sweet, an alien." he said. "Oh, my mom's here. Bye Sydney." he lumbered into a minivan and shut the door. Sydney resolved to kill herself the moment she got home.