<MSTing> 3/5 "Bloodlines/An Open Window"
the...@my-dejanews.com
If you joined us late, Mike and the bots have escaped the clutches of Mike's
evil twin from a parallel universe, who is holding Pearl Forrester prisoner
and, we assume, will kill her. Evil Mike's wicked machinations require Nice
Mike to be his prisoner, so he's none too pleased, you betcha.
OPEN ON: <House of Pain>. Evil Mike, intent on recapturing Nice Mike,
is desperately typing commands into a keyboard while dodging his head
between a computer terminal and his TV monitor. Pearl, hanging stomach-down
from the ceiling in the background, is shouting to him.
PEARL: -and the steak has to be pink in the middle!
EVIL MIKE (not listening): Fine.
PEARL: Not raw, and not overcooked! Pink as a sunburnt baby!
EVIL MIKE: Yes, yes, all right!
PEARL: And another thing! I don't know how you parallel universe
goons treat your womenfolk, but around here, when a guy says he's
going take a girl prisoner, give her pain and torment, and remove her
bones in alphabetical order, and then just LEAVES HER hanging in the
middle of his dungeon like some trophy on display-
EVIL MIKE (leaping up, pointing a finger): Oh, don't push me, Divine!
PEARL: Alls I'm saying is, you better make with the killing soon, or
you'll be waking up to one juicy breach of promise suit, let me tell
ya!
Evil Mike puts his hands in strangling positions and makes a move to
Pearl, but restrains himself, muttering.
CUT TO: <INTERSPACE>, an area between space and space. It's just huge,
empty, bright white plain. Torgo is leading Mike, who is clearly
exhausted, and Crow, who is prone on the ground, pulling himself
wretchedly with his arms. Tom, of course, is hovering like all get-out,
swooping around, showing off.
TORGO: CoMe, ChIlDrEn! JuSt ThiRtY mOrE lIgHt yEaRs To Go!
TOM: Cool! Whoo-hoo! Look everyone, I'm the B-19!
CROW: Urgh... Augh! Must... rest... weary... body.
MIKE: Yeah, Torgo, I thought you said you could bend space to your
will and make time sit up on its hind legs and take a biscuit off your
nose and stuff!
CROW: Yeah, what happened to the short cut?
TORGO: tHiS IS tHe ShOrT cUt.
Mike and Crow groan. Tom bobs back, twirling on his axis.
TOM: Whoa! C'mon, guys, we can't stop now! We got three more
galaxies to get behind us before nightfall!
CROW (to Mike): You didn't happen to bring that crescent wrench, did
you Mike?
TORGO: We MuSt rEtUrN tO tHe LiViNg PlAnEt, AnD sAvE YoUr MiMe aNd hIs
TaLkInG cHiMp!
MIKE: Brain Guy and Bobo, yeah, I know. There's gotta be an easier
way.
We suddenly hear a weird whooshing sound approaching. Mike turns to
look.
CUT TO: A distance away. A long, twisting ribbon of light is dancing
its way towards them at a good clip.
MIKE: Hey, Torg, that thing's travelling pretty fast, maybe we can bum
a ride?
TORGO (horrified): nO! ThAt iS tHe NeXuS, a WoRlD oF PeRfEcTiOn wHiCh
eXiStS oNlY tO MaKe YoUr FoNdEsT dReAmS cOmE tRuE!
MIKE: Hm. OK. Well, gosh, I'm trying to see the downside here,
but...
TORGO: If YoU EnTeR, YoU wIlL bEcOmE sO HaPpY yOu WiLl NeVeR LeAvE!
WhA- HeY! GeT AwAy FrOm ThErE!
CUT TO: Crow, standing with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed,
directly in the path of the looming Nexus.
CROW (concentrating): Rosanna Arquette... Rosanna Arquette...
CUT TO: Mike, reacting.
MIKE: Crow! No!
Mike dives and tries to push Crow out of the way just as the Nexus is
upon them. Two explosions consume the screen.
DISSOLVE TO: Mike and Crow, standing in <THE NEXUS>. It looks like a
jungle clearing. An Aztec pyramid lies in the background.
CROW: Wow, so this is the Nexus! It's fantastic! It's everything
I've ever dreamed! (Breaths it in for a beat) I'm bored. There a
Starbucks around this dump?
A short Oriental woman in a pink beehive hairdo (special guest Margaret
Cho!) and skintight leopard-skin clothes, holding a paintcan labeled
"MILK" and a wallpaper brush, comes up to Mike.
WOMAN: Welcome home, son!
The woman slaps Mike across the mouth with the wallpaper brush sopped
with milk.
MIKE: Plugh! Wha- hey!
CROW: Wow, Mike, I didn't know your folks were from Mexico.
MIKE: Crow, this isn't my mother! I've never seen this woman before in
my life!
WOMAN: It's your fondest dream- to be reunited with your family! Your
pa is dying to see you!
Abraham Lincoln walks into the clearing.
ABE: Vini, vidi, vici!
CROW: Oh, great. Here we are, treating Mike like one of the boys,
when all the time his father is postmaster general!
MIKE: Crow! He's not- d'oh, look lady, this isn't anything like my
family! You've got it all screwed up!
WOMAN: Oh, you're just tired, sweetie. Have some milk.
The woman swats Mike across the face again.
MIKE: Ow! Man that smarts!
WOMAN: You remember Uncle Walt?
A penguin waddles into the clearing.
PENGUIN: Woof woof! Loudly Walter greets your visage! Woof woof!
MIKE (mumbling to himself): Well, sure, natural mistake, what with so
many barking penguins being uncles and all. (to lady) Miss? Thanks
for the effort, but we're just going to leave. OK?
WOMAN (dropping smile, becoming sinister): Oh, but you can check out
any time you like, Michael J. Nelson.
WOMAN, ABE, AND PENGUIN (sinister monotone): Any time you like!
PENGUIN: Woof!
MIKE: Oh. Well, great. We'll check out now then. C'mon, Crow.
WOMAN (startled): What? No, that's not what I'm saying. Hey, get back
here!
Mike and Crow leave the Nexus.
CROW: So was your father's secretary really named Kennedy, Mike?
MIKE: Crow! He's not...
Woman, Abe, and Penguin watch them go.
WOMAN: I said you could leave because you COULDN'T leave! It's
irony! Don't you GET that?!
We hear the two more explosions, signifying Mike and Crow's exit.
PENGUIN: Oh, great move, V'jerk!
WOMAN: It was irony! I'm omnipotent, irony is what I do!
ABE: It's like a jungle sometimes, and it often makes me wonder how I
keep from...
PENGUIN: Oh, stifle it!
Woman swats Abe across the face with brush. Milk drips off his beard.
CUT TO: <SATELLITE OF LOVE>. Bridge is dark, lit only by Gypsy's eye.
GYPSY: Um, guys?
She looks to her left. And to her right. And waits for an answer.
GYPSY: Is "Phantom Tollbooth" over yet?
She looks behind her. And talks to the doors.
GYPSY: You said you'd play canasta with me afterwards.
No response. She turns forwards, then suddenly looks under the desk.
GYPSY: Hello?
Finally, she comes up, looks at Cambot, and considers her fate.
GYPSY (good-naturedly): Guess they're still reading. I'll wait!
CUT TO: <House of Pain>. Evil Mike, typing at keyboard. He has an
inspiration, types in a command and laughs triumphantly.
EVIL MIKE (to screen): So, Mr. Goody-Me-Shoes, think you can escape by
diverting my signal? Well, let's see how you deal with a little Sunday
School lesson in geopolitics called, "An Open Window Observing the
Battleground", by the Rev. Tony Ponticello. That's YOU in the corner!
Mwah-hah-hah-hah...
PEARL (off screen): Waiter! Where's my horseradish?
EVIL MIKE: SHUT UP!
CUT TO: <Interspace>. Torgo and Tom are waiting. Suddenly Mike and
Crow pop out of nothingness next to them.
CROW: Wow! When you don't set goals for yourself, getting your
fondest dreams fulfilled is really depressing.
The white of Interspace starts to flash blue.
MIKE: Aw, criminy, what now?
TORGO: EvIl MiKe HaS fOuNd Us. He'S lAuNcHeD aNoThEr PoStInG- tHeRe
It Is!
CUT TO: An electric ball of blue light swooping down on them from
above. Tom, Crow and Mike gaze up at it, transfixed.
TOM: Uh, Mike, you know how they say in space, no one can hear you
scream?
MIKE: Uh-huh.
TOM (terror): THEY'RE WRONG! AAAAAAUGH!
Crow and Mike join him in screaming as they hold each other close. The
posting is nearly upon them when Torgo, swinging his cane like a
baseball bat, swats the posting out of interspace. The SOLer's watch
it go.
CROW: Hum-baby!
TOM: Nah, he should choke up more, and snap his wrists!
MIKE: Well, another posting diverted. Again, pain that was intended
for ME, is headed instead towards a random innocent. (Mike sighs.)
TOM: Huh.
CROW: Um, Mike? Would it help if you opened my access hatch,
disconnected my main power lead, and jammed it into your tongue?
MIKE: Hey, you know! I think just maybe...
DISSOLVE TO: A simple <TELEVISION STUDIO SET>, carpeted, with five
comfortable chairs occupied by five commentators. Its booming theme
signals it is returning from commercial now. The moderator begins his
intro.
JOHN: Finally! After weeks of anticipation. My long awaited report
on the G-7 summit from Paris. Let's cut to our man in the field, the
cogent, loquacious, and ever-insightful, John McLaughlin.
> *A COURSE IN MIRACLES(r) is published and copyrighted by the
> Foundation for Inner Peace in Mill Valley, CA. (1975)
JOHN: What the <-BLEEP!->?
> The Community Miracles Center is an
> ACIM, non-profit organization with numerous activities,
PAT: Leftist anti-Catholic activities, no doubt.
MORT: Give it a rest, Pat.
> among which are the
> maintaining of these Web pages.
ELEANOR: Not to mention the interrupting of pompous windbags, in
gratitude for which I should probably send a sawbuck.
JOHN: All right. Clearly this is NOT my insightful review of the G-7
summit.
FRED: Nope. This is interesting.
PAT: I doubt it.
FRED: Well, it's not a pedantic dismantling of simplified straw-man
positions John disagrees with.
MORT: Mmmm... can't argue with that. Let's watch.
> The views and opinions expressed herein
JOHN: Ah-hah! Views and opinions! This could get interesting.
ELEANOR: Feeding time, everyone! Watch your hand, he snaps!
> are
> those of the authors and do not neccessarily represent those of the
> copyright holder or the Community Miracles Center.
JOHN: Wimpout rating on a scale of 0 to 10! Pat Buchanan!
PAT: 10.
ELANOR: 10.
FRED: I give it an 8. They didn't have to say "necessarily".
MORT: 10. They did have to spell it right.
JOHN: The answer is, 9.75.
> The words, "A COURSE IN
> MIRACLES" and the initials "A.C.I.M." are the registered service
> marks of the F.I.P.
MORT: ACIM's are covered under the SALT II treaty, I believe.
JOHN: If FOB is Friend of Bill, what is FIP, Elanor Clift?
ELANOR: After Lewinsky? Friend In Pain.
PAT: It's for the House Republicans. Fund Impeachment Proceedings!
> [**************************************************]
JOHN: Funding for NASA, yes or no? I ask you-
ALL: SHUT UP!
> [6_Button_Image_Map]
>
> An Open Window Observing the Battleground
JOHN: Karnak impersonation- Freddie "the Beetle" Barnes!
FRED: What architectural feature could homes in Sarajevo do without?
>
> by Rev. Tony Ponticello
JOHN: The stately home of Thomas Jefferson.
MORT: Hey, everybody! John made a joke!
JOHN: Did you expect me to Ponti-ficate, Mort? Or make ir-Reverend
comments?
All groan.
>
> From time to time I like to share with everyone some of the
> communications we get at our office in San Francisco.
PAT: Like, "Do you keep the Sabbath? Let it out!"
FRED: "Do you have pews? You better take a shower!"
MORT: "Does the chorus pump your pipe organ? Take them out to dinner
first!"
> Being at the hub of this organization, with its purpose of teaching
> and learning A COURSE IN MIRACLES(r),
ELEANOR: Shouldn't you learn it before you teach it?
> provides me with a unique vantage point that I would like to
> offer.
FRED: Life is a fluffy kitten drinking a mug of hot chocolate!
> A phone call from a man who lived on a large populated island off
> the East coast,
MORT: Key West?
ELEANOR: Greenland?
PAT: Madagascar?
> really brought to mind how fortunate I am to be living in
> the midst of a spiritual community of dedicated COURSE students. He
> had been a COURSE student himself for eight years and was having
> difficulty with some of the teachings.
FRED: If my right arm offends me, and I cut it off, does it hurt?
> In his isolated location, away from major
> metropolitan areas,
JOHN: What island is both isolated and heavily populated! Eleanor?
ELEANOR: Um... Roanoke?
JOHN: Wrong! Mort!
MORT: Staten Island?
JOHN: The answer is- Cuba!
> he knew of no COURSE groups
ELEANOR: Well what about radio talk show hosts? They're a pretty coarse
group.
> or dedicated COURSE
> students with which to converse.
MORT: This COURSE student goes out to Converse- the downtown Milwaukee
of the sneaker business!
> He was not in touch with a COURSE
> community
FRED: Well what about Bensonhurst? That's a pretty coarse-
JOHN: I think this is a good point to end this less-than-amusing bit of
wordplay.
> and he felt the need to talk briefly to a long term
> student/teacher. "Does the COURSE really mean it when it says that
> the world isn't real?" was one of his questions.
MORT: No. And when the COURSE said you were adopted? Didn't mean that
either.
> "Or does it mean that only our
> body is an illusion but the world itself does actually exist?" was
> another.
JOHN: Bodies as illusions! Pat!
PAT: On Baywatch, yes.
> He told me, "When I tell my 'shrink' that the world exists only in my
> imagination he doesn't understand me."
FRED: He's just trying to rationalize having an affair with another
shrink.
> Now I felt as if we were really
> getting to the heart of the matter, a belief system difference with a
> psychiatrist could pose an interesting dilemma.
ELEANOR: Well if you're a Scientologist, you could sue the shrink and
reprogram the letter writer.
> Trying to live with your
> feet in the doors of two different worlds,
MORT: The one with Lisa Bonet, and the one after she got canned.
> two different thought systems,
PAT: "I think therefore I am", and "Yo quiero Taco Bell".
> is very difficult.
JOHN: "Problem Child 4 - Andrew Giuliani's Reign of Terror"!
>
> The answers I gave him aren't the important issue.
JOHN: What interesting dilemma isn't important- Freddie!
FRED: How many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll
Tootsie Pop.
> What is significant is
> that I realized how grateful I was I lived within a community of
> people that had this type of thinking as their day to day belief
> system.
ELEANOR: And Rice-a-roni in their day-to-day digestive system.
MORT: What happened to the hyphens for "day-to-day"? Are they on
sabbatical?
> Perhaps,
> we can't always connect with the truth of the words, but we try the
> best we can, and we do have people to discuss these ideas with who
> won't give us strange looks!
PAT: You know, I really like bowler hats.
ELEANOR: I understand, dear.
PAT: With walnuts, and thousand island dressing on top.
ELEANOR: Of course. I'm here for you!
PAT: They're nature's candy, you know.
> I can't imagine being an eight year student and not having
> anyone with which to have a COURSE conversation! Miracles wouldn't be
> real for me then. The main reason we, at the Community Miracles
> Center, have dedicated ourselves to the publishing of this monthly
> periodical so regularly
FRED: -is all those Metamucil margaritas.
> (102 issues in 102 months)
JOHN: Ha! I raise 102 issues in just one show!
> is to provide just this type of
> regular conversation for people who live in places where the COURSE
> isn't spoken.
PAT: English should be all that's spoken, despite what some immigrant
groups would have you believe.
> People like this man from the island in the Atlantic
MORT: Again with the veiled island references! What, is this Final
Jeopardy or something?
ELEANOR: Maybe Prince Edward has some really scary trademark lawyers.
> can feel
> regularly connected to Miracles students
FRED: -with Sprint's dime-a-minute rates!
> and can read (and hear internally)
> these ideas.
>
> By-the-way,
MORT: Oh no, his hyphens from "day-to-day" are mugging that poor
defenseless "by the way"!
PAT: Not mugging. Converting.
> I advised him it probably would not be a good idea to try to
> get his psychiatrist to understand that the world wasn't real.
ALL: No!
JOHN: Too bad, sounded like a good short story idea.
> (In fact his
> 'shrink' might really decide he needs a great deal more psychotherapy
> if he attempted that!)
JOHN: Twisted moral dilemmas! Mort!
MORT: He's too scared to explain how he isn't scared to believe that
he's sane despite having beliefs that sound crazy, because his shrink
will think he's insane. Parse that!
>
> The relationships we have with our fellow spiritual travelers have a
> wonderful potential of being true, holy relationships because we have
> joined with these people for truly holy purposes,
FRED: Oh, it's a planned golfing community.
JOHN: That's a "holey" purpose, Fred. Somewhat different.
> to remember God together
> and to share this memory with the world.
ELEANOR (sings): Midnight, the illusions-of-children are sleeping...
JOHN: Not a bad tremelo there, Eleanor.
> These are teacher/student
> interactions with the roles switching back and forth with the
> apparent need.
MORT: John, I need you teach me how to not listen to a word anyone
says.
JOHN: Only if you teach me how to attend a party, sit against the wall,
and stir your drink as every desirable woman hurries by you as if you
were a road accident, Mort-one.
> The COURSE talks about the thousands of years that are saved whenever
> we join in these holy, teaching relationships.
PAT: Must be a daylight savings thing.
> "Each one [teachers of God]
> begins as a single light, but with the Call at its center it is a
> light that cannot be limited. And each one saves a thousand years of
> time as the world judges it." (M 3/3) Saving thousands of years -- I
> like that idea!
FRED: But- what? Who?
JOHN: Questions you don't want to ask! Pat!
PAT: Definitely not.
> That's why I'm so grateful for being surrounded by a community of
> COURSE students,
MORT: Su-su-surrounded? Circle the wagons, boys!
JOHN: Gabby Hayes impression! Eleanor!
ELEANOR: Eh, a four. Not bad.
> both the physically close,
FRED: Tyffani, I-
ELEANOR: Reverend, stop.
FRED: But your bra would stay on the whole time, I swear!
> fellow students here in the San
> Francisco area and all of you out there in the different parts of
> this country (and even in other countries) where these pages are
> read. We have joined in purpose and the potential for holiness is
> great!
ELEANOR: If you would just load the dishwasher properly!
> Our
> relationships are the temple for the Holy Spirit to do His work
> (see T407/437) and thousands of years are being saved every time
> we join in the shared experience of remembering God and our holy
> purpose of salvation.
PAT: How many years would you pay for this lovely experience? Don't
answer yet!
> Reading Miracles Monthly together can provide us that experience if
> we so choose.
FRED: But you must call now!
> "Through your holy relationship, reborn and blessed in every holy
> instant you do not arrange, thousands will rise to Heaven with you."
> (T357/383) Thousands of years -- thousands of lives, it doesn't get
> any better than that!
JOHN: Include $3 shipping and handling. Sorry, no C.O.D.'s. Order
today!
>
> A Half Century of Sanity
ELEANOR: The Susan Powter Story!
>
> Thinking of time and years was triggered for me recently with a news
> story featured in all the major media.
JOHN: Spin, Hard Copy, and Access Hollywood.
> We just passed the fifty year anniversary
> of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
MORT: What? And I didn't get them anything?
> Yes, here is an interesting
> event,
PAT: -that I can churn out another 5,000 word sermon about.
> a half century has passed since the United States dropped two atom
> bombs on Japan.
ELEANOR: Whoopsy! Dropped it!
JOHN: Enola Gay! Boisterous bomber boys, or butterfingered boobs?
> How do we COURSE conversant students see this?
FRED: Well, light rays not absorbed by the bomb enter the iris through the
cornea...
JOHN: I think you know that's not what he meant there, Freddie.
> The news
> media had its own spin on the anniversary. Was it necessary for the
> U.S. to have used these weapons of mass destruction? Wasn't Japan
> about ready to surrender anyway?
MORT: And Susan Lucci! Does she even want an Emmy at this point?
> Each of these explosions killed over 100,000 people --
> one bomb and over one hundred thousand people were dead.
JOHN: Redundancy! Eleanor!
ELEANOR: I'm not doing the repetitive redundant joke, John.
> Would the U.S.
> have done this if it had really known the full extent of the
> radiation horror that was released?
FRED: Not before demanding that Japan never film Godzilla in the first
place.
> More people died of the subsequent, lingering,
> radiation sickness than during the actual blast. Did we know?
JOHN: Mort!
MORT: Yeah.
FRED: Sure.
ELEANOR: No question.
PAT: Los Alamos, Manhattan Project, we knew.
JOHN: The answer is, yes, we knew!
> Should we
> have known?
JOHN: Asked and answered! Issue Three...
> The news media spun on in its sensationalistic and speculative
> way.
PAT: Blowing a piddling little thermonuclear explosion all out of
proportion.
>
> I, however, was given an entirely different spin when I went to Holy
> Spirit and asked Him for my right perception.
JOHN: Uh-oh!
FRED: Watch out, John smells rookie blood in the water.
> I was filled with pride!
MORT: And rich creamery butter!
> I was so
> proud of us all; we've gone fifty years and not dropped another one
> of these things!
ALL snicker.
JOHN: Goofy talk! Eleanor!
ELEANOR: Off the goofy-meter, John.
> That's quite an accomplishment and one that deserves
> acknowledgment and celebration.
FRED: Way to poison the environment for generations, dude!
MORT: Thanks. The gang's headin' to Nuremberg for a brew, wanna come?
CUT TO: Commercials - If you ask us, it just tastes funny.
<< End Part II >>
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