[MST] - Mistaken Identity by Jeri Massi [1/4]
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.
---------------------------
Mistaken Identity - by Jeri Massi
MST by Glen Williams
<Turn Down Lights>
<and surrender control of the world>
In the not too distant future,
Somewhere in time and space
Mike Nelson and his robot pals
Are caught in an endless chase
Pursued by a woman whose name is Pearl,
An evil gal who wants to rule the world
She threw a few things in her purse
And in her rocketship she hunts him all across the universe.
PEARL: I'll send them cheesy fanfics
The worst I can find.
They'll have to sit and read them all
Til they crush their puny minds.
Now keep in mind Mike can't control
Where the fanfics begin or end
He'll try to keep his sanity
With the help of his robot friends.
Robot Roll Call:
Cambot! (Dissolve to...)
Gypsy! (Whee!)
Tom Servo! (I'm HUGE!)
Crooow... (You know you want me, baby!)
If you're wondering how he eats and breathes
And other science facts
Just repeat to yourself "It's on Usenet,
So there's probably a FAQ"
For Mystery Usenet Theatre 3000....*twang!*
[opening doors sequence]
SOL - Bridge
[TOM SERVO is hovering on the left. He is chuckling evilly. MIKE
enters from the right.]
MIKE: Hi, everybody. Welcome to the Sattelite of Love.
TOM: Hey, Mike, have you seen Crow anywhere?
MIKE: No. I haven't seen him all day.
TOM: Doesn't that make you the slightest bit suspicious?
MIKE: Not really.
TOM: Well, it might be a good idea for you to stand on that giant "X"
that we've marked out on the floor. See?
MIKE: Hm? Oh, yeah. I see. That's great craftsmanship. Very
tasteful use of white paint.
TOM: Just hop on over there and take a good look at it. OK?
MIKE: Sure. Like this? [takes one step to the right]
TOM: NOW, CROW! NOW!
[CROW drops from overhead landing squarely on top of TOM and knocking
them both over. The Commercial Sign light starts flashing.]
MIKE: We'll be right back, won't you?
[commercial]
[PROPEACHY: Cures 75% of all bald men from ever wanting hair again. Do
not use near open flame. Known to cause spontaneous combustion in
household pets.]
[MIKE is bandaging up TOM while CROW stands to the side.]
MIKE: You see what happens when your little death traps backfire?
Somebody gets hurt.
TOM: It would have worked fine if Crow hadn't messed up!
CROW: I thought you said to aim for the black X.
TOM: The white X! The *white* X!
MIKE: Cool it, you two. Captain, Tenniele, and Larry are calling.
[MIKE hits the light]
[CASTLE FORRESTER]
[PEARL is working at a desktop Macintosh]
PEARL: Ah, there you are, Mike. I've been trying to reach you all day.
I'm forwarding you a virus warning.
[SOL]
MIKE: Now, Ms. Forrester, isn't that stooping a little bit low?
TOM: Yeah. I mean, get-rich-quick spam maybe, but a virus warning?
[CASTLE FORRESTER]
PEARL: I'm serious, you guys. I want you to read this. It's very
important. You too, Art.
[SOL]
[CROW quite suddenly seems to have his computer set up]
CROW: Okay, Pearl.
MIKE: What's it say, Crow?
CROW: Let's see. "Virus warning: Be careful of a new virus announced by
Advance Cybernetic Creations (ACC) today. The virus, known only as
'Good Times,' has been shown to affect small, golden robots with
beak noses. It results in a lack of coordination, and will
eventually cause the robot to cease functioning. Please forward this
message to anybody you know who has a small, golden robot with a beak
nose." Wow, I've seen hoaxes, but this really takes the cake.
MIKE: I don't know, Crow. I think this one might be serious.
CROW: What? Oh, come on, Mike. You know these virus warnings are always
faked.
TOM: Well, you did miss the big white X that I plainly painted right
there on the floor.
CROW: Guys! There's nothing wrong with me! I don't have any "Good
Times" virus.
MIKE: Still, I think we better keep an eye on you, just in case.
[CASTLE FORRESTER]
PEARL: Guys? Did you get the message?
[SOL]
MIKE: Yes, Ms. Forrester.
[CASTLE FORRESTER]
PEARL: All right. Listen, I'm going to have to send you a story now.
[SOL]
MIKE and BOTS: Yes, Ms. Forrester.
[CASTLE FORRESTER]
PEARL: You realize I can't take it too easy on you, but this one's not as
bad as some. It's called "Mistaken Identity," and it's by Jeri Massi.
Enjoy, and watch out for viruses.
[SOL]
[General Chaos, Major Discord, and Sgt. Slaughter reign supreme as the
Fanfic Sign flashes]
MIKE: We've got Fanfic Sign!
CROW: You know you want me, baby!
[Door Sequence Now:...0...6...5...4...3...2..O]
MIKE: Oh boy. It's a Pertwee fanfic. Hunker down, guys.
TOM: Hey, I liked Pertwee!
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
>Mistaken Identity
>
>by Jeri Massi
MIKE: Or is it really Miss Krobopple Gershankmeyer of Walla Walla
Washington?
CROW: Um, no. It's not.
MIKE: Oh. Just checking.
>
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
>Set after The Three Doctors.
MIKE: But is it before or after the Four Doctors and the Five Doctors?
CROW: Well, depending on your perspective, it's *either* before *or*
after The Two Doctors, but neither before nor after The Eight Doctors.
>
>"Lethbridge-Stewart!" the voice on the other end of the line barked with
>just that right mix of whine, pomposity, and forced anger to set the
>Brigadier's teeth on edge.
MIKE: Wow, dentistry is getting really advanced.
> This was going to be worse than any alien
>invasion.
CROW: A new Sci-Fi Channel miniseries about alien invasion?
>
>"Why Mr. Chin, what a surprise to hear from you again," the Brigadier
>said.
TOM: Mr. Nose and Mr. Mouth said you had vanished.
>
>"It hasn't been so long since the Axos incident Brigadier," the voice
>barked at him. "And I have not forgotten the indignities, indignities
>mind you,
CROW: Oh, the indignity!
> that the British people suffered at the hands of the UN forces
>during that time.
TOM: I agree. I mean, Margaret Thatcher was a bit much, don't you
think?
> UN forces under your governance, Brigadier."
>
>"If you mean we tried to prevent you from hoarding an unknown and
>dangerous substance away from public scrutiny, sir--"
MIKE: Of course not! That makes me sound like the bad guy!
>
>"I mean the unprofessional and nearly criminal manner in which you
>conducted your forces, Brigadier, not to mention the presence of that
>unclassified, unprocessed, unmannerly clown in the fancy dress
>costume--"
CROW: Bozo's part of the UN strike force?
MIKE: No, I think he was referring to David Copperfield.
TOM: Or possibly Margaret Thatcher.
>
>"Ah, that would be the Doctor, the one who finally got the Axonite off
>the planet, I believe."
CROW [Brigadier]: Granted, it took a long enough lever and we had to prop
him up on the moon and all....
>
>"I have at last succeeded in convening a board of enquiry into the
>manner in which you are running a United Nations military organisation
>on British soil, Lethbridge-Stewart--"
>
>The news hit like a thunderbolt, and for a moment Lethbridge-Stewart was
>thrown off his stride.
TOM: I hate it when I get thrown off my stride. It takes so long to
get back on it again.
CROW: I know, and then you have to buckle yourself back in and
everything....
> "You did what?"
MIKE: Well how exactly *did* you put the bomp in the
bomp-ba-bomp-ba-bomp?
>
>"Expect us Tuesday of next week. I shall look forward to it."
CROW [Chin]: That's when your cafeteria serves Chicken Nuggets, isn't
it?
>
>The line went dead. Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart gently cradled the
>receiver of the telephone
MIKE: Good telephone. Nice telephone.
> and stared for a long moment at the intercom.
>Ever since the Doctor had gotten his TARDIS operational again, he had
>been taking it out on test runs, repairing numerous small bits and
>pieces of equipment that had needed overhauling. The Brigadier devoutly
>hoped that he would stay away until after the enquiry.
TOM: Or at least for a spot of tea.
>
>* * * *
TOM: TARDIS contrail?
CROW: The galaxy's least interesting constellation?
MIKE: The Davy Jones siamese twins?
>
>"Mmmm." Jo Grant closed her eyes and inhaled. "And mind you, don't turn
>me over until I'm medium well done on one side."
TOM [Jo]: And remember, I hate it when you baste me with butter sauce.
>
>"If you wanted to cook out here, you should have worn something
>appropriate for sunbathing,"
MIKE: You attract the attention of the natives much quicker that way.
> the Doctor said. "Instead of corduroy
>slacks and a heavy sweater."
TOM [Doctor]: Speaking of which, can I borrow that outfit in a few
regenerations?
>
>"I don't understand how the sun can be so warm but the air so cool
>here," she replied, eyes closed. "And then, down here in the grass, it's
>like being, I don't know--held in somehow."
CROW: *Wicked* grass, man.
>
>He had a ledger on his knee and was sitting up in the slender, rush-like
>grasses
TOM: Fat, nazi, and full of hot air?
> while she lazed nearby.
MIKE: Suddenly, a most peculiar little rabbit in a waistcoat
appeared....
>
>"The grasses are shaft-like," he said absently, studying the diagram he
>had sketched out. "Insulators. They hold in the warmth from the sun like
>a blanket over the topsoil. Is that what you mean?"
TOM: That explains the little Pink Panther logos on each blade.
>
>"No, I meant lying in the grass is so warm and safe--it's like being
>held by the arms of this world. Mother Earth and all that. Except this
>isn't Earth. So it's Mother-something-else."
CROW [Jo]: Thinking's hard.
MIKE: They say that Earth is one bad Mutha-
TOM: Shut your mouth!
MIKE: I'm only talkin' 'bout Earth.
> She suddenly sat up on her
>elbows so that she could see him. "Say, you are sure there are no ants
>or fleas on this planet?"
TOM: Just the giant, fleash-eating locusts.
>
>At her sudden motion, two quilae that had been browsing nearby bounced
>through the grasses, only their small backs visible as they leaped away
>in long bounds. The Doctor smiled after them. "You're frightening our
>shy hosts, Jo," he said.
MIKE [Doctor]: But then, you usually have that affect on people.
> Then he added, "No ants whatsoever, my dear.
>Just grass, a sort of dust mite too small for you to take note of,
MIKE: Except for the fact that it carries the plague.
> and
>the quilae. The quilae eat the grass. Their waste products keep the soil
>fertile,
CROW: Fertilizer? You're soaking in it!
> and their digging keeps things nicely aerated. It could go on
>like this for another ten million years."
TOM: But we'll soon change that.
> He sketched in a few more
>lines of his diagram. Satisfied, she lay back down into the dry warmth
>below the crisp air.
>
>"A world with no predators," she mused, closing her eyes again. "Is that
>why it feels so safe?
MIKE: Actually, no. There's just a large amount of Oxygen in the
atmosphere.
TOM and CROW: Wheeee!
> Are we the first people here, Doctor?"
>
>He flipped a page over and started a revision of the diagram. "Oh no,"
>he said. "In fact, this place used to be teeming with visitors. Or
>invaders, depending on your perspective. Once upon a time."
MIKE: Back then Michael Eisner ran the place.
TOM: You can hardly see where they tore down the monorail.
CROW: But they left Splash Mountain up, just for kicks.
>
>"Farmers?" she asked. "Colonists and the like?"
>
>He let out a rueful laugh at her innocence.
MIKE [Doctor]: You can be so vacuous some times.
> "Hardly. More like fur
>traders. The quilae were once considered an extremely valuable natural
>resource." She got up on her elbows again. From far away, where the
>grass was young and short, the two quilae stopped, sat up like miniature
>kangaroos, and watched her with wary, sparkling eyes.
MIKE and BOTS: Redrum! *Redrum!*
> The dry wind
>ruffled their deep, plush fur and made their long whiskers tremble.
>
>"Those little things?" she asked.
TOM: Why, I couldn't get a single moccasin out of the pair of them.
>
>"Their fur is more dense and softer than the chinchilla of earth, Jo.
MIKE: Also more fluffy and light on the tounge, with a hint of nutmeg and
chocolate.
> In
>fact, they were hunted nearly to extinction here. As the planet had no
>legal system governing it, not much was done to protect them."
TOM: The legal system is not here to protect the quilae, it's here to
opress the quilae!
CROW: Amen, brother!
MIKE: Off the pigs!
>
>"Poor little creatures." She lay down and turned towards his voice, but
>she could not see him through the high grass. "What saved them?"
>
>"You know, I'm not really sure.
CROW: I think it had to do something with their developing razor sharp
fangs. Nothing important.
> There was probably a glut on the market,
>that sort of thing."
TOM [Doctor]: Probably all for the best, thinning out the population of
the beastly little non-Christian things.
> He paused from his sketching to look up at the two
>small animals, now several yards distant, only their eyes and ears
>visible above the undulating waves of grass. "It seems that I recall
>some stories about some fur traders never coming back--a few
>misadventures that were never quite clear.
CROW: They're the wackiest fur traders in the Navy!
[TOM and MIKE make Circus music noises]
> Stories of ghosts and what
>have you."
>
>Apparently deciding that they were far enough away from the strangers,
>the quilae disappeared below the gently waving grass as they went back
>on all fours to continue their breakfast.
CROW: Or so they thought. Actually, the quilae were checking their ammo
belts and field-stripping their rifles.
>
>She got up on her elbows again, and he smiled as her head popped up out
>of the grass, her eyes big. "You are sure there are no predators here,
>Doctor?"
CROW: Mike, this is going to turn out to be a third Doctor porno, isn't
it?
MIKE: Hush, child. Jeri Massi doesn't write that kind of story.
>
>"Lie back in the arms of the good earth, Jo," he assured her.
MIKE: The good earth needs a little sweet lovin'.
> "Fur
>traders are remarkably well known for inventing horrific stories about
>planets that they want for themselves. I never took them seriously.
TOM: Flying blood and the sound of screams. That's what I take as
evidence.
> The
>quilae are all of about one pound each, with the teeth and guts of
>herbivores.
CROW [Doctor]: At least, that's what my vivisections show.
> There are no predators natural to the planet. If there were,
>we would see evidence of killed and devoured quilae,
MIKE: Other than the fifteen we just roasted, that is.
> and there is none.
>They all die of old age--sometimes starvation in the cold months."
>
>She lay back down. "What do the quilae eat?"
TOM: The usual. Nuts, berries, human flesh....
>
>"The grass--the seeds and roots mostly. Grub up the soil. Natural
>compost makers."
>
>"Seeds are awfully good to eat," she admitted.
CROW: I like the way they tickle my nose.
>
>"Certainly," he agreed. "If you're a quila."
MIKE: Although for a human, it's rather odd. Now put that dandelion
down.
>
>She fell into a doze. After a few minutes he leaned way over to check
>her, but she was peacefully asleep. "Well, now for a bit of work with no
>questions," he said to himself. "See if I can't get this improved pump
>properly designed."
>
>He was fully able to lose himself in his work, as deeply as Jo could
>lose herself in sleep. It wasn't until dimming light from the waning day
>interrupted him that he looked up again. He had a crick in his neck and
>slight eye strain.
TOM: And a strange craving to read Dilbert.
>
>"Heigh ho,
MIKE and BOTS: Cherry-O!
> Jo," he called. "I suppose we better call it a day. Might
>want to pop back in to UNIT after all. I don't like being away until I
>have the hydration backup system refitted in the TARDIS." She did not
>answer. "Jo!" he called again. "Wake up."
TOM: Nuzzlekins' nap time is over!
>
>As there was still no response, he leaned over again to find her.
>
>The indentation that her body had made in the grass was plain to see.
MIKE: A polite way for the narrator to say that Jo is fat.
> A
>narrow path of grasses pushed aside showed where she had either crawled
>or been dragged away from him.
>
>Ledger of sketches forgotten, the Doctor leaped up. "Jo!" he called.
CROW: You can't get away from me, girl! Cause I'm in your mind! I'm in
*here!*
>
>Crouching so that he could see the faint signs of where the grasses had
>been bent and pushed apart, he followed the track of her journey. It led
>him to a rocky plain, where there were no tracks at all.
>
>Night was covering the waves of grass and rocky plains of the landscape.
>The planet had no moon. The Doctor jogged back to the TARDIS for an
>electric torch and the first aid kit.
TOM: But then he thought better about it and realized that he had a
chance to escape for good.
>
>* * * *
CROW: Cursor droppings?
MIKE: The Davy Jones siamese twins?
TOM: Mosquitoes in formation?
MIKE: Let's get out of here, guys. Crow, we need to have a little talk.
[Lock the doors before it escapes!:...O...2...3...4...5...6...0]
[SOL Bridge]
[MIKE is working on the base of CROW's head with a screwdriver. TOM
watches.]
CROW: Look, Mike. I'm telling you that there's nothing wrong with me.
MIKE: Still, better safe than sorry.
TOM: Are you sure this is a good idea, Mike? I mean, you remember what
happened the last time you tried to build a robot?
MIKE: Well, yes. But I think I'm better at this now. According to this
attached file, I can negate "Good Times" by disconnecting just a
couple of circuits.
CROW: You better not be disconnecting anything serious back there, Mike.
MIKE: Don't worry. I'm almost done... there!
[There is a Powering-Down sound effect]
MIKE: Well, Crow? How do you feel?
CROW [smarmy glee club voice]: Fine, Nelson. Fine. How are you today,
Servo?
TOM: Oh, uh, fine.
CROW: Great. Isn't it wonderful that we can all be fine together?
TOM: Mike, fix him *now*.
[Fanfic Sign flashes]
MIKE: I can't! We've got fanfic sign!
CROW: Oh, goody. I hope it's more of that lovely Pertwee story.
[Door Sequence Now:...0...6...5...4...3...2..O]
MIKE: Are you sure you're feeling all right, Crow?
CROW: Never better, Nelson. Why?
MIKE: Because I think I'm starting to feel sick.
>
>It took him nearly an hour to retrieve the items he needed and retrace
>her track.
MIKE: Be vewy vewy quiet...
TOM: I'm hunting Jo Gwants....
> Searching a barren, rocky plain in almost total darkness was
>a grim task. He walked back and forth in a series of sweeps, gradually
>moving further and further up the projected trajectory of her original
>path.
MIKE: Let's see, if Jo was launched from back there with the force of a
normal catapult....
> After many hours the plain became more rocky, and short, high,
>outcroppings of rock stumps got in his way as he searched. The terrain
>was uneven and hilly. There were now draws and shallow ravines to
>explore.
TOM: Item -- Playbeing planet. Terrain -- Epidermal.
CROW: Now, Servo, was that really necessary?
>
>At one point he stumbled upon a ghastly sight:
MIKE: Rush Limbaugh bathing?
TOM: A new season of The Olsen Twins' "Two of a Kind"?
> a small ravine choked and
>crowded with tiny skeletons.
MIKE and TOM: Oh.
CROW: Could you two keep it down? I'm trying to read here.
> Carefully, he shone the flashlight beam
>onto them, but they were bleached and old:
TOM: Except for the one that had been washed in new Clorox 2 bleach-free
with Enzymes.
> the remains of quilae left by
>fur traders, to judge by the intact frames but missing tail bones. He
>spent several minutes at the site, scanning them for some clue, but they
>seemed to have been undisturbed for years.
TOM: Do you mind? We're trying to sleep here.
>
>At last he moved on and continued his search. Further up the slight
>ridge he discovered something more unexpected:
TOM: Episodes two and four of "The Crusade"?
MIKE: I'm still betting that it's Rush Limbaugh bathing.
> the skeletal remains of a
>humanoid figure.
MIKE and TOM: Oh.
> Like the quilae remains below, it was old and had been
>bleached by the sun and wind, but otherwise was undisturbed. The long,
>slender hands
TOM: I would have said they were "bony," myself.
> lay flat against each other under the side of the skull,
>and the body was curled as though in sleep.
MIKE: Awww, it's so cute. Let's not wake it.
> Certainly the person had
>either curled up and died in his sleep, or he had been killed and made
>to look like he was asleep.
TOM: Well, I see the logic in that last -- huh?
> In the darkness, the Doctor walked around
>the skeleton several times. Wasted and rotted boots on the feet were
>typical of those worn by explorers and professional traders. But there
>was no telltale knife nearby, no other ornaments or gadgetry--not even a
>compass.
TOM: So obviously the skeleton was a dead fur trader. Unless it was
someone who had killed a fur trader and dressed in his clothes. Or
perhaps they had killed a fur trader, stolen their clothes, discovered
they didn't fit, so they put them back on the trader and curled the
trader up so he looked... MIIIIIIIIKE!
MIKE: It's all right. Just let it ride.
TOM [sobbing]: I'm scared.
>
>The bones showed no trauma, not even the skull. However the person had
>died, he had not been struck any hard blows.
MIKE: So that's a relief. It was something he couldn't see coming.
>
>Eventually, the Doctor could conclude nothing
MIKE [Doctor]: Yep. He's dead.
> and continued the search.
>An hour later he found a second skeleton, much like the first,
MIKE: Also dead.
> except of
>a slightly different species. This one had no boots left, no
>ornamentation, not a remain of cloth or leather or synthetic fiber
>anywhere.
TOM: So... was this the fur trader... the other skeleton killed... or
that killed the other skeleton... then dressed it back up... how you...
with the thingy... then you... with the boots....
MIKE: Just keep the cracks coming, Tom. We'll survive.
> It had been here longer than the other.
TOM: So this one died first, unless the second one was a time traveller
who... MIIIIIIIKE!
MIKE: Come on! Keep moving! Sing! [singing] It's a long way to
Tipperary...
CROW: Do you mind?
>
>"Did they die unarmed?" the Doctor asked out loud. But if this one had
>been stripped of weapons either before or after death, the remains
>showed no sign of violence.
MIKE: So we have a silent killer who nobody sees coming. I feel
comforted.
> The left hand still pillowed the skull, the
>right lay palm up as though it had rested against the upper leg. Every
>indication was that the person had died in his sleep.
>
>Dawn was breaking on the bleak plain.
TOM: [makes glass breaking noises]
MIKE: Whoops, dropped another one.
TOM [sobbing]: I don't think I can make it....
> The Doctor moved on. He wished he
>had brought food and water with him, for Jo would need both when he
>found her.
MIKE: So obviously he had left them behind.
> But just as he debated with himself to go back to the TARDIS
>and return to the search better equipped, he spied Jo's sweater lying
>above, higher on the ridge, half hidden in a tiny nook in the rock.
>
>He switched off the torch and scrambled higher.
MIKE: Jo might be up there... naked!
CROW: That is just *so* mature, Mike.
>
>She lay comfortably curled up in a deep niche, and as soon as he got
>close enough to see her face, he saw that she was still alive,
MIKE [Doctor]: Rats! I guess now I have to rescue her.
> though
>her face was now very dirty with smudges of earth, especially around her
>mouth. But she seemed well, and the deep niche would have sheltered her
>from the coolness of the night.
TOM: So... she was attacked by a fur trader... who stripped her... then
decided he didn't like the color of her sweater... and... Mike? I want
to go home.
MIKE: We all do, Tom. We all do.
>
>"Why Jo," he said gently. "Why did you leave me like that?"
MIKE: I guess "I was dragged here by the tiny kangaroos" isn't an
acceptable excuse.
>
>He stooped over her. Jo's eyes popped open, and before he could say or
>do anything else, she let out a single, high-pitched exclamation and
>darted away from him with astonishing agility.
TOM: My clothes! I feel so naked without them!
MIKE: See? It's not so bad.
TOM: Oh, shut up and hold me.
>
>The ridge suddenly became alive with the tiny quilae-all of them in full
>flight from him as they emerged from niches and holes and scampered
>away.
MIKE [Quilae]: Jo's voice brings pain! Voice brings pain!
>
>"Jo!" he called. The tiny animals were either following Jo, or she was
>following them. They all disappeared over the top of the ridge, and he
>followed.
MIKE: Hya, lemmings! Hya!
>
>The far side of the ridge was almost a precipice, and he winced as he
>saw her racing down it pell-mell.
MIKE: Higgledy-piggledy!
TOM: Heggledy-shmeggledy?
MIKE: Wow, you are in bad shape.
> For a moment he thought she would
>break her neck,
MIKE: And there was much rejoicing.
> but with a sure-footedness not normally given to humans,
>she negotiated her way down at a full run. A grassland opened down
>below, and she and the milling, frightened quilae disappeared into it.
TOM: Mike? Can we go now?
MIKE: As soon as we hit a new section.
>
>* * * *
TOM: Oh... look... it's four... stars... all lined up....
MIKE: I still say it's the Davy Jones siamese twins.
CROW: I think we have to have a few words, fellows.
TOM: Mike? Mike... I don't feel so good... I think I...
[TOM's head explodes.]
[Hold that movie!:...O...1...2...3...4...5...6...0]
[SOL]
[Emergency lights flash as MIKE holds TOM down. TOM is groaning and
fidgeting weakly. His head has been blown open by the story. CROW is
nowhere to be seen.]
MIKE: Hold on, buddy. Hold on.
TOM: Mike? I want you to know... I really enjoyed... Alien From...
L.A....
MIKE: He's delirious! Medic!
[CROW enters with his "hair" slicked back, wearing a shirt and tie.]
CROW: What is all of this fussing about out here?
MIKE: Tom had a logic meltdown. The story caused his brainpan to
explode!
CROW: I don't see why. It seems like a perfectly logical story to me.
MIKE: Crow, what's happened to you?
TOM: Crow? Is Crow... there?
CROW: I feel fine, Nelson. If you and Servo would actually pay attention
to the story instead of making fun of it at every turn, maybe you'd
enjoy it more. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for my Young
Republicans meeting.
MIKE: I've had enough of this, Crow.
TOM: Tell Laura... I love her....
[MIKE grabs CROW and slams his head into the the counter twice, knocking
one of his eyes out.]
CROW: What? What happened? Mike, what happened to Servo?
MIKE: He's in trouble!
CROW: I'll get the bandages!
MIKE: Good idea.
[CROW exits.]
TOM: Mike? Mike, are you there?
MIKE: I'm here, Tom. Don't fade on me. Hang in there, little buddy.
TOM: Did we find Ryan? Did we find Private Ryan?
MIKE: It's me, Mike! Crow's gone to get some bandages.
TOM: Everything's getting... dark.
[Enter CROW, carrying a massive load of different kinds of bandages.]
CROW: I couldn't decide. Do we need sterile gauze, "ouchless" adhesives,
elastic ankle wraps....
TOM: George? Tell me about the quilae, George....
MIKE: Just give me those, Crow!
[MIKE snatches bandages out of the middle of the pile and starts to wrap
them around TOM's head.]
CROW: Well, impatient, aren't we?
MIKE: Hang in there, Servo. We'll have you fixed up as good as new in no
time.
TOM: Mike? I think I'm starting to feel better now. Yes, I think I feel
better. I'm doing well, Mike. I'm going to be fine.
MIKE: Yes, Servo. You are.
TOM: Mike?
MIKE: Yes, Servo?
TOM: It's just a fanfic, isn't it?
MIKE: Yes. That's all it is.
TOM: It's not supposed to make sense, is it?
MIKE: No, Servo. It's not. Now you think you can handle some more of it?
TOM: Why?
[Fanfic Sign flashes]
MIKE: Because we have fanfic sign.
TOM: Okay, I guess I can handle it.
------------------------
(Continued in section 2)
That Certain Third Doctor Fan
of praise, with imitation being next, followed by parody, let me say
that I would still prefer the cash . . . .
But since I always knew that fanfiction would never make me rich and
I'm not too keen on imitators, I am delighted at the parody.
I think this is a great MSTing of "Mistaken Identity," and I got a lot
of laughs out of it, several times laughing out loud. A few of the
jokes went by me, owing to my age and my incredible naivete, and I
don't want to give away my favorite MST lines for fear of spoiling the
story. So all I can say is that I think it's a hoot, and I really
enjoyed it. I read it through a second time last night and laughed at
it all over again.
Thank you, Glen, for bringing my story to the Satellite of Love.
--Jeri
Rebecca J. Bohner
>Well, as a person who always believed that cash is the sincerest form
>of praise, with imitation being next, followed by parody, let me say
>that I would still prefer the cash . . . .
>
>But since I always knew that fanfiction would never make me rich and
>I'm not too keen on imitators, I am delighted at the parody.
I got a few good chuckles out of it, too. Except I'm all jealous now, 'cos
nobody's ever MST'ed *me*.
*sulks*
--
"You're not old, Susan.
You're just out of practice."
- The Doctor, "Communion"
--
Rebecca J. Bohner
rebe...@pobox.com
http://www.golden.net/~rebeccaj
That Certain Third Doctor Fan
>I got a few good chuckles out of it, too. Except I'm all jealous now, 'cos
>nobody's ever MST'ed *me*.
A guy named Ed Powell has had dibs on "Touching Indigo" (The MST
writers call dibs in advance on stories they want to do.) since April
1998, but I suppose he is not making much progress.
Then again, you never know. He may post it one of these days.
James A. Wolf
>That Certain Third Doctor Fan wrote:
>
>>Well, as a person who always believed that cash is the sincerest form
>>of praise, with imitation being next, followed by parody, let me say
>>that I would still prefer the cash . . . .
>>
>>But since I always knew that fanfiction would never make me rich and
>>I'm not too keen on imitators, I am delighted at the parody.
>
>
>I got a few good chuckles out of it, too. Except I'm all jealous now, 'cos
>nobody's ever MST'ed *me*.
>
Being MSTied is fun, especially if you can contribute. (Look
for 'The Beast With Nine Bands' on Dejanews....)
<*> James A. Wolf - jaw...@tiac.net - www.tiac.net/users/jawolf <*>
"The jawbone of an ass is | "You really shouldn't |"There is no law for those
just as dangerous a weapon | encourage my socio- |who make the laws and no
today as in Samson's time."| pathic tendencies." |law for the incorrigibly
Richard Nixon | Florence King |lawless." Terry Prachett
[PLEASE BUY 'THE ULTIMATE HULK' ANTHOLOGY, WITH MY FIRST PUBLISHED STORY!]
Jefferson Eng
"Rebecca J. Bohner" <rebe...@pobox.com> wrote:
:That Certain Third Doctor Fan wrote:
:
:>Well, as a person who always believed that cash is the sincerest form
:>of praise, with imitation being next, followed by parody, let me say
:>that I would still prefer the cash . . . .
:>
:>But since I always knew that fanfiction would never make me rich and
:>I'm not too keen on imitators, I am delighted at the parody.
:
:
:I got a few good chuckles out of it, too. Except I'm all jealous now, 'cos
:nobody's ever MST'ed *me*.
I've been MST'ed myself. :-)
Remember the MIA "Red Dawn"? Yep, the last chapter was my own devising.
Jefferson Eng