[MSTg] The A-Team? At CHIPPENDALES?!? (4 of 8)
peasporr...@hotmail.com
<<Part 4 of 8>>
>"Does Hannibal know about this?" B.A. wondered aloud.
>
>Murdock crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Nope."
>
>"Man, we'd better tell him.
ALL: -sucker!
>He's gotta know about this before we get there."
ALL: -fool!
>
>"Uh...why?" Murdock asked pointedly.
>
>"What do you mean, sucker?
ALL: -fool!
> We gotta tell Hannibal."
>
>A wicked gleam appeared in Murdock's brown eyes and a naughty smile
>moved one corner of his mouth.
SCRATCH (screeching): Eeeeeeeeeelvis!
> "Do we really have to tell him?"
>
>Suddenly a corresponding gleam appeared in B.A.'s black eyes
PEARL: Whoap, looks like T tried to get fresh with Lefty Lopez.
> and a
>chuckle bubbled up from deep in his throat. "Yeah. Maybe the colonel
>should find this out on his own.
MADGE: Oh, now ya don't want your squadron commander learnin' about
this kind
of thing on the streets!
SCRATCH: Yeah, they may teach'em the physical aspects of stripping, but
they'll
leave out all the love!
> Faceman too. Pay them back for
>all the times I got tricked into flying.
>
>Murdock nodded. "And the crummy planes they always scammed
>and expected me to keep in the air."
MADGE: Ah, that good old A-Team spirit!
>"Riiight," B.A. drawled.
>
>With a little hop and skip,
GYPSY: Carl Lewis!
>Murdock grabbed his jacket and bag and
>deposited himself into the wheelchair. "We'd better go, B.A. Our
team
>members are waiting."
>
>B.A. turned off the video equipment
SCRATCH: 12:00... 12:00... 12:00...
> and moved to take the grips of the
>hospital conveyance in his hands. "Hey, fool," he stopped suddenly.
>"I still ain't wearing no crazy costume.
PEARL: Oh, fine. We'll let Shaquille play "Steel". Happy?
> I don't care how much money
>we make."
>
>"No, problem, B.A.," Murdock assured him. "Hannibal said there was
>need of a parking valet/bouncer.
GYPSY: Whoa! How'd you pronounce "/" in the pre-Internet age!
> You just demand that job. That'll
>leave Face and the Colonel to take the waiters' jobs."
>
>"What about the dancer?
SCRATCH: He prefers to be called "The Artist". Or "Pope Purple the
First",
either one.
>Face will never do a dance like that!"
>
>"I know," Murdock grinned, his eyebrows bobbing up and down rapidly.
>"But, I will."
>
>"You! Man, you really are crazy."
MADGE (Michael Palin): Tonight, on "It's the Mind", we discuss the
phenomenon of
déją vu. That extraordinary feeling...
>Shaking his head and muttering to
>himself, B.A. pushed his crazy and uninhibited friend out of the
>hospital.
PEARL: OK, pan over to a sinister doctor, crouching behind a corner
with a cell
phone, whispering, "They're on their way. Now, to rid ourselves of
this
meddlesome "A-Team"-- once, and for all!"
SCRATCH: Musical sting, and! Commercial.
>
>
[All groan as fanfic continues.]
GYPSY: No such luck.
>"Run into some trouble, Captain?" Hannibal asked when the pair finally
>climbed into the ambulance.
MADGE: Well, sure, you try hittin' the can with that side of beef
hovering over
your shoulder.
GYPSY: Why do they go to all this trouble getting Murdock out? There's
probably
a big juicy Medicare fraud ring right there in the hospital.
>
>"Nah, colonel," Murdock said quickly. "I just wasn't ready.."
PEARL: Awwww... that's OK, sweety. We'll just cuddle for awhile.
> He held
>up his gray flight bag. "I forgot to pack."
SCRATCH: Oh, god forbid you forget your twelve pairs of "invisible"
underwear.
before stealing an emergency vehicle to use as Murdock's limousine?
MADGE: Is that a rhetorical question?
GYPSY: Well, not strictly, but...
>I told Tom Watters we'd be there at three.
PEARL: The love child of Roger Waters and Tom Waits!
SCRATCH: Cool!
>Uh, Face, you have the directions?"
>
>"Yeah.
SCRATCH: -fool! Oh, wait.
PEARL: Just pay attention, please?
> Take the 405 freeway to Venice Boulevard east, then
>north on Overland."
MADGE (morose announcer): If you, or any member of your family, dies
during the
"repeating directions" scene, Lori Beatty will buy you a free coffin.
>The highway sped past as Hannibal puffed on his cigar
>mentally going over the details of the weekend "Okay, guys, we need
to
>assign jobs."
SCRATCH (Face): I'm the kvetch!
GYPSY (Murdock): I'm the head case!
PEARL (B.A.): I'm the fairy princess from the land of Nod trapped in
the body of
an angry black man!
>"Let's see. There are openings for two waiters, a dancer and a
>valet/bouncer."
SCRATCH: Whoa/ho! Is that/where Murdock picked/that up?
>"I'll take the valet job," B.A. stated firmly.
ALL: -fool!
>
>Hannibal shrugged. "Okay. I guess you are best suited to the bouncer
>role. Face, you can be the dancer.
PEARL: Since you're the sissy of the group.
>"Me? Hannibal, I can't dance. And come to think of it,
>what sort of dancing would a man do in a night club?"
MADGE: Well if it involves pouting like a schoolgirl, you're a natural!
>"Tom said it's similar to Broadway and Vegas type stuff.
>Tap dancing maybe? Top hat and cane, I guess."
>
>Templeton Peck groaned. "Tap...Hannibal, I can't tap dance."
GYPSY (Face): My life's been aquatic ballet!
>"Sure ya can, Faceman," Murdock spoke up. "Just pretend, you're Gene
>Kelly.
SCRATCH (Face): OK. Ahem. DAMN YOU, ASTAIRE! You upstage me again
I'll take
that cane and ram it SO FAR up your-
GYPSY: No. No. No. No.
>Do a few time steps, a clog, a couple of maxi-fords..."
>
>"Murdock! I don't even know what those things are!"
PEARL (Face): But I'm guessing they're really lame and humorless!
>
>"Take it easy, Face," Hannibal smiled. "Just fake it."
>
>"Fake it? Hannibal!"
MADGE: Aw, jiminy. Now he's gonna start writhing and moaning in a New
York
deli with Billy Crystal. It's not that funny!
>"Well, Face, I can't do it," the colonel pointed out.
>
>"Why not?" Peck demanded.
>
>Smiling gleefully, Hannibal replied, "Too old."
SCRATCH (moaning): Oh, if this fanfic ends with John Glenn stripping
to "Touch
of Grey", I will spew all over this theater!
>
>Lieutenant Peck moaned and sank back into his seat. "Then you might
>as well kiss this weekends profits good-bye. I'm not dancing."
PEARL (groaning): This is like every date I ever had in high school.
You know
something? Boys suck!
>A small cloud of cigar smoke drifted around Hannibal Smith's head.
MADGE: Action-Smoker-Lingering-Odor-not-included.
>"Well, we need a dancer. Surely one of us can do it." He glanced at
>B.A.
>
>"Don't look at me, man!"
ALL: -fool!
GYPSY: Woo, every time you gather a group of cutthroat army fugitives
to bus
tables in your strip club, it's just bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch!
>"Uh...I took a jazz dance class at the academy one quarter," Murdock
>drawled from the back seat.
SCRATCH (Murdock): And let me tell you- Karl Malone is NOT as light on
his feet
as you'd think.
>
>Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. "Really, Murdock?"
>
>"Better him than me," Face groaned.
PEARL: That's the thing! All for one, to hell with you!
>
>"Yeah," Murdock smiled. "I was pretty good at it."
>
>Hannibal's smile broadened considerably. "Great, Murdock, then Face
>and I can take the waiter jobs. I love it when a plan comes together."
GYPSY: Um, nothing's really "come together", has it.
MADGE: Illegal use of catch phrase! Fifteen yards! Repeat-
SCRATCH (crying): Repeat?
ALL (crying): NOOOOO!
MADGE: All right, just get on with it, then.
>
>In the rear view mirror, two pairs of eyes met and a secret
>smile passed between them.
SCRATCH (sings): OOOOOOOOH, sweet mystery of life! At last I found
youse!
[Madge laughs.]
>Confident that the weekend would now continue without a
>hitch, Hannibal Smith relaxed and watched the passing
>scenery out his window.
PEARL (Hannibal): Aaaah... blue sky... open desert... cactus?
Wetbacks? Border
patrol?! What the hell?!
> He felt excitement building inside. It was an
>old familiar sensation that sprang to life whenever his schemes fell
>into place.
MADGE: Scheme.
GYPSY: Mm-hm.
MADGE: Being waiters, this is their "scheme", then.
GYPSY: Looks that way.
MADGE: Hooooooooooooo, boy.
>Even when the plan was a simple and uncomplicated one like their brief
>stint as waiters, his mind soared with the idea of manipulating a set
>of circumstances.
SCRATCH: Pearl, can you help me later with my nefariously intricate
scheme to
make some chicken salad?
PEARL: Um, first I gotta pull off my insidiously complex machinations
to grout
the bathtub.
SCRATCH: After, though?
PEARL: Sure.
> And, he had his team to thank for it all. They always came through,
>pitched in to take up the slack, smooth the rough spots, close the
gaps
>and tie up loose ends.
GYPSY (Face): Uh, Hannibal? Weren't our clients NOT wanted for bribery
and
arson when they hired us?
MADGE (Hannibal): Just a slack gap of a loose end, my friend! Just
leave a
bloody tomahawk and blame it on the injuns.
> Yessir, they were the best. Look at the way
>B.A. jumped at the chance to play bouncer.
PEARL: Oh, please! He's a six-foot-five V-tapered muscleman. I don't
think we
need a guidance counselor for this one!
> And Murdock, offering to
>take the dancer's job to help out Face. Now that should be fun.
>Watching Murdock do a buck and wing and a few shuffle-off-to-Buffalo's.
SCRATCH: You get the feeling Lori let a few years of her innocence die
in the
dark, sweat-infused studio of a harsh Russian dance mistress whose
visage haunts
her at night with the sour expression of a betrayed dream,
shouting, "Wrong!
Wrong! Get up! Do it again!"?
GYSPY: Umm... not until now.
> Ah, the guys were a great
>bunch. So loyal, so dedicated, so selfless, so sincere.
MADGE (BA): The minute he turns his back, I'm fraggin' him!
PEARL (Face): Dibs on his wallet!
SCRATCH (Murdock): I want his shoes.
> His team. Smiling smugly, he turned to B.A. and inquired,
>"How much further?"
>
>"Should be the next exit.
GYPSY (Minniwegian mom): Oh, let's not wake the audience, though.
They're so
cute when they're sleeping!
> What's the name of this place again?"
>
>Face tugged at his tie and quipped, "Some kind of furniture.
Hepplewhite,
> Duncan Phyfe?"
MADGE: Aren't those villains from the Peter Patriot cartoons?
SCRATCH: No, that was Benedict. Duncan might be their Droopy Dog
ripoff,
though.
>
>"Chippendales," Murdock corrected.
MADGE: The name said Chippendales. The quality screamed Queen Anne.
>A few minutes later the black van pulled off onto a four-lane
>boulevard that ran through the main section of Culver City.
SCRATCH: As signified by- what? Blockbusters? A TCBY?
>Hannibal
>watched the passing cross streets for the one marked
Overland. "That's
>it, B.A. Take a left."
PEARL (BA): Let me see that map!
GYPSY (Hannibal): No, just drive!
PEARL (BA): What?! We're nowhere NEAR-
GYPSY (Hannibal): But that's the long way around. Just look for the
sign for Route 9. It's gotta be here somewhere.
>The van turned from the main road into a narrow residential street,
>reducing its speed considerably. "I thought you said this club was
>really hot, Hannibal. This don't look like no place for a night club."
>
>Hannibal searched the address. "There it is. On the left."
[ALL sigh.]
MADGE: You know, this scene was originally just a jump-cut to the strip
club,
but Beatty recognized the unique opportunity for character development
in map
reading.
SCRATCH: It's cool seein' these innovations before they become cliched.
>
>B.A. guided the van into the empty parking lot beside a small,
>nondescript, beige-colored brick building.
PEARL: Public school by day, erotic dance hall by night!
GYPSY: I sold five-dollar wrapping paper for THIS?
>
>"It looks more like a dentist office than a night club," Face observed
>dryly.
SCRATCH: Wow, nothin' is what it seems in this fanfic!
MADGE: It's in the finest tradition of "Total Recall"! Like when
Detroit
releases another crappy car, and they have to do a total recall?
>"Are you sure this is it?"
>
>Murdock strained forward in his seat and looked out, pointing to the
>understated sign that cut diagonally across the front of the building.
GYPSY: Well there's your problem! There's a sign blocking the entrance!
>"This is it. Says, Chippendales."
>
>"Hmmm, maybe we should suggest Clayton do a bit of remodeling. This
>exterior wouldn't draw flies," Hannibal uttered.
PEARL: Was it supposed to?
SCRATCH: Didn't that honey-and-rotting-meat franchise teach you
anything?
> "Well, let's go talk to the manager. Maybe we can pick up our
>uniforms early."
MADGE (shocked): No! You'll ruin the delicate timing of your intricate
scheme!
>After the bright sunlight, the interior of the small club seemed dark
>and stuffy. The four members of the A-Team took several minutes to
>adjust their eyes.
GYPSY (Hannibal): So anybody read Kissinger's latest book?
PEARL (B.A.): No, fool! I'm too stupid!
GYPSY (Hannibal): Yeah, me too. May as well have skirt steak for
brains.
> "Sure is intimate," Hannibal muttered to Face.
>
>"This dinky place brings in big bucks?" Face snorted skeptically. "No
>way."
SCRATCH: Oh, I dunno. Opium dens ain't exactly The Plaza, and they
seem to do
OK.
>
>From the shadowed confines of the club, a slight, energetic man
>appeared, walking toward the men like a miniature dynamo.
MADGE: Richard Simmons!
GYPSY (Richard Simmons): OK, girls! Let's Deal-a-Meal!
> "You the
>guys Clayton sent over?" he asked without ceremony.
PEARL: So we're not in a Japanese tea house, at least.
> At Hannibal's
>brief nod he raced on. "Which one of you is the dancer?" Murdock
>raised his hand.
SCRATCH (Murdock, weakly): Um... I wanna live forever? Light up the
sky, like a
flame?
>The man looked askance at the pilot then shrugged.
>"Go back to the dressing room, right back there. See Sonny. He'll
>help you with your routine."
MADGE: (Simmons): Of diet and exercise! With Sweatin' to the Oldies
Volume- what
are we up to now, 13? 62?
>
>"Uh, I take it you're Tom Watters?" Hannibal managed to interject.
>
>"Yeah. Of course. Who else would I be?"
GYPSY: Any stereotyped homosexual male on network TV?
>His eyes darted to B.A.
>"You the bouncer? Good.
SCRATCH (Simmons): Start bouncin', honey! ONE, and TWO, and- work
those outer
thighs, come on!
> See Dave in the office. Over there. He'll
>fix you up."
PEARL: He'll shore up your foundation while master carpenter Al looks
for water
damage.
> Tom's attention next settled on Face and Hannibal, and he
>eyed them closely, the silver-haired colonel in particular.
MADGE (Tom): One word, darlings. Nivea!
> "I don't
>mind telling you, you're a good bit older than our usual men."
>
>Hannibal smiled blandly.
GYPSY: As opposed to some other George Peppard expression?
> "What I lack in youth I make up in
>experience."
>
>Tom wasn't impressed.
PEARL (Tom): Oh, Reagan might have fooled the country with that drivel,
but
don't think you can bon mot your way onto MY chorus line!
> "But then, we do have quite a few older patrons.
>It might be a fresh angle.
SCRATCH (Tom): An old guy dyin' on stage might go over with the punk
crowd.
> Might even pull in a new cross section.
>Okay, follow me and I'll get you measured for your costumes."
MADGE (Tom): Let's see. We have Extra Large... and that's it. No one
ever asks
for Small, for some reason.
>
>A bit bemused, Hannibal and Face followed the intense young man into
>the back of the building. "Uh, costumes?" Face questioned. "Clayton
>said uniforms."
>
>"Hannibal shrugged. "Costumes, uniforms. What's in a name, Face?"
GYPSY: A plot by any other name would smell as rank!
>
>Tom led the two into a small alcove off the main dressing room and
>pulled out a well-worn tape measure. He proceeded to measure in turn,
>their necks, wrists, waists, thighs, and inseams with the practice of
a
>skilled tailor.
SCRATCH (Face): There's no call to be measuring THAT!
PEARL (Hannibal): Calm down, Face. What's in a batch? An area by any
other
name-
SCRATCH (Face): Oh, stuff it!
PEARL (Hannibal): *I* don't have to. Heh-heh.
> After jotting down the numbers, he turned to the new
>waiters. "You can pick up your costumes an hour and a half before you
>go on the floor Friday."
MADGE: Go on the floor? It's the New York Crotch Exchange!
>
>"And when is that?" Hannibal asked.
>
>"Six o'clock. Be here at five thirty."
GYPSY: 5:30 is an hour and half before six?
SCRATCH: They move Daylight Savings to the middle of day for some
reason?
They got Pope Gregory runnin' the joint?
>With that he left the men to
>find their own way out.
MADGE (Tom): And check in with me tomorrow, which is two hours from now!
>
>"Friendly fellow," Hannibal commented dryly.
>
>"Yeah. I get the feeling our supreme sacrifice for this weekend isn't
>exactly appreciated."
PEARL: Yeah, it ain't easy gettin' a lane at the Bowl-a-rama, and now
they're
right back on the waiting list!
>
>As the two fair-haired members of the A-Team returned to the front of
>the club, they were joined by
SCRATCH: -their Aryan brethren to prepare for their march on Skokie.
GYPSY: Why do you test me so?
SCRATCH: Well, 'cuz I'm from Hell. I mean, come on.
>B.A. and a smiling H.M. Murdock.
>
>"All set fellas?" Hannibal asked.
>
>B.A. nodded and Murdock's smile broadened. "I've got to come back to
>practice, colonel. I've only got four days to perfect my act.
PEARL: Perfect your act? You're Robin Williams without the body hair
or the
improv skills!
> Sonny
>is gonna help me--we got a great idea for a costume."
>
>"Oh, yeah?" Face asked, his curiosity piqued. "What is it?"
MADGE: An evening gown made of American Express gold cards!
>
>"I'm going to let it be a surprise." Murdock grinned. Even in the
>gloomy interior of the small club, his brown eyes twinkled brightly.
GYPSY: Lori? Turn down the twinkling, hon, OK? It's not healthy.
>
>"Okay, we're done too. Let's go and we'll be back Friday, ready to
>work." Hannibal smiled happily. "B.A., can you bring Murdock back
for
>rehearsals?" The sergeant nodded. "Great." Pulling out a fresh
>cigar,
SCRATCH: Action-Smoker-Stained-Fingernails-not-included.
>Hannibal Smith led his band of merry men out into the daylight
>once more.
[All snicker.]
GYPSY: Merry men, huh.
PEARL (Hannibal): Yup! We rob.
MADGE (Face): Wasn't there another part to that?
PEARL (Hannibal): Can't think what.
>Face took one last look at the small, unimpressive club and shook his
>head. "This place can't make money. It has no atmosphere, no
>ambiance, nothing to set it apart from any other night club."
SCRATCH: Oh, wait, I got it! This is the one where that Face guy goes
out to
book "Cowboy George", and instead? He books "Boy George"! Ha!
See? "Boy
George"! It's... just as funny as it was back then... which... aw,
man, I gotta
lie down.
>
>
>Friday, at five thirty sharp, Hannibal Smith and his trusted unit
>pulled into the lot at Chippendales. After parking the van in the
>designated area for employees,
MADGE: This fanfic has more parking scenes than "The A-Team" had car
chases!
> the four men piled out joining Hannibal
>as he took the last remaining draws on his cigar.
SCRATCH: Action-Smoker-Compulsive-Phallic-Behavior-sold-separately.
> "Well, are you ready?"
>
>Face groaned, but Murdock and B.A. were surprisingly cheerful. "Come
>on, you guys, we'll be late." Murdock urged as he started toward the
>rear entrance. "It wouldn't look good if Clayton found out we weren't
>here on time."
GYPSY (Murdock): Yeah, he might shoot us into space and force us to
read this
story!
>
>"Good point, Captain," Hannibal agreed.
>
MADGE (muttering, resentful): They're right there. How late can they
be?
>Once inside, the men split up. B.A. went to the front office, Murdock
>to the costumes. They're in there." He motioned them into the
alcove.
ALL: Huh? What?
>It didn't seem possible, but the man's level of energy was double that
>of their previous meeting.
GYPSY: Who is? Murdock?
SCRATCH: Should there be a "Scene Missing" sign up here?
PEARL: Hello?! Focus, dammit! C'mon!
>He moved like a human hurricane, as if all
>his energy was compacted into a swirl around him. Watters thrust
>something black and shiny into Face's hands,
ALL (startled): Gah!
MADGE: Don't sneak up on us like that! God!
>then did likewise with
>Hannibal.
>
> "What size shoe do you wear?" he asked.
>
>Uh, 10 1/2," Face replied, looking more closely at his costume.
GYPSY (Watters): OK, you'll need half a size smaller, so I'm giving you
a 14EEE.
>
>"Okay, there's an assortment of black boots in the corner. Put those
>on," he gestured toward the clothing, "no underwear,
SCRATCH (Face): That's OK! We brought our own.
> and get back here
>so I can see how you look."
>
>Hannibal, who had pulled his outfit off the hanger, held up
>the shimmering black pants, if you could call them that. They looked
>more like satin long johns to him.
MADGE: Superman, NOOOOO!
> "Uh, you expect us to wear this?"
>
>Tom threw him an impatient glance. "Just put it on so I
>can look you over."
GYPSY (sings): Hey, look me over!
>
>"Put it on?" Hannibal repeated. "Maybe you'd better melt me down and
>pour me into them."
SCRATCH (slyly): Saaaaaaay...
PEARL (Hannibal): And then, maybe you better, like, gently fold me into
the
batter, so I combine without reducing the egg whites.
>
>Face, in the meantime, had discovered the rest of their so-called
>costume. He held up three small bands of white. "What are these?" he
>asked.
MADGE: The Carpenters, Nelson, and Captain and Tenille!
SCRATCH: Ha! Small white bands! Such verbal frolics youse guys do
have!
>
>"Your collar and cuffs. Now would you please get dressed? I've got
to
>get ready for the crowd.
PEARL (Tom): I do a musical saw number that leaves'em crying in the
aisles!
> I'll be back in five minutes."
GYPSY (Tom): So see you next Wednesday!
>Tom vanished out the door, leaving
>Face and Hannibal to contemplate their situation.
>
>Face wasted no time in voicing his distaste at their outfits.
>"Hannibal, he can't be serious. Where's our shirts?"
SCRATCH: Ah, Lucy and Ethel probably ironed them and they have big
smoking burn
marks on'em, and the only thing they and Ricky have to wear for the big
TV
audition are a couple of horse costumes.
>Hannibal held up the narrow bow tie and looked at his young
friend. "I
>don't think we get any."
>
>"What! You mean we're going to serve drinks in these? Hannibal, the
>pants will be so tight they'll show every bump on our...never mind."
PEARL (Hannibal): Yours has bumps?
GYPSY: Please, the story's bad enough!
>Blue eyes narrowed as the colonel looked at the white collar and
cuffs.
>"Wonder what sort of club this is?"
MADGE: Oo, I hope it's a billy club, and it beats them all into next
week!
>
>"Oh, great. Now you ask. Why didn't you find out before, huh? We
>could be into some real trouble here, ya know. This place could be
>hot!"
SCRATCH: Before you whined it was a dud! Make up your mind!
>
>One eyebrow arched.
GYPSY (Spock): Fascinating, Captain.
> "No doubt. But Clayton is a good man.
MADGE: And a better woman!
>He wouldn't be involved in
>anything shady." With a shrug, Hannibal retired to the small dressing
>room. Face did likewise, complaining every step of the way.
>
[Pearl, Scratch, and Gypsy rise to leave.]
SCRATCH (Face, crying, whining): That step was hard! So was that one!
This
sucks! Can I have a gummi worm?
---
Logo, Commercials. Does the Florida orange juice "talking sandwich"
still bitch
at you after you eat it?
<End Part 4>
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