PICARD: That's enough, Number 1.
RIKER: (laughing) But not nearly enough...Number 2!
PICARD: I do not see the humor in that.
DATA: Captain, the 'Number 2' Commander Riker is referring to is a popular children's metaphor for fecal...
PICARD: (impatient) Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Data.
DATA: However, to bisect a leavened grain product with severe constriction along a linear trajectory--or pinch a loaf--has a meaning which I do not...
RIKER: It was supposed to be funny.
DATA: (briskly nodding) Then I shall log it in my next comedy program.
PICARD: Log...Log...Hmm. Mr. LaForge! Progress report.
GEORDI: (on speaker) It's not going so well here in Engineering, Captain. I can get replicators online by 07:00, but to make artificial fiber, prunes or that sort of thing, (sigh!) we're going to need more time. (Sigh!) We've been pulling double shifts down here, and...
PICARD: Stop whining, Commander. Remember, you are in the military. But let me ask you something, Geordi.
GEORDI: What is it Captain?
PICARD: Can you isolate the transporter array to a modified containment field at another location--for example, directly inside my lower bowel, here on the bridge?
GEORDI: W-Why would I want to do that?
PICARD: (impatient) Use your brain Commander. What would that holographic scientist girlfriend of yours do?
WORF: I say we attack.
PICARD: There are no alien ships in this sector, Mr. Worf; continue, Mr. La Forge.
GEORDI: (dramatic) Wait a MIN-ute!...Captain, if I re-route the plasma conduits from the warp coil, modify an intestinal signature from the power grid, and flood the bridge with a contained burst of digestive neutrinos directly through my visor, I ju-u-st might be able to do it.
PICARD: Make it so.
GEORDI: (sigh!) But it'll take 90 minutes, and it MAY blind me for life.
PICARD: (angry) Commander, I will not wait ONE more minute. Picard out.
TROI: (condescending) Captain, you're so uptight it's beginning to show.
PICARD: And Counselor, your uniform is so tight that the pores on your thighs have too, begun to show. Ensign, take us out of warp. Slow to one quarter impulse.
BEVERLY: Captain, sending waste bio-matter into subspace within the ship can be dangerous.
PICARD: (impatient), Yes, yes, and keeping it here in my colon for another two Stardates is also a risk. Are we ready yet, Mr. LaForge?
GEORDI: (sigh!) As ready as we'll ever be.
PICARD: Understood. Will, any ideas?
RIKER: We can beam the bio-matter into any of the ship's hygienic reclamation units. Or directly into space. If long-range sensors can reach, it might be fun to see it hit the main view screen of a Romulan Warbird at Warp 6.
PICARD: Agreed. Other options?
RIKER: (evil smile) There was that insubordination incident in the holodeck yesterday with Worf, during your Shakespearean program.
WORF: (defensive) Commander! I am willing to participate in the Captain's drama programs, but I will not be forced to act in dishonorable roles.
BEVERLY: What part was it, Worf?
WORF: (muttering) Oberon, King of the Fairies.
(Troi and Beverly giggle)
WORF: Klingons are not fairies. We are warriors. We do not prance. We fight.
PICARD: (angry) You disobeyed a direct order, Mr. Worf. Dr. Crusher, once again, what are those those dimensions?
BEVERLY: (scanning with tricorder) The same as they've been for 2 weeks, Jean-Luc: cylindrical, tapering, slightly elliptical. Diameter, 3.1 centimeters; length, 11.6.
PICARD: Understood. LaForge, on speaker. Did you hear that?
GEORDI: Yes sir. Minimized coordinate grid is online, and on your console. Ready when you are, Captain.
PICARD: Then lock onto these coordinates: Zero-zero-three point-four mark five....Energize.
GEORDI: Signature is holding...With my modified visor array, I'm (sigh!) getting a close up view! And it ain't pretty, Captain.
RIKER: If your dimensions are correct Dr. Crusher, we're looking at one hell of a big piece of bio-matter.
DATA: Environmental controls sense a 15% rise in toxicity
GEORDI: I'm losing it!
RIKER: Increase the containment field
GEORDI: There's not enough power!
COMPUTER: Warning. Toxic oxygen levels on Decks Six and Nine
PICARD: Red Alert.
DATA: Re-routing power from the shields...Shields down to 58%
COMPUTER: Warning. Hull breach in 18 seconds
TAMARIAN OFFICER: Shaka, when the walls fell!
DATA: Attempting to compensate.
PICARD: Arrgh! It feels like a bloody rock! NOW, Mr. LaForge!