Warp 459

Suddenly the Mona Lisa frowned in the manner of a person being unexpectedly disembowelled with a pair of tweezers. The image ruptured, and reformed into the most horrific-smelling venomous beast of burden that any of the Enterprise's crew (of seven) had ever seen.

It was the Leader of the Shrimps.

It oozed gungingly round in its bucket to face Kirk. "We come in peace," it slimed, "shoot to kill."

"That's my line," exclaimed Kirk, who now resembled a shoebox full of pot noodle and gargoyle sick. "Fire torpedoes, Mr Lunu!"

"Firing now, sir," replied the Lieutenant. The Right-tenant said nothing (probably because he was Russian and didn't understand a word anyone said).

"Well, you wouldn't be firing them four millennia ago, would you?" said Morse, appearing not altogether unbizarrely from the ship's Portawarp. "Lewis?"

"Warp factor 17, Mr Snott," ordered Kirk.

"Och, if I give her any more she'll blow Captain," replied the haggis-eating bagpipes.

"Warp factor 459." And she blew.

"Damn," said Kirk. "I did it again."

(to be continued?)

Shrimp Trek

The scanner opened, revealing an inky void screaming for its mummy. Framed in the centre was a massive tooth-shaped metallic four-poster-bed-like thing that might have been called a ship if it hadn't looked as if it was going to squelch revoltingly around the universe very soon.

"My God," said Kirk, who wasn't, and mutated into a herringbone-patterned sofa-cover. "It's the Shrimps."

"Incoming frequency, sir," said Uuuhur-urhub-uhru for no very good reason, except it was "true".

"Hail the Shrimps, Lieutenant," said Kirk, recording his version of various religious and pseudopolitical love squawks for posterity's posterior.

A picture appeared on the scanner. It was the Mona Lisa.

"That is a popsicle, Captain," said Mr Pock, studying his instruments.

"No, it's not – it's a painting by da Vinci. And please put those violins away, Mr Pock. And the harpsichord."