SCENE:
1960. A field outside a farmhouse, all in Black and White.
KIRK: Where are we?
SPOCK: [adjusting
tricorderlike device] 1960.
MCCOY:
Spock! You missed?
SPOCK:
There is a measure
of method refining necessary to any experimental endeavor. I
am
working with an alien device, which I have had less than two hours to
study, yet I have successfully transported us across more than 900
years to within a 2% margin of error of our goal. I would
hardly
classify that as a failure.
MCCOY: Oh, cut the
double-talk. Call a rim shot what you will, it's still a miss. JEFF:
[off screen, distant] Lassie! Lassie, come here
girl! Lassie! KIRK:
Knock it off, you two. Spock, get us out of here!
SPOCK:
Impossible for 138 seconds. The device must be allowed to
recalibrate and reset.
[Collie comes
running from off screen]
JEFF: [ off screen,
louder] Lassie!
KIRK: Then we'll
need to find some cover before we're spotted. SPOCK:
Unnecessary. The temporal phase shift is still sufficient to
prevent us from being seen or heard. JEFF:
[running to meet the Collie] Oh Lassie, I've missed you so much!
MCCOY: Looks
like Lassie has some Laddie parts under there.
SPOCK:
All of the dogs that played the role of Lassie were male.
KIRK: I
knew a "Lassie"
like that once. Scotty introduced me to her in
Bangkok. I
still haven't decided whether to kill him or promote him for it.
MCCOY:
Interesting?
KIRK:
That's not half the word. It was thoroughly frustrating.
Whatever
we did, there were body parts left underutilized. I always
felt
that I was missing out on something that might be better than what we
were already doing .
MCCOY: So little
time, so many possibilities.
KIRK:
I like variety; so sue me.
MCCOY: You're
telling me. I would've thought our weekend on Wrigley's would
have been enough fun for twenty men.
KIRK:
Twenty? I lost count somewhere around midnight, but twenty
sounds about right--if you mean just the men. MCCOY: Oh
brother. In all
my years of practice, I've never seen a man wear his thing out, but
blazes Jim, you may be a medical first! JEFF: [
hugging dog] Come on girl, let's go home. KIRK: I
thought you liked my adventurous streak. You said I brought
out the wild man inside of you--Plum. MCCOY:
I never should have told you that. KIRK:
Don't worry; your secrets are safe with me. Even the one
about your little "special" spot. [dog barks] SPOCK:
Ten seconds to transport. Silence would be much appreciated
while I fine-tune the settings. MCCOY: [whispered
to KIRK] I don't think Spock's a doggie person. SPOCK:
...and, now!
[whine and shimmer
and setting changes to fenced in technicolor astroturf outside a
two-story house] KIRK: Color--we
must be closer. Where are we? SPOCK: 1972
MCCOY:
Ha! Overshoot! [woman shrieks
from inside]
KIRK: She's in
trouble! Let's go! [pushes in door and rushes
upstairs to a dim bedroom] CAROL:
[in bed with MIKE] Aaaaaaa...! Oh Mike,
I've never been so full! MCCOY:
Huh, I should be in that kind of trouble. KIRK:
Are they...? Bones, I thought he was.... MCCOY:
Oh please,
Jim. You of all people should know better than to be so
narrow
minded. The equipment still works no matter where you put it. MIKE:
Oh, Mrs. Brady, you're a baaaad girl! A very baaaad girl! KIRK:
[walking closer to bed] Hey, Bones--do you think we could do that? CAROL:
Oh, Mr. Brady, teach me, sir! Teach me please! MCCOY:
Not unless you loose some of that gut. KIRK:
[sucking in stomach] I was thinking with you...down there--on the
bottom. MCCOY:
[studying CAROL
and MIKE] Oh, well, in that case...maybe. Sure, I guess it
could
work if you held my knees with your elbows. CAROL:
Oh, Mr. Brady, deeper, harder sir! I've been soooo
baaaad. Oooooh.... MIKE:
[shuffling noise, sucking and slapping] Oooooooo.... MCCOY:
[Fondling KIRK's
package] Don't you remember when we used to try new stuff like
that? Man, they're making me hot. [They kiss,
MCCOY's hand
works on KIRK's front the whole time]
SPOCK:
Gentlemen, 43 seconds to temporal transport. MCCOY:
[into KIRK's neck]
That's just about enough time for you. [Moving out of SPOCK's
line of sight MCCOY unseals KIRK's pants] KIRK:
Don't be such as smart-ass.
MCCOY: [Arranging
his hands appropriately for that remark] What kind of ass would you
like, Captain, sir? CAROL: [bedsprings
squeak] Oh
yes! Make me feel it! More, more,
more.... Oh, yes
sir, you and only you! Ohhhh... KIRK: [hushed] Oh
Bones, that feels so good.
MCCOY: [into
KIRK's neck] Oh yeah. Faster, please, faster! SPOCK:
Ten seconds to temporal transport. I suggest you disengage yourselves
for the process.
MCCOY:
[sealing clothing]
Easy for you to say you green-blooded Vulcan! Every seven
years,
my god, a century plant has a better sex life than you do!
Why
you wouldn't--
[Whine and
shimmer. Scene changes to a darkened room]
KIRK: Where are we?
SPOCK: [pause]
1957.
MCCOY:
That's farther back than we were the first time! SPOCK: I
was...distracted. MCCOY:
You had no business being distracted; you weren't supposed to be
watching! SPOCK: Says who? MCCOY: [taken
aback] Well I... KIRK: Spock,
Bones. I can't see. What's going on? RICKY:
Oi! Aiiyaayii. Lucy, tu mujer apasionado!
Démelo! Aiiiyaaayiiii...! MCCOY:
Sounds to me like they're making Little Ricky.
Sounds like fun. KIRK:
No, it can't be. They had single beds. LUCY:
Oh, Ricky, you make me feel like a real woman! MCCOY:
Well where did you
think the kid came from? No eBay yet. Come here
Jim; is
that you? 'Make me feel like a real man.' SPOCK:
No, Doctor, it is
I , not Jim who you are fondling, and your theory is incorrect as
well. Little Ricky was born January 1953--significantly
earlier. 128 seconds to next transport. MCCOY:
It was a joke, Spock. SPOCK:
Ah. Perhaps I failed to recognize it as such due to the
flagrant absence of any humorous content. MCCOY: No it was
funny; you're not. Jim, hold still. KIRK:
I can see a little. MCCOY:
Then I have something for you to take a look at. SPOCK: 103
seconds, Captain. [moaning and
groaning from the bed]
KIRK:
Give me a break,
Spock. How often do I get this kind of a show up close and
personal? [walking around bed, craning his neck to watch] Was
she
a natural red-head? I can't tell with this black and white. MCCOY:
[joining KIRK, arm
around his waist, and lower] I don't know, but she sure is
hot! And look there; I didn't know it was true what
they
said about Cuban men. SPOCK: I
did. MCCOY:
Now that was funny! SPOCK:
It was not a joke. MCCOY:
You sure get your money's worth during that seven-year thing, don't you? [LUCY moans louder
and lifts her ass] KIRK:
Oh, yeah, we could definitely do that! MCCOY:
[lying down on the other bed] Come on,
Jim. Let's give it a go. It's not like they can see. KIRK: Spock can.
[sitting down anyway next to MCCOY's hip, hand reaching into MCCOY's
pants] MCCOY:
What do you
care? We had to watch him and T'Wench do the Horizontal
Hoochie
at his wedding. And don't try to tell me you don't want to.
"Jimmy Junior" there is saying different. [squeezes "JUNIOR"]
SPOCK:
The physiological sequelae of biology are hardly to be compared with
rampant lustful urges. MCCOY:
Shows what you
know. Spock, sometimes I can't even credit that you're
half-human. Are you sure you weren't switched at birth? Oh
Jim...Oh... No wait, let me move the pillow down some more.
Bend
your left knee more--like she is. Oh, yeah, that's it! SPOCK:
I've been told
that I have my mother's cheekbones as well as her sense of
humor.
Ten seconds to temporal transport.
MCCOY: And your
father's rotten
sense of timing, I'll bet. Just wait until your next
physical. I'll be trying to check your tonsils by way of your
ass. Oh, damnit Jim, I'm right there! Oh....!
[whine and shimmer
and scene changes to a sunlit barn. MCCOY and KIRK sitting on
a pile of hay, SPOCK standing by a stall] KIRK:
Now where are we?
MCCOY:
Here! Come
on Jim, just one more minute while all that's fresh in my
brain.
Oh man, what a show! I am hot enough to blow a load right now SPOCK: 1965--only
three years off.
MCCOY:
Please tell me
we've hit on Charlie's Angels. [to KIRK] Of course, I'm sure you'd want
to be Jill, but still, the possibilities! Come on in here,
ladies, and put some ideas in my head. [voice off
screen] Wilber? Is that you? KIRK:
Spock! Get us out of here--right now! MCCOY:
Oh! I've heard of being hung like a horse, but...
SPOCK: Sixty-one
seconds. MCCOY: You grew up
with horses,
didn't you? Tell me, is it as big as they
say? Big,
hot, and heavy and packed full of meat? KIRK: Spock, now! MCCOY: [doing
something in the
hay] Whinnnny! Come on Jim, don't you
want to ride my
horsie? [singing] A horse is a horse, of course of
course.
And no one can talk to a horse, of course-- SPOCK:
Captain, I assure that my interest in expediency exceeds yours by far. MCCOY:
Whinny! Oh,
Jim, don't be such a spoilsport. Come talk to my
horsie.
He's a nice horsie. See how soft. Talk to the
horsie,
Jim. Come on, just few little nibbles.... KIRK:
Spock! SPOCK:
Ten seconds. MCCOY:
Come on Jim, my
horsie wants to talk to you. See how much he wants to talk to
you? He's foaming at the mouth just to talk to you...
KIRK: Spock...! SPOCK:
...three...two...one.
[whine and shimmer
scene changes]
VOICE:
Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages-- SPOCK: Whinny!
[rears up and paws the air]
PARMEN:
Really doctor, how can you let this go on? DIRECTOR: Cut!
[ALEXANDER rolls
off of SPOCK's back] DIRECTOR: I don't
know--I don't like it. WRITER:
Problem?
DIRECTOR:
It isn't continuous with the next scene. I want SPOCK left
crying at the end of this, not--horsing around. KELLEY:
Why don't you let KIRK play the pony? I hear he's rather fond
of horses, eh Bill?