The following is written as a Mad TV sketch, featuring the character Antonia Timmens who is played by the talented and adorable Nicole Sullivan (the thing to keep in mind about Antonia is that she speaks in  kind of a nasal monotone - like an android before the technology was  perfected. Also, she isn't the sharpest pencil in the box).

Garak has been cast in the role typically reserved for Phil LaMarr as the  unfortunate soul who has to put up with her.

***

NARRATOR, voiced by Phil LaMarr: "In the third season of Star Trek   Deep Space Nine, Cardassian clothier Elim Garak learned that he was one of six former intelligence agents marked for death by former head of the Obsidian Order, Enabran Tain."

NICOLE SULLIVAN: (snorts) "That's gratitude for ya!"

NARRATOR: "For this reason, it is believed that Garak planted a bomb in his clothing shop in order to capture the attention of station constable Odo..."

NICOLE SULLIVAN: "And here I thought he wanted to collect on his  fire insurance!"

NARRATOR: (sighs) "However, further investigation into this matter has revealed the true account of events leading up to that fateful explosion. Watch, won't you?"

DR. BASHIR: (head snaps up) "The bat signal! I mean, code red, coming from Garak's!"

BASHIR fields a strange look from his nurse, then races to the shop to find GARAK lying dazed and bruised amid the rubble. BASHIR crouches beside his friend.

BASHIR: "Garak, are you all right?"

GARAK: "Well, duh!"

BASHIR looks bewildered.

GARAK: "Doctor, I'm afraid I won't be able to join you you for lunch today..."

HALF AN HOUR EARLIER...

GARAK moves through his quiet shop, adjusting various garments on their racks and humming.

GARAK: "It's a prefect life for me. La la la la la la la..." (pauses, looks up) "Where did I hear that song?"

He waves away the thought.

GARAK: "Ah well. Garak, you've got more important things to worry about, like the fact that business has been agonizingly slow lately. No one ever comes in, except to ask for directions to Quark's." (another pause, and GARAK pouts) "I'm very lonely."

The comm beeps; CAPTAIN SISKO calling.

SISKO: "Mr. Garak, Admiral Buchanan is on her way to see you. She would like to pick up the formal gown she asked you to design for tomorrow night's Federation banquet. Is it ready?"

GARAK gets a wild, excited gleam in his eyes.

GARAK: "Company! Yes Captain, the gown is ready. About Admiral Buchanan, I understand that she's...a bit off her nut, as they say?"

SISKO: "Some people prefer the term 'eccentric.' Now I don't know what Dr. Bashir has told you, but I am warning you Garak: I don't care what the admiral does or says, you give her the same respect that you would give me!"

GARAK smirks.

SISKO: "Um, on second thought, treat her with the utmost respect or you'll have to find another space station on which not to sell your fashions and go bankrupt. Understood?"

GARAK: "I suppose I have no choice."

SISKO: "Damn straight you don't! Sisko out."

The comm falls silent. GARAK goes back to work, straightening a blouse on a nearby display.

GARAK: "Whatever you say, Herr Sisko!" He tugs roughly at the collar. "I wouldn't dream of giving that doddering old bat a hard time! Even though she didn't seem to mind inconveniencing me."

A ripping sound, and GARAK is holding the sleeve of the blouse in his hand. He sighs with frustration and tosses it onto a nearby table. At that moment, ANTONIA enters the shop wearing her entire stock of  DS9 souvenirs - a UFP baseball cap, a pair of clip-on Bajoran earrings (one on each ear), a plastic batt'leth hanging from her belt and a t-shirt that reads "I Met the Emissary to the Prophets and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt!"

ANTONIA: "Good morning!"

GARAK spins around; a smile quickly masks the pained expression that crosses his face at the sight of her.

GARAK: This must be the admiral. Another Federation fashion disaster. *ahem* "Good afternoon! I'm so glad you had the opportunity to stop by."

ANTONIA looks confused.

GARAK: "You're here to pick up your formal? For tomorrow night's banquet?"

ANTONIA: "Okee."

GARAK: "Very good. Wait right here and I will get it for you."

GARAK nods to ANTONIA, then disappears into a back room.

ANTONIA is left standing alone in the center of the shop. GARAK's worktable catches her eye and she walks over to it. Various items of clothing are strewn about, as well as an array of sewing implements.  ANTONIA picks up a device that looks to be a cross between a small clothes iron and an industrial-strength staple gun. She flicks a switch - and the instrument hums to life, lights blinking furiously. Jumping in terror, ANTONIA's practically throws the machine onto the table, where it lands with a loud clatter.

ANTONIA stands frozen for a few seconds, head swiveling nervously from side to side. She then cautiously picks up the instrument again, fascinated by the softly blinking lights.

ANTONIA: "Ooohhh."

From the table, ANTONIA picks up a skirt and holds the device against the ragged hem; it begins to automatically stitch in a neat line. ANTONIA is entranced.

Several seconds later, GARAK returns, his attention occupied by the plastic garment bag he is carrying over one arm.

GARAK: "All right now, I designed this in exact accordance with Captain Sisko's specifications and..."

ANTONIA is so startled that her hand slips and the sewing machine goes sliding across the fabric, chewing the material at a crazy angle. ANTONIA fiddles frantically with the OFF switch, but when that fails to work, she hurriedly crams both the ruined skirt and the machine - still in operation - under the pile of clothing.

Unaware, GARAK continues to talk.

GARAK: "While I'm sure it is a perfect fit, I would feel better if you tried it on before walking out, just in case we need to make any adjustments."

ANTONIA whips around, butt pressed against the table, eyes fit to pop out of their sockets.

GARAK stops in front of her and tilts his head to one side, studying ANTONIA's expression.

GARAK: "Is something wrong?"

ANTONIA: "No."

GARAK is silent for a moment, then...

GARAK: "Very well."

GARAK beams at ANTONIA, holding the dress out to her, which she accepts.

GARAK: (with a sweeping gesture) "One fitting room, no waiting."

ANTONIA scurries into the fitting room, clutching the dress tight against her front. GARAK watches her, a polite smile turning up the corners of his mouth, until she disappears behind the heavy red drapes. As soon as ANTONIA is out of sight, a bewildered smirk crosses GARAK's face. He walks over to his work table and begins sorting through the pile of clothing. ANTONIA pokes her head between the drapes and watches. GARAK, sensing something strange, raises his head and turns around, catching ANTONIA's eye. ANTONIA immediately pulls the drapes over her face. GARAK sighs and shakes his head, pressing his lips together.

GARAK: (mutters) "Hmph! No wonder the Feds cringe at the very mention of the Dominion. With half-wits like that in the upper ranks, we should all be in fear for our lives!"

GARAK pauses, brows furrowing in confusion.

GARAK: "Wha-?"

GARAK's eyes widen in shock as he lifts up a crumpled piece of fabric with a stitching device clinging to it like a pit bull. Meanwhile, ANTONIA is peeking through the curtains again.

ANTONIA: "I can see you!"

GARAK jumps out of his skin.

GARAK: "Good God!"

He drops the machine and clutches his heart. GARAK faces ANTONIA, palms braced against the table, and levels her with a gaze.

GARAK: "Is there something you needed?"

ANTONIA considers for a moment.

ANTONIA: "Nope!" She draws the drapes around her face and disappears.

Twenty minutes later...

GARAK is leaning against the wall next to the dressing room, fighting to retain his composure...and losing.

GARAK: "Madam, you have been in there for the past twenty minutes! Are you sure you don't need any help?"

ANTONIA: "No."

GARAK: "No, you don't need help or no aren't sure?"

ANTONIA: (pauses) "No."

GARAK bangs a fist against the wall and leans his forehead against it. Half-giggling, half-sobbing, GARAK pushes away from the wall and begins to pace in front of the dressing room.

GARAK: "Fantastic. This is utterly unbelievable! Of all the admirals in Starfleet, I had to get an idiot whose parents forgot to vacuum the gene pool!"

GARAK closes his eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath.

GARAK: "If the gown doesn't fit, I'll be happy to make any necessary adjustments. Free of charge, of course."

ANTONIA (pauses) "Okee."

Pushing the drapes aside, ANTONIA takes one step out of the dressing room...and falls on her face. She has tripped over the skirt of a plum-colored silk formal that is at least four sizes too large; the bodice - designed for a woman of more, uhm, generous endowment - sags to her waist. Luckily (or not, depending on your view) she is still wearing her clothes underneath. GARAK squeezes his eyes shut.

GARAK: "Oh dear."

ANTONIA makes a clumsy attempt to stand up, falls down again.

GARAK extends a hand to her. "Here, let me help you. Pull the skirt up -"

ANTONIA gives him a horrified glare.

GARAK: "No, listen to me...you have to get your feet out from under the material. Here, let me show you."

GARAK reaches down, grasping ANTONIA's skirt at the same time she suddenly rises, sending GARAK tumbling facedown to the floor. For a few seconds, GARAK doesn't move.

GARAK: "How my father must be laughing."

GARAK makes a peculiar face, then spits a piece of lint onto the floor.

"Ick, when was the last time I cleaned this carpet?"

GARAK rubs the back of one hand across his mouth, then looks up at ANTONIA, who stares blankly back with the skirt gathered in her fists.

GARAK: "No please, I can get up all by myself!"

ANTONIA continues to stare unmoving as GARAK struggles to stand.

GARAK: "Maybe not."

Without stepping forward, ANTONIA extends one arm. GARAK regards it for a moment.

GARAK: "Gods, don't let anyone page me on the viewscreen!"

GARAK scoots his butt along the carpet until he is close enough to grip ANTONIA's hand.

GARAK: (mutters) "This is not the way I like to get carpet burn!"

Little by little, GARAK hauls his body into an upright position, then promptly loses his balance and pitches forward, pinning ANTONIA against the table.

ANTONIA smiles.

GARAK: (glaring) "Get your hand OFF that!"

GARAK, furious and a little flustered, can't push away from ANTONIA fast enough. He clears his throat, running a hand over his tousled hair.

GARAK: "Now, about the dress," (assess the damage with a glance) "It isn't like me to make mistakes. Do you think Captain Sisko could have given me the wrong measurements?"

ANTONIA: "It es possible."

GARAK: "Ah, in that case, let me just retake those measurements. Don't worry, we'll have that dress altered and ready in plenty of time for your banquet." (mutters) "The one I wasn't invited to. I will need to measure your waistline first..."

GARAK turns his back for one second to pick up a measurement recorder. When he turns around again, ANTONIA has lifted up her skirt and pulled down her shorts, twisting around to check out the tag in her underwear. To say that GARAK is horrified is an understatement.

GARAK: "What are you doing?"

ANTONIA: (looking up) "You said you wanted my waistline!"

A very distressed GARAK rushes to her side.

GARAK: "Stop that! Stop -!"

ANTONIA stops, looks up at GARAK, befuddled. GARAK holds up a trembling hand, lips pressed into a tight smile. His breathing is ragged and his entire body shakes. Without speaking, GARAK grips ANTONIA's shoulder and roughly pulls her into the center of the floor.

GARAK: "Stand here, don't move!"

GARAK walks around ANTONIA, head bowed, focusing all concentration on his work. ANTONIA's gaze is caught by the blinking light on the handheld device.

ANTONIA: "Blink."

GARAK's head snaps up. He is not amused.

GARAK: "I beg your pardon?"

ANTONIA doesn't reply.

GARAK goes back to scanning.

Several seconds later...

ANTONIA: "Blink!"

GARAK: (aggravated) "What is wrong with you? Why do you keep saying 'blink'?"

ANTONIA doesn't reply.

GARAK: "Well, please stop! It's very distracting." (sighs) "Look, just be very still and let me finish this. The sooner I finish, the sooner you can leave. All right?"

ANTONIA: "Yes."

GARAK: "Promise me!"

ANTONIA: "Yes."

GARAK goes back to work, his hands trembling.

A few more seconds pass, and then...

ANTONIA: "Blink!"

GARAK throws the measuring device onto the floor.

GARAK: "Oh, that does it! I have had it with you! I know what Captain Sisko's orders were, but I-"

Just then, DR. BASHIR bounces in.

BASHIR: "Hey Garak, how's it hanging?"

GARAK is visibly delighted and relieved as he rushes over to greet his friend.

GARAK: "Doctor! I'm so happy you dropped by. I was just thinking about our plans for lunch today and -"

GARAK continues to talk while BASHIR stares at ANTONIA.

BASHIR: "Who the hell is that?"

GARAK leans forward, speaking in an admonishing tone.

GARAK: "That is Admiral Buchanan, doctor. She is attending the Federation banquet tomorrow night."

BASHIR looks from GARAK to ANTONIA, then back again. He chuckles.

BASHIR: "I don't know where you get your information Garak, but that's not Admiral Buchanan."

GARAK: "What? But Captain Sisko said -"

BASHIR: "I don't care what Captain Sisko said. That's not Admiral Buchanan!"

The two men argue back and forth while ANTONIA wanders away, heading for a small cabinet in a corner of the shop. She opens one of the doors. Her eyes focus on an object inside and sparkle with delight.

ANTONIA: "Ooh."

GARAK: "And what YOU don't seem to understand is that I have spent the past half hour being dragged unwittingly through the pits of hell! And I am sick and tired of you Starfleet sons of oh my dear God!"

Standing next to the open cabinet, ANTONIA has found a phaser which she is pointing at GARAK and BASHIR.

BASHIR: "Shit, that girl's holding a phaser!"

GARAK: "Well, I can see that!"

BASHIR: "And she's wearing the ugliest dress I've ever seen! Well, it's your shop." (claps GARAK on the back, pushing him forward)

GARAK: (turns on BASHIR) "What do you mean it's my shop? I'm not the one in charge of security around here. It isn't my fault that this lunatic has been permitted to walk around the promenade, impersonating a Starfleet admiral!"

BASHIR: "Well, it is your phaser, isn't it? And why do you keep a weapon in your shop, anyway?"

One corner of GARAK's mouth turns up into an unconvincing half-smile.

GARAK: "Voles?"

A sudden burst of fire singes the carpet two inches away from BASHIR's feet, sending both men reeling backward with a scream, away from the exit.

ANTONIA: "Blink!"

BASHIR: "God, she's going to kill us!"

GARAK: "It could be worse."

BASHIR's jaw drops in amazement.

BASHIR: "How could it be worse?"

GARAK: "Cardassian wiring is such that if it is exposed to a direct hit from a phaser or any other incendiary device, it'll explode!"

BASHIR: "So if she hits a panel, this whole place could go up!"

GARAK: "That's right."

BASHIR: "Oh great!"

Another burst of fire, this one barely missing the left side of GARAK's face.

ANTONIA: "Blink!"

BASHIR: "Garak, now would be a good time to think of something!"

GARAK: "Wait! I may be able to get us out of this. If there's one thing Cardassian's excel at, it's conversation -"

BASHIR groans, rolling his eyes.

BASHIR: "Here we go."

GARAK: "If I can talk to her, distract her for a few seconds, maybe I -"

GARAK's words are cut off by a sudden, powerful explosion. Cut to the promenade and the terrified faces as everyone scrambles for cover. Cut to an aerial view of the station, the sound of shattering glass, and a geyser of flame spews from the right side of the structure.

ANTONIA's voice echoes through space.

ANTONIA: "Blink!"

In the security office, ODO leaps out of his chair and hits his comm badge.

ODO: "Odo to Chief Obrien. What the hell just happened?"

OBRIEN: "How should I know? I've been repairing replicators all day! You know Captain Sisko: 'Coffee's too cold, chief. Oh, now it's too hot, it burns my tongue! Wah wah wah...'"

ODO plucks the badge from his tunic and pitches it into his regeneration bucket as he races out of the office. OBRIEN is still nattering away.

Back at the shop, a coughing and gasping BASHIR crawls through the rubble to GARAK's side.

BASHIR: "Garak, are you all right?"

GARAK: "Didn't you already ask me that?"

At that moment, the two look up to see PHIL LAMARR leaning inside the doorway of the burned out shop. PHIL's eyes lock with GARAK's and he grins. "Better you than me, man." He walks away cackling, leaving GARAK and BASHIR to trade bewildered stares.

THE END