[NEW] MiSTing: "The Beast with Nine Bands" [Hulk] [PG] [2/4]

[MBlackw415]

[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ]
[The Bridge of the SoL. Tom sits (Stands? Hovers? Whatever.)
behind the command console with a large drink in front of
him. Gypsy stands nearby, dressed like a bartender.]
Gypsy: Freshen your drink for you, sir?
Tom: [Slurred] Sure thing, sweetie.
[Gypsy stands motionless for a second.]
Gypsy: [Sotto voce] Tom. I don't have any arms.
Tom: [Normal] Oh yeah. I'm fine then. [Tom resumes his
slurred speech.] You know, some folks say there
ain't no bears in Arkansas.
Gypsy: Uh huh.
Tom: [Slurred] Others say that there's a bear in the woods.
Gypsy: Really?
Tom: [Slurred] But what if there weren't a bear at all?
[Tom, stares at his drink for a second, before shouting.]
Tom: BARTENDER! THERE'S A BEAR IN MY BEER!
Gypsy: Go home, Tom.
[Crow and Mike enter, both holding a sandwich.]
Mike: Tom, what are you doing?
Tom: [Normal voice] An old Doonesbury routine.
Mike: Well, stop it. We've got a sketch of our own to do.
And Gypsy? Shouldn't you be out looking for those
bears?
Gypsy: [Aussie accent] Right-o, Mikey.
[She exits.]
Mike: Well guys, who do you expect our mystery monster is
today?
Crow: I bet it's Mr. McGregor, the owner of the haunted
amusement park!
Tom: Well, let's review the characteristics of the
attacker. It's big and it has beady eyes, long ears
and a snout.
Crow: I still think that it's a Democrat. It's probably a
horribly mutated version of Ted Kennedy. He'll
probably head down to Au Bar soon.
Tom: No, no. It's a Marvel story. It's probably Fing Fang
Foom.
Crow: Please. Maybe if Kurt Busiek were writing this.
Mike: Maybe it's Snuffleupagus.
Crow: Yeah right.
Tom: Mike? Keep the stupid ideas to a minimum, please.
Crow: Where were we? Oh yeah. Maybe the monster's actually
some sort of dinosaur, long thought to be extinct.
Tom: Nah. Marvel's done that Savage Land shtick to death.
Hey, we've got the Hulk here. What it it's some sort
of creature mutated by the same Gamma Bomb that
spawned the Hulk?
Crow: Ooh! That'd be really poetic. The Hulk has to fight
a creature that his research spawned! But what type
of critter is it?
Tom: A groundhog?
Crow: No, too goofy. How about a rat? Rats can survive
anything! Even a Gamma Bomb!
Tom: No! Wait! Two rats! That'd be even better!
Mike: Yeah! And what if one of them became really
intelligent...
Crow: Like the Leader?
Mike: Um, I guess. Anyway, this one rat's really intelligent
and he wants to take over the world! Wouldn't that be
great?
[Silence]
Tom: Mike, you're ruining things for us here.
[The lights begin to flash.]
Crow: Great! Not only is the mood ruined, but now we've
got short story time too.
Mike: Ahhhh! Short story sign!
[Mike jumps about while the bots glare at him. Mike hits the
lights and the door sequence begins.]

[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ]

[Mike enters, carrying Tom. Crow follows behind.]
Tom: Gee, thanks Mike.
Mike: I was trying to help!
Crow: Right Mike. I'm sure that Mrs. O'Leary's cow was only
trying to help too.

>The Hulk grabbed the flashlight from Quartermain. "That'll
>get the cops off your back."
>

Mike: How will taking a flashlight do that?

>"Now, hold on!" the ex-agent protested.

Tom: [G. Bailey] It's not just your money in that
flashlight! It's Tom's and Rick's and even Steve's too!

> But it was too
>late. The Hulk leapt away, briefly silhouetted by the moon
>before vanishing from the night sky.
>

Crow: Batman's copyright lawyers quickly leapt into pursuit.

>"God," muttered Quartemain, " I wish he'd listen."
>

Mike: [Jones] Well, I believe in the "watchmaker" model
of God, rather than an interventionist God. Still
Clay, is this really a good time to discuss theology?

>"Yeah," said Jones, wistfully. "You know, back in the old
>days, he *used* to listen to me. Sometimes. But at least
>now he's smart enough -"
>

Mike: And dog-gonne it, people like him.

>"He's only smart enough to know he doesn't have to listen
>to us, Rick," Quartermain interjected.

Tom: Quatermass? Oh, sorry, wrong sci-fi story.

> "He's not smart
>enough to take care of himself." He headed for the van.
>"I'll call the cops."
>

Crow: [Quatermain] Maybe the Hulk will get smarter if
he's running from the fuzz.

>Jones went back to the cab to make sure the trucker was
>comfortable.

Mike: [Jones] Hey Clay? Do you think this guy would be more
comfortable if we took this axle out of his skull?

> As Jones wiped the blood from his face, the
>trucker muttered, "Big . . . big . . . couldn't stop.

Tom: [Billy Joe] Didn't . . . care . . . for. . . movie,
but . . . couldn't . . . stop . . . watching . . .it!

> It
>jumped . . . What in hell was it? Big thing. . . big
>critter.

Crow: Nancy Wilson?

> It's gone now, ain't it. . . ain't it?"
>

Tom: Yes, yes. Carrottop's movie career is history.

>
>The Hulk landed two kilometers away, his impact making a
>satisfying *thooom*!

Mike: Then he jumped again, and landed with a "Biff." Then
a "Zowie." And then a "Ka-plow!"

> He looked around, but saw nothing. No
>signs of food or civilization, and here he had to stay.

Tom: He'd wanted to buy land closer to the city, but the
land prices here were just so reasonable!

> He
>sat in the dirt and thought back to the end of his latest
>brawl with Wolverine.

Crow: Which Wolverine was this? The adamantium laced Wolvie,
the bone claws Wolvie or the Weapon-X Wolvie?
Tom: I think that it's the fabled "I don't do guest
appearances" Wolvie.
Crow: Ooh! Neat! I've never seen him before!
Tom: And you never will again.

> The mutant runt had pushed a button
>in the Hulk's psyche that literally brought out the beast
>in him.

Tom: He put a 666 on everyone's forehead.

> The fight had ended only because Quartermain had
>fired on the combatants and chastised them for brawling.

Tom: You boys stop that right now, or no more isotopes for
either of you!

>What had especially rankled the Hulk was when Quartermain
>told him, "If you're not the 'mindless Hulk' anymore, start
>acting that way. Get some priorities, for pity's sake!"
>

Mike: Plan for your retirement! You can open up an IRA!

>The Hulk thought about his priorities.

Crow: Topping his list was finding a really good apple
cobbler.

> He wanted to stop
>the government from stockpiling gamma bombs which could
>make more monsters like him.

Tom: He also wanted to take a long, romantic walk down
a moonlit beach with Jenna Elfman. But that pesky
restraining order kept getting in the way.

> Right now though, his more
>immediate priority was to keep himself from being
>discovered while sitting out here in the desert.
>

Mike: Nearby, the Rat Patrol continued on it's usual
course, never suspecting that a gray skinned giant
waited...

>The Hulk snorted with derision.

Crow: [Hulk] Bah! They'll never convince me that cocaine
is dangerous!

> That compulsiveness was
>pure Banner. On second thought, his attention to detail was
>useful, sometimes. Categorize everything.

Mike: Well, the Hulk does that too. Except his categories
are "Good thing", "Bad thing", and "Vegas Thing."

> Where were his
>priorities? Not just tonight. Not just when he found the
>gamma bomb stockpile, but afterward.
>

Crow: Afterward? It's off to Pismo Beach and all the clams
he can eat!

>If Banner thought he was cursed by the Hulk, that was
>nothing compared to the animosity the Hulk felt toward his
>bloodless alter ego.

Tom: Banner is to the Hulk as Siskel is to Ebert.

> Banner was a lead weight around his
>neck, pulling him below the water's surface.

Mike: Just like Joe Schumaker and the Batman films.

> There were
>place he wanted to go, things he wanted to do, but with
>Banner in charge, he would never get near somewhere like
>Las Vegas. No.

Crow: Banner was a Reno man.

> That prissy jerk would make sure the Hulk
>would have no opportunity to step out and live his own life
>for once.
>

Mike: Hey, you're using his body, have a little
gratitude....

>That was when he heard the grunting and snuffling behind
>him, sounding vaguely like it came from some sort of
>enormous pig.

Tom: Or a Snuffleupagus.
Mike: Hey! You said that was a stupid idea!
Tom: Well, it was when *you* said it.

> He turned around in time to see a gargantuan,
>shadowy hump bearing down on him.

Crow: It's an enormous pig!

> The Hulk was so startled
>that , as the leathery form brushed against him, he fell on
>his rump.
>

Tom: When in doubt, have a character do a pratfall, that's
what I always say.

>The. . . . whatever it was . . . disappeared into the night
>so quickly that the Hulk could not catch more than a
>glimpse. The gray-skinned behemoth sat on the ground,
>wondering what had shoved him.
>
>

Crow: An enormous pig. Weren't you listening to me?

>Jones came by about an hour after dawn with clean clothes
>and Banner's glasses.
>

Mike: I guess he started working on them at dawn.

>"Bruce?" he called out.
>

Tom: And 400,000 Australians answered.

>Banner cautiously stepped out from behind a boulder. His
>tattered pants hung in streamers from his lean frame, and
>his bare chest and arms bore the scratches of a cactus or
>two that he had brushed against in his travels.

Crow: So, he looks like Iggy Pop then?

> Bleary,
>bloodshot eyes swept the area to make certain that no one
>was watching the meeting.
>

Mike: And thus was Alcoholics Anonymous founded.

>"Don't worry, Doc," said Jones. "The coast is clear. The
>sheriff is too busy overseeing the semi's removal before it
>causes any big traffic problems."
>

Mike: [Jones] Apparently, that Farmer Brown's driving
through in a few minutes. And I've heard that he
can swear up a blue streak!

>"What did he think about you wandering off into the desert
>with a change of clothes?" Banner asked as he shrugged out
>of his torn outfit.
>

Crow: [Jones] Oh, the Sheriff used to live in Berkeley. He
didn't even blink.

>"I told him my wacky best friend went running off after
>whatever had flipped the truck and just forgot to take his
>pants with him."
>
>Banner's eyebrows rose in a quizzical fashion. "And he
>accepted that?"
>

Tom: Well, if he didn't the rest of the story would be
Banner in jail for indecent exposure.

>Jones shrugged. "Well, he didn't believe my first story."
>He grinned broadly. " I told him you were a werewolf."
>

Crow: [Jones] Then this weird foreign guy showed up and
started jabbing people with a leg bone. It must be a
Texan thing.

>"Wonderful," Banner muttered. He zipped up the new
>jumpsuit.

Tom: Bruce Banner's wardrobe is courtesy of Mr. Nelson of
Wisconsin.

> "Let's go back."
>

Mike: To the middle of the desert?

>They walked briskly to the road. Banner told Jones of the
>strange encounter the Hulk had during the night.
>

Mike: [Banner] So then, this weird foreign girl with this
horrible accent showed up, babbling about a
Warewilf...

>"I don't like this, Bruce," Jones commented. "the driver
>talked a little before the ambulance arrived-"
>

Crow: [Jones] -and it convinced me that truckers should
be seen, not heard.

>"How is he?" asked Banner. "I should have been with him but
>the Hulk-"
>

Tom: ..let's just say that nature called, and leave it at
that.

>"-was right," Jones interjected. "the trucker will be fine
>- only a moderate concussion. Anyway, he said something big
>knocked his truck over. Something about the size and the
>shape of a VW bug."
>

Crow: Wouldn't that be rather small, compared to an 18
wheeler?

>"That about fits what I . . . the Hulk saw."
>
>The ambulance was long gone, but two police cruisers still
>bracketed the trucks, their lights flashing in warning.

Mike: Hey! THEY'VE GOT WRECKAGE SIGN!

>Remaining behind with the cars were the sheriff and his
>chief deputy, Sheriff Sowell, a black man with a
>linebacker's build, slightly graying hair, and a piercing
>stare,

Tom: Boy, things must be really tough over at the Hoover
Institute if he's moonlighting.

> was engaged in an intense conference with
>Quartermain. He appeared to be listening patiently to
>Quatermain as the ex-agent pointed to gouges on the roff of
>the truck's cab,

Mike: A roff?
Crow: It's one of those Beanie Babies. I think it's a newt.
Mike: Ah.

> which matched the claw marks by the
>shattered Joshua tree.
>
>Dale, the deputy,

Mike: ...really missed Chip.

> wandered the length of the toppled
>vehicle, morosely inspecting the shards of headlight glass
>scattered along the truck's path.

Tom: Glass. Glass. Glass. Ooh! Bone fragment!

> He was a wiry, angular
>man, with a pinched face dominated by a ten-gallon hat and
>sunglasses.
>

Mike: Why do I picture this guy in a CASTLETON T-shirt?

>Dale looked up and glared at Jones as he and Banner
>approached.
>
>"'Bout time you got back here!" he yelled. "The sheriff
>wants to talk to y'all." He gestured towards Sowell, who
>glared intimidatingly at the two men. Dale, muttering all
>the while, continued his migration alongside the truck.
>

Tom: [muttering] Man, had another argument with my wife last
night, kids wouldn't stop screaming this morning,
almost got rear-ended by some jerk in a Volvo on the
way to work, and now THIS? What next?

>"Well," Sowell said mildly to Banner. "I'm so glad to see
>that you didn't have any . . . misadventures last night.

Crow: [Sowell] 'Cause then Bob Aspin would be writing this,
and we'd be waiting a couple of years for the next
paragraph.

>Especially considering that something capable of doing
>that-" he pointed to the pile of kindling that used to be a
>Joshua tree "-is still running around out there."
>

Mike: I don't know. The tree looks pretty motionless to me.

>"I can take care of myself," Banner replied.
>

Tom: [Banner] Although it'd be really nice if you cut the
crusts of my sandwiches.

>"One might ask why you had to run around in the dark last
>night," Sowell continued. "One might ask why you are
>hanging around with this young punk and blondie here-"

Crow: Deborah Harry? Here? Now?

> he
>gestured towards Quartermain "--who seems to know more
>about mechanical forensics than I was taught at the State
>Police Academy.

Tom: [Sowell] It's like the 'real' Police Academy, but
we only get the comics not good enough to be in those
films.

> But, since you are being so helpful, I'll
>just ask you about what you saw last night, Mr. . . .
>'Bixby.' That *is* your name, correct?"
>

Crow: My Injoke-o-meter is picking up major readings.

>Banner glanced quickly at Jones, then nodded. "Yes, it is."
>
>"What did you see last night, pray tell?"
>

Tom: [Banner] Well, I thought I saw a plot, but that weasel
from Astro City got there first...

>"Not a great deal.

Mike: [Banner] I should have waited for it to go on sale.

> It was dark."
>

Tom: And stormy too.

>"Well, it *was* night," Dale interjected.

Crow: Hey! Thanks Dale!
Mike: If Dale helps us riff this one, we'll be out of here
in no time!

> A glare from
>Sowell quieted him.
>

Mike: Damn.
Tom: Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

>"Whatever I saw out there was large, about five, six feet
>high," Banner said. "It was about the size of a small car."
>
>"What make and model?" Dale asked.
>

Crow: Well, Dale's saving us a lot of work today.

>Sowell cut him with another look. Dale went back to
>examining the crash site.
>

Tom: [Dale] Yep, looks like one of them Elerian Model 65-Q
type recon saucers with a tweaked hyperdrive. Those
Elerians sure know how to build 'em.

>"Whatever it was," Bruce continued, "it knocked me down and
>kept going.

Crow: [Banner] I think it was the Energizer Bunny.
Mike: Well, you ain't never going to keep him down.

> I only got a vague glimpse of it. Big as a car
>and the shape of a half a wheel of cheese: mound-shaped
>front to back, but narrow."
>

Tom: Sounds like a croissant.

>"Hey, speaking of cheese," Jones said, "is there someplace
>where we can get breakfast? I'm starvin'."
>

Crow: Hey, the cops probably have some donuts they can
spare.

>Sowell nodded. "Noreen's place. Few miles down the road, in
>Depinthehata. We can talk more there."
>
>

Crow: Where's Depinthehata?
Mike: Just take a left turn at Albuquerque. You'll
find it.

>The county seat of Arcadia Plains is the town of
>Depinthehata, derived from an Indian word of obscure
>origin.

Mike: It's Navajo for "Schmaltzy Cowboy Song."

> It is a typical, dusty and often tired small town,
>with garages, convenience stores, auto body shops, and
>other utilitarian structures.
>

Crow: Like brothels.

>One of its few distinctive landmarks is Noreen's Cafe, by
>the railroad tracks. It is frequented by truckers and
>stockyard employees who came despite the grubbiness, the
>ingrained dirt on the linoleum, the waitresses with stained
>aprons and the fly strips black with insects.
>

Tom: No, that's actually WHY they come. They love the
ambiance.

>Banner plowed through two breakfast specials.

Crow: The other customers wondered why he didn't plow soil
instead.

> Jones nibbled
>on a hamburger, while Quartermain gnawed on eggs and
>homefries.

Tom: [Homer] Mmmmm. . . film . . .

> Sowell and Dale sat on the opposite side of the
>booth.
>
>"How's the truck driver?" asked Banner.
>

Mike: [Banner] I thought it was called a fireman...

>"He's fine, Mr. Bixby," Sowell said. "The hospital will
>release him tomorrow. He still can't remember anything
>about the accident."
>

Crow: What, is he Trevor Rees-Jones?
Mike: Ahem. What did I tell you guys about Princess Diana
jokes?

>Dale smiled. "Now I know you've been real helpful and all,
>but anything else you can do to help . . . well, we'd
>appreciate it. Something you remembered, or that makes
>sense only now, or even any wild ideas about the accident,
>would be helpful."
>

Tom: [Jones] Well, I have these photos of the accident...

>"In my expert opinion . . . " Banner began, then hastily
>clamped his jaw shut.
>
>"And how did you and Mr. Quartermain obtain your
>expertise?" Sowell asked smoothly.
>

Mike: [Sowell] Is it some of that new-fangled book learnin'?

>"I was being sarcastic," Bruce said quickly.
>

Crow: We know *that* feeling.

>"I couldn't tell, Mr. Bixby. But in your *expert*
>opinion. . . "
>
>"My best guess is some sort of animal."
>

Crow: Oh, big help, Mr. Hotshot scientist.

>"Biggest thing around these parts are buffalo," said Dale.
>
>"Bison," Banner corrected primly.
>

Mike: Oh no! It's a Street Fighter 2 crossover!

>"Whatever. But there's no bison within one hundred miles of
>here," replied Dale.
>

Tom: So they're not technically "in these parts," then.

>"Maybe," Jones said with a wry smile, "it was something
>*unnatural.* Got any mad scientists around these parts?"
>

Mike: [Dale] Just that Forrester fella who moved in a few
months back. Said he wanted some time away from his
family. Oh, and there's that Doctor Earnhart fellow
too. He lives over by the renderin' plant.

>"No *mad* scientists nearby," Dale replied, matter-of-
>factly, "but we've got a *ticked-off* one by the name of
>Pearl Sin.

All: She sure does!

> Couple of the Brewer boys went joyriding in her
>jeep a few weeks back-she was *real* angry about that. Now
>that you mention it, I haven't seen her around for a week."
>

Mike: [Dale] Come to think of it, I haven't seen that
Doctor Earnhart fellow for about eight years...

>"What does she work on?" Banner asked. "Anything to do
>with-"
>

Crow: Cabbages? She might be researching cabbages...

>"Sheriff! Sheriff! Oh, God, you've got to help us!" cried a
>shrill male voice. "We nearly got eaten alive!"
>

Tom: Duh. You can't go outside in Texas without bug
repellent. Them skeeters will eat you alive!

>A wild-eyed teenager, whose disheveled hair was plastered
>with dirt and twigs, ran into the cafe.
>

Mike: It's the Feral Kid!
Crow: We've got a Road Warrior crossover too?

>"Dang," said Dale. "It's Brent Brewer.

Mike: Do all incidental characters in Hulk stories have the
initials BB?
Crow: Yep. Just like the LLs in the Superman books.

> We'll talk to him.
>You three stay here."
>
>"This is getting weird, even by our standards," Quartermain
>muttered.

Tom: You're not even close to our standards yet.
Mike: Peanuts and Dr. Who? What were they thinking?

> He watched as Sowell and Dale spoke with the
>youth, attempting to calm him down. The teenager
>gesticulated wildly, explaining how a monster had wrecked
>his father's car.
>

Crow: [Brent] Like, this monster drove the car into the
ditch. Then he, like, threw up from all of the
tequila that he drank at Shelia's party...

>"I know," Banner said to Quartermain. "This situation makes
>me nervous."
>

Tom: [Banner] I mean, look at all of the disgruntled postal
workers in here...

>Jones rolled his eyes and pointed to Banner's plate. "If
>you're so nervous, how can you eat like that?"
>
>"I'm hungry, Rick. *He* takes a lot out of me."
>

Tom: [Banner] You've heard of get-up-and-go? He fills me
full of lie-down-and-die.

>Sheriff Sowell returned to the booth. "Finish up guys. This
>is a going on my tab."

Mike: [Sowell] And if it doesn't, I'm going to have to
inform the health department about that little
wombat problem in the kitchen.

> He gestured towards Quartermain.
>"Blondie and me are looking at this latest wreck. You two
>and Dale are paying Dr. Sin a housecall."
>

Crow: "Paying Dr. Sin a Housecall" 1974, Starring
Martin Wagstaff, and Twinn Peeks.

>
>On the way to, in Dale's words, "the House of

Mike: Usher!
Crow: Representatives!
Tom: Style!

> Sin,"

Tom: o/~ There is a house in Depinthehata
They call the House of Sin.
It's about to be entered by Banner and Dale
If someone lets them in... o/~

> Banner
>asked, "Are you sure you don't know anything about her
>research?"
>

Tom: [Dale] I'm not supposed to tell you this, but she's
very close to a breakthrough on discovering what
that stuff inside a twinkie is.

>"Nope, Mr. Bixby," Dale replied. "Don't see how that'd have
>anything to do with this case, anyway."
>

Tom: o/~ Attaaaack of the Killer Twinkies! Attaaaack of the
Killer Twinkies! o/~

>The small ranch house, no more than five rooms, seemed
>lonely in the desolate prairie. According to Dale, that was
>exactly the way Dr. Sin wanted things.
>
>As they neared the house, Dale said, "Uh-oh."
>

Mike: [Dale] Tarnation! I durn forgot how to breathe again!

>Banner stared at the front of the dilapidated ranch house.

Crow: [Banner] I can paint this up, and sell it to the
yuppies and make a bundle!

>The screen door was torn off its hinges. How often had he
>seen the results of violence, presented in similar ominous
>fashion? Destruction was becoming a cliche in his life.
>

Tom: As opposed to the early days of the Hulk, where macrame
was a cliche in his life.

>Dale entered the house first,

Mike: His name left him unsure as to whether he was a lady
or not.

> gun drawn,

Crow: That's almost as bad as Andy Warhol's soup cans.

> muzzle sweeping
>across the main room.

Tom: He's a cop AND a housekeeper.

> "Doc Sin?" he called out.

Mike: Doc's in? Doc's out?

> "Pearl?
>Anyone home?" He moved on to an adjoining room.
>

Crow: What?
Mike: That first name CAN'T be a coincidence, can it?
Tom: Hey guys, I've got a sneaking suspicion about
something. Follow me!
[Mike and the bots stand and exit the theater.]

[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .]

[The Bridge of the SoL. Tom is pacing.]
Mike: Okay, Tom. What are you all fired up about?
Tom: Mike, there's something goofy about this story.
Look at all the coincidences in it. A mad scientist
named Pearl? Banner being called Bixby? Meatloaf
songs? Dale? Mike, this thing's a walking inside
joke! Even worse, [quietly] it's as if someone's
out there watching our lives and making references
about us...
Mike: Oh come on, Tom. Get real. Do you honestly think
that someone's monitoring us?
Tom: Pearl...
Mike: Besides her. Okay, assume that you're right.
We've got this stalker, watching us. They know about
the nanites. They know about Gypsy, and Cambot, and
Magic Voice. They know about Pearl, and Bobo and
Observer, and your underwear collection and...
Crow: Your destruction of multiple planets?
Mike: [Forced] Thank you for reminding me. [Normal]
Okay, they know all of this. What do you think that
they're doing with this information? Are they making
webpages about us? Maybe they're writing books,
collecting the details of all of our experiments.
No wait! They might be hanging about in newsgroups,
talking about us, repeating our riffs, and making
jokes about breasts. Maybe they're even writing little
stories about us, inflicting further punishment on us
by subjecting us to horrible songs, or children's
books, or...
Tom: [Laughing] Okay, okay Mike. I get your point. Boy, I
was being a bit paranoid, wasn't I?
Mike: Just a tad.
Tom: Well, let's get back in there and take our lumps then!
Mike: You got it! Crow? You're being awfully quiet...
Crow: Hmm? Oh it's nothing. I just thought that I saw a
camera lens over there by the wall.
Tom: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[The lights begins to flash.]
Mike: Thanks a lot, Crow. Urgh. We've got short story sign.
[Mike hits the light and the door sequence begins again.]

**continued**