> A glint in his eye, a sly, Ferengi grin,
> Quark crossed the promenade, a curious thing within.
> No jeweled trinket, no weapon so grand,
> But a simple pail held tight in his hand.
>
> Odo, the Constable, with a brow raised high,
> "A bucket, Quark? What trickery do you try?"
> The Ferengi huckster, with a salesman's flair,
> "A gift, my friend, a constable's rare!"
>
> "For those late-night spills, a morphing mishap,
> This bucket, dear Odo, will catch every scrap.
> And should a suspect turn to goop and flee,
> This pail's the answer, a guarantor, you see!"
>
> Odo's lips twitched, a hint of a smile,
> At Quark's twisted logic, his mercantile style.
> "Perhaps," he conceded, the bucket held tight,
> "A useful addition, in the pursuit of right."
>
> So Quark made his sale, with a wink and a nod,
> A bucket for Odo, a Ferengi oddity, odd.
> But on Deep Space Nine, where chaos takes hold,
> Even a pail can be worth more than gold.
About the account, thanks, but I already have way too many. :-D