Leonard Fitzmurdle’s personal log
August 13, 2113
It was a strange experience. We were sitting at the helm, in our usual positions, chatting idly about the gestation cycles of the Orion bladderbat. Suddenly, there was a loud crackling popping noise. The air on the bridge seemed to fold in on itself, and then burst into a kind of glowing vortex, hovering in the air. Before we had time to react, a medium-sized pig-like beast came charging through the floating whirlpool and screeched to a halt in front of us. Then the gleaming portal it had come through abruptly vanished.
The creature stood quivering, staring at us with wild eyes. Briswald gave a shout and moved toward it, I presume to get it subdued before it decided to start charging around again. But the instant he got close, the animal gave a squeal, closed its eyes, took a deep breath, and—there is no way of putting this delicately—exploded with pus.
Yellow, sticky goo flew in all directions. I was behind one of the larger instrument panels and managed to avoid the majority of the creamy eruption, but Briswald had no such luck. After a moment’s horrified pause he looked down at his clothes, saturated with slime, and let out a pitiful wail. The creature, startled by the noise, took another deep breath and exploded all over again.
Eventually we captured it in a localized force field, but even though it was safely contained Briswald had no interest in studying it further. We turned the ship around, motored back to the original coordinates where we had encountered the strange space hole, and pushed the hog back into whatever galaxy it had come from.
Other mentions: "Pus hog" is one of Neelix's favorite obscenities (VOY).