Kirk and Spock Go Ice Fishing
or
If My Aunt From Minnesota Wrote Fanfic

(c) 1998 Jungle Kitty

Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright applies only to the creative content and her original characters.


Well, doncha know, Kirk and Spock were out for a Sunday drive in their new shuttlecraft, wearin' their good clothes, and gettin' pretty good mileage to boot. Just cruisin' along, not exceedin' the speed limit--they're good boys, ya know--when the durn thing breaks down. It's still got the gosh-durn dealer plates on, but it's deader than the bacon we had for breakfast.

So they crash on the nearest planet, which turns out to be colder than Duluth in January. But they walk around the shuttlecraft a couple of times, shakin' their heads.

"Looks like we're stuck here, Spock."

"Looks like."

"Might have some good ice-fishin', though."

"Ya, sure, might have."

Well, yumpin' yiminy, it starts to rain, of all things! So they grab all the food their mothers packed for them and high-tail it into a cave. Seems like things couldn't get much worse, but just as Jimmy's cuttin' into the sour cream coffee cake, doncha know Spock comes down with the pon farr.

Well, for gosh sakes! This place is more deserted than the Elks Club on Sunday mornin' and there's not a young lady in sight, let alone a pretty blonde one from a nice family so you could settle down and start givin' your mother some grandchildren. But Spock's turnin' greener than the sprinkles on the Christmas cookies.

"Spock, are ya feelin' urpy?"

Well, the Vulcan's gone more silent than my dead Uncle Poot, so Kirk offers him everything in the cupboard. Bubble-Up, chips and dip, red jello with carrots in it (he even tries puttin' a dollop of Miracle Whip on top, knowin' how them Vulcans like salad), three kinds of pie, even the Rice Krispie bars that he was savin' for company. Spock refuses 'em all, even when Kirk tells him polite, "Please eat 'em, Spock. Then I can wash the pan."

Finally he offers to reheat Amanda's hotdish, and even crumple some fresh Lay's potato chips on top, and Spock throws it against the wall! Well, they can never go home now, not after breakin' Amanda's good hotdish dish.

Kirk is gettin' fed up and impatient for an afternoon nap, so he sits Spock down and says, "Now you just listen up here, young mister. Straighten up and fly right, or I'll knock ya into the middle of next week."

"Jim, it's the pon farr, doncha know."

"Well, I swan!" says Kirk. He hasn't been this surprised since the firehouse burned down. But he didn't just fall off the turnip truck. He grew up on a farm, he knows what the pon farr means, and he shoulda seen it comin' a mile off. He knows there's no jollyin' Spock out of this with the latest Sven and Ollie joke, even if it is a dilly.

Meanwhile, Spock is thinkin' that those tight pants have Jim's behind wrapped up prettier than the prize bundt cake at the church bazaar.

"Any chance I can slip ya the sausage?" Spock asks.

Kirk is pretty sure he isn't talkin' about the one in the bottom of the picnic basket that his Uncle Snowball gave him for his birthday. You know Jim's Uncle Snowball, doncha? Lives up to the Twin Cities? Nice fella, for an albino. Now what was I sayin'? No, don't tell me. Oh ya, ya. So Kirk gives Spock a lookover, never havin' thought about somethin' unnatural like that. Jimmy's had more girls than you can shake a stick at. He's a real heartbreaker who's given his mother plenty of grandchildren, but none of them named Kirk, if you get my drift.

"Well," he thinks, "Spock's kinda funny lookin', like all his folks, but he's a good boy, not full of sass like a few I could name. I'd hate to lose such a good friend, especially when he's got those tickets to the ice hockey, and it can't be worse than that trip up to the lake when Sam and me durn near got bit to death by mosquitoes. And god willing, it'll be over soon and we can have a bowl of cereal and go to sleep."

"So what do ya say there, Jim? I need an answer on the double. Can ya help me out here?"

"Ya, you betcha."

So they take off their good clothes and fold 'em neat-- they're good boys, ya know--and I'm not gonna tell ya what they did, because ya know durn well, and if ya don't--Well, go ask your cousin Marl, he went to Grand Forks once and got into all kinds of trouble before we brought him home. Married my neighbor's girl Peggy last spring, ya know, the one with six toes on her right foot. Episcopalian, but good folk. And doncha know that girl can dance.

All right, stop all that noise and I'll finish the story. Turns out that the pon farr is a durn sight nicer than bein' bit by mosquitoes, so Jim and Spock switch places and go again. Seems only fair, doncha know?

And when they're done, they have some milk and cookies, and just as they're settlin' down for a good nap, Doctor McCoy shows up. Well, it's wake up and smell the lutefisk. He feels kinda bad, doncha know, because he's got a special sausage he was plannin' to give Jim for Christmas, but it's clear that, come December, it won't be his sausage that Jim'll be warmin'. So he cuts himself a good size piece of yellow cake with the chocolate pudding frosting and says, "Now if that don't beat all."

Wasn't that a heckuva deal?

[The End]


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