The One With The Salamander Sex
Parisite then totally freaks out and screams that Janeway is jealous that he broke the transwarp barrier, and that she's hoping he will die. "You're right, Doctor," Janeway says mechanically, not taking her eyes of Parisite. "There isn't anything I can do here." She turns to go, and Paris pathetically calls after her that he's sorry: "Please come back. I know you're doing what you can. It's just...I'm scared. I didn't mean to lash out at you." Janeway urges Paris to hang on, insisting that they're doing everything they can to help him. "I know you are," says Paris, and then his face changes: "And I know you'll FAIL!" He throws himself at the forcefield and is flung back. Kes looks concerned. "You know," Parisite whimpers harshly, "I used to look up to you. But now you seem so small, so insignificant. You don't even know what -- what..." Parisite starts to gag and choke. He puts his hand up to his mouth and, as the Foley guys get freaky with the squishy noises, he pulls something pink out. He threw up his tongue? HE THREW UP HIS TONGUE?! I'm just so...OH MY GOD HE THREW UP HIS FUCKING TONGUE! HIS TONGUE! Although, the same thing happened to Sandra Lee's husband after her "Coffee Creations" night. Nope, after a brief bit of checking around, I've learned that there's not enough "ew" in the world for that one. Even scarier is the fact that Paris's tongue is the exact color of a properly made Cosmopolitan -- not vivid fuchsia, just barely blushing pink, and now I don't think I can ever drink one again. GROSS! Parisite holds up the slimy, Cosmo-colored hunk of tissue and grins at the Captain. You can tell that the Doc is likewise grossed out: he uncrosses his arms. Man, just, ugh. I feel seriously sick now. HIS TONGUE, PEOPLE, HIS TONGUE!
Time has passed since the Tongue Incident, and Kes reports that the rate of Parisite's mutation has increased. The Doctor starts to give some orders, but he's interrupted by Parisite bellowing, "Doctor!" The Doctor sighs in long-suffering exasperation and asks, "What now, Mr. Paris?" Parisite, sitting cross-legged on the floor, insists laboriously, "I need to talk." Robert Duncan McNeill is now delivering his lines with his tongue arching on the roof of his mouth. The Doctor walks over to the examination theater, where Parisite sits on the floor, holding his feet and rocking. "Let me out of heah," Parisite pleads. "Pweeeeeze, I can't stay heah." He slurs that he has to get off the ship. Kes asks why he wants to leave Voyager. Using the medi-bed, Parisite pulls himself to his feet and tells them that it's all so clear now and that he understands. "What do you understand?" the Doctor asks, still annoyed. "Zuh pwesent, zuh past -- thew bos in zuh footur. The footu is in zuh past." The Doctor is confused. "Lwissen to me!" Paris yells. No, you're disgusting, shut up. "I am more. I'm ewweysing. Let me gooooo." Kes asks where he wants to go. "I can't!" Parisite yells, and slides back onto the floor: "Pweeeeze! Pweeeeze!" Okay, we have ten minutes left and I haven't seen any salamander sex. Please tell me that if there's going to be salamander sex, at least have them both be salamanders, because otherwise I might have to jump into a diving pool of gin and start breathing deeply.