Star Traks: The Vexed Generation is based on Alan Decker's Star Traks, which in turn is based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry, who is turning in his grave. If you're offended by mildly disturbing language, situations, and the utter disregard of some of Star Trek's greatest premises, better hit the "Back" button on your browser right now. If not, welcome aboard! Viacom owns Paramount, Paramount owns Star Trek, and I'm glad to be back after a long, long summer vacation. Copyright 1998. All rights, and wrongs, are reserved.

Author: Anthony Butler
Copyright: 1998

“So, what should we do tonight?” Elaine Bennes asked, as she flipped through a magazine. She was stretched out on Jerry’s couch, while George and Jerry griped over the last Snapple in Jerry’s kitchenette.

“What is there to do?” Gorge asked, finally ceding the Snapple to Jerry. “All day I sit at work waiting to get off so I can go out and do something, then I sit around here all night trying to think of something to do.”

“It wasn’t always like this,” Elaine said, sitting up as George and Jerry moved over to the couch. “Didn’t there used to be stuff to do?”

Jerry shrugged. “Maybe we did it all.”

“Is that possible?” George asked. “Could we have reached our quota already? It’s not like our lives are action-packed. Why is it other people aren’t as bored as we are?”

“They have bigger quotas,” Elaine said reasonably.

“No, they just have more interesting lives,” Jerry muttered.

“We have interesting lives!” George said.

“Yeah?” Elaine asked. “Then why don’t we have anything to do?”

George’s brow creased with frustration as he tried to figure that out. “Why must we always be doing something? That’s so much pressure! I can’t sit around like this, can I? Should I be out? And where is ‘out’ anyway? I sure haven’t been there!”

After George’s outburst, the apartment sunk into a thoughtful, albeit brief, silence. The silence was broken when Kramer burst into the room, sliding across the floor and spinning around before coming to a stop beside Jerry’s couch. “Hey, everybody!”

Newman scrambled in after him eagerly. “George.” He frowned. “Jerry.”

“Hello, Newman,” Jerry mumbled.

“Elaine!” Newman said excitedly, scuttling over to Elaine’s side of the couch. “How great to see you! What have you been up to?”


“What are you so excited about, Kramer?” Jerry asked, leaving Elaine in Newman’s grasp.

Kramer dug into his pants and produced a black key. It shined menacingly. “I got a new car.”

“Who would sell you a car?” George asked, pushing off the couch and walking over to grab the keys from Kramer. “You must have the worst credit rating of any man alive.”

“I don’t need a credit rating,” Kramer said proudly. “Not when I have…” he pointed at his face, “a face like this!”

“Oh, give me a break,” Jerry muttered.

“Wow,” George said, examining the key. “This key goes to a Lamborghini.”

“You know Elaine,” Newman said snidely, “Kramer let me drive the Lamborghini. Ever had that much power pumping beneath you?”

Elaine ignored Newman and ran over to grab the keys from George. “Can I get a ride?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Kramer said, taking the keys out of Elaine’s hands and shoving them back in his pocket. “I think I’d better let that baby cool down for a while. Newman and I tooled all over downtown today. Inner city driving is very hard on an automobile.”

“Since when are you a mechanic?” George asked, irritated.

“Since I got a Lamborghini,” Kramer asserted, looking to Newman. “Come on, Newman. Let’s go try to unload all the groceries out of that baby so we can take it on your mail route tomorrow.”

Newman made a giddy squeak. “Oh, boy. I’ll be the envy of my route!”

Tags: vexed