[VOICE with a splash image] --> The Jailhouse Night Club
[A splash image appears at the start of the following announcement. The image is of a stylized male in an orange jumpsuit and ball-and-chain, kneeling before a provocatively-dressed female security guard. She is fashioned to be the equivalent of a whorish pin-up, her rounded buttocks curved, her breasts pushed out for the delight of the prisoner. She is hanging off the bars of a typical cell door and winking devilishly at the audience. Behind the bars are the words, The Jailhouse blinking in neon pink.
The voice-over is in stark contrast to the playful, sultry image. It is a deep, middle-aged male voice, lightly accented with something slightly foreign. Those from Earth may recognize it as a twinge of French. There is very little inflection in his tone, resulting in the distinct impression of a rather bored, swiftly-read monologue. It is as if the speaker simply wants to get it over with.
There are several oddly-placed, punctuating pauses throughout the monologue. It is unclear if they are done intentionally, or out of some inner repulsion to the seriously idiotic words he is ordered to read.]
Come to the Jailhouse. Where the Mesdames are lusty little jailbirds and the Messieurs their guard dogs. All are welcome. Neck bearded ogres highly discouraged and pointed to the alternative tastes Freak Show down the lane.
[Is that part seriously in the script? Who knows? The listener may perceive an indistinct murmur in the background. It is difficult to tell which parts the speaker threw in of his own accord, and which are written out plainly for him to read. Either way, the same even, emotionless tone resumes abruptly,]
Twisted Tuesdays. Rock the house and twist the bars with our live band. Thrilling tunes. Ball and chain for willing participants with that off-color taste for bondage and mate-inflicted injury, ten-dollar surcharge. Bonded couples enter five dollars off.
Wicked Wednesdays. Drinks potent enough to execute an ox. Order our Electric Chair cocktail. Kill it in under an hour, and your trip home is on us.
Thigh-high Thursdays. Skirts so short they are illegal. Ladies must don your most alluring stockings. Entry for five, women dressed …. inappropriately come free.
Extended hours Fridays and Saturdays. Happy hour weekdays five to seven o'clock. Closed Mondays. Check our posted calendar of events for further details.
The Jailhouse. Astoundingly criminal.
[Private text to CAPTAIN KIRK]
You will remember I swore to contact you for additions to your document. I discovered an interesting tidbit. But I have not found how to access the meat of it.
Stay sharp.
The voice-over is in stark contrast to the playful, sultry image. It is a deep, middle-aged male voice, lightly accented with something slightly foreign. Those from Earth may recognize it as a twinge of French. There is very little inflection in his tone, resulting in the distinct impression of a rather bored, swiftly-read monologue. It is as if the speaker simply wants to get it over with.
There are several oddly-placed, punctuating pauses throughout the monologue. It is unclear if they are done intentionally, or out of some inner repulsion to the seriously idiotic words he is ordered to read.]
Come to the Jailhouse. Where the Mesdames are lusty little jailbirds and the Messieurs their guard dogs. All are welcome. Neck bearded ogres highly discouraged and pointed to the alternative tastes Freak Show down the lane.
[Is that part seriously in the script? Who knows? The listener may perceive an indistinct murmur in the background. It is difficult to tell which parts the speaker threw in of his own accord, and which are written out plainly for him to read. Either way, the same even, emotionless tone resumes abruptly,]
Twisted Tuesdays. Rock the house and twist the bars with our live band. Thrilling tunes. Ball and chain for willing participants with that off-color taste for bondage and mate-inflicted injury, ten-dollar surcharge. Bonded couples enter five dollars off.
Wicked Wednesdays. Drinks potent enough to execute an ox. Order our Electric Chair cocktail. Kill it in under an hour, and your trip home is on us.
Thigh-high Thursdays. Skirts so short they are illegal. Ladies must don your most alluring stockings. Entry for five, women dressed …. inappropriately come free.
Extended hours Fridays and Saturdays. Happy hour weekdays five to seven o'clock. Closed Mondays. Check our posted calendar of events for further details.
The Jailhouse. Astoundingly criminal.
[Private text to CAPTAIN KIRK]
You will remember I swore to contact you for additions to your document. I discovered an interesting tidbit. But I have not found how to access the meat of it.
Stay sharp.