[MiSTied] That's Just Peanuts to Space [1/2]
Matthew Miller
[ OPENING ]
[ 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. ]
[ INT SOL. Camera pans over to Hex Field View Screen, where GYPSY, CROW,
and TOM SERVO are looking outside the open window. Stars and
a moderately heavy snowfall are visible. MIKE walks in from
the right. ]
MIKE: Ah, hi, everybody, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. These are
my beloved robot friends, Gypsy...
GYPSY: [ Cheerily ] Hi there!
MIKE: Crow...
CROW: [ Also happy ] Greetings!
MIKE: And Tom Servo.
TOM: Cheerio!
MIKE: [ Motioning outside ] Would you look at that? This morning when we
got up, not a flake on the ground, then just after breakfast it
started coming down harder and harder.
CROW: It's been real cool!
MIKE: [ Walking back towards the desk ] More than that. We're still
waiting for the official word, but the rumor is the Superintendent
is going to make this a half day, that they're calling the buses
back, getting the drivers out of the bars, notifying the parents...
[ SOUND: Annoying high-pitched electronic BEEP. MIKE tries talking for a
few seconds, then gives up and waits it out. ]
MIKE: Anyway, it's...
MAGIC VOICE: Attention. Attention please. [ MIKE rolls his eyes ] The
Superintendent and school board have decided we will be closing
after a half day today. We will continue the rest of the day on
the half day schedule. That is all.
TOM: Yaaay!
CROW: Yipee!
GYPSY: Huzzah!
MIKE: Continuing, so we were...
[ SOUND: Annoying high-pitched electronic BEEP. Lasts as long as before. ]
MIKE: So we were going to have...
MAGIC: Attention. Will the following students please report to the attendance
office: Richard Searfoss, Scott Altman, Kathryn Hire, Richard
Linnehan...
[ MIKE sighs and walks back and forth. ]
MAGIC: [ Continuing ] Dafydd Rhys Williams, Jay C. Buckley, James Pawelczyk,
Charles Precourt, Dominic Gorie. That is all.
MIKE: Fine. So, then...
MAGIC: [ Interrupting ] Attention. Also Wendy Laurence, Franklin Chang-Diaz,
Janet Kavandi, Andrew Thomas. That is all.
CROW: Boy, those Mercury 7 punks get the whole gang in trouble.
MIKE: Whatever. Moving on...
MAGIC: Attention. Will the owner of a black Grand Marquis, licence plate
DLR 81A, please move your vehicle? You are blocking the bus lane.
That is all.
MIKE: We don't have a bus lane, Magic Voice.
MAGIC: Don't make me call you to the Vice Principal's office, Mike.
[ MADS SIGN starts flashing ]
MIKE: Oh, great, speaking of whom... [ MIKE taps MADS SIGN ]
[ INT GALACTIC STUCKEYS. OBSERVER and PEARL FORRESTER are standing between
tables stacked with cheap memorabelia and junk food displays, in
front of a faded, mustard-yellow wall. ]
PEARL: Nelsonic the hedgehog, hello. We're just stopping off here for some
pop and souvenirs, what's your excuse? Oh, that's right, Brain Guy
has your ship trapped in our control!
OBSERVER: [ Nodding ] Yes, now, would you care for a Mello Yellow or a
Tab cola?
BOBO: [ Walking in, holding some bumper stickers, giggling ] Hee hee!
Lawgiver, Brain Guy, did you see these? "Have You Dug Wall Drug?"
Ha-ha!
OBSERVER: Yes, Bobo, we saw them. We got the joke the last fifteen thousand
times you inflicted that on us.
BOBO: [ Annoyed ] Fine. Okay. [ Noticing the table ] Ooh! Lawgiver, look!
PEARL: [ Uninterested ] What?
BOBO: [ Grabbing some candies ] Boo Boo Globules! I *love* these!
[ Unwraps the chocolate lump candy, gives it to PEARL ] Here, taste!
PEARL: It looks like a Snickers pot pie.
OBSERVER: You shouldn't eat those, we haven't bought them yet.
PEARL: Hey. [ Slaps OBSERVER lightly ] Brain guy, we'll pay at the register.
[ Bites into the Globule; chews. Mouth starts getting stuck. ]
BOBO: Delightful, mmm?
PEARL: [ Before mouth closes up entirely ] What is *IN* this thing?
BOBO: Oh, a little marshmallow, a little sugar, a little corn syrup,
some molasses, some sourghum, a bit of honey -- actually a *lot*
of honey...
[ PEARL motions frantically at her mouth. ]
OBSERVER: Oh, now you've done it, you insufferable slob. Tell me, do you
think you could possibly locate yet *another* item in this
gargantuan nightmare of minor league commerce to inflict on us?
Anything at all? Is that within the limits of your addled mind?
[ PEARL takes to glaring silently at BOBO. ]
BOBO: [ Angrily ] Yes, Brain Guy, it is. [ Grabs a kazoo from the table. ]
Here. Enjoy a kazoo. [ Jabs it tightly into OBSERVER's brain; he
winces in pain. ]
OBSERVER: [ Speaking as if through a kazoo ] Aaaugh!
BOBO: [ Unwraps another Globule and chews on it, sealing up his own mouth.
He chews happily until he notices PEARL and his mouth. ]
BOBO: [ Muffled ] Uh-oh.
OBSERVER: [ Speaking as if through kazoo ] Well, now she's quite mad.
[ PEARL glares at OBSERVER, then at the camera. ]
OBSERVER: [ Still as before ] Oh, yes, and she's going to take it out on
you, Nelson.
[ SOL. MIKE, TOM, and CROW are at the desk, protesting. ]
MIKE: But we didn't do anything!
CROW: Yeah, why make us suffer for Bobo?
TOM: Blame him!
[ STUCKEYS. As before ]
[ PEARL grins and nods evilly at OBSERVER. ]
OBSERVER: [ Kazoo ] No, no, she's just going to do evil things to you. In
this case, a fanfic retrieved in the late 1980s from a Commodore
bulletin board service named...QLink...weird. Can't imagine anything
ever became of that company.
[ PEARL slaps OBSERVER, and rolls hand in 'hurry up' signal. ]
OBSERVER: [ Kazoo ] Right. Nelson, do you like the comic strip "Peanuts?"
[ SOL. As before ]
MIKE: Love it. What's going on?
[ STUCKEYS. As before. ]
OBSERVER: [ Kazoo ] Fine. Today's story is a crossover between "Peanuts"
and ... and "Doctor Who?" Lawgiver, am I reading your evil scheme
correctly?
[ PEARL nods proudly ]
OBSERVER: [ Shudders ] Good luck. [ PEARL slaps OBSERVER. ] Sorry.
BOBO: [ Mutters something sheepishly ]
[ PEARL starts slapping BOBO. ]
[ SOL. MIKE, TOM, and CROW are staring out the snowy window. ]
MIKE: It never looked so ominous before.
TOM: As though each flake were a ten-ton weight upon our souls.
CROW: I still want to make igloos.
MIKE: But you forgot the eggshells...
[ MOVIE SIGN flashes ]
ALL: AAAUGH! WE GOT MOVIE SIGN...
[ 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. ]
[ ALL file in ]
> THAT'S JUST PEANUTS TO SPACE
MIKE: [ As Edith-Ann ] An' that's a fact. Pthhhb.
>
> by R.J. Hall
CROW: I'll take what's behind door number two.
>
>
> Tom Baker drove the car down the unfamiliar streets with a
> sigh.
TOM: Triple A says you shouldn't pick up hitchhiking sighs.
> It was bad enough being here in America doing terrible
> American shows and being unable to show his face in respectable
> public,
MIKE: Tom Baker would be mobbed in normal life, but have no problem
at a science fiction convention?
> and it was bad enough being invited to some rinky-dink
TOM: Rinky-Dink! The hot new board game. For ages four and up.
> Doctor Who convention in America with a crowd of about 666 poor
> people, and it was bad enough being in sufficiently dire straits to
> accept the invitation. But, to top all that off,
CROW: His cat was filing for divorce.
> he had to drive
> this rented cheapo car around some American town trying to FIND this
> convention. He would almost certainly be late as it was.
TOM: At least that's what he'll *claim* when they ask why he never
showed up.
> Once he got there, at least he'd be surrounded by hundreds of
> adoring fans worshiping at his feet.
MIKE: Yeah, being covered in glory is a pain, isn't it?
> Americans were like that.
> That's what Baker liked best about America.
CROW: The ready availablility of fireworks in many states.
> That and rich American
> producers. Maybe he'd be able to sell lots of copies of his new
> children's book of limericks.
TOM: His new children are writing books?
> But first he had to find the place. These directions he'd been
> given were confusing, and having to drive on the wrong side of the
> roads didn't make things easier.
MIKE: "I'll give them two more miles, then start driving on the top of
the road. How am I supposed to see underground anyway?"
> He must have made a wrong turn
> somewhere. This upper-class neighbourhood
TOM: Oh, see, it's the Canadian spelling; they need thirty percent
more letters to get the same meaning as the U.S. version.
> he was in now, with big
> houses and perfectly manicured green lawns, somehow did not strike
> him as a place where hundreds of broke scruffy science fiction fans
> would be meeting.
CROW: He should ask for all the 30 year-olds living in their
parents' basements.
> He cursed angrily when suddenly the cheapo rented car coughed,
MIKE: Ironically, Cheapo Rental Cars cost thirty percent more than the
industry standard.
> sputtered, and died. Here he was, lost in the badlands of uncharted
> America somewhere, with no car. Now he'd have to go up to one of
> these houses and make a phone call.
TOM: Oh, no!
CROW: Never!
MIKE: How unthinkable!
> If those American fans
> worshiped him so bloody much, they should be honoured to personally
> pick him up here and drive him to their bloody convention!
TOM: So much bloody stuff here. It's like an ER fanfic.
MIKE: Will all great Neptune's oceans wash this fanfic from our lives?
> He got out of his car and walked to the nearest house.
CROW: Hey, he can't leave yet. He hasn't opened up the hood to look
and see that the engine's still there.
TOM: Yeah, he should know that sort of routine troubleshooting.
>
> "Sorry, Peggy, that's all for today," Snoopy thought as he
> stopped twirling around on top of his doghouse and lay down to rest.
MIKE: Horribly, that's not even one of the 25 worst non sequiturs we've
seen this year.
> That Peggy Fleming, always coming around to him for skating lessons!
> Kind of touching, how much she adored and admired him.
CROW: You know how they say a picture's worth a thousand words?
MIKE: Yeah.
CROW: Why do some people think they can use a thousand words to replace
a picture?
> But she
> would just have to learn that he was a busy beagle, and he couldn't
> afford to spend 24 hours a day with her.
> He went down to the ground and entered his house.
MIKE: Oh, so, here, we're going to get to see the author's vision of the
interior of Snoopy's house, something we can only imagine from
the astonishing descriptions suggested in the strip?
TOM: No.
> He rummaged
> around a bit, then came out wearing a starched flying scarf and
> goggles. "Duty calls," he thought to himself as he climbed back on
> top of his house.
CROW: On to window-washing practice.
> "Here's the World War I flying ace on a mission in his Sopwith
> Camel," he thought, holding his paws out, as if flying a plane.
MIKE: That explanation provided for the three people who've never seen
Snoopy doing this.
> He
> looked with mild interest as he saw an old, broken-down car pull up
> to the curb about 42 feet away.
TOM: On a second glance he noticed it was exactly 41 feet, ten inches,
four grys, three hogsheads, eight ounces, and five grains from
him.
> "Suddenly he sees an enemy agent
> lurking about on the ground!" Sure enough, a man got out of the car
> and started walking toward the round-headed kid's house.
CROW: Oh, no, a leading cheese importer is visiting Charlie Brown!
> "The agent
> is attempting to return to his home base! For the sake of the
> allies, I must stop him!"
> With a growl,
TOM: And a bustle.
> Snoopy leaped off the house and ran (on his hind
> legs) toward the stranger, who paid him no mind.
MIKE: Sure it wasn't little heed?
CROW: No, it was really short shrift.
> "The agent is
> trying to act nonchalantly, but cannot conceal a look of fear from
> his face as he spots the famous flying ace!"
CROW: If only Snoopy remembered the guns on his Sopwith Camel, we
could be out of here...
> Snoopy was about to (attempt to) tackle the person, but
> suddenly stopped short.
TOM: Somebody took his shrift.
> He looked with strange apprehension and
> fear at the stranger's face. Was he the veterinarian? No, but he
> sure looked familiar,
CROW: It's Martin Mull!
> and Snoopy did not know why he was so afraid
> of him. He slunk back toward his doghouse.
MIKE: That Thompson, always getting in one scrape after another...
>
> Baker waited tensely at the door for a few minutes. Surely
> somebody was at home?
TOM: Yes, every house is always occupied, every hour of every day.
> He rang the bell again.
> A young child, about 9 years old, answered the door.
MIKE: The door was asking questions Baker couldn't answer again.
> Good, I
> get along so well with children, thought Baker to himself.
CROW: And not at all thinking to the audience.
> This
> child was rather unusual. His head was perfectly round and almost
> bald, and must have massed at least as much as the rest of his body.
MIKE: Also, he was a world-famous, instantly recognizable cartoon
character.
> A hydrocephalic, Baker thought compassionately. Well, I get along
> well with handicapped children too. He must have a terrible time
> holding that head up with such a small neck!
TOM: That must be why he carried his head around in a little tray.
MIKE: Hey...
> The child did not seem discomfited at all. "Yes?" he said.
> "Hello," said Baker. "I was just passing by here when my auto
> broke down. I wonder whether I might use your telephone for a
> moment, hmmm?"
CROW: "I know The Phrase that Pays for the Morning Zoo's call-in
contest today."
> He put on one of his grins and opened his
> wild-looking eyes in a way which never failed to charm children.
MIKE: Or get the kid to scream someone's trying to kidnap him.
> "Sure, right this way," said the kid, who didn't seem to have
> noticed Baker's expression. Well, he probably never even heard of
> Doctor Who.
> He followed the child to another room.
TOM: "And here you see our 'another' room," so called because it's not
the first room.
> The phone was being
> used by a woman, probably the child's mother. She looked completely
> ordinary,
CROW: Ah, what an innovative technique to describe the adults in the
"Peanuts" continuity.
> but her voice did not sound human. It sounded instead
> like a muted trumpet.
TOM: Ooh, you know it's wacky when they mention stylistic decisions!
> "Wope wop woe wah wow?" she said into the
> phone.
> "My mother is using the phone right now," said the child.
CROW: I heard that rumor somewhere.
> "You
> can use it in a few minutes. I may as well feed the dog now. I'm
> Charlie Brown."
TOM: Do you like beans? Light bulbs provide light. Blue is a color.
> "Tom Baker," said Baker, following the child into the kitchen.
> Now that he'd seen both the unusual kid and the unusual mother, he
> was
MIKE: Remembering having encountered the kid's appearance 87,000 times
in his life already?
> slightly curious to see how unusual this dog was.
> Charlie Brown got out a can of dog food, opened it, and dumped
> the contents into a plastic bowl.
CROW: The madcap action never ceases, does it?
TOM: Or, well, starts.
> Then he opened the kitchen door
> and called, "Snoopy! Suppertime!"
> Sure enough, the dog was also peculiar. He was white with
> black markings,
CROW: No!
MIKE: On a dog? Never!
> had a big, furry, "banana-nose", and strode into the
> house on his hind legs. His forepaws, which seemed prehensile, held
> small metal gadgets Baker could not identify.
TOM: It's just jumping jacks.
> He stared strangely
> at Baker, with an expression resembling hatred.
> "What breed of dog is that?" Baker asked nervously.
> "Snoopy's a beagle. B-E-A-G-L-E," replied Charlie Brown.
TOM: That spelling bee movie came out...in about 1969, was it?
MIKE: "A Boy Named Charlie Brown." Yup.
TOM: So...references to its punch line are just a wee bit exhausted,
right?
MIKE: Yeah.
> "I, uh, see," said Baker. Snoopy ate the entire contents of
> his supper dish with a single gulp, then turned around and walked
> back out, not even acknowledging his master's existence.
MIKE: Aw. I wanted the Suppertime Dance.
CROW: Not from this writer you didn't.
> "He's so independent," Charlie Brown said sadly. "No gratitude
> or anything."
TOM: I want him under my tight psychological control!
> Snoopy manipulated one of his gadgets. Suddenly Baker, not
> under his own volition,
CROW: [ As Baker ] Hey! You bring my volition right back here!
> walked out of the door behind the dog. "Hey
> mister, where are you going?" called out Charlie Brown. When Baker
> did not answer, he merely shrugged and closed the door.
TOM: So this is what it takes to make "High School Big Shot" look upbeat.
> Baker was terrified. This dog had somehow hypnotized him or
> something, and was somehow forcing him to march toward some
> intangible evil.
CROW: If this turns into a dirty story about Miss Othmar I'm going to
be sick.
> From ancient habit, he looked around for a camera
> to stare worriedly into for a few seconds.
MIKE: And somebody throws a pie in his face.
>
> "No sign of him," Roger Wilco, the organizer of the convention,
CROW: Roger Wilco.
TOM: Okay, somebody slap this story.
> said worriedly. "He should have been here half an hour ago!"
MIKE: You figure the folks who play Dr. Who get teased that they shouldn't
ever be late, they have a time machine?
> Lis Sladen, who along with Ian Marter had also been persuaded
> to come here (at such paltry fees that they thought of this as a
> charity),
TOM: Only seven hundred dollars a sentence.
> encouraged him a little. "I'm sure he'll be here very
> soon. Tom probably just got lost somewhere."
CROW: Maybe out in the middle of nowhere.
> Wilco was looking at her with a peculiar mix of emotions:
> embarrassment,
MIKE: Humiliation
> gratitude,
MIKE: Languidity...
> disbelief,
MIKE: Peanut butter.
> awe,
TOM: I'll take it. Gerbils...
> worship, and
TOM: Pinochle.
> attraction.
TOM: And finally, watchbands.
> Sladen always got a big kick over the attitudes of the American
> fans.
CROW: And a shock over the suggestions they offered.
> They put the Who stars on incredibly high pedastals, and
> always had to nerve themselves to dare to even look at or speak to
> one. They were always so pleasingly grateful whenever she or Jon or
> Tom or anybody even said the slightest thing to them.
MIKE: "You're standing on my foot."
> The American
> attitude was, "Oh thank you, supreme perfect being, for deigning to
> look upon such minor insignificant scum as I! Your every syllable
> shall be treasured for all eternity!
TOM: Captured the American voice even better than Mark Twain did.
> Simply being in a conversation
> with such a god/goddess as yourself so completely overwhelms me that
> I am on the verge of fainting from sheer ecstacy!"
CROW: No, wait, it's just lack of oxygen! Keep forgetting to
breathe...I feel so goofy.
> Whereas, by
> contrast, the British attitude was more like "Hey you, there, hurry
> up and get over here and give me your autograph! I haven't got all
> day!" Yes, she liked American conventions!
CROW: Also string is cool too!
> "I hope so," Wilco said finally, "that crowd is getting
> restless."
MIKE: Or the wrestler is getting crowdless. Whichever.
>
> Linus Van Pelt went over to the doghouse. Snoopy was not to be
> seen. Oh well, he wouldn't mind it if Linus just entered his
> doghouse for a brief moment, would he? Of course not.
TOM: It's just a little illegal tresspass.
> Linus got down on his hands and knees and crawled through the
> little opening into the doghouse. There was a lot of space inside.
> Murals, paintings, pool tables, chairs, boxes,
CROW: Guys named "Pete."
> stairways, and all
> sorts of things cluttered the area.
MIKE: You know. Stuff.
> Undaunted, Linus went down the
> stairs. When he reached the room at the bottom of the steps, he
> began searching through all the junk.
TOM: Now I know I left some daunts here last summer.
> Hundreds of books were here,
> as well as all of Snoopy's unreturned bottles. That postage meter
> had to be down here somewhere! Linus was out of stamps.
MIKE: Whew. So this guy is following up on plot points Schulz
hasn't touched since the 1960s, is that it?
CROW: I can only guess, Mike.
>
> Snoopy entered the doghouse, and Baker, crawling on hands and
> knees, soon followed.
CROW: "I'm glad to have you down here...not many people are interested
in my potato pancake collection."
> Snoopy fiddled with one of his devices, and
> Baker responded by sitting down on the floor and remaining
> motionless.
TOM: And now, Mister Baker, if you won't dance, I'll *make* you dance!
> Then Snoopy activated his other little device, and a
> computer-synthesized voice filled the air.
CROW: With jelly.
> "I am surprised, Doctor,
MIKE: By this swelling in my neck.
> that such a primitive control device
> as this worked on you. How easy it was to entrap you! I am
> surprised and disappointed!"
CROW: Get out of here! Go out and let me catch you again. And wriggle
more this time.
> HE was surprised?! Baker had never been more surprised in his
> life! "I... I am not the Doctor!
TOM: But I am Spock! Does that count for anything?
> I just look like him! I...
> portrayed him in a TV series! That's all! I am not the Doctor!"
MIKE: Oh, and I like the Professor most on Gilligan's Island, but that
doesn't mean anything! Lots of people do!
> "Oh, come now, Doctor," said the device, which apparently was
> voicing Snoopy's thoughts.
CROW: Or maybe picking up a "Swat Kats" cartoon.
> "You can do better than that. Yet, you
> have always played the fool, haven't you?
TOM: I played the fool and the fool won.
> Well, you must know me
> better than to think that I can be fooled by your ridiculous ploys!"
ALL: [ Groan ]
MIKE: So why is it, whenever reality and the fiction cross over, neither
*ever* understands it? Have the last 30 years of Star Trek fanfics
taught us nothing?
> "Actually, I don't know you at all! I've never seen any
> creature remotely like you in my life! And as far as I can remember
> from the show, neither has the real Doctor!
MIKE: "I've lived in a complete cultural vacuum ever since 1949!"
> Well, there isn't
> really a real Doctor, he's just a fictional character, but, well,
> you know what I mean!"
TOM: "I just want you to hug me, is that too much to ask?"
> "Stop babbling, Doctor! Of course you know who I am! I look
> different now,
CROW: I've got more noses than I used to.
> but obviously you knew who I was -- otherwise, you
> would not have come here to capture me!"
TOM: Or something!
> "Look here, eh, Snoopy, I haven't the slightest idea who you
> are, nor the slightest intention of capturing you!
MIKE: Though if I could get a giant plush doll of you, I'd appreciate it.
> My name is Tom
> Baker, and I'm here because my car broke down outside!"
> Snoopy sighed. "Listen, Doctor, even a human would know who I
> am!
CROW: Where I come from.
TOM: If I have room for Jell-O.
> Have you not noticed that this doghouse is bigger on the inside
> than on the outside?"
TOM: It's just an illusion, though, caused by the fact the doghouse
is inside-out!
> Baker fought insanity.
MIKE: Join the club.
> "A... a TARDIS?" he said at last.
> "Of course it's a TARDIS! What else could it possibly be?"
CROW: An ice cream cookie?
MIKE: A famous living American male?
TOM: Roadside America in Shartlesville, Pennsylvania?
> snapped Snoopy. "So, what does that make me, eh?"
> It must have been those weird Hollywood drugs. "Um, a renegade
> Time Lord?"
TOM: No thanks; I just had lunch.
> "Very good! Very good!" sneered Snoopy. "Now, WHICH renegade
> Time Lord?"
MIKE: Isaac Asimov!
TOM: Warren G. Harding!
CROW: Vladimir Zworkin!
> Baker paused, too terrified and confused to say
> anything. "I'll give you a hint.
MIKE: I'm bigger than a breadbox. Barely.
> I am not the Doctor. This is
> because YOU are the Doctor!"
CROW: And YOU over there! You're the eggman! And down there,
that guy THERE is the walrus!
> "The Master?" said Baker hesitantly. Maybe this was an
> elaborate skit staged by the Who conventioners.
TOM: Maybe it's just a kidnapping.
> "No, of course not the bloody Master!" screamed Snoopy. "You
> know very well, Doctor, that I am the great Morbius!"
CROW: Oh, pootertoots. If this thing is crossing over to Sonic the
Hedgehog...
TOM: No, hold it, he said Morbius. With an orb.
> Morbius? Did he know that name?
MIKE: Something Morbius-like about that name.
> It sounded familiar...
CROW: Like something a Morbian would be named.
> "Oh
> yeah, Morbius.
MIKE: The guy with the name Morbius.
> Wasn't Morbius killed in, uh, I can't remember the
> name of the episode, but, uh, wasn't he killed?"
TOM: Like death stops *anybody*?
> "Doctor!!" screamed "Morbius" in frustration.
MIKE: Or, well, in Santa Rosa, California, anyway.
> "Very well, I
> shall have to tell you what you doubtless already know, you and
> those Time Lords who sent you!
TOM: And by the way I'm not saying all this so the reader has a hint of
what's going on, either!
> "Yes, Doctor, my body was executed on the planet Karn. Solon,
CROW: And thanks for all the fish.
> that hideously treacherous human who claimed to be a loyal follower,
> kept my brain in a tank for an intolerable length of time.
TOM: It's Backstory Days here at the Satellite of Love! Yes, everybody
has a long, boring personal history and we're being forced to
read it.
> Finally,
> after the Time Lords found out about me and sent you to Karn, Solon
> agreed to put my brain into a new body.
CROW: The body I picked would be the envy of every hormone-crazed,
dweebish, adolescent-brained male on the Internet!
TOM: That is to say, everybody on the Internet?
CROW: Ka-zing!
> But did he put my brain
> into the conveniently available body of his servant Condo? NOOO!
MIKE: He put me in his glove compartment!
> He insisted on constructing a confused mishmash of body parts with
> some idiotic, painful fishbowl for a head!
ALL: [ Snicker ]
MIKE: Sounds like H.R. Pufnstuf's neighbor.
> And this was after he,
> or Condo, rudely dropped my brain onto the floor!
CROW: And right after they had mopped, too. They had to redo the whole
kitchen.
> There's loyalty
> for you! To have waited all that time for a body, and to get that!
> Hah!
TOM: I wanted Ms. Pac-Man's body once and for all!
> That's how I know that evil, rotten, disloyal, treacherous
> human Solon was so evil, rotten, disloyal, treacherous, a human, and
> named Solon!
CROW: What?
TOM: So is the villain wacky, or did the story pick up a glitch when it
got uploaded?
> "Anyway, even in that stupid monster and fishbowl body, I still
> managed to defeat you in a mind-battle, Doctor.
MIKE: At least...I think I did. I forget.
> But then Solon's
> crude handiwork betrayed me and caused me to fall off a cliff to my
> death!"
CROW: Oh, and this wasn't a cheap cop-out of a story resolution either!
Honest!
> "Yes, I do seem to recall a plotline like that..." mumbled
> Baker.
TOM: Which leaves some fascinating thoughts about the nature of free
will, and the potential to experimentally confirm or refute such
a thing, but never mind that; we have a cheap fight scene to get
through.
> "But!" continued Morbius. "Even in that wretched state, the
> greatness of Morbius could not be so easily extinguished.
TOM: Though I did turn to writing fanfics for a while. I'm ashamed of
it now.
> My broken
> body-like object, faced with imminent death, but attached to my
> supreme Time Lord brain, was still able to regenerate!"
CROW: When I woke up, I was a Mister Coffee machine.
> "Good for you," muttered Baker.
> "Silence, fool! Now, my brain had been so damaged and the body
> had been so alien that the regeneration was not perfect.
MIKE: I had four left arms and no mouth. I was frustrated.
> I
> regenerated into another monstrous body, but at least it had healed
> sufficiently from my fall to allow me to crawl to my hidden TARDIS,
> which even Solon had not known about.
TOM: Why, it was so secret, even I never heard anything about it.
> Once I got there, I decided
> to regenerate again, into a decent, civilized body, one which could
> rally billions of loyal followers once more to my noble cause!
CROW: Or at least surround myself with more inept assistants.
> I
> set my TARDIS coordinates for a long journey and went down to the
> Zero Room.
TOM: It was right before the one room, but after the negative three room.
> Since I only had one regeneration left, I had to make
> sure it would be a good one.
MIKE: So I started looking through certain 'naughty' web sites...
> "Unfortunately, my TARDIS had been sitting on Karn neglected
> for so long that it became a bit faulty.
TOM: The pre-mixed salad he'd left in the fridge had spoiled.
> Just as I started the
> regeneration process, it suddenly crashed down on this fetid planet
> Earth.
CROW: I found myself covered in cheese, and sorely afraid.
> The confusion and collision messed up my regeneration
> horribly. I emerged to find myself in a place called the Daisy Hill
> Puppy Farm,
MIKE: You know, the Puppy Farm's now a six-story parking garage.
TOM: Thank you, Michael.
MIKE: Well, it *is*.
CROW: If we don't care about it, it's not information, Mike.
> with my TARDIS in the shape of a doghouse and my body in
> the shape of this... this... this dog!
TOM: Could be worse. Suppose he regenerated into the doghouse and the
Tardis took on the shape of the dog?
> Very soon afterward, I was
> bought -- I, Morbius, BOUGHT by a human child! -- and brought with
> my TARDIS to this place."
MIKE: No! I call foul. Snoopy's doghouse has been destroyed
several times since its first appearance, and the house built
after the 1965 fire was *definitely* conventional construction
and *not* a magic TARDIS device!
CROW: Can we punch him in the stomach if he does that again?
TOM: Yes.
MIKE: Look, I can document this.
> "By the way," interrupted Baker, whose terror had gone to the
> back of his mind for a moment
TOM: Because anyone would be pretty blase about this by now.
> but which he knew was waiting to jump
> out again at any moment, "why do both Charlie Brown and his mother
> look or sound like strange mutants?"
> "This TARDIS was slightly damaged in the crash," said Morbius,
CROW: It no longer felt like playing with its old friends.
> "and was leaking radiation which, after a time, altered all adults
> in this area so that their voices sounded like muted trumpets, and
> all the children in this area so that they gradually developed large
> heads.
MIKE: Oh, oh, sheesh, no...
> In addition to that, my TARDIS also emitted a curious time
> field, which stopped the children from aging. Charlie Brown has
> scarcely grown in the last 30 years!"
MIKE: Guys, is it my imagination or is this story revolting?
CROW: It's not your imagination.
TOM: Nope. This is bad.
> "If you had a TARDIS, why did you stay around here for 30
> years?" asked Baker.
MIKE: I had tenure.
> "Because my mind had been altered by the regenerations. I
> honestly believed I was Snoopy, that round-headed kid's dog.
CROW: It was better than that time I honestly believed I was
Pam Dawber.
> Occasionally bits and pieces of past memories came to me, such as my
> having fought in World War I in a different incarnation a long time
> ago, but these were dismissed as fantasies.
TOM: Because I made them up.
> But now that I have
> seen your face, Doctor, my identity as Morbius has returned!
MIKE: And it's going to take me weeks to update my magazine
subscriptions!
> And I
> especially remember the part you played in my death, Doctor! That
> is why I shall kill you, very slowly!"
CROW: It's a slow acting poison...take about 99 years to get all done.
You don't have any plans, do you?
> Baker started looking around insanely. Morbius laughed.
> "Looking for a means of escape?"
MIKE: No, I'm looking for a means of escape.
> "No, actually I was looking for a director to say 'cut!' to
> me."
TOM: Oh, he is being wacky, again.
> "You are insane, Doctor. You should thank me for putting you
> out of your misery."
CROW: Thank you!
> "Yes, thanks a lot," said Baker.
CROW: D'oh!
> "Come to think of it," said Morbius, "if I were to kill you
> here, the Time Lords would just send others. Instead, I'll go to
> your Time Lord base with you
MIKE: So I can fall into a booby trap.
> as my hostage and demand that they
> leave me alone in exchange for your life!"
> "What a splendid idea," said Baker.
TOM: "Could we get bagels while we're going?"
> "We should have known we
> couldn't outwit you that easily. Very well, let's go to 155
> Trashview Lane," giving the address of the Who convention,
CROW: Trashview Lane, the street for the convention center.
TOM: Apparently the city boosters are clinically depressed.
> as it was
> the only thing he could think of at the moment.
MIKE: All right, but I'll only fall for this just once!
> "Very well!" repeated Morbius. He worked some controls on the
> wall, and the TARDIS was soon in motion.
TOM: Guys, it's time to go.
CROW: Yeah, let's blow this popsicle stand.
MIKE: Okay, all right...
[ ALL leave ]
[ BREAK ]
Space Child
Loved it! I'd email the author privately but I seem to have misplaced his
email address...anyway, it's awesome, and I dug the veiled WNN references.
-Jess