Title: Dear Miss Lovelorn

Author: Jungle Kitty

Series: TOS (Star Trek: The Original Series)

Posted: 2/4/02

Character codes: Too many to list, humor

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please. If you post comments to ASC, please cc: me at kittyjungle@earthlink.net

Archive: ASC, BLTS, and WWOMB yes, all others please ask

Summary: Letters from TOS characters to an advice columnist.

Thanks to Wildcat and Laurel for beta-reading.

This work of parody is protected under U.S. copyright law.

DEAR MISS LOVELORN
By Jungle Kitty
(c) 2002

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I can't believe I'm writing to you. I'm a professional woman with a degree in psychology, but my current situation has me bewildered. There's a man here who struts around like he's god's gift and makes improper remarks to every woman he meets. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I find myself strangely attracted to this sexist pig, even though he called me a walking freezer unit. (I'm a little on the reserved side.) I don't know why I feel this attraction--he's a little creepy. Sometimes he gets this strange look in his eye and I get the feeling he knows what I'm thinking.

I've been handling my sexual urges with a discreetly hidden vibrator, but now I'm thinking about a flesh-and-blood alternative. When it comes to men, I have always demanded respect, but with this guy, I'd settle for a roll in the hay and breakfast the next morning.

Does this sound strange to you?

Wanting to Give Up the Batteries and Rev Up the Real Thing

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Could you please reprint the poem about the plain yet hardy vegetable that provided all that was necessary for the rest of the garden to flower? I think the first couple of lines were:

Flowers are pretty, and the air they may sweeten,

But veggies give strength and they need to be eaten.

I think my husband, a dilithium miner, could use a reminder. And the other two women on this planet would appreciate it, too.

Unappreciated on Rigel XII

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Hi. I'm having a problem with this guy at work. Actually, he's a teenager who's been more or less dumped on us. Anyway, he keeps mooning after me and practically stalking me. He's kinda weird and spooky, and I'm getting very creeped out. I really like this job and I have kind of a crush on my boss. I'm afraid he'll get in big trouble if I file harassment charges and they find out he didn't do anything about it. Any advice on how I can get this kid to quit bothering me?

Too Blonde For My Own Good

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm really puzzled over something I hope you can explain. A friend of mine died when he freaked out and stabbed himself with a butter knife. He was a young, healthy guy, and I don't know, the part about the butter knife just bothers me. Could you ask your medical experts about this? The doctor here has his hands full most of the time, and I think he must have missed something.

Starting to Freak Out, Too

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I have been estranged from my father for many years, but I recently saw a man who looks exactly like him under most unusual circumstances. My mother is emotionally high-strung and sensitive so I hesitate to ask her about it, but I think I have a right to know if my father has gone over to the Romulans. In researching advisors such as yourself, I have found your logic to be impeccable, so I will bow to your superior wisdom in this matter.

Your information distribution device would be incapable of displaying my full name so I will merely sign this with my approximate I.Q.

337.50283029567

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I wrote to you earlier about the guy at work who was bothering me. Like you advised, I contacted his family and they took him home. So thanks, you're the best.

Now I'm having a different problem. To put it in a nutshell, my boss was having some personal problems and assaulted me. It was all a mix-up and I've forgiven him, but I'm still bothered by the way his friends assumed *he* was innocent and *I* was just some flaky girl. One of them made a very offensive remark to me, something about my attacker being "interesting." I'm thinking of filing charges, because this guy really needs sensitivity training. But his father is a very big deal, and he's close friends with the boss and the other guy involved in the investigation. (They hushed the whole thing up, by the way, but I don't mind that so much because it turned out that my attacker was someone else who looked exactly like my boss.)

I guess this is more complicated than I thought.

Anyway, what do you think?

Too Blonde For My Own Good

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

My fiancee disappeared several years ago, but we recently ran into each other again. It looked like we were going to pick up where we left off (despite a few disturbing friends who had latched onto him), but then I discovered he'd downloaded himself into an android that these friends had built for him! Well, to make a long story short, I dumped him and he died shortly afterwards. (Actually, he was killed in a murder-suicide that I witnessed!)

Well, here's the thing. I keep thinking of all the wonderful things they do with computers nowadays, and I'm starting to believe I acted in haste. I know there's no way of bringing him back or recapturing our special magic, but my friends say some new clothes and a good vibrator will perk me right up. They know me pretty well, and I'm usually very happy to follow their advice, but I've always been a nice girl and I keep worrying about what people would think if they knew I had a vibrator. (There was a lady doctor here who died recently, and you wouldn't believe the scandal when they cleaned out her bedside stand.)

Frigid and Forlorn

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I know it's a mistake to listen to gossip, but I recently heard something that's driving me crazy. I was involved with a boy (I'll call him "Jim") when we were in college. We were very close and almost got married. Over the years, we lost touch with each other, but I've always remembered him fondly. The other day I heard that he went to some wild vacation spot where they gave him an artificial girl who looked just like me. He spent his entire vacation with this "date." The reason I didn't marry him is he wanted to do sick things that have no place in a loving relationship, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised. But even so, I feel used and betrayed. What should I do?

Ruth

P.S. Do you need to know about the sick things? I'd feel funny writing it down. Maybe we could get together for coffee sometime and talk about it.

Oh, dear, I'll be late for my hair appointment.

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

There's a fellow I went to school with and we never got along. He was always much too sensitive about the most harmless pranks and was a grim little son-of-a-bitch as well. I haven't seen him since I graduated 15 years ago, and I had completely forgotten about him until now.

Recently, I heard that he was on some planet where you can live out your fantasies. The little bastard had them conjure up an android of me so he could beat it up. (The truth of the matter is he would never be able to lay a hand on me, not now or back then.) To add insult to injury, he had them playing this fey "Irish" music the whole time. I'm Irish, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's the ugly cultural stereotype that music represents. The Irish aren't little leprechauns dancing on the green and eating Lucky Charms for breakfast, you know.

Is this a hate crime?

A proud son of Erin

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Hi, it's me again. (Too Blonde) Thanks for your help, but the whole assault thing blew over, and things are looking up for me. Remember my boss that I told you I have a crush on? Yesterday, we were in a life or death situation, and I came up with a really clever way of making coffee for him. He was very impressed! I'm really proud of myself because in my last performance evaluation, he said I had to show more initiative. I think our romance may be off the ground at last!

I guess I don't have a problem for you to solve right now, but I thought you'd like to know.

Too Blonde For My Own Good

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm twelve years old and my father has been killed by a good friend of his. (In fact, I'm named after this "friend.") The man keeps saying he's innocent, but there's no question he's guilty as heck, and I want to make sure he's convicted. The prosecutor says the best way I can do that is to be in court every day, looking sad and alone. She also bought me a sailor suit with silver trim that she says I should wear. She says it will make me look younger and more innocent, and make him look worse.

I don't see how it will make *him* look worse, when *I'll* be the one wearing a horrible baby's dress, and *he's* probably going to wear his dress uniform with all his medals. I hate this stupid dress, it makes me look fat!

I'd like to trust this lawyer because everyone says she's very smart, but she used to be his girlfriend and I think she might be trying to throw the case.

I'm right, aren't I?

Sad and Alone, But Not Stupid

P.S. I think I should change my name, too. The lawyer suggested Fanny. I think Fanny Finney sounds awful.

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Captain Christopher Pike
[auto-signature]

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Hi, it's me (Too Blonde) again. I can't believe how bad my luck is. My boss (the one I have a crush on) seemed to be showing an interest in me, but then we went on this trip with some other people. We all got sick and he was very nice to me, which I thought might be a step towards us finally getting serious about each other, but now I'm afraid he was turned off by the ugly sores I got when I was sick.

I'm thinking I should quit this job and start fresh somewhere else. What do you think?

Too Blonde For My Own Good

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm a junior officer on a starship. I was recently promoted and thought I was doing very well, but suddenly and without explanation, I was sent back down to Engineering. Now I'm working the beta shift, and all I do is sit around and monitor radiation levels, which leaves me a lot of time to think.

In the past couple of months, the captain has beaten up an artificial Irishman just for fun and stood trial for murdering a real Irishman.

Did I mention that I'm Irish?

We've got a Scottish cartoon for a chief engineer so maybe the captain figures we belong together, but this Scot is so thick-headed he thinks the captain is a fine fellow and I'm just being paranoid.

What do you think?

O'Boy Do I Hate Engineering

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I recently ran into an old flame. I remember him as being very reserved and shy, and my feelings were always stronger than his. But this time, our romance really took off. He was warm and attentive. He even took me on a picnic, and we lay in the grass looking at clouds. (I saw one that looked like a ducky.) Then I found out his loving behavior was due to an all-natural hallucinogen we had been exposed to. The effects have worn off, and now he's cold as ice again.

Are you sure drugs are never the answer?

Not Enjoying Rehab

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I hope you can help us, we don't know where else to turn. Our son has always been a bit of a problem, but we've finally had to face the fact that he's completely out of control. We've given him all the best creative play scenarios, but he turns each of them into something ugly. We recently caught him just as he was about to kill a human he'd forced into a bizarre hunting game. I'm very worried, because I've been told that children who are cruel to dumb animals frequently grow up to be hardened criminals.

My little boy needs help. Do you know a good child psychologist who won't be intimidated by a ten-year-old boy with lots of energy, a vivid imagination, and the power to manipulate matter and energy? It's really just high spirits.

Ashamed to Show My Face

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I've seen you give some bad advice, but telling Too Blonde to find a new job because she'll never get her boss into bed was about the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I've never failed to get what I want from a man. They're so easy to lead. Their heads are completely empty anyway, so all you have to do is fill it with thoughts of you. I like to keep a man off-balance. Sometimes I act cool and professional, other times coy and reluctant (especially during that all-important first kiss), and sometimes I'm the biggest c*cktease you ever saw. I sometimes let months pass between our first embrace and the moment when I finally have him on his knees crying for it.

To give you an example: At a Christmas party four months ago, I danced with a very attractive man, and the spark between us was immediate and incendiary. But I've deliberately avoided him since then. I want to be completely in control of our next meeting, so I can tease him with the memory of how badly he wanted me. Nothing turns a man on like seeing a beautiful woman smirking at him, because he knows he's not going to get any until she's good and ready.

I'm a psychologist, and I know these things.

"Helen Bed"

P.S. Too Blonde, if you're reading this, there's one never-fail way to land a guy you want. Take him to visit a penal colony. Seeing other men go berserk over you (because they haven't had any in ages and aren't about to get any) is the best way to make him aware of the what he's passing up.

***

me gorn
gorn big
gorn strong
gorn eye shiny
gorn want
lovelorn woman of gorn

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm a mother in a bad situation. I've always made a good home for my family, but now the wrong kind of people have moved in and are ruining our neighborhood. I'm afraid to go out into the tunnels, but I have to get silicone to feed the children. Last time I left them alone, some of them were actually killed and others were kidnapped! I'm very upset, but I'm trying to stay rock-solid for the sake of my other children. I think I should kill some of these monsters to scare off the others. I'm very strong and fast. What do you think?

Devoted Mother

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I've recently met a man who is intelligent, warmhearted, and fun to be with. (I'll call him "Joe.") We think alike on many important issues and dream the same dreams for the future. However, all my friends say I should end the relationship before it gets serious. He's unemployed and is evasive about his past. (This is more of an issue for my friends than for me, since I'm a social worker and meet people like him all the time. Their troubles usually aren't their own fault, and all they need is a hot bowl of soup and an inspiring lecture.)

I recently caught Joe and his friend "Steve" stealing. Steve sticks to Joe like glue, which I think could be the problem. Steve likes to play around with things he doesn't understand, such as electrical equipment. I think he may be a firebug. I fear he encourages Joe to join him in dangerous and illegal activities. I'm on edge all the time worrying about Joe. His true self is noble and self-sacrificing, and I feel that I've met my destiny in him.

Please help.

Slum Angel

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I've got a serious problem, much worse than most teenagers. A few months ago, my two younger brothers and I were merged in a transporter accident and now we're all in one body. Our parents (both scientists) were trying to find a solution when they were killed by the aliens who invaded Deneva. Now we're living with our grandmother in Iowa. She can't cope at all, so I always have to take care of the other two. I'm really sick of "Hey, I hit me!" "I'm making faces at me!" "I'm smarter than I am!" I know Peter and Bobby are just kids, but they're making this whole thing worse.

I talked to a doctor and he said he might be able to do something if we had two bodies for Bobby and me to be transferred to. (Right now, we're all in Peter's.) They have to be live bodies but with no minds or souls. Please print this letter so your readers can help me find two human male bodies, ages 10 and 14.

Please please help! I've met this really nice girl, but every time I get near her, I start yelling, "Ew! A girl! I've got a cru-ush, I've got a cru-ush."

Greg

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm writing to thank you for the excellent advice you gave me several months ago. I was the girl who was in love with one man and engaged to another whom I hadn't seen since I was seven years old. Thank you so much for setting me straight. You're right, marriage to the wrong person is to be avoided at all costs.

Happily Married in Shikahr

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm really in a fix. I was involved in what I thought was an innocent Halloween prank. As part of the prank, I played the part of a beautiful woman with magical powers and an incredible wardrobe. Well, things went wrong, and now as punishment, I've been returned to my original body, which I'm sorry to say bears a strong resemblance to a badly made pipe-cleaner figure. I much preferred being a beautiful woman with magical powers and an incredible wardrobe. I would really try to do better if given a second chance. Any suggestions?

Learned My Lesson

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Six years ago, right after my husband died, I found myself homeless, pregnant, and on the run. I ended up giving birth in a cave. Luckily, one of the two men who befriended me had some medical experience. I was so grateful to these two gentlemen (I'll call them "Lester" and "Jeff") that I named my son after them. Now he's in school, and the other children are unbelievably cruel to him because his name is so ridiculous. I've tried to tell him he should be proud to be named after the two heroic gentlemen who saved our lives at the risk of their own, but my little one is too young to understand that. It breaks my heart to see him so unhappy. I'm profoundly grateful to Lester and Jeff, but I think my son would be better off with a less unusual name. He says he wishes his name was Aka Aka Bo Bak Banana Fana Fo Fak. I like the musicality of it, and he'd have a much easier time fitting in. Would it be ungrateful of me to change my son's name? And if I do, should I tell Lester and Jeff? (I have to admit I'm a little disappointed in them. Neither one has ever sent even a birthday card to his namesake.)

L.J.'s Mother

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

A man with a incredible powers fell in love with me, and for a while, he treated me like a goddess. But he was used to getting his own way in everything and could never take no for an answer. A friend talked me into leaving him, but when I did, he got abusive. He threw me to the ground, and then he got very tall and blew on me really hard. That's not a typo, he blew ON me with gale-force breath.

He's dead now, and I'm pregnant. To make matters worse, I have more gas than Jupiter. My doctor says he's sure nothing is wrong, although he finally admitted that I'm one for the record books. He came to this brilliant conclusion after I blasted him into the outer office during my last exam.

This doctor's just a G.P. I think I should see an obstetrician, and perhaps a meteorologist specializing in wind study. You wouldn't happen to know of anyone with expertise in both areas, would you?

Gaseous Anomaly

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

While exploring a remote area of space, we gave a lift to an old robot who seemed to need our help. At first, it was kind of cute, but then it killed a couple of people and I was actually mind-
wiped! (I've recovered, thanks to the support of my friends and co-workers.)

Please, please warn your readers to never pick up hitch-hikers!

Nearly Incommunicado Permanently

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I've been involved with a very strong, sexy man (I'll call him "Kurt") for a couple of years, but recently, he's been losing interest in me. The other day, I met a man who looks just like him
(I'll call him "Curt"). In fact, they're so much alike that at first, I thought he was Kurt. But that's where the resemblance ends. In personality, they are as different as dark and light. Curt is warm and understanding, while Kurt has no interest in me as a person at all. I'm just a job perk to him. (Did I mention that he's my commanding officer?) I would much rather be with Curt and tried to go with him when he left, but his travel plans had been made in advance and couldn't be changed. I have no way of getting in touch with Curt, so I'm not sure how he'd feel if I just showed up. I don't know what to do. I look in the mirror every day and see the woman I know I could be, in another time or another place with the right man.

There's no way I can make the trip without Kurt knowing about it, and I'm afraid of what he'll do to me if he finds out. He's always been unstable, and now he's under a lot of pressure because people are trying to kill him. Should I just wait and hope they succeed?

M.M.

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I was recently assigned to a starship and I'm a little uncomfortable around my new commanding officer. He's very attentive and I think he wants us to be more than friends. But I've heard he was recently involved with someone who looks just like me. It was a very brief romance, but some weird stuff went on that no one will talk about. I find him very attractive, but I don't want to get involved in some dark fantasy.

Any suggestions?

M.M.

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I've had a lot of girlfriends. A LOT. Part of the reason I took my present assignment was to get away from all these women making demands on me. The problem is, they keep showing up everywhere I go, no matter how much distance I put between us.

Just last week, this one named Jan showed up, acting like we'd had something really big going on at one point. I didn't have a clue who she was! I've had a lot of Janices in my life, and it never works out. I'm starting to think there's a jinx on that name. I used to have a cute little blonde named Janice working for me, and let me tell you, she was HOT. But I never touched her, and believe me, that's not the way I usually respond to a beautiful woman who's begging for it. But I just couldn't keep track of one more. (Although I did get a volume discount on rings engraved "To Janice from Jim." And you won't BELIEVE how many women think every ring
is an engagement ring. Now I give them books or bubble bath.)

Anyway, this one from last week showed up here for no discernable reason and started hanging around. I'm a busy man and I didn't have time for her. (I think she was a little insulted when I asked her if we have any children together, but a guy's got a right to know, doesn't he?) Then she had the audacity to offer me a pity f*ck just because my hair was going a little gray. (She hadn't aged too well herself. Have you ever noticed how bad a pudgy blonde looks once she's over thirty-five?)

Why do these women keep bothering me? (Well, I know *why* <wink> but SHEESH! Get a life, gals!) A couple of my friends have the same problem, but not on the scale that I have.

I've considered getting a restraining order, but I've got my reputation to think of. And besides, who has the time to list them all? I think there are at least fifteen just named Janice! And forget about last names.

Am I being unreasonable?

"Tomcat"

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

You had a letter recently from my grandson, Greg. To refresh your memory, he and his brothers, Peter and Bobby, were in a tragic transporter accident and were merged into one body (Peter's). Yesterday, I got a letter from a stranger who signed himself H.M. He enclosed a picture of my son (the boys' uncle) surrounded by 20 women, all of whom looked exactly alike! H.M. said he has the ability to create as many android bodies as he wants, built to any
specification. He offered to help my grandson(s), but only if my son would give him a lift home.

I asked my son to do this and he flat-out refused! He says H.M. is a dangerous criminal and he can't let him loose. I don't care if he's Colonel Green, we need his help!

Please print this letter. Maybe if my son sees it, he'll realize how heartless he's being. And maybe he'll stop running around with so many women, too. I'm not a prude, but 20 at once is at least 17 too many!

I have to go now. I think my grandson just pushed himself down the stairs.

Heartbroken Grandma

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm a compulsive eater, and to make it worse, the more I eat, the more babies I have. I like the food, but could do without the babies. Where can I get some good birth control?

Fat and Furry

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm a slave, and I'm sick and tired of people thinking that's a bad thing. I have it pretty good. I know a lot of free people who would kill to live in a palace and wear beautiful clothes all day.
Just last week, my owner was going to execute this incredibly sexy man and ordered me to make his last hours happy ones. He escaped later, but you can bet he was smiling when he left. If they recapture him, I plan to ask my owner to give me to him as a gift again, and I know he will. How many free people have a boss who would do that?

I hope you will print this letter.

Property of Claudius Marcus and Proud of It

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

This is very embarrassing. I'm the captain of a starship, and something keeps happening to my shirts. They used to wear quite well, but now they fall apart from everyday wear and tear, and
sometimes they rip for no reason at all. I also seem to have fewer of them than I used to, so when the one I'm wearing gets torn, I have a terrible time finding another one to put on.

And it's not just shirts. A few months ago, my usual workout apparel was replaced by red tights! For god's sake! A man doesn't wear red tights unless he's lost a bet and has to play the lead in a drag production of "Henry V in Hell." I wouldn't have come out of the locker room if my yeoman hadn't been nagging me to do something about a horny teen-ager who was following her around.

I treat my crew well, and up until now, I've never had any reason to doubt their respect for me. I hate to say this, but I suspect my bridge officers may be playing a joke on me. Whenever I'm in my quarters, half-naked and trying to find a whole shirt to put on, one of them calls me on the visi-comm. You'd think busy professionals would have better things to do with their time, especially when we're playing host to a very difficult group of diplomats. It never stops! Yesterday, one of the diplomats was murdered, and I was late getting to the crime scene because I didn't have anything to wear!

I like a good laugh as well as the next man, but Starfleet Command recently started making visual recordings of onboard activities, and I hate the thought of the admiralty compiling a blooper reel of shirtless captain shots for their annual drunken debauche. If I find out who's behind this, heads will roll.

Shirtless K.

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

An old friend of mine recently visited us. While he was here, he was poisoned by a mugatu and would have died if my wife hadn't been there. Now my wife has the hots for him. This has happened before with other men and I'm sick of it. Is it OK if I kill them both? I'm the tribal leader here so I'm not worried about going to jail or anything.

Mad as Hell and Not Going To Take It Anymore

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm in the military and was lucky enough to be assigned to one of the best ships in the Fleet. The captain has more decorations than a Christmas tree, and everyone loves serving under him. Well, here's the story. About ten years ago, the captain served with my father. He's invited me to his quarters a few times to tell me some "tall tales" about my father.

Frankly, these stories are disgusting. I know my old man never hesitated to boldly go (in fact, I think he may have invented it), but this stuff can't possibly be true. The captain swears on his
honor that he's not making it up. Should I ask my mother? She'd know, right?

Shook-Up Son

***

Hey, Miss Lovelorn!

A coupla weeks ago, I helped a coupla joes put da bag on a guy whose initials are B.O. I ain't kiddin', dem's his initials. Anyway, dese guys promised me a piece of da action, but after da
hit, dey skipped town and never paid off. I know dey're in big wit da Feds (hell, at one point, dey claimed to *be* da Feds), but even da Feds gotta go by da book, right?

I wanna put a hit out on them, but da problem is I lost all my dough in a card game and I ain't gotta chance of winning it back. You ever play Fizzbin? I tink dere's something crooked about dat game.

Junior

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Is it always wrong for a teacher to get involved with a student? I ask because I've recently been assigned to train a man I find immensely attractive. This training involves close physical contact, and it's obvious that the attraction is mutual. My provider likes me and would keep us together permanently if I asked. He's the first man I've met who's opposed to gambling (a chronic problem around here), so please tell me this is okay.

Drill Thrall in Love

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm in the military and assigned to a starship that doesn't get shore leave very often, and it's starting to show. I think the two senior officers are cracking. Every time I turn around, they're
dressing up as medieval peasants, rent boys in tight jeans, or gangsters. Today it was Nazis, and they expected me to join in! Dammit, this is a starship, not a summer stock company!

As Chief Medical Officer, I'm responsible for checking the psychiatric condition of all personnel, but frankly, I don't want to get too close to these two. I'd report them to HQ, but I'm afraid that would drive them over the edge completely. The Hippocratic Oath says "First, do no harm." However, the Bureaucratic Corollary says, "Second, cover your ass."

What's your take on all this?

A Simple Country Doctor

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

There's a man (I'll call him "Calvin") who has led a group of us on a long journey to this galaxy. He's an inspiring leader, and without him, I doubt we would have survived. Although there's been some attraction between us for quite a while, he's always had trouble getting in touch with his feelings. Well, he finally started to open up, which would be a good thing except I've changed, too, and now I'm more open to new experiences. Recently, I spent a little time with a guy who is a great kisser, and now I see how backwards Calvin is sexually. Calvin is very jealous and has forbidden me to spend any time with the other man. I want to dump Calvin, but we're several thousand light-years from home, and if it doesn't work out with this other guy, I'll be stranded.

Too Far From Home

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

After many years of non-corporeal existence, my husband and I were finally able to borrow a couple of bodies for a few hours. We had a great time! But then my husband decided it would be best if we just blew away into the cosmos. (He's kind of a high-minded know-it-all, but I love him anyway.) I agreed to go along with it, but now the novelty of being less than dust through all eternity is wearing thin. Any advice?

Wispy

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Recently we switched over to a new computer system. At first it seemed to work fine, but then we started having problems. The onsite tech support (ha!) said to shut down and re-install our old system software. We couldn't shut it down, so we unplugged it, but the thing had a battery life as long as nuclear waste's and didn't recognize any of the remote kill commands. After that, things rapidly deteriorated, and the stupid machine almost killed over 400 people.

It turns out that the designer was nuts. We're slapping the manufacturer with a big lawsuit, but I wanted to warn your readers to never, ever upgrade their software until the dot-one release.

Not a Luddite but Starting to Understand Their Way of Thinking

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I wrote to you recently about being on a starship where the two senior officers are acting like Judy and Mickey putting on a show in Grandpa's barn. I haven't heard from you yet, but the situation here is getting serious. I suspect we're going on "missions" just so they can wear their new outfits. Yesterday, we went back in time and visited Cape Canaveral, don't ask me why because I don't know. I guess the boys are into polyester this week. I don't know what the hell they were supposed to be, looked like car salesmen to me.

On the return trip, we stopped in the 1980's and they beamed down alone. They came back a couple hours later with shopping bags from the Gap for Village People, so God knows what we're in for next.

I'm starting to think this *is* a summer stock company! As a great Southern lady once said, who do I have to sleep with to get out of this show?

A Simple Country Doctor

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm in charge of a large underground installation housing thousands of Eymorg. We recently had some technical difficulties and acquired the necessary part illegally. (Trust me, we had no other choice.) The owners came after us and took the part back. I'll give them credit, they were very generous in helping us out, but they also conned us into letting the Morgs come live with us. Now all the other Eymorgs are upset and I can't blame them. The Morgs are absolute pigs. They smell bad and have no table manners. They whistle and make disgusting noises whenever an Eymorg goes by. I can't believe this is a step towards rebuilding our civilization. Our old system worked perfectly fine, except for having to replace a crucial piece of equipment every few thousand years. Any advice?

Name and Name, What Is Name?

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm in the military and I recently went on a mission with three other officers, all more senior than I am. During the course of the mission, I think I may have been killed. The others say it was all in my head, but I'm not so sure. I keep having nightmares about dying in the Old American West, which makes no sense at all because I'm Russian.

Is there some way I can force my superiors to tell me the truth? I think I have a right to know if I was dead or not.

A Muscovite in Space

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

On a trip about six months ago, I met a man unlike anyone I've known before. I can be quite stubborn and demanding, and most people kow-tow to me, but he found my vulnerable side. I even cried on his shoulder a little and he fell in love with me. (I should tell you that I'm Troyan.) Now I'm married to someone else, and I heard recently that he's gotten over me.

I've always been very self-confident, but now I feel like less than a woman. I'm much too young to be going through menopause, but there are no Troyan doctors here to check my tears for a
hormonal imbalance. Please help me. I can't sleep for worrying that no one will ever love me again.

Too Young To Dry Up

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I am a simple girl married to a god. However, so far, he has shown no god-like abilities. On our wedding night, I expected him to turn into a thunderstorm, a bull, or an eagle, and carry me off to a sacred island. Instead, we stayed in my father's teepee and made love missionary-style. Since then, every kiss is as the first (very nice but doesn't burn with divine fire). Do you think he's misleading me?

Blushing Bride

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I am the Chief Engineer of a top-secret project for the Romulan Empire. I was tasked with developing a device that would allow our Fleet to invade Federation territory undetected. Several months ago, the sponsor of the project moved the delivery date up. I explained to him that the specifications could not be met under those conditions. I was told that a stake had been put in the ground and I had better deliver a working device by then or face the consequences. By working long hours and cutting corners, I managed to do so.

Today, I learned that the vessel conducting the alpha test was boarded by Federation pirates who stole the device and escaped by installing it on their own ship.

I'm sure you have guessed how this happened. Because of the shortened timeframe, I was forced to take certain shortcuts. Although this resulted in some security vulnerabilities (that I
planned to correct before the final launch), I didn't leave the system completely unprotected. I took the precaution of including a third-party program that, upon detection of an unauthorized
installation, would use the pirate's own communications system to destroy all other vessels with which it had been in contact in the past six months.

How was I to know that Humans would steal the alpha release? And how was I to know that their system would be immune to my techno-worm that I had hidden so cleverly in an obscure sub-routine?

My life is forfeit, but I send this subspace message to you, respected Miss Lovelorn, so that your readers may learn from my mistake.

1. Refuse all modifications to your project specifications unless the sponsor agrees to bear the responsibility. Get this in writing.

2. Never allow alpha testing to take place in an uncontrolled environment.

3. Never use universal connection protocols on top-secret military devices.

Shamed into Namelessness

P.S. To my brother-in-law who provided me with the core programming for the self-forwarding worm I say: You idiot! I will tell you what our enemies know, but you apparently do not! The
Happy Federation Day virus is ineffective when macros are disabled!

P.P.S. To the same brother-in-law: I have given your name to the Talshiar officers who interrogated me.

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

My husband was recently transferred to a science colony on a remote planet. Naturally, my children and I accompanied him. Ever since we got here, the children have been acting strangely. My oldest boy insists on wearing the same thing every day--a mens' bathing suit circa 1910 with turquoise and green stripes. At first I thought it was cute that he wanted to dress like a Dr. Seuss character, but he's twelve years old, which seems a little old for that.

I've noticed that the other children here are acting very strangely, too. I fear demonic possession. (I come from a very conservative background.) Can you tell me what the signs are?

Worried Mom

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

A few thousand years ago, my husband and I relocated, along with several friends. Our new home is lovely, but I've noticed that everyone seems to be vying for power. It's getting dangerous. I especially hate when they toss the midget around.

Any advice?

Not Into Mind Games

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

They're at it again! The two senior officers of the USS Baubles, Bangles, and Beads beamed down to a planet and were wearing laurel wreaths in their hair and shortie togas before you could say "Et tu, Brute?" (I should have seen this coming, at least from the captain. He did a video project at the Academy that they're still showing at frat parties. I don't know what flipping your skirt up to show off your underwear has to do with Alexander the Great's military campaigns, but he got an A.)

Down on the planet, they were forced into some sick humiliation games that including pony play, partner swapping, and a midget. As I said, they were *forced,* but I swear I saw the Vulcan smiling.

To think this could happen in the military!

A Simple Country Doctor

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm visiting this galaxy as an emissary for my people and I'd just like to say that I've never encountered such hostility and xenophobia. Everywhere I go, it's "Look away! Cover your eyes! He's TOO UGLY!" People have started spreading rumors that if they look at me, they'll go mad. I can't believe supposedly civilized beings are capable of such irrational behavior. If I see one more Vulcan wearing a welder's visor, I swear I'll jump out of my box and strangle him.

At home, I'm considered quite handsome and am never seen without a bevy of beautiful females around me. And I've seen people here ugly enough to make a compass point south. Grow up, people, and join the ADULTS of the galaxy.

A Kettle Who's Sick of the Pots Taking Shots at Him

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Our sun is about to go nova. An advanced race has offered to save the inhabitants of one of the two planets in this solar system. To prove my people worthy, I'm being asked to witness some very ugly experiments on innocent bystanders and absorb their pain, knowing it will probably kill me.

I'm a young woman with my whole life ahead of me and I'm not into hurt/comfort. This doesn't seem fair.

Usually Not This Outspoken

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm a woman serving on a starship. Recently, my captain was caught in a Tholian web and given up for dead. Then I saw him, very ghost-like, floating in my quarters. No one believed me, but
others started seeing him, too, and we realized he wasn't dead, just phasing in and out of this dimension. We rescued him.

Today he gave me a bottle of peach-scented bubble bath as a gift. I had taken a peach bubble bath shortly before I saw him hanging around in my quarters, and when he gave me the gift, he had a smirky look on his face.

Should I confront him or just forget about it?

Penda

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I am a mighty Klingon warrior, but I recently had to pretend to be peaceful and even laugh and make jokes with humans, in order to kill an alien who was feeding off my glorious anger, strength, and warrior bloodlust. Somehow, word of this has gotten back to the homeworld, and now everyone's calling me a pussy.

How can I make them understand how much courage it took to stand next to my most hated enemy and pretend to be his good buddy? *He's* the pussy. I slapped him on the back--all in play, of course, to convince the alien that we were jolly good fellows--and he almost fell over.

Humans. BLEAGH! WALKING BUTT-WIPES should all DIE! My little sister could scare them off with a DIRTY LOOK! I will rip the wings from their DOVE OF PEACE, shove it down my PANTS, and enjoy its THROES OF PAIN!

Pray for a quick death should your advice fail me.

[Name Withheld because a WARRIOR would never dishonor his family by allowing our GLORIOUS NAME to appear where WEAK, SNIVELING HUMANS could see it. If you betray me by STEALING it from my return address, I will HUNT YOU DOWN, and when I find you, I will stuff A HUNGRY TARGH down your pants, and then I will stuff YOU down MY PANTS where you will know TRUE FEAR and DIE IN AGONY!]

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Yesterday, I seduced a man (I'll call him "Cap") and now I'm pregnant. (I guess I'm what you would call fast.) He and I are worlds apart and he could never keep up with me, so there's no
question of marriage or him being part of the child's upbringing. There is another man who loves me very much and would marry me in an instant, but he's the jealous type and I'm afraid he won't want to raise Cap's child as his own. Please reply quickly, I'm going into labor and will be the mother of a teenager by the time you get this.

Speed Queen

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm in love with the Lord of the Universe. Trouble is, he treats me like dirt and isn't supportive of my ambitions as a poet and interpretive dancer. What can I do?

Blue

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I and several thousand others are being relocated to make room for a new development. Normally, I think urban renewal is a good thing, but our leaders are using the space to build a full-size replica of a starship. When it's done, they plan to ease overcrowding by unleashing a deadly disease.

I think this is a terrible idea, don't you?

Fed Up With Bad Government

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm an intelligent young woman with a wide variety of interests. I'm well-versed in all the arts and have the equivalent of several degrees in science and mathematics. I live with my guardian who's kind, loving, intelligent, and inventive, but over-protective of me. There are no good schools here, and I feel that I'm being stifled.

He reads your column every day and if you tell him I need to be allowed more freedom, he'll believe you.

Sick of Home Schooling

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

Thank you so much for printing my letter about needing two android bodies for my poor grandson(s). So far, we haven't had any luck and the situation is becoming increasingly difficult. Last night, he told himself ghost stories until he was screaming. And this morning, there was a terrible fight and he gave himself a black eye and a nosebleed.

I heard a rumor about an old man who makes androids. I've been trying to find out more but wasn't having any luck until I heard that my son actually knows this man and had been romantically involved with one of the androids. I asked my son about this, and he claims he doesn't know what I'm talking about. I lost my temper and told him he's had so many girlfriends that he probably can't even remember them all. He says he'd certainly remember if he'd fallen in love with an android. Now we're not speaking.

Please ask your readers to keep trying to find bodies for my grandson.

Oh, dear, I have to go. He just pulled up his date's skirt and ran off laughing.

Heartbroken Grandma

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm living a million years in the past. It's very cold and lonely here. Could you set me up with a penpal? I've been told I'm very pretty and would be happy to send a picture.

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

About ten years ago, the man I was living with (I'll call him "Tim") ran out on me. Call me obsessive, but I've never been able to stop thinking about him. Recently, I had the opportunity to steal his body and take his place. I was only able to keep up the ruse for a couple of days, and as you can see from the letterhead, I'm now resting at a well-known re-integration center. My problem is this: During the time I was occupying his body, I made love to Tim's girlfriend (I'll call her "Susan"). I didn't want to, but I knew that Tim never misses a chance to score another notch on his bedpost, so I felt I had to do it to stay in character. Now I find myself thinking about Susan all the time. She's a wonderful person, and I thought we hit it off really well, in bed and out of it. As two intelligent, capable, and ambitious women, I think we have a lot in common. I've never had any lesbian tendencies before, but these feelings are too strong to ignore. I'm proud of my new-found sexuality, but I'm a little hesitant to contact her because of our recent history. Is there any hope for us?

In Therapy and Out of the Closet

[Dear Miss Lovelorn:

My husband and I recently split up, but I'm having second thoughts. We still work together, and I just heard that he's going back to his old job. It's very dangerous, but he always loved it (more than me, I fear). I'll feel awful if anything happens to him without us having a chance to at least say goodbye. Once he goes, I'll probably never see him again because he'll be traveling so much. Will I look too pathetic if I show up to say farewell? Every time I think of him, I turn to jelly.

Second to a Starship

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

You probably don't remember me (Too Blonde) but I used to write to you a lot and you always helped me out. I thought I had really pulled myself together and was actually moving up the food chain, careerwise. Do you remember my boss that I had the crush on? Well, I'm working for him again, and my first day on the job, the equipment I was in charge of went on the fritz and turned his ex-wife and another guy into silly putty.

I'm usually not a quitter, but I guess there's no hope for him and me now, is there?

Too Blonde For My Own Good

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I'm a brilliant scientist, but my son surpasses even me and I'm getting worried. He's very headstrong and doesn't always consider the consequences of his acts. He's working on an experiment now that he refuses to discuss with me, but whatever it is, it's taking over the refrigerator at an alarming rate.

Please send me your booklet, "Miss Lovelorn's Guide to Raising a Gifted Child in a One-Parent Home."

Dr. Mom

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

A few months ago, my guardian (I'll call him Daddy S.) died. Shortly thereafter, I became involved with a man (I'll call him David M.) who is the son of a friend of my guardian's. I know the friend (I'll call him Uncle J.) was pleased, and I'm sure Daddy S. would have approved. Unfortunately, David M. was killed, nobly sacrificing himself to save me and a young boy (I'll call him Little S.). While I was alone with Little S., he went into pon farr. He understood nothing of what was happening to him and was obviously terrified. To calm his fears and save his life, I did what was necessary. (I'll call it S.E.X.) I did this gladly out my love and respect for Daddy S.'s memory. Soon afterward, I learned that Little S. was the regenerated body of Daddy S. (The regeneration of a dead body involves some very complicated science, so in an effort to keep this short, I'll just say it was magic.)

Now I'm pregnant and not sure if the father is David M., Little S., or Daddy S. (who's been re-integrated into little S.'s body and is now fully grown through a process that once again I'll
simply refer to as magic). I'm very worried about my unborn child because I don't know who the father is. At this point, I'd be willing to believe it's Uncle L., whom I've never had S.E.X. with but was the keeper of Daddy S.'s katra and that's somehow connected to the regenerated body of Daddy S. (Little S.) that I had S.E.X. with.

So many unexpected family connections and buried secrets from the past have been uncovered that I feel like I'm in a roadshow production of "Oedipus Rex." Please advise.

Pregnant and Perplexed

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

My husband and I have spent most of our lives in captivity. Although we enjoyed being in show business, we felt it was time to give up such dead-end jobs and get serious about raising a family. Much to our delight, soon after I became pregnant, we were set free. However, while celebrating our independence, we were kidnapped by time travelers. (I'm not making this up.) Now we're in a time where we're freaks, because there are no others like us here. We want to go home and raise our child in a tank where he'll be safe and can enjoy a stable environment in the company of other showfolk. Please send help.

Gracie

***

Dear Friend:

Are you in pain? Do you carry the heavy burden of bad choices you've made or that others have made for you? Are you unable to express emotions such as guilt, grief, jealousy, and greed, even though they are roiling within you? Are you pursuing an ever-retreating goal and repressing your shame that you have not reached it?

Are you a Vulcan?

This letter is your key to peace, love, and joy. Those are not bad words, my friend. Those are the names by which we know our true selves.

Where is your true self? How will you find it?

You will not find it by calculating the odds of not finding it. You will not find it in the numb coldness of the Kolinahr. You will not find it in the mindless need of the pon farr or the
burning flame of the plak tow. You will not find it by climbing the steps of Mt. Sileya. You will not find it in the silent tomb of the Ancients.

Where will you find peace, love, and joy?

They are within you.

You want to laugh at that, don't you? It's stupid, you should laugh. Go ahead and laugh. Throw back your head and roar with joy at the ridiculous illogic of that statement. Laugh until tears roll down your cheeks and you blow tranya out your nose.

Laugh until it hurts.

For only in the pain of laughter will you become free of the pain of pain.

Share your pain, and you will no longer be its prisoner.

How can this be? Let me explain it in mathematical terms. A burden shared is a burden halved. If you share it again, it is quartered. Again, and it is now in eight pieces. Share, share, and share
again! Share until your pain is so small, it becomes too tiny to be detected by a tachyon emission.

Make 20 copies of this letter. Add your name to the bottom of this list and leave the top name off when copying this letter.

1. Soylent
2. Siss'ey
3. T'Hell
4. T'Dah
5. Spam
6. T'Tillate
7. Spurt
8. Sezyu
9. T'Have
10. T'Hold
11. T'Eflon
12. Spork
13. T'Pot
14. Silex
15. T'Riskit
16. Sniffl
17. Snout
18. Sneez
19. Snort
20. Snooz

Send the copies of this letter to your friends and family. Do not keep this letter. If you do, your pain will increase exponentially. The letter must leave you within 96.12 hours after you receive it.

Commander Slivver of Starfleet received this letter. He did not respond. A few days later, his ship, the U.S.S. Intrepid, was destroyed, killing Slivver and four hundred other Vulcans.

T'[Name withheld by family request] received this letter. Not believing it, she destroyed it. The very next day, when she was meditating in front of her firepot, her sacred gown of transparency caught fire and she died. Being alone, there was no one to receive her katra and all that she was is lost forever.

When Sybok received this letter thirty years ago, he made twenty copies and sent them to his friends and family. He has not had a logical thought or an unhappy day since. Today, he has several hundred devoted followers who will do anything he tells them to, and he has just acquired his own starship.

Take action now! The longer you wait, the more pain you endure. Share your pain! Share it, my friend, and take the first step on the path to Shakaree.

P.S. If you are not a Vulcan, I apologize for sending you this. Your name was obtained from an opt-in-for-paradise list service. To remove yourself from the list and prevent the delivery of future Vulcan-only mailings, please make twenty copies of this letter and send them to yourself.

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I've been unjustly imprisoned in a real hell-hole. My first day here, a big goon picked a fight with me. I managed to defeat him by kicking him in the gonads. (I'll admit it was a lucky punch,
but it did the job.) Now that he's recovered, he and his friends are out to get me. I've always been able to take care of myself, but I'm getting too old for this shit and this is NOT what I had
planned for my retirement. I have nothing against homosexuals, but I'm no man's bitch. If it weren't for the beautiful girl who crawls into my bed every night, I think I'd go crazy. There's no
supervision here. I haven't seen a guard since they slammed the door shut. I hope you can help. I need a shower.

Not a Nelly and Don't Want To Become One

***

Dear Miss Lovelorn:

I never thought I'd be writing to you for advice. I'm usually the one solving other people's problems. Well, here goes. This is a little complicated and involves metaphysics, astrophysics, and just about any other kind of physics you can think of.

About a century ago, I was on a ship that broke up in an energy ribbon. I and about sixty others were rescued, but during the short time I was in that energy ribbon (I'll call it "the Nexus"),
I had quite a party! I'm a very homely woman, but in the Nexus, I was treated like the Queen of the Hop. Of course, I was glad to be rescued and have settled down in a steady job where I'm liked and respected by my peers. But I'm not getting any younger and I'd enjoy a few more good boffs before I announce last call. So when I heard the Nexus was coming around again, I came up with a plan to retrieve the only thing I wanted from that place--the guy who could fire me up and burn me down three times a night.

I tricked a man I work with into going in after him. (Ever noticed how gullible these lah-di-dah types are?) I told him to find the stud-muffin who's all hung up on a woman named Antonia and bring him back. (Antonia is the name I went by in the Nexus. No one uses their real name there, and if you ask for anyone's comm code, they make one up.) He found him all right, got him out, and promptly got him killed! Permanently! MY GUY IS DEAD! The man I work with says he's real sorry, and I might believe him if he had any expression on his face when he said it. (This man's pulse wouldn't race if you shoved an adrenaline grenade up his tailpipe.)

I've been thinking about this, and in retrospect, trying to get Jack-Hammer Jim out of the Nexus wasn't a very good idea. In the Nexus, I was beautiful and he couldn't get enough of me. But here, he'd take one look and catch the first beam of light back to Rura Penthe. (This guy has quite a colorful history. You can mention his name on any planet between here and Betelgeuse and hear a story that will curl your hat. I've heard a couple of real wild ones about how he managed to keep his blanket for so long on Rura Penthe.)

So here's the thing. Captain Photon Torpedo is still in the Nexus even though he came out and got killed, because in the Nexus--well, never mind. He's still there. I know you're very well-
connected and have the Admiralty in your back pocket. I figure you could find out when the Nexus is coming around again and get me a connection to Happy Town so I can be his whoopee cushion of love forever. I'd owe you big time.

Just one thing: No mad scientists. That's how it got screwed up the last time.

Antonia

[The End]