The problim wift yoozin tecknologee to find Captin Nemo is that it tayk so long. Shur, yu say, I gots a fansee spaceship an som verree attraktiv crew memberz (Mr. Tygr is blushin). Don’t that mean that yu kin has them turn some dialz an then speak some kinda incomprensobbul dialog that meens, in short, “Gotcha!”?
Well, no, not so mutch. Theez things takys tim an every thin has to be recalibrated all the tim, cuz artifishul grabity is a trickier thin than it look on TV shoz about the 23rd centree. So we akshul does a lot of sittin around waytin. An this is not gud.
Cuz, yu see, when we are sittin around, it not onlee the crew sittin around in the ship. It is also the ship sittin in one place scannin. An that mean that our pilot got tim on her hands. An so she desiderayted to brush me. Huh.
She sed she gottid this idea about brushin enugf fur outta me to mayk a new kittee, lik Mini-Musashi, whu wud be lik a littul brothr I cud boss around and also he cud be part of the crew. But whut I need a littul brothr fer when I gots Mom?
So I sez, “Captin Kirk didn’t hav nobody brushin his hair fer him!”
An she sez, “He didn’t need to. He oiled it down.”
And she sez, “Corse not, silly. He was bald.”
So I sez, “Wull, Captin Janeway—”
An she sounded seerius, so I ran an hid unner the chair, wher she don’t fit, an I mayded a video an put it on YouTube, lookin fer a guru.
Halp me, Obi-Wearin Kernobi, yu ar mai onliest hope!!!