Well, time for the oft-delayed BFA clone to _El Paso_, by Marty Robbins. Out in the far se

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Skeptic Tank!

Well, time for the oft-delayed BFA clone to _El Paso_, by Marty Robbins. Out in the far sector port of Old Argo, We beamed down for R & R. Our crew went trekking to all the cantinas, Joints, speakeasies, taverns and bars. Good things were said of their treatment, Of spacers in need of a break, But by the time we were shuttled from there, They knew that our leave had been a mistake. First night our wild young captain came in, Wild as the Iowa wind, Dashing and daring, beds he was sharing, Five partners, of mixed worlds and sexes, he pinned. So when the police arrival was near, We had but a single chance, Panting and sweaty he appeared on the platform, Feebly clutching the shreds of his pants. Next thing we knew our Head Nurse had gone, On a spree in the dope bazaar, Later we found that she had boughten, An odd green potion to cause Pon Farr. When she returned, disrobed and smiling, And cheerful down to her heart, We wondered at her new way of walking, Slowly, with her feet a yard apart. Our First Officer, the most proper of all, Was drugged with something green, In an alley he lost cool and logic, While he suffered things quite obscene. We brought him right back to Sickbay, He's none the worse for wear, But once sober he could not tell us, How the computer was taught to swear. A lover of humanity our Doctor is, His private life is quiet, But he was bagged by the Shore Patrol, For inciting the whores to riot. In the city lockup we found him, Then beamed him free, Untouched but for hickeys, And culturing six strains of VD. Our Engineer is the best there is, At all drinking schemea, A demolition crew could not outdo him, Nor any of seven Marines. The Navigator, he had to try, Drinking 'til he was daft, Later, from the roof of City Hall, We had to recover our shuttlecraft. A bet our Communications femme, She just had to win, By weaseling into the planet's net, Altering the programs within. And now 'cross Argo they are quite shocked, When the vid-phone rings, For when they answer the caller is there, Complete except for all their clothing. The exotic flora our Helmsman loves, All reciprocate, He snuck some down planetside with him, Turned them loose and wondered their fate. An emergency signal from the Governor, Soon told the tale, Alien greenery took o'er his home, His wife, and his role as the male. Some bloodthirsty pirates showed up, But no one gave a rip, Into the pubs they charged all deadly, Offering some free fat lips. Half our crew was there and concious, Looking for something to do, The pirates scarpered right out of there, We didn't even have to say "Boo!" "Starfleet's Finest" is our nickname, Our record is the best, But on Shore Leave we cut loose and go wild, Putting all our regulations to test. Mayhem and riots and wreckage we cause, That much we must admit, But when we leave, told not to return, Argo's memories of us will not quit! Endit.


E-Mail Fredric L. Rice / The Skeptic Tank