DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The poem is the creation and property of Dixie G. Owen and is copyright (c) 1981 by Dixie G. Owen. This story originally appeared in In a Plain Brown Wrapper #2.



In a Plain Brown Wrapper

Dixie G. Owen



Along about nine I was writing a line

To a girl I met on N'Grappa.

From the door came a knock, which proved to be Spock,

In a plain brown Vulcan wrapper.



"Why, Mr. Spock," I said with some shock,

"Why are you undressed in the hall?"

(I saw at a glance that he needed some pants,

As he sidled in, close to the wall.)



Not a word did he say, as I noted the way

His robe was hiked up from the hem.

I drew back aghast, when he murmured, "At last!"

And, reaching out, hoarsely cried, "Jim!"



"Not me, Spock," I cried, leaping nimbly aside,

"You really must know that I'm straight!

The women I've had say I'm truly not bad ..."

But on he came, mumbling, "Too late."



I was over the bed, round and round while I said,

(Quite reasonably I would have thought)

"The regs of Star Fleet say rape's indiscreet,

It's out on your buns, I was taught!"



Speaking of which, in an unnoticed switch,

His robe was now down on the floor.

Plain to be seen, with a most verdant sheen

Was the fabulous burden he bore.



I brushed past his gland while reaching my hand

For the intercom there on the wall;

But such was his state that my grasp was too late --

I felt myself starting to fall!



My shirt hit the door, my boots hit the floor;

Spock ripped off my belt and my pants.

I dodged a neck pinch but gained not an inch

As pon farr just tightened its trance.



He lifted me high, ignoring my cry,

And covered the room with swift tread.

So much for my credo, so much for aikido --

Now I was trapped in my bed.



His eyes were aflame, his body the same,

As he swiftly moved to begin;

My hands were held fast, immobile at last,

And I braced for the shock with chagrin.



I woke with a start and with pounding of heart,

And clutched my companionate napper;

I grumped, "Of course, there's no need for force,"

And pulled up his plain Vulcan wrapper!



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