Beeping of alert signal.
[Ensign:] Captain, the transporters ready.
[Captain:] That's hip.

Lieutenant Marvin, what is the condition of the planets
surface?
[Marvin:] It is difficult to be precise.

However, my instruments indicate a condition of extreme rigor
mortis, spreading rapidly throughout the population.
Highly illogical, Captain.

[Captain:] A bunch of stiffs, huh?
Well, set coordinates for, ah,
Chocolate City, and have a landing party of nine men beam down

immiediately, with phasers set on funk-funk!