Hey Ensigns what are y’all talking about never mind I’m talking now HEY did I ever tell you about the time I blew the doors off a Buffalo Wild Wings? I’d just eaten my 80th plate when a hankering for mayo hit me like you wouldn’t BELIEVE so o started chugging and everything started FLOWING and
Exactly! EXACTLY! That’s what my stomach was saying. But I was really committed to making it to 100 plates you know? Goals, amirite? You get it. Anyway, it was at this point that I realized that the Ambassador had been yammering on about trade negotiations the whole time.
So, get this, I’ve NO idea what he’s saying because my universal translator got melted by hot sauce about 70 plates ago, so I look them in the eyes, all 92 of them, and let out a single, sustained fart at 300hz for about ten minutes. Unbroken eye contact. You know the deal. A gamble? Maybe.
But I’ll be damned if they didn’t RESPECT me. At least that’s how i interpreted the sound they made. Sort of a high pitched keening noise. Anyway, here’s where it gets interesting; the Ambassador’s got a boat right? We’re on Risa, I get it. But I fucking hate boats. They know what they did.
So I stand up, pants totally SHREDDED with wild wing sauce, and would you believe that my fart hit the exact pitch necessary to obliterate the Ambassador’s boat? Just blew it the fuck up. Smoke everywhere. Now it was at that point my keen diplomatic instincts told me there was tension in the air
So I turn to them, I turn to them and I say, “Guess I sunk your battleship” and, listen up Data this is key, I went BACK to my 101st plate of wings which, at this point was pretty much a farm to table situation with my mouth being the farm and my ass the table. That’s a metaphor Data.
