[MST] - Mistaken Identity by Jeri Massi [2/4]
C. Glenwood Williams
rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc, alt.tv.mst3k.mstings, and alt.drwho.creative as
well as to Web Site #9. If you are reading this post on any other
newsgroup, then it has been reposted, most likely without the original
author's consent or knowledge.
---------------------------
[Door Sequence Now:...0...6...5...4...3...2...O...]
TOM: Mike?
MIKE: Yes, Tom?
TOM: I think you may have covered my eyes.
MIKE: You have eyes?
TOM: Well, I can't see with the bandage on.
[MIKE unwinds the bandages from TOM's head.]
TOM: Wait a minute. It was stupid of me to mention that, wasn't it?
>
>She ran for a long time before the others made consent to stop.
CROW: Nothin' says lovin' like consent to stop in the oven.
MIKE: Good to have you back, Crow.
> The
>bright, hard eyes of the predator
TOM: The Huh? How did Arnold Schwarzenegger get in here?
> had instilled a deep, abiding fear in
>her. It knew exactly what it wanted and had the power to deliver its
>will on any creature.
MIKE: The Last Will and Testament of the Predator
CROW: I hereby bequeath my cool camouflage armor....
> Distant, pack memories of similar creatures with
>death in their hands haunted her.
TOM: You too can have death in your hands! Call now!
> This one did not bear the same scent
>as the others from the past, but it had the same eyes
TOM: It had them hidden in its pocket.
> -eyes of will. It
>took possession of others, and it could kill.
TOM [singing]: It has EYES! Eyes of will! Yes, EYES! Eyes that kill!
Hoo! Jump Back! Dear Lordy!
>
>In spite of her terror, she was tired and famished and instantly fell to
>on the tough roots of the grasses.
CROW: Munchies.
> Already she knew that it was best to
>look for young grass, but there was no time to be choosy. She had not
>eaten enough the previous day, and she was now desperately hungry. Yet
>the grass itself resisted her.
MIKE: Down with herbivores!
CROW: No fertilization without representation!
TOM: Dandelions arise and free yourselves!
> If she ate too fast, she retched it back
>up. Yet even when she ate slowly, she was never full. Her only instinct
>was to keep eating.
MIKE: The tragic story of Mama Cass.
>
>The scent of the predator was gone, and the sentries transmitted safety
>back to the pack.
MIKE: Al Pacino and Arnold Schwarzenegger in: Scent of a Predator.
> She remembered the bright eyes filled with knowledge
>and will,
TOM [singing]: It has EYES!
MIKE: I think we get the point.
> and the others knew that her fear and dread lingered.
CROW [quilae]: Newbie.
> This was
>her first confrontation with a predator, and she had met the dreaful
>creature full facing, its terrible, direct eyes marking her out and
>selecting her with their stare.
CROW: So when did these creatures first meet Ike Turner?
MIKE: Ooo, I think we'll be hearing about that comment again.
> But she had escaped, and in the early
>morning the pack was too busy eating to give her fear much heed.
CROW: She's terrified. Oo, eats!
> The
>sentries were now alert and careful, for the memory of the pack
>understood the predators. And the pack was good at running away from
>death.
TOM [singing to "Janie's Got a Gun"]: Run away! Run away from death!
>
>Just after midday, when the others were dozing in the warmth and she was
>still industriously pulling up grasses and eating the seeds and bulbs
>from the roots and younger shoots,
CROW [Quilae]: Amateur! Go back to two legs!
> she sensed the sentries' alert that
>the predator was returned. He was maintaining a distance. The sentries
>crept closer to examine him while all the others waited in breathless
>stillness.
TOM: Three died and one passed out from oxygen deprivation.
> Hungry as she was, she dropped low into the grasses and
>waited as well, as still as a statue.
>
>The sentries transmitted their observations back to the pack, and she
>understood them: the scent was something like a predator's scent but not
>a predator they had ever known before.
MIKE: It was new Pine Scented Predator-Sol.
CROW: I'll just stick to my old Pine Scented Predator.
> Clearly, by the smell of it, it
>ate meat. It showed no aggression at the moment. It was male.
CROW: After a fashion.
TOM: Is that a Pertwee joke?
> The
>consensus was to keep eating but to move away if it came closer. The
>predator did not come any closer.
CROW [Doctor]: Does this bug you? Does this bug you?
>
>The day waned, and she napped briefly, but when she awoke she was hungry
>again. She ate as much as she could before twilight, and then she crept
>away with the others as the day faded to night. She crawled away on her
>elbows and legs, as close to the ground as she could get, for she knew
>that the predator would use his eyes to hunt.
TOM: I *guess* they could tell that by scent....
MIKE: Forget it, Servo. You're trying to make it make sense again.
> The sentries reported that
>he was not following. After about thirty minutes they reported that he
>was following, but at the same distance he had kept all day.
MIKE: He's following us. No, wait, he's not. Wait, yes. No. Maybe.
CROW: All right, which one of you hired the sentries?
> She would
>not go to the rocks, where he might see her, but remained in the
>grasses, even though the grasses became cold at night.
TOM: And guys don't make passes at girls who sleep in grasses.
MIKE: You are so dead.
>
>On the morning of the second day the predator maintained his watch from
>a distance,
TOM: And reported that indeed, we did seem to live in harmony.
> and some of the sentries regarded him as a stranger rather
>than a predator. But she remembered the eyes that possessed will and
>intent.
TOM [singing]: EYES! Eyes with-
MIKE: Okay. It's getting a bit old now, Tom.
> In the night, hunger and cold had troubled her, and she had been
>sick twice from undigested grass eaten much earlier. Before dawn of the
>second day she crawled down to water and drank heavily, for she had
>missed water the day before,
CROW: Jo, honey, you've come back to me.
MIKE: Water, how I missed you.
> and her stomach trouble had dehydrated her.
>
>By midmorning she was weak and unhappy. She tried to nap, but her fear
>woke her in fits and starts.
CROW [Jo]: Nn! President Gingrich! No!
> Yet the predator did not move any nearer.
>She felt a little better as the day progressed, for the sunlight helped
>her and comforted her. By afternoon she was eating again, now more
>accustomed to hunger and patient with it. She ate slowly and
>methodically and purchased a half hour of rest for herself in the late
>afternoon, and then she grazed until dark.
MIKE: They're heading to Woundwort's warren, aren't they?
>
>The pack again moved to the rocks as night covered the terrain. There
>were many niches where she could curl up and trap her own body heat to
>stay warm until the sun came back. But she feared the exposure of the
>rocky ridges.
TOM (school marm voice): Jo lived in mortal fear of the Black Grant of
Inle....
> He had discovered her there before with his eyes.
MIKE: Hey, how did you get those? Give those back!
>
>Still, knowing that the predator was following the pack, the sentries
>were now alert and watchful.
MIKE: Bigwig took the first watch while Fiver comforted the does.
CROW: Fiver always got the cushy jobs.
> And she had learned the night before the
>misery of trying to sleep in the cold grass. At last she gave in to her
>longing for warmth and found a niche in the rocks.
CROW [Minnesotan]: Ooo, it's always good to find a niche in the rocks,
donchaknow.
TOM [also Minnesotan]: Oo, ya. Especially late at night.
CROW: Ya, when it gets real cold and the roads freeze up.
TOM: And you go by the crack house and you try to stop and honk the horn
twice, but you just keep slidin' down the road and people look at you
like "'Ey, what's that idiot doin' tryin' to stop in front of the crack
house and honk his horn twice when he knows the roads are frozen?"
CROW: Ya.
TOM: But I wouldn't know anything about that.
CROW: Oo, ya.
> She curled up into a
>tight ball and slept deeply, untroubled and undisturbed through the dark
>night. But she woke up in great pain, too hungry to bear it. Before the
>pack was really moving about, she hurried to water and then to the
>grass.
CROW: Man, I have never heard of a habit like *that*.
MIKE: I think you've run out of leeway here.
>
>Just after dawn, the sentries sent out an alert, but it was a new kind
>of alert.
TOM: A cuddly kind of alert. A silly, goofy, fun kind of alert.
> Something was in the air, some new scent from the stranger.
CROW: Hopefully cyanide gas.
> It
>was utterly foreign, but better than grass, and better than the new
>seeds, and better than anything else.
MIKE: Better than ice cream?
TOM: Sweeter than chocolate?
CROW: Better than sex?
MIKE: You have *really* run out of leeway.
> The message moved through her mind
>and right to her stomach.
MIKE and BOTS: RAID?!?
> It was food, a new food, though some forgotten
>part of her memory recognized it.
>
>The pack crept closer for a better inspection, and she crept along with
>them.
MIKE: Too late, they discovered the secret of Quilae Motel.
CROW: Quilae check in, but they don't check out.
TOM: Maybe if they remembered their library cards.
> Her own range of scenting out items was limited, but she knew the
>details from the pack mind. The scent was sweet, and the food value
>alerted her entire nervous system.
MIKE: Wake up, spinal column! Something smells good!
> She stayed on her stomach in the
>grasses but crawled forward, until even she could smell the food. Low in
>the grasses, hugging the earth,
MIKE: Okay, now you're giving the Earth a little *too* much sweet lovin'.
CROW: Mike, does that come under leeway?
MIKE: Not when I say it.
> she quickened her pace, following the
>scent on the morning breeze until she was so close that if she dared,
>she could have looked through the grasses and seen the predator where he
>sat in an open place on a wide, flat rock.
>
>He had fire such as predators used, and was making the scent flow
>everywhere from his food.
TOM: Who wants Toaster Strudel?
MIKE and CROW [quilae]: I do! I do!
> She identified the smell of water
TOM: Love that fresh water smell in the morning.
> and
>something else--sweet and nutritious,
CROW: Is it quick and delicious?
TOM: It's Scrumdiddlyumptious!
MIKE: By gum it's gum!
> which she knew by instinct would
>take away the painful hunger and nausea inside her.
CROW: So it looked like she would have to *induce* vomiting this time.
>
>She at last made herself peer out from the grasses at him. But he sat
>with head bowed and eyes down, not predatory now.
MIKE: Oh, of course not.
TOM: No, predators never pretend to be asleep or dead.
CROW: Especially when they're hunting.
> At long, long last he
>spied her in the grasses, peeping out at him, wishing he would go away
>from the food.
MIKE: This doesn't seem like a Pertwee plan.
TOM: Yeah, it's not brilliant enough.
MIKE: Actually, I was thinking that it hasn't involved a hovering car
yet.
>
>But he did not go away from it. Instead, he flipped something from the
>pot in front of him high in the air, caught it, and ate it.
CROW: Mmm! That's good goldfish!
> He waited a
>long time, and then he did it again. The third time, he flipped it much
>too high, and it came down in front of her. She snatched it and ate it.
MIKE: Completely unconcerned about drugs or poison.
>It was warm and comforted her stomach immediately, but it made her crave
>another one. It was not nearly enough.
TOM: Yes, quilae just can't get enough of that wonderful Duff.
>
>He flipped another one to her, and she ate that as well and watched him
>hopefully.
CROW [Doctor]: Jo want a scooby snack? Yes?
>
>He took the pot off of the fire and made the fire stop. After several
>minutes, he got up and walked away: a good safe distance. The sentries
>did not know what to make of this.
TOM: Could always make a nice soup.
CROW: No opposable thumbs.
> But the braver among the males were
>ready to go and take the food, and she knew that her life hung on it, so
>she went first.
MIKE: Being the kind, sharing creature she was.
> She scurried to the pot in a low crouch and quickly
>removed the bits of warm food from the water, swallowing them as quickly
>as possible.
TOM: About this time, the morphine began to kick in.
MIKE: You think he drugged the food?
TOM: No, I was hoping you had some.
>
>She turned as soon as she had finished, but the landscape was suddenly
>blurred. She tried to scurry away, but her legs were heavy and she fell
>forward.
CROW: Dat wor a mos' pow'ful bolt, Pip, m'lad!
> She rolled onto her back to find the sun and orient herself,
>and then she saw the predator coming for her, striding with slow
>deliberation through the grass.
CROW [singing]: A-hunting we will go / To kill our dear friend Jo....
> The others scattered and raced away, for
>he had become a creature of will and power again.
MIKE: I don't want to hear one word about eyes.
TOM [singing]: He's got EARS! Ears of will!
> She struggled against
>her own inert limbs and paralysis,
MIKE: Hi! My name is Mike. I'm Mike. Hello.
CROW: And I am Crow. Crow is my name.
TOM: We're here from the Department of Redundancy Department is why we're
here.
> but before he came close enough to
>touch her, the black wave of helpless and complete unconsciousness
>washed over her.
MIKE: I don't know, I just don't see Jon Pertwee as the threatening type.
Annoying, perhaps, but not threatening.
TOM: Hey, I *liked* Jon Pertwee.
>
>* * * *
MIKE: Davy Jones siamese twins, I tell you.
CROW: I think they look like bullet holes. I hope they look like bullet
holes.
TOM: I think they're eyes of will, myself.
>
>She woke up suddenly.
TOM [Jo]: Wow, did I get really toasted last night and think I was a
quila and run around eating grass?
> As soon as she opened her eyes, she knew that the
>sun was gone. Another kind of light illuminated the room where she woke
>up.
CROW: One that *wasn't* a mass of incandescent gas.
> She had been cleaned and her clothes changed, though she hardly took
>note of that fact.
MIKE: Not being naked anymore really had no effect on her.
> There was no sound of the pack in her mind, not the
>faintest echo of them or their senses. She was utterly alone, cut off
>from the pack. In a single bound she escaped the bed and tried to hide
>against the wall. Her hands searched for an opening through which she
>could escape.
CROW [Jo]: Wait a minute, have I had thumbs all along?
> She desperately ranged in her thoughts for some indication
>of where the pack could be, strained to sense some echo of their senses,
>but there was nothing.
>
>Then she heard the predator. She darted a look over her shoulder.
TOM: It stuck quivering to the wall.
MIKE: Nobody's going to get that, Tom.
TOM: Doesn't matter. It's still fun.
> He
>stood across the enclosure, eyes down, waiting, not like a predator.
TOM: No, predators never remain calm while not appearing to look at their
prey.
MIKE: Especially not when they're stalking.
CROW: Whatever gave you that idea?
> She
>frantically searched her end of the room, but there was no opening. He
>moved to another corner, and she kept the distance between them, moving
>to stay opposite to him. At last her hands found the outline of a
>doorway, and her distant memories told her that it should open somehow.
TOM: So is that her pack memory or her memory of being Jo....
MIKE: I'm not bandaging you again, Servo. You can just fix yourself next
time.
>She tried to dig her fingers into the narrow fissure of its outline and
>pull it open, but it would not yield. She tugged and pulled, desperate
>to get away.
TOM [Jo]: Tommy's giving a meeting tonight! I have to be there!
>
>Something made a sound behind her, a crinkling sound,
TOM: A fun sort of light and crispy crinkling sound.
> and she looked
>over her shoulder again. The predator was setting more food down, on the
>raised place where she had lain. It was the same food she had eaten
>before from him, the food that had filled her up and taken away the pain
>of hunger and nausea.
CROW: Morphine?
TOM: That would take away *my* pain and nausea.
MIKE: That would take away *anyone's* pain and nausea.
> She knew that it tasted good, and her mind made no
>connection between the food and her inexplicable loss of light,
>awareness, and freedom.
MIKE: Ooo, she doesn't learn too fast.
>
>He backed away, and she bounded to the food, snatched up the pieces, and
>swallowed them quickly.
CROW: Mmm! That's good goldfish! That's good!
> The last time, there had been more, and these
>were not enough. She backed away, heard the crinkle again,
TOM: The Kris Krinkle.
> and he
>deposited more down for her, but this time he did not move as far away.
>She took one step closer and waited for him to move back, but he did
>not. Neither did he become predatory. He waited, eyes down, but he would
>not move away.
MIKE: Nor did he let her see the electric cattle prod behind his back.
>
>She waited and then called in her mind for some warning from the
>sentries, but there was only silence.
CROW [sentry]: Figure it out yourself, newbie!
> At last she dropped to the floor
>and crawled up to the bed under its lee,
MIKE: Mrs. Frisby, you must move your house to the lee of the storm.
CROW: Not the Butch, not the Mark, but the *Lee*.
> so that it would be harder for
>him to attack her. But he did not move at all. She peeped up at him from
>across the bed,
TOM: Peek-a-boo!
> and she quickly snatched the food and ate it. Then she
>retreated to the closed door.
>
>They stayed this way for a long time. She wanted water, but there was
>none. He settled down to a sitting position on the floor and busied
>himself with items she recognized but could not identify:
MIKE: Mittens.
CROW: A tricycle.
TOM: A brain.
> The ledger
>from four days ago.
TOM: I call no fair! That's clearly one item!
> But she knew that he was not paying attention to
>her, so she sat down, as far from him as possible, and waited, listening
>for some indication or sense of the return of the pack.
MIKE: But the leader of the pack is gone.
>
>The crinkling sound woke her up, and she opened her eyes to see him much
>closer. His long arm was extended,
CROW: It is the long arm of the *law*.
MIKE: I don't see Pertwee as a father figure, either.
> offering the food to her, so close
>that she could reach out and take it.
>
>"Would you like some more figs, Jo? " he asked in a quiet, gentle voice.
MIKE: They're laced with strychnine, just like you like them....
>
>She waited for him to set them down, but he would not set them down. At
>last she reached for them, but her fingers encountered some clear
>non-food thing wrapped around them, and she snatched her hand back.
>
>"Oh, that's just the bag," he said softly.
TOM: I understand that Papa's got a brand new one.
> He shook a fig out of the bag
>and offered it. She took it carefully in her fingers, her dark eyes
>fixed on him, but his eyes were now very gentle, filled with longing
>rather than strong will.
MIKE: I thought that didn't show up with him and his companions until his
eight incarnation.
CROW: What do you mean, Mike?
MIKE: Well, the controversial kiss at the end of the Fox telemovie and
everything where the Doctor -- played by Paul McGann -- kisses Grace on
the lips and....
CROW: Faaaaaanboy.
> He gave her the figs one by one, and she ate
>them. Then he held out something else to her, but it was not food, and
>she was not interested.
MIKE: Mama Cass takes a turn for the worse.
> He saw this, and he held out his other hand, and
>then turned the object onto it. Water poured from it onto his cupped
>hand. Without thinking, she leaped forward and pushed her face into his
>open hand to get the water, for she was very thirsty. He let her drink
>it from his hand, and he offered the object to her again, but it was not
>food or water, and she was still not interested in it.
MIKE: Oo, she doesn't learn too quickly, does she?
> He poured water
>from it into his hand again, and she took the water that way. He stopped
>trying to thrust the object at her and instead let her drink from his
>hand. As she drank, she suddenly felt a softness on her cheek, and she
>stopped and looked down.
TOM: Bad touch.
> For a moment the fear of aloneness had
>subsided.
CROW: Replaced by a feeling of guilt, anguish, and wondering how the heck
she came to drinking water out of an old English dandy's palm.
> She hesitated and then put her face into the small bit of
>water in his palm, and again she felt the softness like the closeness of
>the pack touch her cheek. She stopped and glanced at the arm of the
>predator.
MIKE: Always a good idea when you're the prey.
>
>"Do you like the sleeve of my jacket?" he asked softly,
CROW [Doctor]: It's real quilae fur.
> for the cuff of
>his velvet smoking jacket had caught her attention as her cheek had
>brushed against it. His words meant nothing to her,
TOM: As usual.
> and after a moment
>she drank again. He gave her all the water, a few swallows at a time,
>from his hand.
>
>* * * *
TOM: A pointless eyeball gag?
CROW: Bingo?
MIKE: Davy Jones Siamese Twins, I tell you. Let's get out of here.
[Close the doors! Were you raised in a
barn?:...O...1...2...3...4...5...6...0]
[SOL]
CROW: So, Mike, what's this Davy Jones siamese twins you keep talking
about?
TOM: Yeah, what's the deal with that?
MIKE: Oh, well I'm actually glad you asked that.
CROW: Why? So you can show off your incredible wisdom regarding Davy
Jones siamese twins?
TOM: Or so you can play an elaborate prank on us gullible robots?
MIKE: Actually, I'm glad because now I can justify going to Kinko's to
get these pictures blown up and printed on heavy-duty cardstock.
[MIKE pulls out a stack of pictures on glossy cardstock. The first one is
an early promotional shot of The Monkees' Davy Jones, alone in front of
a white background.]
CROW: Wow....
TOM: That's impressive, Mike, but where do the siamese twins come in?
MIKE: Well, this is the studio's final choice for an early Davy Jones
promotional picture, but what you don't see is that this picture has
been cleverly airbrushed.
[MIKE drops the first picture, revealing another copy of the same picture,
only this one clearly shows another Davy Jones standing next to the
first, connected at the foot.]
TOM: Cool! He really was siamese twins!
CROW: But if he was siamese twins, how did he hide it from his fans all
these years?
MIKE: That's the thing. For the first few years of his career, he didn't
need to. What was Davy Jones' first role?
TOM: I thought it was the Monkees.
CROW: So did I.
MIKE: No! Davy Jones started out playing the Artful Dodger in a British
stage production of the musical _Oliver!_ A performance which was
highly praised. Everybody knows that.
TOM: Oh, I don't know why I didn't- huh?
MIKE: So while Davy played on stage, his brother Andy curled up close
under his loose-fitting black shirt. It was a perfect disguise. And
what nobody ever guessed was that every other night, Andy would play
the role while Davy took a nap under the shirt. Now what was his
second big show?
CROW: I'm going to have to go with the Monkees this time.
TOM: Um, yeah. Me too, Mike.
MIKE: You're wrong. Both of you. Everybody in the world knows that Davy
Jones' second role was on the long-running British soap opera
"Coronation Street."
CROW: Oh. Of course.
MIKE: The thing is, back then the British channels were experimenting
with the first ever realtime special effects which they used to
magically "erase" Davy's twin brother Andy. Andy Jones once again
stood in Davy's shadow.
CROW: Yeah, yeah, yeah. So get to the bit where he becomes part of the
Monkees.
MIKE: Well, it's a well-known fact that Davy Jones had a major talent
that caused him to be selected.
TOM: You mean he was cute.
MIKE: No, no, no! He could make stars appear in his eyes, something that
he did every show whenever his character fell in love. The producers
flipped over the idea, but the siamese twin thing tanked in test
groups. So the decision was made to amputate Andy.
CROW: Couldn't Andy make stars appear in *his* eyes?
MIKE: Well, yes, but strangely enough, he lost the ability shortly after
he and Davy were separated.
TOM: So that was the only reason Davy was selected over Andy?
MIKE: Not exactly. There was something else the producers noticed in
audition.
CROW: What was that?
MIKE: It appears that Andy had difficulty dancing. It had something to
do with the fact that he was connected at Davy's left foot, which meant
he had no right foot of his own.
TOM: You mean...
CROW: He had two...
MIKE: And for the good of the world, you must now forget that that pun
was ever set up.
TOM: Ick. No problem.
CROW: I think I'm going to be sick.
TOM: So, Mike, were there any more famous people with siamese twins?
MIKE: As a matter of fact, there were quite a few.
[MIKE drops the picture, showing a picture of Lon Cheney in his Hunchback
outfit]
MIKE: Few people know, for instance, that Lon Cheney Sr.'s "costume" in
_The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ was actually his twin brother joined at
the shoulder, George Cheney. George was removed shortly after he
appeared onscreen with his brother as the organ in Phantom of the
Opera.
[MIKE drops the picture, showing Arnold Schwarzenegger attached to himself]
MIKE: And from more recent times, even Arnold had a less succesful twin
brother, Hubert. Hubert was accidentally amputated during the first
day of filming on _Conan_. He had been brilliant at hiding himself in
the shooting of classic western spoof _The Villain_.
[MIKE continues dropping pictures, showing what he describes.]
MIKE: Of course, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen started out as twins joined
at the head, but their shared brain was lost in the separation. Then
there was rock star and singer Sting with his brother Xerxes, joined at
the right thumb. Sean "Puffy" Combs originally started out as Sean and
Puffminster Combs, siamese twins joined at the cheek. But strangest of
all was Eng and Chang.
TOM: Hey, wait a minute. That's no fair. Eng and Chang were the most
famous pair of siamese twins ever.
CROW: Yeah, they worked for P. T. Barnum. Being siamese twins was part
of their act.
MIKE: Sure. But have you ever heard of Eng, Chang, and Leng?
TOM and CROW: Leng?
MIKE: Leng was the middle twin. When Eng and Chang went to work for
Barnum, Barnum couldn't afford to pay all three. So Eng and Chang had
Leng removed.
TOM: So they cut out....
MIKE: Again. Don't finish that pun. We have fanfic sign, anyway.
------------------------
(Continued in section 3)