This article is part of the The Blue Stripe Logs series.
Decontamination Chamber Prototype 02
Sanitizing Ring Nozzle Wash
I have tested similar technology thoroughly at my fraternity.Day One - I tell Vlad the Recliner that the Vulcan visited and he was not impressed with my design. Vlad clucks at me and says, "Keep tryink, my boy, I am sure you vill come up vith somethink." Yeah, Dracula, everything will be coming up boners if my design works according to plan.
Day Three - This prototype has gone up even quicker than the first, possibly because of my secret motivation. I call it the Sanitizing Ring Nozzle Wash. It involves a white floor-length linen gown that looks like a potato sack and a remote-controlled ring of "sanitizer nozzles" that moves up and down the body. I place a call with Vulcan Affairs and leave a message with T'Pol to stop by as soon as possible to help me with the next trial run through.
I don't think I'm going to bother with the sensor dummy.
Day Five - T'Pol shows up looking even better than I remember. She doesn't even comment on my smoking jacket and pipe. I give her a quick tour of the prototype. After I fully explain how it works she looks at me and sort of arches one of her eyebrows and...Hrrrnk!
Before she submits herself to the prototype process I suggest she sample an internal biotic cleanse I have been developing. It's actually just a vodka and cranberry, but I read on the Internet that these Vulcans have no idea about hard alcohol. She agrees to try my internal whatever I called it, so I mix her up a double and serve it over ice.
It's amazing how well "Just hold still" works on Vulcan babes."That is very unusual," she says. "The flavor is similar to Vulcan port."
I'd like to test the flavor of her Vulcan port if you know what I mean. I think you know what I mean.
After downing the last of her lubricant, she dons the big potato sack and steps into the Sanitizing Ring Nozzle Wash. It functions perfectly. The refrigerated water reservoir has the desired effect and the linen cloth is similarly cooperative. After about thirty seconds it looks like she's wearing a wetsuit made out of tracing paper.
I move the nozzles around and move the ring up and down for about ten minutes. Finally she calls a stop to the proceedings. I think she is angry at me at first, but I can't even try to care because she shucks out of that damn linen sack right in front of me. If she took just a little longer wrapping herself in a towel I think the left side of my body would be paralyzed right now.
"I was nearing hypothermia," she explains, "This is unacceptable."
"I will start all over again, thank you."
I don't even have to ask her this time.
"Let me know when your next design is ready for testing and I will assist."
Assist!? Baby, if only you knew!
Now, inexplicably, season three is looming over us like some sort of dome. Season one's plot asked whether or not the town could get out from under the dome. Apparently the answer was "no". Season two asked "I guess we're really stuck, huh?" and the answer was "yup".
With an average of 40 IPAs added every day, it can be difficult to taste them all
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