Willow: "In an unbelievable twist of events, ensign Cummings is taking matters into his own pudgy hands and abandoning his post. He is entering the ring now. All heads are turning away from the disgrace that is taking place on the mat, and towards him standing there. He is a man a little too big for my tastes, but a stalwart form nevertheless. He's circling around so that the Worf female can clearly see him, straight up and without playing any tricks. Cummings is pointing at this limp pecker and challenging the Worf to do something about it.
"The female is getting up. Wasting no time, Captain Zorg is scrambling out of the ring in an unfeigned panic. Now, Cummings and the Worf woman seem to be having some kind of debate over who's going to be on the bottom. I can see that Cummings is nodding. Now he's lying down on his back and waiting for her to make her move.
"Ugh! The Worf is hovering her body over Cummings' waist and parting her extra thick muff as if she herself can't figure out where her opening is. Oh, I can't watch! She's mounting him like a giant, shaggy dog! She's settling down on top of him. I think I'm going to throw up!
"Cummings has his hands on her thick thighs. The Worf female is starting to rock back and forth on him, not in the wild and reckless frenzy we've seen from other Worfers, but in a slow and sensuous carpet ride instead. I can't believe it! Cummings is putting his hands on those huge and hairy fun-bags. Urk! I think he's going to kiss her! Bleah!"
Cruz and Mary stepped up, only to have their toes curdle when they saw what was taking place in the ring. Willow saw them and thrust both mikes into their hands, before she ran for the nearest restroom.
Cruz glanced down at the microphone. "I suppose we've been drafted into becoming reporters."
"Looks like it." Mary agreed. "What should we talk about?"
"How about the next planetary alignment? Or the rising price of wheat on the commodities index? Both subjects are of considerable import and contemplation, depending on which angle a person is leaning towards."
"No!" Mary shook her head. "We should talk about the wrestling match."
"I'd much rather talk about you." Cruz winked. "You make me horny, baby."
Mary smiled back. "Oh, you say the nicest things to me."
The song changed.
"I know this." Cruz noted the opening notes. "What is it?"
"Donna Summer singing MacArthur Park." Mary answered. "I remember reading an article where it was voted the worst song ever."
"Obviously the voters were cretins." Cruz shook his head. "This song is a classic. Hey, look, we've got microphones in our hands, and we've been meaning to polish up our karaoke skills anyway. What say you to a duet?"
"Oh, yeah." Mary nodded. "I'm in!"
"Mark, will you be a good fellow and cue this song back to the beginning, without the vocals if you don't mind. The extended version, if you have one."
"Don't forget the disco ball!" Mary perkily reminded him.
"Give me a second." Mark set his camera down and rushed over to the audio controls. He cut in on the airwaves himself. "Calling all Misfits! Grab your instruments, because we are going live in one minute!"
There was a scramble, as the band members rushed from their spots. The still-recording cameras were thrust into the hands of the judges, including a male Worf.
"Just put that on your shoulder, look through this opening and keep your eye on the action." The Misfit gave the Worf directions.
The Worf grunted back, mostly because he didn't understand English. He did seem to know what to do with the camera, though.
Cruz and Mary invaded the ring, watching momentarily as Cummings and his hairy lover were still in deep and satisfying intercourse. The two wrestlers were pretty much ignoring the whole purpose of the match anyway, which was to submit their opponent quickly and decisively. Then the music started up again, live and with a slow synthesizer beat.
"High five, baby." Cruz held his hand out, and Mary smacked it. "Here we go, let's sing it together. Spring was never waiting for us, girl. It ran one step ahead, as we followed in the dance, between the parted pages and were pressed, in love's hot, fevered iron like a striped pair of pants. Hit the chorus, baby."
Mary took over. "MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark. All the sweet, green icing flowing down. Someone left the cake out in the rain. I don't think that I can take it, 'cause it took so long to bake it, and I'll never have that recipe again. Oh, nooo!"
The beat went disco right after those words.
Cruz glanced behind him, mostly so he wouldn't trip over Cummings and his new play buddy, when he noticed that a tremendous amount of hair was falling down all over them.
"How ghastly!" He said, as he took up his turn. "I recall the yellow cotton dress, foaming like a wave, on the ground around your knees. The birds, like tender babies in your hands, and the old men, playing checkers by the trees. You make those high notes sparkle, baby!"
"I will!" Mary promised, as she took up the chorus again.
While she sang, Cruz noticed that the female Worf was shivering in conjunction with Mary's high-pitched exaltations. Even more of her repulsive hair fell from her body. Cruz could see bare patches of skin now.
"We're going to leave you bald, baby!" He called out, as he glanced out to the Worf section of the audience.
In a bizarre twist of circumstances, Cruz saw a couple of Worf women wiping hair away from their breasts by the handful, also leaving them bare. This revealed even more enticing and shapely cleavage. The Worf men stepped in closer to scrutinize the bizarre occurrence for themselves.
"Mary!" Cruz cried out. "Something's happening here! Sing the chorus again, and this time, sing your pretty little heart out!"
"What? Did you forget the words? The teleprompter is right there!"
"Mary, the future of two worlds hangs in the balance!" Cruz insisted. "Give us the performance of your life!"
"I'll give you the performance of my life later." Mary started bouncing up and down on her toes.
The pretty blonde was only now turning and seeing the vast amount of hair the big Worf female had shed. It was all over the place, she noticed, quickly becoming nervous.
"Just do it, Mary!" Cruz shouted. "Disco is about to save the universe!"
Sensing the urgency in the man's voice, Mary went on to belt out such a chorus that it would have made even Donna Summer proud. She elevated the high notes with an ethereal reach that made everyone in the lounge get shivers of ecstasy, and literally shook the hair away from the Worf women. She went on to cover the entire song, not once, but twice. At the end of it, her voice was cracking and ragged, and along with Cruz, they looked around them at the end result.
Cummings was forcing himself to sit up into the lotus position, with the Worf female still astride him. He both spit and tossed away great bundles of hair. The Worf woman, terrified of what was happening to her body, had covered her face. As gently as he could manage it, Cummings parted her hands. For the first time, he saw the outline of a feminine and handsome countenance.
"Holy jumping jellybeans!" Cummings cried out.
Cruz and Mary both saw the Worf males, feeling up the breasts of their females. The males were looking at the curves and nakedness of their females with a wonder they hadn't exhibited before.
Dyme stepped into the ring, holding an electronic pocket translator up to his mouth. "What have you done to our females?"
"Well, we can't rightly say." Cruz admitted, but since Dyme hadn't yet moved the translator up to his ear, he had to repeat himself. "Don't you have music on your planet?"
"No, we do not." Dyme admitted. "We only have battle cries."
"Then there is a very simple explanation for this." Cruz explained. "For eons, we've known that musical frequencies affect humans in both positive and negative ways. What has happened through time is that, obviously, your species has grown much too bitter and warlike. This is because you have forgotten how sweet music can be. You have forgotten harmony, man!"
Mary pointed at the Worf males, which were now becoming excited at the touch and feel of the Worf females. The females were responding affectionately to the attention.
"Can you see that, buster?" Mary asked. "That's how you should be treating your women, instead of pushing and shoving them around like you have been. You play nice, and you get nice back. Why don't you go and feel up one of your women?"
Cummings was bringing the extra big Worf woman up to her feet. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but what is this woman's name?"
Dyme's attention drifted back over, and he said into his translator, "Blurga. She is from an earlier litter, but she's never been able to prove herself in battle. This is why she's never been accepted into a clan."
"Well, I'm taking her up to the shower room to get the rest of this hair off of her." Cummings said. "And after that I'm taking her over to my bunk. We'll be there if you need us."
The stout man started leading the no longer hairy giantess away.
Mary slapped Dyme on the shoulder. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Blurga might have been a nice lady if you'd only let her be. Here your people are trying to turn everybody into hairy bullies."
One of the Worf males called out and said something in Worf language.
Dyme looked back at the two Science Ensigns. "Dom said he wants to have sex with one of the females. For pleasure! That's never happened before in our culture. We usually only have sex to procreate, because we can't stand being around our hairy women."
"That's because the hair reminds you of mature Worf males." Cruz postulated. "But now that we've discovered that the power of disco can cure them of their hairiness, you are able to see for yourselves why we humans refer to our women as the fairer sex."
Dyme glanced over at the pleasing figure of Mary, whom he'd had no trouble getting aroused over earlier. "I believe you may be right."
"You want another go, mister?" Mary threatened. "Because I will set you straight!" She glanced over at Cruz. "Well, we both will, me with the males, and Cruz with the females. We will school the entire lot of you backward Worf people, if it'll help you guys stop picking on everybody that flies around in this section of space."
"This is all so new, I don't know what to say." Dyme looked lost.
"Listen, baby, humanoid males are supposed to have manly hair, but their females are not." Cruz explained. "After living with hairy females for so long, I can see how all of this is coming across as a shock. You must trust me when I say this is the way it is meant to be. You stand to be a vanguard for your people, Dyme. You could very well and literally change the face of your entire species, if you so choose to. If I was in your boots that is exactly what I would do. Take this amazing new discovery back to your people, and especially to your hairy warlords and warriors."
"We'll need your battle anthems." Dyme requested.
"They're not battle anthems, really." Cruz admitted. "They're more like sensual anthems, designed to get people into the mood for love. Hold your hand up like this, man. This is a high-five. If you slap your hand against mine, you will in effect be saying that you are willing to work together with us, in bringing peace between your people and the rest of the space-faring races. It may not be an entirely smooth process, but at least you'll be willing to make the attempt. We will do our best to work together with your species to make this come about."
