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I woulda…

I woulda been up earlier, but I had a very busy weekend this morning.

I was on TOS Enterprise, with most of TOS crew and a goodly portion of TNG crew, including someone who appeared to be Worf’s son Alexander, except his forehead was made of white plaster. Solid. White. Bright white. Plaster. With all the Klingon bumps, but white. On a brown face. Very white. Did I mention the white?

Anyway. We got stuck in a . . . black hole sort of thing, and many people seemed to be in a heavily drugged sleep, lying around on the floor of what may have been Voyager’s mess hall, now that I think about it. Anyway, that was okay because it warped into a bedroom, and then the monsters in the walls started coming out. The monsters were a blonde lady with chin-length hair and a very, very very long neck. Very long. I’m not *exactly* sure what she was going to do with people, but then the shot cut back to a distance shot and 3 of the long-necked ladies got into a terrible big fight with the crew, and people were kicking the long-necked ladies’ heads off and other cartoonishly unpleasant things like that.

Having routed the enemy, I ended up at what appeared to be a military base/mall, where Bishop of the X-Men and I had . . . no, I’ve forgotten most of what was supposed to be going on. Anyway, we had to take an F-14 and go somewhere, only the first time we went it didn’t, er, work properly, and we had to come back after not very long, and I slept through the second trip.

Anyway, I ended up at home getting ready for the shower, and Ted had taken the old towels that I’d put in the laundry room back into the bathroom and I was very very upset with him, and then a conveyer belt dragged me out of the shower and off into the snow, except I ran the other way on the conveyer belt and got back to the bathroom, and had to put books on the conveyer belt only instead I was trying to put words together and they kept vrooming away . . . .

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