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!