Though I have spent years, simply years, disassociating myself from my rude family, I felt called upon to send MY literature to your little newsgroup. As you will notice, I have followed the only rational plot line possible. Please amend your own writing efforts in compliance. Thank you.
Commander Spock in Love
By Very Refined Person
Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy stood on either side of the command chair.
"Are you tryin' to call me an idiot, Spock?", demanded McCoy.
"I am not attempting to do anything, doctor, I AM calling you an idiot," the calm Vulcan replied.
"Why you pointy-eared s.o.b.," spluttered McCoy, " I don't know why I even bother talking to you."
McCoy stomped off the bridge in high dudgeon.
Kirk swiveled slightly in his command chair, gazing up at Spock, his eyes shining, his lips flushed and slightly parted. "A chess game later, Mr. Spock?"
"I have made other plans, Captain, perhaps some other night."
Kirk's entire body slumped in dismay as Spock strode off the bridge.
Spock hesitated slightly in front of the sickbay door. Was this what they both wanted? Yes, he affirmed to himself, and was quickly assured of his decision's correctness by the sight of a nude, erect McCoy draped across his own examining table. THIS was what Spock has dreamed of...THIS would be the fulfillment of his desire, for who else on board could possibly fulfill the role of t'hyla better than the good doctor?