<MSTing> Pt9/9 "Windmills"
the...@my-dejanews.com
> Edwards Ashley had showered and changed clothes and was in his
> office writing up the required medical report. It was a pleasant
> office, filled with bookcases containing medical tomes and athletic
> trophies. It contained a desk, an easy chair,
CROW: Boy, even the chairs are easy in a Sheldon novel.
> and a small table with two straight chairs. On the walls were his
> diplomas, neatly framed.
MIKE (laughing as preppy): Oo! How quaint. In Connecticut we simply duct
tape them to the wall, you know.
> Edward's body felt stiff and tired from the tension he had just gone
>through. At the same time, he felt sexually aroused, as he always did
> after major surgery.
TOM: Oh, Edward. You'd feel the same way after an autopsy.
>It's coming face-to-face with death that magnifies the values of the life
>force, a psychiatrist had once explained to Edward. Making love is the
>affirmation of nature's continuum.
CROW: I thought that was compost.
MIKE (laughing): You've got a point, there.
> Whatever the reason, Edward thought, I wish Mary were here.
> He selected a pipe from the pipe rack on his desk,
TOM (as pothead): What smokes and sounds like a bell?
ALL (same): BONG! Huh-huh. Whoo!
>-lighted it, and sank into the easy chair and stretched out his legs.
>Thinking about Mary made him feel guilty. He was responsible for her
> turning down the President's offer, and his reasons were valid.
MIKE: Because great political futures aren't for everyone, you know.
> But there's more to it than that, Edward admitted to himself. I was
>jealous. I reacted like a spoiled brat. What would have happened of the
>President had made me an offer like that? I'd probably have jumped at
>it.
CROW: Then again, he is a man and all.
MIKE: Yeah, and what with Mary being a woman- it's just totally
different.
>Jesus! All I could think about was that I wanted Mary to stay home and
> take care of me and the kids. Talk about your genuine male chauvinist
> pig!
TOM: Ha! I never read a book that's ten years old and twenty years behind
the times. How novel!
> He sat there, smoking his pipe, upset with himself. Too late, he
>thought. But I'll make it up to her.
MIKE: I'll buy her some bubble bath- chicks dig that stuff.
>I'll surprise her this summer with a trip to Paris and London. Maybe
> I'll take her to Romania. We'll have a real honeymoon.
CROW: So he'll make it up to her, by forcing her to have sex with him?
TOM (as Edward): Maybe if I value her as a human being... nah!
> The Junction City Country Club is a three-level limestone building
> set in the midst of lush hills. The club has an eighteen-hole golf
> course, two tennis courts, a swimming pool, a bar and dining room with a
> large fireplace at one end, a card room upstairs, and locker room
> downstairs.
MIKE (as Robin Leach): It's the playground of the Kansas jetset! No
square dancing for these Andrew Corn-agies, as they boogie oogie oogie to
the wee hours of daybreak!
> Edward's father had belonged to the club, as had Mary's father,
TOM: Wouldn't it tie it all together if Lev Pasternak's father got
blackballed?
CROW: Make a nice little plot circle.
>and Edward and Mary had been taken there since they were children. The
> town was a closely knit community, and the country club was its symbol.
MIKE: Yes, it's Ronald Reagan's America, where the government is your
enemy, and country-club snobs tie the community together!
> When Edward and Mary arrived, it was late, and there was only a
>sprinkling of guests left in the dining room. They stared, watching as
> Mary sat down, and whispered to one another.
CROW (whispering): George, she's sitting! You said anyone who'd turn
down an ambassadorship must be too stupid to find her chair with her-
> Mary was getting used to
> it.
> Edward was looking at his wife. "Any regrets?"
> Of course there were regrets. But they were castles-in-Spain
> regrets about the kind of glamorous, impossible dreams that everyone
> has.
TOM: You mean, the sort of impossible dream that was just seriously
offered to you.
>If I had been born a princess; if I were a millionairess;
MIKE (sings): Yie-dle, deedle, deedle, die-dle, deedle deedle deedle dum!
>if I received the Nobel Prize for curing cancer; if.. if... if...
CROW: Then you shall be a man, my son. Er, daughter.
> Mary smiled. "None, darling. It was a fluke that they even asked
> me. Anyhow, there's no way I would ever leave you or the children.
TOM: And it's not like Edward could take a LEAVE OF ABSENCE OR ANYTHING!!!
>She took his hand in hers. "No regrets. I'm glad I refused the offer."
MIKE: And I'll be even gladder after I drain this li'l ol' bottle!
> He leaned across to her and whispered, "I'm going to make you an
> offer you can't refuse."
> "Let's go," Mary smiled.
CROW (as narrator): Later that night!
TOM (Mary): Edward, turn off that PlayStation and come to bed!
MIKE (Edward): Aw, honey! I'm in the middle of fighting Seraph Sepiroth!
> At three o'clock in the morning, the phone exploded into sound.
>Edward sleepily reached for the instrument-
ALL: AAAAAAUGH!!
TOM (crying): He did it again, Mike! He did it aga-ha-hain!
MIKE: There was no reason not to say "phone" there except to give us
nightmares!
>-and brought it to his ear. "Hello..."
> A woman's urgent voice said, "Dr. Ashley?"
> "Yes..."
> "Pete Grimes is havin' a heart attack. He's in pain somethin'
> awful. I think he's dyin'. I don't know what to do."
> Edward sat up in bed, trying to blink the sleep away. "Don't do
>anything. Keep him still. I'll be there in half an hour."
CROW (as voice on phone): Oh, thank heaven! Let me tell you where he is,
he's-
>He replaced the receiver, slid out of bed, and started to dress.
> "Edward..."
> He looked over at Mary. Her eyes were half open.
> "What's wrong?"
> "Everything' fine. Go back to sleep."
> "Wake me up when you come back.," Mary mumbled. "I think I'm going
> to feel sexy again."
> Edward grinned. "I'll hurry."
MIKE (Mary): Oh, don't I know it.
> Five minutes later, he was on his way to the Grimes farm.
> He drove down the hill on Old Milford Road toward J Hill Road. It
> was a cold and raw morning, with a northwesterly wind driving the
> temperature well below zero.
TOM: Weather on the eights- only in a Sheldon novel!
> Edward turned up the car heater. As he drove, he wondered whether he
>should have called for an ambulance before he left the house. The last
>two "heart attacks" Pete Grimes had had turned out to be bleeding ulcers.
> No. He would check it out first.
MIKE: 'Cuz even if it's real, there's no reason the guy can't walk to the
hospital.
CROW: So says - the best surgeon in Junction City, Kansas.
> He turned the car onto Route 18, the two-lane highway that went
> through Junction City.
> The town was asleep, its houses huddled against the bitter, frigid
> wind.
TOM: So, it's cold, then.
MIKE: That would be the impression I am left with, yes.
> When Edward came to the end of Sixth Street, he made the turn that
> took him onto Route 57 and headed toward Grandview Plaza.
CROW: Boy, things have sure changed since the AMA merged with the AAA.
TOM: The travel service is nice.
MIKE: Yeah, but I'm still thinkin' the ambulance should be free even for
hospitals farther than fifty miles away.
>How many times had he driven over these roads on hot summer days with the
>sweet smell of corn and prairie hay in the air, past miniature forests of
>cottonwood trees and cedars and Russian olive trees, and August haystacks
>piled up alongside the roads?
CROW (sings): The answer my friends, is blowin' in the wind...
>The fields had been filled then with the odor of burning cedar trees that
> had to be destroyed regularly because they kept taking over the crops.
TOM (ominously): O Cedar TAKES your life easier!
>And how
>many winters had he driven on this road through a frosted landscape, with
>power lines delicately laced with ice, and lonely smoke from far-off
>chimneys?
MIKE: Well, none, actually. They usually wintered in Vale.
>There was an exhilarating feeling of isolation, being encapsulated in the
>morning darkness, watching fields and trees fly silently past.
CROW: Pullman. Hunt. "Twister".
MIKE: Movie. Stupid. Refund.
> Edward drove as fast as possible, mindful of the treacherous road
>beneath the wheels.
TOM: Yeah, look, I'll worry when the treacherous road ISN'T beneath his
wheels, thank you.
CROW: Eh, I think you won't be waiting very long there, Tommy.
MIKE: Yup, sounds like Edward's gonna be driving a subcompact here in a
minute.
>He thought of Mary lying in their warm bed, waiting for him. Wake me up
>when you come back. I think I'm going to feel sexy again.
CROW (echo): Federal agents from Washington... Washington...
Washington...
MIKE: He was man who wore mental spats... spats... spats...
TOM: Let go, Luke!
> He was so lucky. I'll make everything up to her, Edward promised
>himself. I'll give her the damnedest honeymoon any woman ever had.
CROW: I'll send her and four pints of Ben and Jerry's to Tahiti!
> Ahead, at the intersection of highways 57 and 77, was a stop sign.
>Edward turned at Route 77, and as he started into the intersection, a
> truck appeared out of nowhere.
MIKE (as truck): Hi! I'm Spunky, the Ten-Ton Plot Twist!
CROW: Uh, Mike, the plot has to be going somewhere before it can be twisted.
MIKE: Aaaah... ya got me. Can't argue.
> He heard a sudden roar, and his car was pinned by
>two bright headlights racing toward him.
TOM (sings): And if a ten ton truck, crashes into us...
CROW: Well, this is still better than "Maximum Overdrive".
> He caught a glimpse of the giant
> five-ton army truck bearing down on him, and the last sound he heard was
> his own voice screaming.
TOM: No! Wait! You can't stop there! What about the truck? Did it
continue down Route 77, passing Exit 34N to Lebanon? Did it make the
turn-off at Russell, accelerating to 60 miles per hour so as to make the
light at Pine Street! DAMN IT, SHELDON, YOU CAN'T LEAVE US HANGING LIKE
THIS!
MIKE (picks up Tom): Oh, yes he can, guys. We're done.
CROW: I'm inspired, Mike. I'm going to write my own political thriller.
I'll call it, "Filler Material Surrounding Ten Pages of Explicit Sex".
TOM: Yeah, with the shocking twist ending that you're not allowed to write
any explicit sex.
CROW: Aw, Mike, he ruined the ending!
MIKE: It's for the best, Crow. Come on.
/ * \ ... = 2 =... > 3 <... [ 4 ]... ( 5 )... | 6 |...
SOL Bridge. Tom and Crow are in their cowls again, snickering
conspiratorally amongst themselves. Mike, in his normal jumpsuit, comes
in with a telegram, smiling but parentally miffed. Tom and Crow shush
each other as he comes in.
TOM: Oh, hey, Mike. Crow and I were just discussing the humdrum, everyday
occurrences that make up our lives on the SOL.
CROW: Yeah. I sure am glad Gypsy turned down a life of glamour and
political intrigue to take care of us and call our algebra homework dumb
and feed us cereal we won't eat. But say! Isn't that a seemingly
harmless piece of paper in Mike's hands that could change our lives
forever?
MIKE: This is a telegram for Gypsy. It seems her husband was killed in a
car crash.
TOM and CROW: Awwwwww!
TOM: That grips me in tears like a crocodile, Michael. (snickers) Poor
Gyps.
CROW: Yeah! (snickers) And with nothing to fall back on but an
ambassadorship to Romania, too! What a raw deal fate has twisted!
MIKE: Yeah. Kinda funny, what with Gyps not being married and all. That
seem kinda funny to you, Crow?
CROW: Oh, so the fact that Gypsy is now a widow, is comedic to you. You
are a very sick man, Nelson.
MIKE: Uh-huh. Tom? You wanna contribute anything here?
TOM: Oh, you mean did Crow and I vote on yet another nefarious resolution
while our so-called Chairman was setting the VCR to record Keenan?
MIKE: Something like that.
TOM: Pants.
CROW and TOM break up laughing. Mike nods, pleasantly, waits for them to
finish.
MIKE: That's... that's very cute. Could I for a moment perhaps point out
to you budding Plumbers that there already IS an ambassador to Romania!
CROW and TOM look at each other.
TOM: Huh. Guess that makes firing the research assistant seem like a
false economy.
CROW: Oh, great. 6,000 lbs of cranberry gelatin down the drain.
MIKE: Oh, no. You didn't
TOM: Yup. Right down the Okeefenokee.
MIKE: Cranberry gelatin? But that's silly!
CROW: Yeah, well. We were bored. Can we go to the arcade now?
Gypsy enters.
GYPSY: No arcade for you two until every speck of dessert product is
cleaned out of the Everglades!
CROW (sighs): Grab a spoon, Nelson.
TOM: There's always room for Jello- damn it. The horror. The horror.
MIKE: Ugh. Whaddaya think, Pearl Lynde?
Van interior. Pearl is behind the wheel in a panic. The van is under
assault from some unseen horror, rocking it violently, and we hear the
planet roaring in the background.
PEARL: Oh, does poor Nelson have to eat some nasty gelatin? EAT ME,
WALTER! I got problems of my own.
OBSERVER opens the van door, breathless and terrified. He has to pull
some evil-looking tendrils off of his body to get in. We see them enter
the van threateningly.
OBSERVER: Ah! Back, you! Pearl!
PEARL: Yeah, yeah, OK. I know. Yes, you can sit up front. But no
stickin' your head out the window during takeoff!
OBSERVER: Your consideration, though appreciated, is misplaced. The
tendrils of the planet have invaded the van! They'll drag us back to hell!
PEARL: Hey, buddy, I ain't occupying no hell where I don't collect $600
per tenant in maintenance fees for mowing the damn lawn! (Pearl pulls out
the cigarette lighter from the dashboard). Wreck my condo, will ya?
PEARL jabs the tendrils with the lighter. The planet roar becomes a
screech of pain, and the tendrils withdraw.
PEARL: Ha! Not as fun as an eviction notice, though. (gets behind the
wheel) Funny, never pictured antibodies like that. (accelerates and
takes off)
OBSERVER: Rest assured, antibodies are infinitely worse. The planet
analyzes your genetic make-up, and creates an entity which matches you
strength for strength. It may look nothing like you, yet you know
instinctively, it's your complete and horrible opposite!
PEARL: Oh, sort of a Paulina Poriskova-Ric Ocasek kind of a thing, huh?
That'll happen.
Suddenly we hear out the window:
BOBO: Whoa! That's some mean kudzu they got growin' here!
OBSERVER: Bobo? Pearl, that sounds like Bobo!
PEARL: Huh? Nah, nah, that's the clutch, it has the same sort of
grating tone as Bobo, but-
OBSERVER: We have to turn back! Never leave a man behind! (Observer
grabs the wheel and turns it violently)
Exterior - van, as if on a stick, stops on a dime, twirls 180 degrees and
returns to the planet.
Interior. Observer has van door open, van is moving at high speed.
OBSERVER: We can't land! Jump, Bobo! Jump with all your might!
BOBO jumps into the moving van, but can't get all the way in. He is
hanging on by his hands.
OBSERVER (reaching out): Your hand, man! For the love of life, give me
your hand!
BOBO: Don't mind if I do.
BOBO grabs Observer's hand and pulls him roughly out of the van. Observer
yelps and falls off the screen into the unknown. Bobo gets in without
difficulty.
PEARL (from driver's seat, not really looking): So is Roddy McDowall on
board yet? Hey, Braindrops, how do we know we're pulling Bobo aboard and
not his swarthy antibody?
BOBO: Oh-ho, now, Lawgiver, there's no way I could possibly be Bobo's
swarthy antibody.
PEARL: Oh yeah? Why's that?
BOBO takes his hand beneath his chin and pulls it off like a mask.
Close-up. The mask is off. It's... EVIL MIKE from the Mirror Mirror
episode!!!
Evil Mike (grinning): Because I'm YOUR swarthy antibody!
Musical sting. Evil Mike laughs diabolically. Pearl freezes with her
mouth open in terror. FADE OUT.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its characters Copyright 1998 Best
Brains, Inc. "Windmills of the Gods" Copyright 1987 Sheldon Literary Trust.
This work is for entertainment purposes only. No money will ever be made from
it. Not one centime.
This work is not intended as a personal attack on Sidney Sheldon.
Yes, Tony-award winning Sidney Sheldon! Author, playwright, screenwriter,
winner of four U.S. Open singles titles, philosopher, cosmopolite, and
true developer of the so-called "Jonas Salk" polio vaccine, Dr. Sheldon is
perhaps best known as the producer of the popular television show "I Dream
of Jeannie", whose sly references to 16th Century Italian politics were
probably lost on most audiences. History will remember, though.
Thanks to my wife Stacy and my friend Steve Weinberg. Thank you, Sidney,
for "Windmills", which really is a hoot and a half. Thanks to my father, whose
sense of humor was passed on to me, like any good genetic disease.
Push the e-mail, Frank! peasporr...@hotmail.com
________________________________________
| |
/ /
| He was a man who wore |
| mental spats. |
/ /
| |
| Copyright 1998 Brendan Herlihy |
----------------------------------------
-----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==----------
http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Discuss, or Start Your Own