OJ Goes Skiing

?”Cocaine” read the envelope containing the white powder. “Another hoaxer,” thought our OJ sectionmate (who wishes to remain anonymous), rubbing the powder onto his gums to test it like in the films.
“Hey, this is not…” he started, but there was a knocking at the door. Perplexed, he opened the door.
“Surprise!” screamed the rest of OJ. “Happy Birthday Xavier!” shouted the crowd.
“Wait a minute, it?s not my…” but by then OJ was in.
“Where?s the booze, mate?”
“Chips, anyone?”
“Show us your pants.”
“Hey, I found some frozen shrimp,” shouted Rusty Dail. And the whole place felt silent.
“Thaw it! Thaw it! Thaw it!” screamed a hysterical OJ. Rusty microwaved it. OJ grew still.
“I think…I think…it?s thawed!” and OJ went bloody wild and the party really began.
Xavier Paternot woke up a while later.
“Where am I?” he thought, as he bobbed up and down in the gentle current. To the left lay England, to his right was France. In between lies the English Channel.
“Holy Shit” he shouted, “Help!”
And then he saw the others?all of OJ bobbing up and down in the English Channel. “Happy Birthday, mate” said Dobbin Bookman.
“Yeah, nice Parmesan cheese we found on your desk, mate,” said Brendan Scollans.
Suddenly a small boat appeared.
“Immigrants, excellent, they will pick me up,” thought everyone, but Chris Schell was the quickest OJ to react.
“Ahoy!” he shouted. “I?m drowning, not waving, come and get me, I can sow wheat!”
A lady wearing a BCG hat peered over the starboard side. “Mr. Schell?” asked the lady.
“Errr… Yes,” he replied.
“Good. Now why don?t you tell me about a leadership experience?” she began.
With rabid French tuna nibbling at his scrotal sac and putrid water splashing his face, Chris began. “The client…”
“Great, lets move on to that person over there,” said the lady to her skipper.
“Wait a minute, you can?t leave us alone here, you assholes,” said Paula Moriera, bobbing alongside.
“You?re right, this?ll keep you company,” replied the lady as she flung Paula a small but succulent shrimp.
Suddenly the water began to swirl and all of OJ were lifted out by some supernatural energy. A second later and OJ found themselves bobbing gently in some sort of indoor pool with glass walls.
“Hey wow guys,” said Peter Platzer, “We?re in one of those underwater bars in Las Vegas.”
“This isn?t Las Vegas,” said Doug Raymond. “We are in the Starship Enterprise.”
“The original series, or the second one?” asked Fito Criado.
“Original, but it?s not the series, the set is too elaborate…” but Doug stopped with shock. Some people walked into the holding room, and OJ looked aghast.
Kirk spoke first, “These whales are a lot fucking smaller than the computer makes out, Scotty. What the fuck is going on?”
Spock intervened, “I think we have mistakenly picked up this indigenous life form. We must get whales to satisfy the Vega probe, or else we will surely all perish.”
Kirk took command. “OK, Scotty, drop this crap back and get me some blue whales, Jesus Christ, how the fuck can you miss a bloody whale…”
“Wait!” pleaded Ahalya Nava-Majmudar. “Before we go, tell me this Captain?in the vegetable rocks episode, why did you not use your ray gun? What were you afraid of? What did you fear?”
“Scotty,” said Kirk slowly, “get these dicks out of here.”
“Wait!” shouted Helen Wang. “We?re the famous Section OJ from HBS. Give us something to remember you and love you by.”
Kirk changed. He took something from his pocket, and Spock looked on with the smile of all known knowledge. Kirk threw the object to Helen.
But just then the water swirled and all of OJ were gone.
We stood there, looking at each other, still, silent, bewildered, our clothes dripping with water. Xavier?s apartment was strewn with algae and drift wood. Amidst the confusion, our eyes turned to Helen. She was smiling, her fist clenched. She had managed to grab it. We rushed over. Helen carefully opened her fist. Inside was a large, juicy, succulent shrimp. “Hello,” said the shrimp adjusting its monocle to the light. “Anyone for some tea?”