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Two Days and Two Nights

So Our Gang has discovered Risa for the human race, thus setting us up to be fleeced for the next ten or twelve generations. Trip and Malcolm, having finally healed from the frostbite, sunburn, and lipstick abuse, are going in search of the legendary twelve-fingered Eccentrica Gallumbits, or something. Archer wants a quiet beach to read next to, Porthos seriously needs to stretch his little beagle legs, Travis wants to get his rocks off -- er, climb rocks, and Hoshi is looking for a new tongue. To learn, I mean.

Starting their explorations in leisure suits which should have been banned before the audience was born (although perhaps this is more of an embarrassment for the actors than the characters), Trip and Malcolm find a noisy club and proceed to go cruisin' for chicks. Trip spots a likely pair of Risan cuties who join them for drinks. The pretty little tramps (look, I'm just reporting; blame William Ware Theiss for the wardrobe) mention the "subterranean gardens," and our two saps cluelessly tag along.

Once under the club, Lola and Dil shapeshift into the James brothers and demand the officers' wallets. Our boys are shocked, shocked to find their playmates aren't the "gorgeous [female] aliens" they'd presumed. Trip doubletakes so hard he very nearly leaps into Mal's arms like Shaggy and Scooby.

Our boys protest that this must all be a terrible misunderstanding and try to run away. The muggers fling them roughly against the wall instead and grope them for money, valuables, the family jewels, or anything else they can hock. (Turnabout is fair play, though; makes up for all the leering and ogling and drunken bragging the aliens had to put up with at the bar upstairs.)

Trip complains that he hopes this isn't their "mating ritual" -- although up until ten minutes ago that's exactly what he was trying to initiate, so I don't know where he gets off bitching -- but both the muggers and the audience are disappointed as all the fondling turns up bupkus. Trip offers to make a deal. The muggers, now insulted and empty-handed, phaser him unconscious. Mal joins him in sleepy-land shortly thereafter.

After the commercial break, we find our adventurers hog-tied and stripped down to their Starfleet skivvies. Say what you want about the thieves; they had the good taste to spare us another look at those suits. Malcolm is already awake when Trip starts and yells and wakes up trying to get loose. (Please note that Mal gets the undershirt with short sleeves while Trip once again gets the muscle shirt.) Trip wails that he's got a hangover, or phaserover, whichever, and Malcolm grumbles about the fine mess he's gotten them into. They bicker and insult each other while Trip writhes and squirms to display his pecs to greatest advantage. Maybe he's still got sand in his shorts from the Melodramatic desert last week.

Once they get loose, they walk calmly through the club -- it isn't their lack of attire per se which earns them snickers, it's the matching tighty-bluesies -- while Malcolm whines that he stinks of whatever was in the bottle Trip broke to cut their ropes. Of course, if they had enough freedom of movement to grab a bottle from the shelves, they could have just wriggled up next to each other and untied each other's wrists, but.... (I know, I know, it wasn't in the script.)

Archer mercifully doesn't tease our boys about their romp. Hoshi wonders aloud what the smell is. Trip sulks the entire pod ride back, although it's hard to tell if he's more annoyed about still not getting any action even though he ditched the Hawaiian shirt or about the huge charge the Risan hotel socked him with for stealing the complimentary bathrobe.