Picard broke out of his daze as Riker pushed him from behind. "You're holding up the line, ass," said the commander. The two stood in a long line that lead to a log ride that replaced a turbolift after Wesley and Geordi somehow managed to fit a Herby the Love Bug replica on the ship and then tried to fit it in said turbolift. Needless to say, that's another story for another day.

Picard turned around. Riker, wearing pastel-colored swimming trunks and sporting a pair of "sport goggles" on top of his head, put his hands on his hips and frowned gayily. "What's the problem, sir?"

Picard rubbed his forehead. "I...I had this vision. That something terrible was about to happen." He looked up, his eyes growing wider. "WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF THIS LINE!!!!" He began flailing his arms and pushing back against Riker, who fell back against Worf, who happened to be wearing a speedo. Gross.

The lifeguard came over and placed his manly hands on Picard's shoulder. "What's the problem?" he asked soothingly.

Picard turned. "I"ll tell you what's the problem! This flume ride is broken! I saw it! Everybody...oh god, I can't even explain it!" He ran from the line, jumping the turnstyle and taking off down the hallway. Geordi whistled at Picard's ass as he hurried on by.

Riker finally turned back to the lifeguard. "We good to go here?" asked the lifeguard.

"Yeah."

Riker jumped in the first seat, giggling furiously. Behind him sat Worf, then Wesley, then Deanna and Beverly, because lesbians, especially wet ones, have to sit together.

The ride lurched forward and began its journey towards the first drop. Riker threw his hands up, his head bobbing madly as he continued his giggling.
Suddenly, the log car shot down the first drop. Riker's elbow smashed into his restraint bar. He cried in dismay as his funny bone reverberated in pain.

Behind him, Worf's ponytail got caught around the snorkel Wesley was wearing, but because of the speed and the fact that the snorkel had a strap on the back, neither could move. Worf cried like a baby as Wesley tugged on his mouthpiece.

Troi and Crusher dropped their double-headed dildo and watched it spiral away from the car. Suddenly, it hit a piece of the track and bounced back, wobbling in the air, until it smacked Troi in the head and knocked her out. Crusher shrugged, putting her rufees back in her pocket, and resumed the Hot Carl she was giving Troi.

As the ride came to a stop, Riker, still clutching his somewhat hurt arm, saw Picard standing, hands on hips, wearing only a Nike speedo and a smug grin. "I told you everything was going to go wrong, didn't I?" he said, cocking his head in a demeaning fashion.

Riker scowled. "You know, Captain, since you didn't go on the ride, that means something bad is going to happen to you. Death's design will change. You're next!"

Picard laughed. "I highly doubt that, Number One." Suddenly, he made a surprised face as a midget ran up from behind, climbed a stepstool he had been carrying for just such an occasion, depantsted the captain, and began having his way with Picard's ass.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" He screamed.

"Owww," moaned Worf, the snorkel still hanging from his hair. Wesley lay unconsious in a corner.

"Hot-Carl-related noises," said Crusher.

"Ha ha ha," said not-quite-naked Riker, hands on hips.