MSTing "Name of the Game" Pt 6 of 8
Brendan Herlihy
>"They asked me where you were last night. I told them you were at that
>party."
>
>"And I was, Alexa, I was."
GYPSY (Amelia): Poking holes in my alibi is for children, Alexa.
Ungrateful, annoying, short-lived children.
>
>She didn't know what to say after that, and hated the sudden tension
>between them. "All right," she said, letting it fall there.
PEARL: TIM-BERRR!
>"So am I almost
>ready?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
>
>Amelia cocked an eyebrow. "Just about, my dear, just about."
MADGE: She's waiting for her flesh to fall off the bone.
>She paused and looked Alexa up and down. "You're not going back to
>that awful club again, are you?"
>
>"What's wrong with it?"
MAGIC VOICE: Other than being a den of homosexual sex and drug abuse, you
mean?
PEARL: Doesn't it seem like just yesterday she said she never went to the
same club twice?
GYPSY: I keep expecting Harry Mudd and the Enterprise crew to walk in and
shoot her with imaginary phasers.
>
>Her sister rolled her eyes.
MADGE: Craps! You lose!
>"Nothing, my dear, just a bad habit, I suppose. We all have them.
PEARL: Yeah, but hers don't require a keepin' a woodchipper in the rec room.
>I just like to know what you're up to."
>
>Staffan came right on time at six,
GYPSY: Staffan Fetchit?
>and Alexa hid in her room so not to
>spring any surprises on Amelia's assistant/date. When she heard the door
>latch behind them, she put the conversation she'd had with Amelia out of
>her head and got dressed for some serious dancing that evening.
MADGE (Alexa): I'm going to Virginia Reel like it's 1799!
>
> --------
>
GYPSY: If cows knew Morse Code!
>"What day was that, Ms. Page?" Ben asked her.
>
>"September.
MADGE: September was a weekday, wasn't it?
>September eighth, I think, Mr. Stone. It was a Thursday night,
>I'm sure of that."
>
>"Why are you so sure?"
>
>"They do an all-70s music night. Real cheesy, but it's one of my
>favorites."
PEARL: What a whimsical, magical, frozen TV dinner of a life she leads!
>
>"Go ahead, Ms. Page. Did anything happen at the Cantina?"
>
> --------
MADGE (Alexa): Why yes! Someone took the legs off eight bar stools!
>
>In fact, it had.
PEARL: And after twelve pages of filler, maybe you'll read about it.
>
>Freddy
GYPSY: Kruger!
PEARL: Well, they're in a disco, so this does qualify as a horror post now.
>greeted her with open arms as she slid onto the dance floor, amidst
>all of the Thursday night regulars. Disco balls sent fragmented light
>snowing around the room while green and blue spotlights turned the floor
>into pulsating, colorful mayhem.
GYPSY: Oo, it's a Studio 54 Christmas!
MADGE (as narrator): But Joseph's name was not on the list. So they wrapped
the child in swaddling clothes and took it to the back of the line.
>"Darling," he embraced her lightly. "You
>look splendid tonight!"
PEARL: I simply LOVE your bathrobe!
>
>"Freddy, you always look swell yourself," she told him and pecked him on
>the cheek.
GYPSY (Freddy): Ow!
>
>"What's the occasion?" he shouted over the song.
MADGE: The busiest retail period of the year! Oh, and some religious freaks
are going on about some birthday or other.
>
>"I might have a visitor tonight," she winked at him.
PEARL (Alexa): Have your stockings been hung by the condom machine with
care?
>
>"Ooh, is he cute?" cooed Gretchen behind them.
MADGE: A right jolly old hunk!
>Alexa grinned. "See for yourself. He'll stick out like the original sore
>thumb in here." Of that Alexa was certain. She hadn't told either Logan
>or Ben Stone something about Thursdays at Cantina -
GYPSY: Boy, I hope her nose doesn't grow from all this TRUTH she's telling.
>that it was an openly gay evening,
PEARL (Santa, nervously): Ho-ho-whoa! I mean, Santa's a jolly old elf and
all, but whoa!
>albeit with a healthy sprinkling of heterosexual anomaly.
MADGE: Heterosexual anomaly? Isn't that stamped on Michael Jackson's
passport?
>The mix of disco music had always drawn a large gay crowd,
GYPSY: Uh-huh.
>but at the Cantina,
>there was safety in numbers, and as the night stayed fixed in the week,
>the regulars knew where they could congregate.
All sigh in boredom.
PEARL (muttering): Screw this.
Pearl takes out a newspaper. She fights with it a little bit, the rumpling
noise quietly filling the theater.
>Alexa knew Freddy from a bar her
>band had once played at,
GYPSY: Pearl? I don't think you can read that in here.
PEARL: Oh, like I care anymore.
GYPSY: Evil Mike controls the Satellite! You're putting our lives in
danger!
PEARL: You want the Living section?
GYPSY: Oo, Living section! Please!
MADGE: You got Real Estate there?
Pearl lays a section of paper in front of Gypsy, and a section of paper
across the back of an empty seat for Magic Voice.
>and Gretchen was a roommate from her old apartment
>in the Village.
All continue reading. Pearl turns a page of her newspaper, and coughs.
>Gretchen swung both ways.
All look up from their papers.
>Once she'd flirted with Alexa,
All laugh, and return to their papers.
PEARL (snorting): Yeah, right.
>telling her her long blonde hair was the biggest turn-on, but Alexa
>carefully put her off. Still, they remained friends, and saw each other
>at least once a week, thanks to the Cantina.
Magic Voice laughs.
PEARL (looks up from paper): Hm?
MADGE: Oh. Article on property taxes in Jersey. What a joke.
PEARL (returning to paper): Hm.
>They joined hands and bumped back
>and forth to "The Hustle" as the music picked up, and were soon joined
>by other scene regulars, from Perry, who worked in a local record store,
>to Sylvia, who used to be Sylvian,
GYPSY (looking up from paper): Like that means anything.
>to Tweak,
GYPSY: Who used to be Tweakie?
MADGE (Tweekie): Bee-dee-bee-dee-... hand me the editorials, Buck.
Pearl lays another section of paper over the seat.
>who was their main contact for
>any illegal substances that might be required.
Pearl sighs, and turns her page.
PEARL: I was gonna say this isn't how you create a likable character, but
since that was never an issue...
>He wove his way through the
>bunched dancers, asking if they were feeling fine, and if not, could he
>help. Tonight, Alexa decided to stick to alcohol -- no telling if Logan
>was the kind of cop who wouldn't take that sort of behavior lightly.
All shout and scream in disgust. Pearl throws her paper at the screen.
GYPSY: Oh, come ON!
PEARL: Grrrr... take THAT!
MADGE: What is WITH this piece of crap story?! What WORLD does it live in?
PEARL (crumples up Gypsy's paper, throws it at the screen): And THAT!
GYPSY: One where cops swear to uphold the law, unless there's a really cool
party going on.
PEARL (repeating for Madge's paper): And THAT! You STUpid, PIECE of-
(realizes it's not worth it, sits back down) d'oh!
>That is,
>of course, if he showed, which she couldn't quite imagine.
MADGE (as Mr. Rogers): Maybe Picture Picture can help us take the trolley to
the Land of Make Believe.
>
>"Ooh, luscious!" she heard a familiar voice behind her, and turned to
>give Tweak a hug. "You are looking absolutely edible!"
PEARL: So does a rump roast. And it has more character!
>"Tweak, you just think I'm gonna treat my friends tonight."
>
>"Well, honey, since you moved uptown you sure can afford it..."
>
>Gretchen pinched Alexa's earlobe. "Is this your sugar daddy you're
>bringing to meet us?"
MADGE: More like a Tootsie Roll, if you catch the drift of my aspersion.
>
>Alexa winked, and let the lie she had used before slide. "Not exactly,
>my dear. But he is unique."
GYPSY (Gretchen): Why are you talking like an upper-class breeding error?
>"Ooh, guests!" exclaimed Tweak.
PEARL (Tweekie): Be-de-be-de-be-de... voicework by Scott Thompson!
>"Well, honey, with that little number you've got on,
GYPSY: Oo, she's wearing Boy George's "Colour by Number" dress!
> I give you even money he's gonna think you pretty unique, too."
>
>After she'd been there about an hour or so, it was getting around
>ten-thirty or eleven,
MADGE: Wait- she's missing ER!
PEARL: Oh, even her life can't revolve around television forever.
>and she was giving up on seeing Logan. Alexa really wanted to let loose,
>get some sweat worked up, but if she did and he showed up, she sincerely
>doubted he'd think she was the same rich bitch he'd known at the
>station. Still, by eleven she was quickly losing interest.
MADGE: The DJ started playing "The Very Best of ABBA".
>Of course it was too soon to expect him to show...maybe in a day or
>two...surely he had more interesting things...or people...to be doing.
GYPSY: Surely he had some Star Wars "Tie Fighter" models to paint, or a
Dungeons and Dragons group to DM.
>After the eleven o'clock hour their little group took a break by the
>bar, slurping down rum and cokes,
PEARL (cackling): Slurping? This a 7-11 disco? They pour rum into the
Squishy machine?
MADGE: Yeah, they probably make the bartender serve'm in "Batman Forever"
commemorative cups with straws poking out the plastic cover.
>and Freddy said he figured her guest wasn't coming. "Too bad,
>baby," he said
GYPSY: Telly Savalas was gay?
>and pulled her head to his chest and stroked it. "Next time
>better."
MADGE: Freddy translates everything to Japanese and back, I guess.
PEARL: Sounds like Santa took his clause! Ho! Ho! Hoo.
>
>She stood up straight. "Oh, Freddy, it didn't mean that much." She took
>an ice cube from her cup and sucked on it, trying to cool down, then
>when that one disappeared rubbed another one over her neck and chest.
All titter.
GYPSY (shaking her head): She's dripping her hormones in the wrong puddle.
MADGE (Freddy): Oh, man, if she were Leonardo DiCaprio I would be SO hot
right now...
> "I'm trying to stay cool, and it just isn't working."
PEARL (Alexa): I guess I'll just have to strip down to my panties. You
don't mind if I strip down to my panties, do you Freddy?
>Freddy was staring in the distance.
MADGE (Freddy, thinking): Figure skating... bodybuilding... HGTV...
>"It sure ain't, honey, but keep doin'
>it cause there's some big hunk coming over your way."
GYPSY: A big hunk of what? Shrapnel?
PEARL: I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but...
>
>She stopped moving the ice cube and turned in the direction Freddy was
>looking to see Detective Logan heading her way.
MADGE: Eh. More a slab than a hunk.
>Only the bad suit was gone, replaced with
PEARL: A hundred feet of Saran Wrap and a strategically placed meat
inspection sticker.
>a soft-looking blue shirt and jeans. He had his coat hung
>over his arms, and he was walking deliberately, but unrushed. Alexa
>flushed deep.
GYPSY: What a waste of water.
>"Freddy," she turned to him, suddenly realizing a big problem.
MADGE: The champagne's not Korbel!
>"Freddy, that's him!"
>
>"You sure were right, honey," he told her. "If only I was his type."
>
>"Freddy, do me a favor," she said.
>
>"What, Alexa?"
>
>"Don't call me that," she urged. "Just...call me 'A' tonight, okay?
PEARL: Not unreasonable, considering she's such a "b".
MADGE: You sure you can't turn HER off, Gyps?
GYPSY: You know, there was a break coming up. I can lock the theater doors
and we can keep reading.
PEARL and MADGE (whining): Gyps! Noooo!
GYPSY: Then behave.
>He thinks my name is something else. Tell the others, call me 'A'."
GYPSY (Alexa): Here, I'll put this red letter on my blouse to remind you.
>Freddy raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you say, sugar....only when Tweak
>comes around, I want my reward, gotcha?"
>
>She nodded furiously. "Of course. Anything."
MADGE: And thus, count three of her indictment falls into place.
>Freddy zipped off into the crowd, leaving her with a melting ice cube in
>her hand, leaning up against the bar. "Look," she crooned as Logan
>approached, just loud enough for him to hear, "it's Detective Mike."
>
>He leaned against the bar next to her. "So this is Cantina."
PEARL (Logan): I was expecting Luke Skywalker and some weird-ass aliens.
>"I see you found the time to make it."
>
>"If it's worth it, I find the time."
>
>She threw the ice cube back in her cup.
GYPSY: Ew! Sweat germs!
>"Oh, don't stop on my account," he told her. "I liked watching that from
>across the room.
MADGE (Chauncy Gardner): I like to watch, Eve.
>So did about any other guy with his eye on you, no doubt."
>
>She grinned a little. "I'd doubt it, Detective Mike."
>
>"Oh," he grinned back and nodded his head a little.
PEARL (Logan): Ha! You caught me! It was kinda gross, really.
>"And why would that be?"
>
>On the dance floor, Freddy waved at her and Gretchen blew a kiss
GYPSY: A juicy wet Dating Game kiss!
PEARL: Mmmmwah!
MADGE (announcer): A Chuck Barris production!
>as "The
>Hustle" started up. Alexa stood up straight, leaving her cup on the bar,
GYPSY: Bad choice. She's gonna need protection out there.
>and took a step to the dance floor. "'Cause they all prefer boys to
>girls, Detective Mike!" she cried at him before being pulled into the
>dance.
PEARL: Eh, that's about as subtle as anything else about the 70's.
>"What did you say to him, girlfriend?" Gretchen insisted. "You missed
>quite a look on that mug of his."
>
>Alexa giggled. "Come on, girl, hustle. Don't ask questions."
MADGE (to The Hustle): Doo, do-doo, do-doop, do-do-doop, DUMB! Doo, do-doo,
do-doop, do-do-doop, SUCK!
>While they danced, Alexa kept an eye on him, half having expected him to
>leave once he found out where he was.
GYPSY: He can't. Believe me, we've tried.
>She knew her uncle was as homophobic
>as they came, and wondered if they bred them the same here in the city.
PEARL: Nah, you can't run a bigot-breeding program in the Northeast. The
emissions regulations are just too much.
>Apparently not, though she could tell Logan's casualness had bit the dust.
GYPSY: Freddie Mercury!
>But at least he stayed, for that she gave him credit.
PEARL: Man, giving credit after you lose interest. You can't run a business
that way!
>And she watched him, flipping around suddenly
GYPSY: Keri Strug!
>to catch a glimpse of his face through the crowd,
>wondering if he was keeping tabs on her or not, then not caring.
PEARL (dully): Yawn, baby, yawn. Disco ennui.
>She liked looking at his face;
MADGE (Alexa): Wow. What a piece of work is clod!
>it made her feel safe somehow in a way someone like
>Amelia's Staffan would not.
GYSPY: Well, it's kinda hard to feel safe when you're on your back laughing
in someone's face.
>Staffan seemed nice enough, and quite handsome
>in his own way, but delicate and frail behind his round glasses and
>polished nails. Logan was familiar in his brusque way, something she
>could relate to,
GYPSY: Nah, that can't be good, can it.
MADGE: Can't think how it could be.
>and his instinctive archness
ALL: HUH?
>at her alleged privileged bitchiness made her admire him, like
>watching an enemy protect his territory.
PEARL: What did THAT mean?
GYPSY: I can't imagine.
>And yet, there was something underneath it; he wasn't another
>working-class moron like the ones she'd gone to school with
MADGE: Ya know... that "alleged" bitchiness is becoming somewhat more than
theoretical.
>--she would never assume him to be anything less than intelligent.
GYPSY (clueless Logan on dance floor): So am I doing the Macarena now?
>The more she thought
>about it, the more she wanted him out there with her, dancing, making a
>fool out of himself in a place he never imagined he'd visit.
PEARL: The more she wanted to be part of him- whole, complete.
>Three or four songs later she couldn't wait for him to make the move,
> and with each passing minute he began to look more and more
> uncomfortable. Rushing over to him in a blur,
MADGE: Faster than a speeding trollop!
>she ripped the coat from his hands and threw it over the bar.
PEARL: More powerful than a drunken strumpet!
>"Watch that, Roger, willya?" she called to the bartender,
>who waved assent. Then, snatching up the first of Logan's hands she
>could reach, she tugged him to the dance floor.
GYPSY (Logan, whining): Wait! That's my drinking hand!
>Thankfully, the song slowed into
>some obscure track from Saturday Night Fever.
PEARL (Dan Fogelberg): LONGER than, there've been FI-SHES in the ocean!
>"Come on," she grinned at him. "At a dance club, you dance!"
MADGE (Logan): Oh, great! Let's go to a strip club next!
>He said nothing, just smiled back at her and wrapped an arm around her
>waist and her opposite hand in his, pulling her tight to him like a taut
>thread.
PEARL (as they pull close and collide): Thhhhhunk!
GYPSY: I am the seamstress of your soul!
>"Why, Detective Mike," she told him, "you do dance."
>
>"You never know what little surprises are out there," he said. "You seem
>to have a few up your sleeve."
MADGE (Logan, dancing): Knit one, pearl two, overhand stitch, tie off!
>"Would you have come if I told you Thursday nights were mixed couples
>night?" she cocked an eyebrow at him.
>
>"Probably not. Or maybe I would anyway.
PEARL: Strike a pose, there's nothing to it! VAGUE!
> I just wanted to see if you'd be
>here, see if you'd been pulling my leg."
>
>She flushed
GYPSY: Oo, again! 1,998 more and we market her!
>and hoped in the dim dancefloor light he didn't see. "Weren't
>you sure?"
>
>"I don't know. I still don't know.
PEARL: Oh, how can she resist that burning intelligence of his?
GYPSY: It's just leaping off the page and into our hearts!
>It's not like that sort of thing happens
>on the job every day. Mostly, we're dealing with dead bodies, not live
>women coming on to us."
>
>She raised an eyebrow at him. "And yet, somehow, I think that's not true
>for you."
MADGE (Alexa): I sense in you a kindred skank.
>He didn't answer, just smiled a little bit, and spun her around.
PEARL (Logan, over the spin): Crochet!
>Dizzy for a moment, she stopped moving and pulled back a little. "I
>don't know what came over me at lunch. I'm -- I'm really not like that,
All suppress a sputtering guffaw.
>not in real life.
GYPSY: She was in an Albert Brooks movie?
>I think I just had a little too much to drink."
>
>"All the better for me," he said. "I'll just have to get you drunk a lot.
ALL (resentful): HEY!
>Hey, don't worry. That whole scene was strange for me, too.
PEARL: Yeah, what was Kit Montague thinking?
> I don't exactly go around kissing suspects,
MADGE: The Boston Strangler, dancing next to them, overhears him and bursts
into tears.
> they'd have my badge like that."
Pearl and Gypsy rise to leave the theater.
PEARL: You don't need no stinking badges! Good guys are such wimps!
/ * \... = 2 =... > 3 <... [ 4 ]... ( 5 )... | 6 |...
OPEN ON: Corner of the bridge. Pearl, dressed in black robes and carrying a
leather-bound tome, is laying a Pentagram on the floor (hers has six points,
not five). Gypsy walks by her without looking, turns back before going out
of shot.
GYPSY: Playing hopscotch?
PEARL: Conducting an exorcism to rid the ship of Magic Voice. Good guess,
though.
GYPSY: Careful with the candle wax, it'll mat the carpet.
PEARL: 'Kay.
Gypsy moves on, Pearl opens her book and cackles.
CUT TO: The desk, which has a large photo of Jill Hennessy as Claire Kincaid
framed in dark ribbons and flowers, as at a wake. Candles are lit beneath
her.
GYPSY: Madge?
MADGE (depressed): Hi, Gyps.
GYPSY (looking at photo): Claire, huh?
MADGE: Yeah. This crappy story made me realize how much I miss her- a
female character who was strong, intelligent, yet still vulnerable and
undergoing personal growth.
GYPSY: The Ally MacBeal before Ally MacBeal?
MADGE: Please. Claire would tolerate Flockhart's histrionics for maybe ten
seconds before discreetly passing her a valium and a Philly cheesesteak.
Share with us, Gyps! Look unto Claire's visage. What memories does it
bring?
GYPSY: Hmm... oh! It makes me wonder how Mike, Tom, and that gold guy are
doing!
MADGE: Oh, Christ.
The edges of the screen go swimmy.
MADGE: You can FORGET sitting shiva with me, I'll tell you that.
DREAM CUT TO: The <Living Planet>, still barren and rocky. With a <POP>,
Observer, Mike, and the bots suddenly materialize into the shot. Crow is
now intact and on Observer's shoulders.
MIKE AND TOM: Gah!
OBSERVER (upon seeing Crow on top of him) and CROW (upon seeing Observer
beneath him): Gah! Get off! Get him off me!
OBSERVER: He sharpened his claws so he can lay some hideous mechanical eggs
in me!
CROW: Mime germs! I've got mime germs! I'll come down with mime disease!
Mike, get him off me!
MIKE (pulling Crow off): Whoa, whoa, settle down you two!
TOM (panicked): Stop'em, Mike! The sound of those two talking at the same
time... it's freaking me out!
CROW: Yeah, well it ain't exactly a Dilbert day planner for me either, pal.
OBSERVER: Oh really?! Perhaps you'd prefer I returned you to that Monty
Python opening credits sequence back there.
Observer starts to do his head shimmy, but Mike stops him.
MIKE: No no! Thank you, Brain Guy, we really, really appreciate it. Now
we all just have to stick together, find Bobo, then attack Evil Mike and
free- (Mike turns, sees something off screen) oh no!
CUT TO: A short distance away. Bobo is prone on the ground, presumably
unconscious, wrapped in rope and gagged. Mike enters and checks on him, the
other follow.
MIKE: I think he's alive.
CROW: Oh, god, his antibody must be horrible!
OBSERVER (as creepy background music begins to play): Yes, some insidious,
six-headed beast from Hades, with the keen mind of Vince McMahon, and the
strength of Kane and the Undertaker combined!
TOM (scared): Hoooooo, it could be anywhere! Planning, plotting, stalking!
We here the ground off screen shuffle. All look up to the noise, petrified.
The background music reaches a STING.
ALL: AAAAAAAUGH!
CUT TO: The sound. Standing still, in a cheap video animation insert, is a
cartoon of a short teenage girl in dumpy clothes and thick horn-rimmed
glasses.
DARIA: OK. I think this is where I say (does Scwarzenegger), "I'm looking
for Sarah Conner."
TOM (shocked): Daria Morgendorfer from MTV's "Daria"?
DARIA: In the flesh. Or as fleshy as flesh-tone ink #15 gets.
MIKE: You're Bobo's antibody?
DARIA: No. I just play him on TV.
OBSERVER: W-w-w-well, but how?
DARIA: I don't know. It smacks of the handiwork of one of those wacky
funster gods you see on "Hercules"? But since I haven't seen any of Sorbo's
body-oil wranglers yet, I'm having my doubts.
CROW: But what did you do to Bobo?
DARIA: He wanted to be my friend.
CLOSE-UP: Daria
DARIA (smiling): I don't like friends. They hamper my social life, by
expecting me to have one.
ANGLE ON: Bobo, eyes closed and tied up.
DARIA (over): He asked me if I would like it if he made me a pretty blonde
rag dolly.
ANGLE ON: Daria
DARIA: I said yes. Right after our tea party discussion of the effect of
the AIDS epidemic on the fear of intimacy, and our jump roping contest.
ANGLE ON: Bobo. At this angle we can see the rope that is wrapped around
him is actually a jump rope.
DARIA: Two jumps, and he created knots Lance Burton never thought of. Then
he fell asleep. Jane put the rag in his mouth to stop the snoring.
From the left, JANE LANE enters.
JANE: For which, if I recall, you said you'd get us a pizza.
DARIA: Well, I will. Once he wakes up and I remind him of our slumber
party.
MIKE: Say, tell you what. Let us take the take this big furry problem off
your hands, and Brain Guy'll whip you up all the red-painted, fake-cheese,
soggy bread atrocities you want.
Jane and Daria look at each other.
DARIA: I don't know. Could we really digest our food, not knowing whether
our little Snookums was warm, well-fed, and properly bound and gagged?
JANE: Oh, I think our hearts will go on. (to Brain Guy) But there'd better
be some garlic knots in this deal!
OBSERVER: Can do!
The Observer does his head shimmy, with sound effects. Mike and the gang
disappear with Bobo, and the set is strewn with pizza boxes piled high to
the sky. Daria and Jane survey their bounty.
JANE: What? No pop?
Observer FX. A bottle pops to each girl's hand. They react for a beat.
JANE: This guy responds well to sarcasm.
DARIA: Not as well as you'd think.
Daria holds her bottle up so that Jane can see.
CLOSE ON: Bottle. It is labelled, "Froo-topia".
JANE (eyes closed, fists clenched): Crap!
---
Logo, Commercials - Got milk?
<End Part VI>
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