Subject: NEW DS9: PMS - MALE STYLE (G/B) (comedy) PG-13 Date: Sun, 08 Mar 1998 20:12:08 -0800 From: BGM Organization: Lusty Lizards R' Us To: ASCEM@earthlink.net Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative References: 1 DS9 belongs to Paramount Pictures, yadda yadda yadda. This is fairly silly, but there's some bad language along the way. ;) For Jenifer Chapman, who makes me laugh for hours on end. :) Rated: PG-13 for language PMS - MALE STYLE by BGM "Tsk." Bashir glanced up at his companion and gave him a disparaging look. Dark eyes scowling, he went back to work. "Tsk." He looked up again, this time annoyed. "What? What am I doing wrong *this* time?" His companion adopted an innocent look. "I didn't say anything, Doctor." The young man grind his teeth. "Oh you've said amply enough, thank you. Now tell me what the hell is wrong, or I'll be forced to drive this plasma inductor up your ass." Elim Garak hiccuped in cultured shock. "Suuuch vile language, Doctor. I was merely observing - silently mind you - that your use of the inductor in question seems a little ..." he trailed off, unsure, swaying his head from right to left as he considered the next word. Bashir leaned back, tongue in cheek and not looking the slightest bit amused. "What, a little what?" Garak looked into his friend's eyes as he answered, "Outdated." "Well THANK you for that intricate analysis, Garak. If you haven't noticed *yet*, my major is in medicine, *not* engineering." Garak sighed wistfully. "A pity really. We could use a good engineer right about now." The young man seethed, trying desperately to contain his fury. "I'm sorry if I'm not meeting your standards of quality, Garak, but I *am* doing everything I can. I don't see *you* trying to fix something!" The Cardassian waved his hand in dismissal. "Oh my abilities are far too domestic - deciphering the complex machinery of Starfleet technology and all ... it's not really my style." "Why do I get the feeling you're being sarcastic?" Julian shook his head vehemently. "No, don't even answer that." Garak's smile was answer enough. He sighed and went back to work on the damaged systems. "Trust fate to put me in a shuttlecraft with *you*, and have it crash!" Garak chuckled at the strangled cry of irritation from his young friend. "You tortured martyr. Perhaps I should go scout the area and let myself be mauled by a local carnivore? Would that satisfy your victimized soul?" A tricorder sailed through the air, and Garak ducked under it narrowly. "I seem to know what this is about - don't you Humans go through this sort of heightened emotional behavior every month? Something ... isn't it called PMS?" Julian growled, enraged. "FOR WOMEN!! Not men!!" He shuddered in irritation, but he could not afford discarding another instrument with which to hurt Garak with. He sighed and slumped over the console. "Why don't you go occupy yourself elsewhere? Go look for that carnivore - that's about the brightest idea you've had since we've crashed." "You wound me - why, I'll just sit here and cry." Garak snickered, and Julian had the sudden realization that the Cardassian was thoroughly enjoying himself. He looked up to glare solemnly. "There's a good chance we could die here, and all you can think about doing is taunting me - I do believe you have a death- wish!" he growled out menacingly. "Don't get your scales in a rattle - or rather your hairs in a ..." Garak crumpled his nose. "What DO Humans do to show anger? I don't believe I've ever seen any indications other than mindless fits of verbal abuse and general destruction of sensitive equipment." "That's because *we*'re civilized," Julian sneered. "I see. Well you're certainly more civilized than a Klingon, I can surely attest to that," smiled the Cardassian serenely. Bashir leaned over the console, resigned. "And tell me, what do YOU do when you get angry? Sizzle and rattle your scales until you scare off whatever the hell it is you're trying to spook? How civilized." Garak crumpled his nose. "We do no such thing. Those displays are reserved for the lowliest of beggars who can't express their anger properly." Bashir spit out, "So what DO you do??" Imperious, Garak sniffed. "We have sex." Bashir stared. After a moment, he managed to find his voice. "What?!" Garak's eyes turned a darker blue. "Anger is the most powerful aphrodisiac in existence, my dear Doctor. The symptoms are much the same, don't you find? Accelerated pulse, flushed skin, dilated pupils, screaming, flailing limbs, abuse-" "Whatever the hell you think sex is, don't go teaching it to small kids," Bashir huffed as he resumed his work on the console. "That's about the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." "Is it? Then surely, you must think that Worf's sex life must be the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard," Garak said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. "And by admitting that, you apply this also to your charming object of lust," he quipped. Bashir made a shocked sound and turned to Garak with and ireful scowl. "You're just putting words in my mouth! I said YOUR idea of sex was ridiculous, I didn't say THEIRS was, and stop trying to manipulate this conversation!" he yelled. Garak growled. "Why not? It's so bloody easy with you - you just have this perpetual habit of putting your foot in your mouth. And swallowing it whole I might add!" he added sharply. Bashir flushed in indignation. "You bastard! This from a man who's made a career out of hurting people!" Garak looked confused. "What's your point?" Bashir shook in rage. "THERE IS NO POINT! I JUST SAID IT BECAUSE I WANTED TO!" Garak laughed harshly. "Then you're more a social failure than I thought you were. You have no ability whatsoever to even defend yourself. How pathetic." Bashir hurled the inductor at the Cardassian, this time hitting his target. "And you're just finding excuses to make me look bad! You're just a bloody son of a bitch with no fucking time on his hands!" Garak growled and threw the tricorder back at the doctor, who was less successful in dodging it. "Genetic enhancement my eye! Your parents wanted a boy genius and got a fumbling idiot instead!" "Torturer!" "Dunce!" "Spoonhead!" "Hairy Brow!" "Fuck you!!" "Fuck you first!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ HOURS LATER ... Dax widened her eyes at the display which welcomed her and the rescue team. Bashir and Garak were both poised in their corner of the shuttle, hair disheveled, clothes in disarray, and scratch marks visible on their faces and arms. They were looking quite pissed off. After a moment, she found the power to speak. "What the hell happened to you two?" Bashir stared angrily at Garak, then looked at Dax as he spat, "We got angry at each other." THE END