Space Pimp.

I've always admired James T. Kirk.

And who wouldn't?
The guy commanded a Starship, had the biggest fucking T.V. screen ever, and scored more chicks than anyone could ever comprehend.

I'm surprised the Enterprise didn't have to go back to Earth weekly just to get condoms. I bet you Kirk double wrapped it when he was banging the green hotties.

As much as he's a lover, Kirk is also a fighter. He's the only guy I've ever seen drop someone with a judo chop to the shoulder. I bet he kept in practice by beating the shit out of Chekhov every once in a while. (And why not? I bet that smarmy little Russkie deserved it too. "Nuclear Wessels" my ass.)

I guess that anyone who knows me may say that I have some Kirk-like tendencies. My gold sweaters and oiled up physique are two dead giveaways. Same with my habitual bossing around of minorities, telling Asian guys to steer my car and Black women to answer the phone. ( "Just pick the fucking thing UP!")

But I refuse to score with the green chicks, I don't know how he does it, but I don't think I could.
Unless she was hot.
And just green-tinted.
And I was drunk.

Then I'd hit it at Warp Speed.

Later.