Okay, time for the Alternative Universe…


Troi/Riker and Tom…. another day in the life.

Rated: PG-13

Disclaimer: one word--Paramount

Asking for Trouble 3


“So you’re my neighbor?” Tom Riker said, what in the hell was this lanky looking woman doing?

“I baked these for you.” She said with a smile, revealing teeth that desperately needed to be brushed. “Sort of a neighborly greeting.”

“Oh, you’ve made cookies. Yum.” He stated flatly, with a somewhat sarcastic tone to his voice.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked.

“Just for a minute.”

“Good.” He stated with a nod of his head, and with the plate of cookies in his hand, he made his way to the kitchen, put the plate down on the counter, opened the cooling unit, and took out a beer.

“You drink a lot?” The girl asked. She was a tall, lanky looking woman, with reddish brown hair that the thought desperately needed to be combed, and with a smile that definitely needed to be brushed.

“I’m Thomas.” He stated, ignoring her question. “And you are?”

“Betty. Betty Thompson.” She smiled. “You drink a lot?”

“No.” he lied, and then he tipped the bottle and drank half of its contents in one gulp.

“You like beer?” she asked.

“No.” he lied again, drinking the rest of the bottle and throwing it in the trash replicator. “You drink?”

“No, my parents were both alcoholics.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stated being a gentleman. “So do you want a beer?” He asked, as he reached in a got another one.


“Mind if I do?” He asked. He had one in his hand before she could object.

“My mother says you can tell a lot about a man by what he drinks.”

“Really?” He said with a cock of his eyebrow. “Well I drink cheap beer and even cheaper whiskey. That is unless my brother buys, in which he usually does, because I don’t have a job yet. I’m an ex-convict, spent over half of my life in a Cardassian prison camp and the other half deserted on a planet. My sister in law sends supplies over all the time, like sheets, towels, and chipper little floral arrangements . . . in which I hate. She’s also a lousy cook.” He explained, not caring what he was saying. “So when she sends food, my brother my brother and I sit at the table and dissect it, like a frog.”

“You curse a lot.” She observed. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked, “I heard you mention your brother.”

“Just one brother, I guess you could call him a brother, he’s not right.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s a hardship on your mother.”

“My mother’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that already. But that’s okay.” Thomas said, sitting down at the kitchen table across from her. “Dad re-married.”

“That’s nice.”

“She’s nuts.”


“You know--- Looney.” Thomas answered swirling the beer around in the bottle. “Mommy Cecilia is loonier than bug shit.”

“Does she live here?”

“Not here.” He answered. “But close.”

“Do you ever go see her?”

“No. My brother and I just send her laxatives all the time; we send them to her for mother’s day, on her birthday, anniversaries and at Christmas. She takes them by the shit loads.” Then he smiled a small charming devilish smile. “No pun intended.”

“Why does she take so many laxatives?”

“Because, my brother tells her she’s full of crap.” He answered bluntly, “And since he used to be Commander of a Starship, she believes that everything he says is gospel. Therefore she ingests laxatives all the time.”

“You talk about your brother a lot don’t you?”

“He’s the only one I know that’s got a life.”

“Have you ever had her hospitalized?” She asked, wide eyed.


“Your step-mother."

“Hell no, she loves hospitals. Spends most of her time in the emergency room, she admits herself at least once a month. She dances naked with a broom in her kitchen, in the middle of the night, by the music of a mosquito that sings Jazz in her ear.” He explained, hoping like hell he could scare her off and she’d run out of his apartment screaming. “I guess we could always get her a job at the broom factory.” Thomas looked at her and chuckled, “She’d have a hay day wouldn’t she. Me and my brother love to rag the shit out of her.”

“I think that’s rather mean.” She sounded appalled, “If your mother is sick, you should try to find her a qualified therapist.”


“You curse a lot.”

“Yeah, I do, I’m a mess. I also go to bed alone almost every night, and on weekends I get drunk with my brother. We sometimes get drunk during the week, when he’s a jackass to his wife, who happens to be pregnant and their kid is due any time. And the one certain way to tell if he’s drunk is he starts to talk about “My-fish.”

“Your fish?”

“No, My-fish.” He clarified, referring to Will’s fish that happened to be named “My-fish.” Although she didn’t know this one little fact and he wasn’t about to tell her the difference.

“I see.” She whispered. Tom knew she didn’t and he smiled victoriously.

“Oh, a dog.” She said looking down at her feet. Virgil is perhaps one of the ugliest dogs she’s ever seen, the puppy just stands there, looking up at her and wags it’s three haired tail happily.

“That’s Virgil.”

“Virgil?” Betty asked, “What is he? What is he a mixture of?”

“Hell. I have no idea.” Thomas answered finishing off his beer. “That seems to be the million dollar question around here.”

“I’m normally allergic to dogs.”

“Virgil isn’t a normal dog.” Thomas informed her, taking another beer out of the cooling unit. Gods all he wanted to do was get drunk and forget that he even had neighbors.

“He’s cute.” Betty stated, not knowing what else to say. Virgil remained frozen; he just stood there and looked up at her. Finally Betty reached down and patted Virgil who immediately jumped up on her lap. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “He jumps.”

“Yeah puppies do that. But he’s almost four months old.” Thomas stated, opening up another beer. “He’ll also piss on you if you scare him, so don’t frighten him too much. He pisses on my brother all the time.”

Betty’s eyes grew wide in shock. “I---I---won’t try to frighten him.”

Both heads turned towards the door and Virgil jumped off of Betty’s lap and ran yipping towards the front door. “Virgil, will you shut the hell up.” Thomas grumbled as he stood to his feet and made his way towards the door.

“Red Alert, Virgil!” Will Riker teased as he barged his way past his brother, carrying a case of beer. “That damn dog has got the most ball breaking bark I’ve ever heard, damn he needs to spend the weekend with Mommy Cee.---- Oh.---” He exclaimed, coming to a dead stop at the sight of Betty sitting at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

“This is Betty, my next door neighbor.” Thomas introduced the woman to his brother. “Betty this is Will Riker, my brother.”

“I didn’t know you two were twins.” She stated, noticing the resemblance between the two men. “Tom never mentioned that.”

Thomas, who suddenly became embarrassed, stepped forward, took the beer from his brother’s arms, and began to stock the cooling unit. “Have a seat, Will. I was just getting ready to put some steaks out to thaw, have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah, Deanna cooked dinner.”

“I reiterate. Have you eaten yet?”


“Deanna she is your wife?” Betty asked.


“How come you didn’t bring her with you?” Betty asked rather snippety. “You’d think you’d be a more considerate husband. I can’t imagine leaving a pregnant wife.”

“Betty’s parents were both alcoholics.” Thomas explained with a wag of his eyebrows.

“You shouldn’t have left your pregnant wife.” She stated, ignoring Thomas’ remark. “Why aren’t you with her?”

“Because---Betty.” Thomas answered, not believing the woman’s forwardness. “Deanna’s having a baby shower, and my brother has no desire to stay, in the same room with a bunch of woman that won’t have sexual intercourse with him, merely because of that fact that his wife is going to pop that kid out within the next two weeks.”

Riker shot his brother a look of surprise.

“Hell, I wouldn’t stay either.” Thomas said, finishing off another beer. “Look, Betty made cookies.” Thomas stated, pointing towards the plate of half burnt, rock hard cookies. “Want one?”

“No, I’ll pass.” Riker stated. “I’ll take a beer though.” He said making his way to the cooling unit.

“So, Betty . . .” Riker began, “How long have you been my brother’s neighbor?”

“I moved in last week.” She explained. “I was waiting for Tommy to introduce himself but he never did.”

“Well, Tommy---” Riker stated emphasizing the name. “You’re going to have to get over your shyness.”

“I know.” Thomas stated, “I guess I should find a girl and settle down, but hell all the good ones are taken. Take Deanna for instance, she and I were engaged at one point in time.”

“Wait. . .” Betty spoke up. “You mean--- you were engaged to---his---wife?!”


“But you married her?” She directed her attention towards Riker.

“Yeah, it took me nearly twenty years but I married her, that is after she proposed to me. But the baby’s mine. Although, I’m sure if they ran DNA it would probably be . . .” Riker stated playing along.

“Mine.” Thomas finished his sentence. “Even though I was in prison at the time of conception.”

“I’m confused.” Betty said, rubbing her forehead with her hand.

“So is my step-mother.” Riker said, handing his brother a fresh beer, and sitting down across from Betty. “She dances naked in the kitchen by the pale moon light with a broom.”

“I heard.” Betty stated, her voice sounded in defeat.

Virgil just sat at Riker’s feet, looking up at him. “You feed this dog?” Riker asked, thinking it was time to change the subject.

“Yeah, I fed him.” Thomas said, sitting down next to Will.


“This morning.” Thomas stated rather sarcastically. “What do you think I’d do, starve my dog?”

“He’s just sitting there--- staring at me, he looks hungry.”

“He always looks like that when he’s happy.”

“Happy?” Riker laughed, “The last time he looked like that, he pissed all over me.”

Thomas let out a laugh.

“We were trying to figure out just what Virgil was.” Betty stated pleasantly.

“A terrible genetic mistake.” Riker said, and then turned his attention towards the small pet, “Hey Virgil, you want a beer?”

The little black dog yipped.

“I take that as a . . .yes?”

“You can’t give that poor dog a beer.” Betty sounded appalled.

“Yeah, Will.” Thomas scolded and then he smiled, “You know Virgil likes Brandy.”

“Sorry, Virgil, fresh out of brandy.” Riker said, looking down at the panting dog. “Hey his tongue is blue. Now why in the hell does that not shock me?” Riker asked bending down and picking up the small animal, and holding him for closer inspection, the small odd-looking animal squirmed to get free.

“He drinks out of the toilet all the time.” Thomas answered, setting a fresh beer in front of Riker, and took a seat at the kitchen table beside him. “Turns his tongue blue.”

“Shut up about the toilet when you’re cooking.” Riker warned.

“I’m not cooking, the steaks are frozen. You brought it up.”

“No I didn’t bring it up.” Riker stated. “I simply said the dog’s tongue was blue, and you started talking about that damn toilet.”

“The two of you curse a lot.” Betty said.

“My-fish tried to commit suicide again.” Riker said, putting Virgil down on the floor, the dog took off running; it’s nails making tittering sounds across the tile floor. “I got up this morning and he had jumped out of his water bowl.” Riker said, finishing off the rest of his beer, “He was just there on the table, flopping around. I picked him up with a spoon and put him back in his bowl.”

“Oh my . . .” Betty stated.

“Bowl?” Thomas grinned. “Now you’re talking about the toilet.”

“Will you shut up about the toilet!” Riker snapped at his brother, “Damn you’re always talking about disgusting shit.”

“Kiss my ass. If I can’t talk about the toilet with my best friend, who in the hell else can I talk to?”

“I’m your best friend?” Riker asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Without sounding insulting,” Tom answered, as he handed his brother another beer. “You’re my only friend.”

“I guess I am.” Riker shrugged, giving a nod of thanks for the beer. Riker turned his attention towards Betty. “You got any pets?”


“You need a fish.”

“My fish isn’t right, he’s suicidal.” Riker informed her. “Thank Gods I marred a psychologist.”

“You’re wife’s a psychologist?”

“Yeah, that and a lousy cook.” Riker answered. “Why don’t the two of you go out on a date?” He asked curiously, as he swallowed a gulp of beer.

“I’m too old to date.” Thomas blurted, answering for Betty. “Hell, I don’t even have a job, who’s going to pay for the damn thing? Betty? I don’t think so, I’d never let a woman pay for a date.”

“You’re nice.” Betty smiled.

“See?” Riker stated with a chuckle. “She thinks you’re nice.”

“I’m making some coffee.” Thomas stated, standing to his feet. “You’re getting way out of hand Will. I’d rather scrub toilets than let a woman pay for a date.”

“Will you shut up about those damn toilets? Besides,” Riker added. “Women have changed. A lot of women pay for the dates now a days.”

“Well I must be an old fucker, cause I’m not letting any woman pay for my way.”

“I’d pay.” Betty said shyly. “If we went out on a date, Tommy”

“See!” Riker said wide-eyed, his finger pointing towards Betty. “She said she’d pay. So what does that tell you Tommy?”

“It tells me it’s the end of the God damn world.” Thomas declared.

“No, Deanna cooking a decent meal, now that’s the end of the world.” Riker laughed.

“You shouldn’t make fun of your pregnant wife.” Betty softly scolded the intoxicated Riker.

“Better than fat jokes.” Riker shrugged, and Betty gasped.

“If Betty paid for the date, I’ll probably feel so guilty, that by the end of the night, I’d probably forget to lay her.” Thomas stated sadly.

“I doubt that.” Riker stated with a chuckle.

“Pardon me?” Betty sounded appalled by the men’s conversation.

“I’m sorry, Betty.” Thomas apologized, “I don’t do that any more.” He turned towards Will and gave him an unspoken gesture of this hand.

“You do too.” Riker butted in with a laugh.


“How in the hell should I know? You just do.”

“I think I’d better leave.” Betty stated standing to her feet.

“Why?” Riker asked, standing to his feet as well.

“Because we curse too much.” Thomas stated.

“Oh.” Will stated, sitting back down. “Yeah, we do. We’re a mess.”

Betty stood to her feet, and began to walk towards the door. Riker whispered to Thomas. “Show her to the door, you idiot.”

Thomas shook his head no apprehensively as if to say, ‘no way.’

“Bye Betty.” The brother’s said in unison as she shut the door behind her.

“Let’s go to a bar Thomas.” Riker suggested. “I don’t want to sit around here all night.”

“I’ve got to cook the steaks.”

“They’re frozen.”

“They’ll thaw out.”

“Want some of Betty’s cookies?”

“Hell no.”

“You curse a lot.” Thomas stated in a nasal voice.

“Yeah, I do. I’m a mess.” Riker answered. “Let’s go to the bar.”

“I’m broke.”

“So what. You’re always broke.” Will smiled. “I’ll pay for our date.”

“Okay. Let’s go to a bar. You’re rover or mine?”