Beeping of alert signal. Ensign: Captain, the transporters ready. Captain: That's hip. Lieutenant Marvin, what is the condition Of the planets surface? Marvin: It is difficult to be precise. However, my instruments Indicate a condition of extreme rigor mortis, spreading rapidly Throughout the population. Highly illogical, Captain. Captain: A bunch of stiffs, huh? Well, set coordinates for, ah, Chocolate City, and have a landing party of nine men beam down Immiediately, with phasers set on funk-funk!
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