Computer: “Counselor Troi has been notified.”
Captain, the ship’s computer shows that replicator comfort meals are up a whopping %4000. I think you should reconsider your “always on red alert” crew readyness policy.
The apostrophe is not needed. Nothing belongs to the spaghettios.
The Spaghettios cannot be trusted with belongings. They know what they did.
That’s why they look like zeroes to reflect this fact.
Oh you are so wrong, my friend. The Spaghetti-Os possess many things. Some of them even spiritual.
The Spaghettio guy is a person, and they deserve our respect.
On the one hand: no matter what you replicate it’s ethical, nutritious, and good for you. There are literally no bad choices for your body.
On the other: you have access to a bottomless culinary database that spans innumerable diets, cultures, broad swaths of history… and you order Chef Boyardee’s finest with a few saltines. I think it’s time to talk to the ship’s counselor, because nobody should be eating struggle meals in a post-scarcity society.
Struggle meals have a charm, honestly. Its simple, if I had billions of dollars I’d still eat it.
“We wouldn’t have to eat Kraft dinner!”
“But we would eat Kraft dinner.”
“Of course we would! We’d just eat more!”
And buy really expensive ketchups with it. Dijon ketchups.
With all of the fanciest ketchups!
Fuck yes I am. Hostess cupcakes for dessert.
But what if I want to eat trash food that’s bad for my body to punish myself for having the audacity to continue to exist?
Computer:
That option does not exist in the replicator database. Please seek medical attention if you are contemplating self-harm.Fine, fine. Guess I’ll just go lick the warp core!
Luke warm is for Star Wars fans.
The saltines are a nice touch.
Who are they putting on airs for? Speghettios needs no accompaniment.
I have it admit, It’s actually a bit unnerving to see someone put effort into spaghettios.
Do these taste like metal to anyone else?
Only if you eat then out of a can like a monster! But yeah sometimes they also taste like metal. It goes well with barely expired managers special milk, though.
Banana. Hot. Banana. Hot.
Can imagine my ex asking “Computer, open can of raviolis, room temperature”.
Needs potato chips.
Hmm, tastes like tauntaun.
Ensign, you are relieved of duty and are to report to the Counselor immediately for mental evaluation.
Saltines, eh? I may need to try that sometime…
