I have a confession to make: I, E.L. Cube, love prune juice.
I discovered this most wonderful elixir some weeks ago when I was struck with the desire to flush my system out. I drank several glasses of this lovely ambrosia, and during the next several days proceeded to discover that it really does take a warrior to withstand its wrath.
This is just a short piddly poo., and it won't take you half as long to review it as it did to read it, so DO SO.
B'Elanna sighed a sigh of discontenment, her dark eyes trained on the replicator before her, shifting her weight from one heel to the other in an involuntary twitch of indescision. She was thirsty, very much so, but craved something other than water; something sweet and satisfying, though her Klingon side demanded something harsh and honor-worthy.
She flicked idly through the menu, searching for just the right substance, but after many moments of fruitless effort, she through her hands up and grunted in outrage.
"Computer, identify a liquid substance that is both sweet yet enjoyed by Klingons."
A chirp and whirr, followed by a cool mechanical voice answered her.
"Prune Juice is both favorably palatable and considered a drink of warriors."
B'Elanna shrugged. It was worth a try.
"Yeah, fine. Replicate me one."
A hazy blue static birthed a small glass of opaque, tar-like liquid that the young Engineer eyed suspiciously. Lifting it to her nose, she sniffed, and winced at the stale, slightly musty yet oddly saccharine odor and, hesitating only for an instant, brought it to her lips and downed it in one swift gulp.
The taste was strong, with a soft hint of bitterness that was quickly covered up by an even stronger molasses flavor that was not wholly pleasant, yet not unpleasant either. All in all, she decided she enjoyed the drink very much, and proceeded to order four more glasses.
Later that night, however, amid murderous oaths, arduous grunts, and beastly bouts of flatulence Kahless himself would have been proud of, the cantankerous Klingon discovered her err.
The waste extraction unit had never been so abused, and as she sat on it, her chest heaving in her exhaustion, she muttered words that have never rung truer.
"It really is a warrior's drink."