Tha’ followin’ is tha’ pilot episode fur an anthology series I be workin’ on called "Terror Trek." I’m workin’ oot a deal wit’ CBS ta’ produce it since "Britsh Naval Dude" will likely be cancelled after tha’ first season concludes. Arrrr… Oh, it features tha’ mirror universe BND… and there’s not much nigh ‘on sex in it, and that o-mission really do disgusts me…
"Terror Trek"- untitled pilot
NARRATOR: During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of this far away dismal planet, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, he had been passing alone, on his Nemesis dune buggy, through a singularly dreary tract of desert country; and at length he found himself, as the shades of the twice mooned evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Bashir.
He knew not how it was - but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded. This was a familiar place… but different and, as many voices would try to persuade, out of canon.
--- Scene- BND arrives, knocks on door and is greeted by Dr. Bashir:
DR. BASHIR: Hello, BND. I’ve been thinking you’d be calling on me. Mainly all those emails and flowers you sent had clued me in. Quit calling me "Petunia" by the way.
BND: Thou hast accommodated me in your finer thoughts, I thank you. But the petals and the poems were meant not for thee. I know not for whom I sent such remembrances, to speak, but there is something attractive yet unknown in these walls.
DR. BASHIR: It’s called asbestos. Tastes good but bad for you. Well, here’s my place. A nice remote mansion for my retirement. Care for a tour?
::: a scratching noise begins softly:::
BND: And what could such a tremulous sound be?
DR. BASHIR: Uhhhh… I gave the cat some heroin for its hairballs, it’ll stop soon. Bad pussy! Bad!
BND: I do not thinkest so, dear friend. For that noise emanates most eerily, such as the yowls of tribbles whilst their Klingon hosts pierced them asunder.
:::scratching noise grows louder, becomes like a whistle in the ear which cannot be ignored:::
DR. BASHIR: Hey, let me put on some music… how about the Veridian Hustle by Dr. Van McCoy… doo doo doo da da da da duh…
BND: No, I must track this grotesque needle of a noise down. In your cellar, deep and downwards resides the grim yet enticing source.
DR. BASHIR: Now then, wait a tic, sir… I’ll tell you something I’ve never told a woman… don’t go down there!
:::BND rushes down into the cellar, only to find a mound of rocks in the middle of the dirt floor:::
DR. BASHIR: You know, you’re right. That scratching is coming from there. Well, this asbestos is a good soundproofing material so I’ll just cover it on up then.
BND: Nigh! Dear doctor, my heart was strung from a distance, called upon to this place, this collection of stones is not mere rubble. There beats the heart of what we have so much enamored ourselves. (uses dagger to start taking rocks apart)
DR. BASHIR: My real estate agent assured me chicks dig a Victorian mansion with a dirt basement. So far, only these freaky depressed girls with black fingernails have shown up. Would you care to see one of their bodies? I dressed her in some nice bright Versace for a change. Permed her hair.
::: the rocks fall apart as BND digs through them, but suddenly arms thrust out from the mound and a low growl can be heard:::
BND: The one who rests here has been set unsettled.
DR. BASHIR: Well, he could make a more pleasant sound. Star Trek never had any rock music in it, you know. You’d think we’d still have the Rolling Stones in the future, but noooo.
::: the rock mound bursts open, the make-shift grave is strewn about:::
BND: (from regular universe) Arrrr! Be a daft killa zombified cap’n comin fur me dear titty obsessed brains! Arrrrr!
DR. BASHIR: Look, this wasn’t in my homeowner’s policy…
:::Kirk rises up, swings arms around clumsily, turns towards BND and Bashir:::
::: Simon Pegg rushes in with his cricket bat:::
SIMON PEGG: I’ve got a plan, mates! Cricket the corpse Kirk! Here’s my sticky wicket for you!
:::Simon Pegg beats the crap out of Kirk:::
KIRK: Grrr-oorrr! (spits out dirt from mouth) Pa-tooie! Wait… hold on a second… would you put down the damn stick?! That really hurts.
SIMON PEGG: Blimey! The zombie wanker’s alive!
KIRK: Well, I was never dead. Picard… you know Picard? Skinny bald guy, thinks he’s the captain of the Enterprise. Well, he… never…. checked…MY PULSE! He buried me alive. Buried alive! Buried alive!
--- End of scene.
NARRATOR: The three all fled aghast and into the Nemesis dune buggy went Pegg, BND, and Bashir. There was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand Trek fans calling out their captain’s name. As the house fell, the deep, dark fragments at the trio’s feet closed silently forever over the House of Bashir.
DR. BASHIR: Screw this then. I’m getting a swinging pad in Manhattan.