Post Mardi Gras Post
I had not realized that there were so many breasts on the
USS Murgatroid. I suppose that I could have easily estimated the number of breasts by taking the number of female crewpersons and multiplying by 2.00143 (the Federation-wide average number of breasts per female sentient), but it had never occurred to me to make the calculation. As
Mib Khan pointed out yesterday, the Murgatroid's artificial gravity has been fluctuating randomly, between approximately 0.17g and 1.41g - I do not believe that I will be required to explain the effect of variable gravity on naked breasts, so I will merely quote the captain:
"Fwibble fwibble fwibble." -Capt. K.Y. Jellico
Today, most of the crew are severely hung over. Fortunately, Vulcans are immune to such hazards. Normally, this would not be the optimum time for the chief medical officer to take the day off; but since none of the crew can even find the sickbay in their present condition, events ought to work themselves out. As my intervention will not be required, I will turn over control of the bridge to these giant carnivorous bananas that I am seeing everywhere, and retire to my quarters.
Storvik out.