MiSTed: "Mothers + Daughters" (Part II)
Harlan Freilicher
Mike: So you're saying that Lee Van Cleef was supposed to be Japanese?
Tom: No, not exactly. See, he'd been in Japan, after World War II because
of the tranquility.
Mike: What tranquility? And why'd the ninjas take in an American soldier?
Crow: That's kind of the point, Mike. It was stupid.
Gypsy: Uh, hi there. Er, welcome to the, uh, the satellite. Uh, I'm Gypsy
and...um...Richard Basehart!
Magic Voice: Gypsy is in charge while Tom and Crow give Mike a background
briefing on some of the experiments that had sequels, in case we
see any more of them.
Mike: Okay, so Rocky tried to kill Ken?
Crow: No, he tried to kill Ken! With a forklift!
Mike: Well, why didn't Winky stop Rocky?
Gypsy: Guys? Uh, Richard Basehart and Richard Basehart are calling!
(Deep 13)
Dr.F: Hello, Captain Caveman and the Teen-angels. We're in a hurry this
week, so we'll get straight to this week's invention exchange. As
you know, Frank and I are very interested in promoting tooth decay
in small children.
Frank: We've come up with dozens of new ways to encourage kids to rot
their teeth. But there was always something missing.
Dr.F: That's when it hit me. Why not rot their teeth before they have any
teeth? That's why I've invented Mother's Milk Duds.
Frank: It's rich milk chocolate, covering thick, gooey caramel, strained
so baby can enjoy it.
Dr.F. This way, we make sure that baby's first tooth is a sweet tooth.
Mike: That has got to be the sickest thing you guys have ever come up with.
Tom: Stick around a while, Nelson. You ain't seen nothing yet.
Dr.F: No time for your invention this week, Manuel. Tell them about the
experiment, Frank.
Frank: Guys, today we've got the second half of Julie Pizor's "Mothers +
Daughters" off alt.startrek.creative. If you liked the first half,
you're gonna love the second half. If you didn't like the first
half, you're gonna be more or less indifferent to the second half. If
you absolutely hated the first half...
Dr.F: Just send them the fanfic, Frank!
(Lights, sirens, etc.)
Mike: We've got fanfic sign!
6...5...4...3...2...1
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: AUTOPOST: story/tng/Mothers+Daughters.zip (part 03/04)
> Followup-To: alt.startrek.creative
> Date: 23 Jan 1994 12:30:52 GMT
> Organization: Kansas State University, Dept. of Computing and Information Sciences
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> Distribution: world
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> NNTP-Posting-Host: depot.cis.ksu.edu
> Summary: Automated posting of fiction from the alt.startrek.creative archive
>
> This is an automated reposting of fiction from the alt.startrek.creative
> archives. Any comments, questions, etc. about the archives may be
> addressed to j...@cis.ksu.edu.
> =====================================CUT HERE===================================
>
Mike (Jack Perkins Voice): Mr.Servo, for those who may have missed the first
half of "Mothers + Daughters," would you be willing to give us a
brief summary of the plot?
Tom: No.
Mike: That was most enlightening. Anything to add, Mr.T.Robot?
Crow: Yeah, bite me.
Mike: Thank you so much. Anyway, Counselor Troi's been hallucinating that
she's trapped in a fire, and somehow it's really been filling her
lungs with smoke. About eighty injections later, we learn that her
mother is *really* trapped in a fire. But of course, they can't
contact anybody, because the ship is near an asteroid belt, which
of course stops them from communicating. And now, we rejoin our
space-faring heroes, as--
Crow: You didn't explain about the "continued" thing.
Mike: Explain it to me, and I'll explain it to them.
> RIKER
> You'll both be fine.
Mike: Welcome to Meaningless Platitude Theater 3000.
> PICARD
> Doctor, is this common in Betazoids?
Crow: You mean being fine?
> DR. CRUSHER
> No, actually it isn't. That's why
> I was hesitant to diagnose it.
Tom: I decided it was better to risk the health of the patient than to
take a chance of looking silly.
> TROI
> Sometimes families are so close,
> they establish these links without
> even realizing it.
Crow: Oh, you mean like the Osmonds!
> RIKER
> Is there any way to break this link?
Mike: Two words; Romulan disruptor.
> TROI
> No. I just have to let it take
> it's course.
Crow: ...in TV repair, auto mechanics, or air conditioning & refrigeration.
> RIKER
> But if Lwaxana dies, what will
> happen to you?
Mike: Now *that* was sensitive!
> Troi turns her head away from Riker.
Crow: Finally! somebody in this fanfic does something intelligent!
> TROI
> I will again experience everything
> she does. This time it will be so
> (MORE)
Tom: Guys, you know the drill. "(MORE)" is the harbinger of the dreaded
twin continueds!
> (CONTINUED)
Crow: Oh, God! Please tell me this isn't happening again!
> CONTINUED:
Mike: Damn you, Dr. Forrester!
> TROI (CONT'D)
> intense that I will go into a coma.
> The coma will only last a day or
> two, then I'll wake up and everything
> will be back to normal.
Tom: 'cept for the dead mother, I mean.
Mike: What I love about fanfics is that the dialogue seems so true-to-life!
I mean, you can almost *hear* Marina Sirtis saying that line!
> Everyone is silent for a moment. Picard steps next to
> Troi and places his hand over hers.
Crow: Jean-Luc, this is neither the time nor the place.
> PICARD
> Counselor, I'm sure your mother
> will be fine. Lwaxana is a very
> strong woman.
Crow: Nudge nudge, wink wink. Know what I mean? Know what I mean?
> Troi looks at Picard with tears in her eyes.
>
> TROI
> Yes, but even she can't live forever.
Mike: Some people just refuse to be cheered up.
> INT. BRIDGE
>
> Picard enters the bridge from the turbo lift. Data stands
> up and walks over to his computer. Picard walks over to
> his chair and sits down.
Tom: The cheese stands alone.
> PICARD
> Mr. Worf, how much time before we
> can contact Betazed?
>
> WORF
> Approximately thirty minutes, sir.
Crow: But if we wait an extra half-hour, it'll be after five and the rates
will be much cheaper!
Tom: They travel at warp speed, and it takes them a whole half-hour to get
away from the magic communications-jamming asteroid belt?
> (CONTINUED)
Mike: Guys, I've got it! That marks the end of one page and the beginning
of the next!
Tom: Mike, she was posting this to the Internet. There *are* no pages.
Crow: Besides, if you were reading this story on paper, and there were more
pages, couldn't you figure out for yourself that it wasn't finished?
Mike: If it were on paper, I'd have burned all the pages by now!
> CONTINUED:
>
> PICARD
> Mr. Data, how long before we actually
> reach the planet?
Tom: Well, actually, we *never* reach planets. We just kind of orbit
around them, and beam people up and down.
> Data swivels around in his chair to face Picard.
Crow (seductive female voice): What're you gonna do, Captain? Charge me
with smoking?
Mike: How do you know this stuff, anyway?
> DATA
> At warp nine sir, it will take
> approximately two hours.
Tom: But I recommend we slow to fifty-five while we're passing through
South Carolina. They've got speed traps everywhere!
> PICARD
> Make it so.
Mike: "Make it so" is a registered trademark of Paramount. All unlicensed
users will be subject to prosecution under the copyright laws of the
United States.
> DATA
> Aye Captain.
>
> Data swivels in his seat again to face his control
> panel.
Tom: You see the subtext there? The swiveling back and forth between
Picard and the control panel is representative of Data's inner struggle
to define himself as human or machine, which of course is in turn
symbolic of the classic struggle between mankind's civilized behavior and
its innate animal instincts.
Mike: You're sure you and Crow were programmed by the same guy?
> INT. SICKBAY
>
>
>
> Troi sits up in her bed. She swings her feet off to
> the side of the bed and tries to stand up. Dr. Crusher
> and Riker grab her before she is fully standing.
Mike: Ze prisoner iz tryink to escape!
Crow: Zis time, vee vill tie you down, eh?
> DR. CRUSHER
> Where do you think you're going?
Tom: Dressed like that, young lady?
> Troi sits back down in her bed.
Mike: Playing sick. Works every time!
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: ...on section E, page twenty-eight, column 2.
> CONTINUED:
Tom: "Lame fanfic," from front page.
> TROI
> I have a lot of work to do. Besides,
> I feel fine.
Crow: If you don't count the whole "mother trapped in a fire" thing!
> DR. CRUSHER
> You may feel fine now, but who knows
> about ten minutes from now?
Tom: So eat, drink, and be merry!
> Troi sighs.
Crow: Why don't they look?
> RIKER
> Dr. Crusher is right. What if something
> else happens to you and no one's there
> to take care of you?
Mike: Boy, he's just a regular barrel of sunshine today, isn't he?
> TROI
> I appreciate your concern, but I'll
> be fine.
Tom: So back off!
> DR. CRUSHER
> No you can't.
Crow: I won't *let* you be fine.
> I think until this
> whole thing is over you should stay
> under observation.
All: Yes, Nurse Ratchet.
> Troi sighs as she lies back down on the bed. Dr. Crusher
> walks over to a computer and begins typing.
Tom: "Dear Diary: Well, today I finally got up the courage to confront
Wesley about those magazines I found in his room. He swears he was only
reading them for the articles, but how can I believe him? I only pray
that he never found one of *my* old...
Mike: Et tu, Tom?
> DR. CRUSHER
> (continuing)
> I'll be over here if you need me.
Tom: Guys, by my estimates, we're due for a "Continued" cluster.
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: Called it!
Mike: Three...two...one...now!
> CONTINUED:
Mike: No applause necessary.
Tom: No applause possible. My arms don't work.
> RIKER
> And I'll be on the bridge.
>
> Riker leans over Troi as he brushes a stray hair from
> her forehead.
Crow: He "accidentally" brushes his hand against...
Mike: Ixnay, Crow.
> RIKER
> (continuing)
> I'm really worried about you.
Tom: Well, gee, I'd have never guessed. You've done such a good job of
hiding it with your unbridled optimism.
> TROI
> I'll be fine. It's my mother that
> I'm worried about.
Crow: Oh yeah, she's stuck in a fire, right? I hear she's pretty near
death; you must be really bummed, huh?
> RIKER
> I just hope that both of you will
> be alright. (beat)
Mike: Ow! Must you always mix your affections with abuse?
> I'll check
> on you later.
Mike: Was that a veiled threat?
> Riker stands up and leaves the room. Troi closes her eyes
>
> INT. BRIDGE
>
> Picard sits in his chair. Worf stands behind him while
> Data sits in front of him.
Tom: Worf holds him down, while Data forces him to play a quick game of
"pattycake".
> DATA
> Captain, we are now far enough
> away from the asteroid belt to
> make a clear transmission to Betazed.
Crow: But before we get connected, we have to send in the names and numbers
of everyone in our "calling circle".
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: Don't just say it, man. Shout it!
> CONTINUED:
>
> PICARD
> Thank you Mr. Data. Mr. Worf,
> would you hail the consulate?
Mike: Here, Consulate! Here boy! C'mere! That's a good boy!
> WORF
> Hailing frequency open.
> (pause)
> Do you want it on the main viewer,
> sir?
Tom: No, by all means, keep it to yourself, Mr.Worf.
> PICARD
> Yes.
>
> Riker walks in and sits down next to Picard.
Mike: Uh, listen Will, I was kinda saving this seat for somebody else.
It's nothing personal, but I don't think we *always* need to sit
together. You understand?
> The main
> viewer suddenly switches from its display of stars to a
> worried TECHNICIAN.
Crow: The mighty TECHNICIAN!!!
Tom: Bow down before him!
Mike: All must pay hommage to the great and wise TECHNICIAN.
Tom: Or it could be Arnold Rimmer.
> PICARD
> (continuing)
> This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard
> of the Enterprise. I have reason
> to believe Lwaxana Troi is in grave
> danger. I was wandering if that
> were true?
>
> TECHNICIAN
> Ah, hold on.
Tom: Hey, Louie! I got some guy named Picard on the phone. Wants to know
if Lwaxanna Troi's in grave danger. You wanna check the "grave danger"
list and see if we got anybody named Lwaxanna on it?
Crow: Trust me, Phil; we ain't got no Lwaxanna. I'd remember a Lwaxanna.
> The Technician leans over and checks a computer off screan.
Tom: Mike, I know you said no spelling flames, but that just looks so weird!
> After a moment, he leans back into frame.
Mike: ...Rosalynn for the murder, so that no one will learn of their
affair.
Tom: Meanwhile, the plot to disinherit Christina...
> (CONTINUED)
Crow: But what of Alexa's baby? Will Drake learn of the abortion? And what
about Scarecrow's brain? We've completely digressed from the whole
Star Trek thing, so regrettably it's time that the fanfic...
> CONTINUED:
>
> TECHNICIAN
> (continuing)
> Yeah, it is.
Mike: I'll be darned; he *did* check the "grave danger" list!
> Picard looks at Riker, then stands up.
Mike: Why did he need Riker's permission to stand up? Is he that eager for
approval?
> PICARD
> Is there anything we can do to
> help?
Tom: Well, you could get me some coffee and a couple of Twinkies!
> TECHNICIAN
> No, evrything's fine, thanks.
Crow: Other than the grave danger thing, I mean.
> RIKER
> Then why isn't Ambassador Troi
> safe yet?
Mike: Oh, she's fine. That list hasn't been updated in months!
> TECHNICIAN
> Well, ah, we're doing the best we
> can. The fire took out all of our
> main systems, so it's gonna take a
> little longer than usual.
All: Yeah, that's the ticket!
> RIKER
> Can't you beam her out of there?
>
> TECHNICIAN
> No, ah, our transporter beams were
> damaged by the fire.
Tom: How convienient! You sure you're not just too near an asteroid belt?
Mike: The fire damaged the transporter *beam*?
> Our people
> are trying to fix them, though.
Crow: Good thinking! I would've just left them busted forever.
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: For those just joining us, we will repeat the previous message:
> CONTINUED:
>
> RIKER
> Would it be alright if our people
> tried to beam the Ambassador out
> once we're in range?
Mike: What, and let *you* get the credit for rescuing her? Nah, just
let her bake.
> The technician shrugs.
Tom: A member of the MTV generation, he experiences neither highs nor lows.
> TECHNICIAN
> Sure, why not?
Crow: I guess catastrophes and imminent death are pretty routine when
you're a mighty TECHNICIAN.
> Riker looks at Picard. Picard takes a deep breath.
>
> PICARD
>
> How did this fire start?
Tom: Let me rephrase that. You started this fire, didn't you?
> TECHNICIAN
> Ah, we're not sure. We're looking
> into it.
Mike: You know, it's times like this you really see how valuable counselor
Troi is. If only she were on the bridge, they'd know if this guy's
hiding something.
> PICARD
> Perhaps it would be helpful then,
> if I did send some of my crew down
> to help.
Crow (English accent): Well, yes. Any help you could offer would be
very...helpful.
>
>
> TECHNICIAN
> That's really not necessary sir. As
> I said before, ah, we're already doing
> everything possible. If we need any
> more help, we'll contact you. Okay?
>
> Picard looks at Riker who rolls his eyes.
Tom: Stop looking at me! Mommy, stop looking at me!
> (CONTINUED)
Mike: What a play! Let's see that again, in slow motion!
> CONTINUED:
>
> PICARD
> That'll be fine. But in the meantime,
> please contact us with any progress.
Crow: Nag nag nag nag NAG!
>
> TECHNICIAN
> Sure thing Capt'n.
>
> RIKER
> Is this your regular position?
Crow: No, I often recline a bit more.
>
>
> TECHNICIAN
> No sir, I'm the barber. Hal is
> normally here, but he's helping
> with the fire.
Mike: I can't believe that line wasn't one of ours!
> RIKER
> I see. Well your doing a fine job.
>
> TECHNICIAN
> Thank you sir.
Crow: Ees dee-fee-cult!
> Picard turns towards Worf and makes a cutting gesture.
Tom: Worf, of course, interprets this as a command to fire all weapons.
> Worf nods and ends the transmission. Picard turns to face
> Riker.
>
> PICARD
> The barber?
Mike (singing): Fi-gar-o!
Tom: I realize it's been a while, but surely Picard *remembers* what a
barber is!
Mike: Well, it seems he doesn't. And stop calling me Shirley!
Tom: The "Airplane" bit, ladies and gentlemen.
> Riker shrugs his shoulders, then sits down. Picard looks
> at Worf for a moment, before returning to his seat.
Crow: The momentary eye contact is all the encouragement Worf needs. He
strides boldly over, and offers to buy Picard a drink.
> INT. SICKBAY
>
> Troi lies on the bed with her eyes closed.
Tom: The images of those she's wronged hover before her.
> LWAXANA (o.s)
Mike: Officer's Salute?
Crow: Owned Subsidiary?
Tom: Oink! Squeal!
> Little One? Are you there?
Crow: Yes, Mother, but can I call you right back? I'm on the other line,
and it's long distance.
> TROI
> (without speaking)
> Yes Mother, I'm here. How are you?
Tom: Well, my bunions have been acting up again. Been kinda rainy here,
and...oh. Did I mention I'm trapped in a fire?
> INT. CONSULATE/ OFFICE - DAY
>
> Lwaxana sits on the floor under a desk. Pieces of the
> ceiling hang down. Heavy girders block the exits. The
> flames cover the rear wall and portions of the ceiling.
> Lwaxana speaks telepathically.
>
> LWAXANA
> I could be better.
Mike: There's a minor understatement!
> It's so damn hot
> in here.
>
> TROI (o.s)
Crow: On Speed?
Tom: Of Spain?
Mike: Ordering Spaghetti?
> Is the fire out yet?
Crow: Oh, sure. It's just that now they've got the thermostat up too high.
>
> LWAXANA
> No, not completely. I can hear them
> working though. I'm afraid they won't
> reach me in time.
Mike (as Lwaxanna): They're in the union, and they're already on their fifth
coffee break!
> TROI (o.s)
Mike: Old Sol!
Tom: Orange Snowcones!
Crow: Oklahoma Sunset!
> Don't say that Mother. They'll be
> there soon. Just hold on.
Tom: I've got another call coming in.
Mike: I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's time that the world's
most tiresome recurring joke...
> (CONTINUED)
Crow: We apologize to those following along at home if our jokes on this
one seem a little forced. Just remember that we've had to do two
stories' worth, since the Mads decided that this fanfic would be...
> CONTINUED:
>
> LWAXANA
> (crying softly)
> I'm scared. I just want to go home.
> I just want to see my Little One one
> last time.
Crow: And then never again!
> TROI (o.s)
> You will Mother. You'll be fine,
> I promise.
>
> A ceiling beam falls in front of Lwaxana. The flames
> quickly climb up the beam, spreading to the ceiling.
> Pieces of debris begin to fly around the room.
Mike: The moral: Don't make promises you can't keep.
> INT. SICKBAY
>
> Troi is covered in perspiration as she tosses and turns in
> bed.
Crow: She...Nah, I better not.
Mike: You're learning.
> TROI
> (mumbling)
> Mother? Mother?
Tom (sings): There's too many of you dyin'!
> Dr. Crusher turns away from her computer and sees Troi.
> She runs over to her and places a hand on Troi's forehead.
>
> DR. CRUSHER
> You're burning up.
Crow: You can count on Dr.Mom!
> Dr. Crusher pulls out her tricorder from her pocket
> and moves it around Troi. She grabs a syringe and
> gives Troi a shot.
Tom: Beverly's kind of a one-trick pony, isn't she?
> She then removes Troi's blanket.
Tom: Wackachickawackachickawackachicka!.
> (CONTINUED)
Mike: Say that again?
> CONTINUED:
Mike: By George, I think she's got it!
> Dr. Crusher GASPS as she looks at the burns covering 50% of
> Troi's body.
Tom: Ever the seasoned professional.
Mike: You don't cut Beverly one inch of slack, do you?
Tom: What can I say? I liked what's-her-name from the seconds season better.
Mike: Oh, you mean Dana Mul--
Tom: Gotcha!
Mike: D'oh!
> DR. CRUSHER
> (continuing)
> Ensign, get me the burn kit from
> the cabinet over there.
Crow: Well, so much for twenty-fourth century medicine.
> ENSIGN PALA opens the cabinet and removes a small gray
> box which she brings over to Dr. Crusher.
Mike: I couldn't find the burn kit, but here's your snuff!
> DR. CRUSHER
> (continuing)
Tom: ...to practice medicine without a license.
> Thanks.
>
> Dr. Crusher holds the box over each burn. A faint blue
> light from the box shines over the burns as they slowly
> disappear. Troi slowly becomes more alert.
>
> DR. CRUSHER
> How do you feel?
>
> Troi rubs her arms.
Crow: Well, my skin has a pretty smooth texture.
> TROI
> Tired. Sad. Scared.
Mike: Or d) none of the above.
> Riker enters sickbay. He walks over to Troi and
> Dr. Crusher.
>
> RIKER
> How's she doing, Doctor?
Tom (as Troi): Oh, right. Talk about me as if I'm not even here!
> (CONTINUED)
Mike: ...Troi, as she secretly vowed to wipe that irratating smirk off
Riker's smug little face. She made her diabolical plans as the
conversation between Riker and the doctor...
> CONTINUED:
>
> DR. CRUSHER
>
> Not too well I'm afraid.
Tom: I don't understand it. I've applied the leeches just the way it says
to in the book.
> She just had
> another incident.
Crow: She thought she was Lee Harvey Oswald.
> Troi sits up in bed a little.
>
> TROI
> I'll be fine.
>
> RIKER
> I came down to tell you we managed
> to contact the consulate.
>
> DR. CRUSHER
> And?
>
> Riker looks down at the ground momentarily before
> looking back at Troi.
>
> RIKER
>
> It doesn't look good.
Crow: They chose a simply atrocious color scheme.
> (beat)
Mike: Ow! You're really asking for it, Riker!
> They're doing all that they can
> to free her.
Tom: They've got a big demonstration going outside the courthouse!
> Troi smiles weakly.
>
> TROI
> I know.
>
> There is a brief moment of silence.
Crow: We suggest you savor it, because the dialogue isn't getting any better.
> Riker looks at Troi
> whose eyes are welling up with tears.
Mike: Your eyes are leaking!
> (CONTINUED)
Mike: So, guys, if I just stop fighting and let my mind snap, will they
stop sending us these experiments?
> CONTINUED:
Tom: It's a possibility Crow and I have been considering a lot, Nelson.
> RIKER
> You look like you need to talk.
>
> Troi brushes away some stray tears as they glide down
> her cheeks.
>
> TROI
> That would be nice.
Crow: Oh, wait. You meant talk to *you*, didn't you?
> RIKER
> How about a walk?
Mike: We could go play "fetch" in the park.
> DR. CRUSHER
> I don't know. There's no telling
> what's going to happen next.
Crow: Not a Calvinist, I take it.
> RIKER
> I promise, I won't let her out of
> my sight.
Tom: <diddaliddalip!> I can't find her!
> Dr. Crusher looks at Troi.
Crow: She likes what she sees.
> DR. CRUSHER
> It's up to you.
Mike: ...to prevent forest fires.
Tom: Real sensitive, Nelson. Making fire jokes while her mother's turning
into a charcoal briquette. You should learn some tact.
> TROI
> Let's try ten-forward. I could
> really use a chocolate sundae.
Crow: My mother was trapped in a raging inferno, and I was co-experiencing
her firey death. Then I had a chocolate sundae. Somehow, it all
seemed okay.
All: There's just something about ice cream.
> Riker helps her out of bed.
Tom: Now *there's* a switch!
> They walk towards the door.
Mike: It didn't open, but they
> (CONTINUED)
Mike: Walking, and slammed right into it. They awoke two hours later with
pounding headaches that just...
> CONTINUED:
>
> DR. CRUSHER
> Take it easy.
Crow: Don't let the sound of your own wheels make you crazy.
> TROI
> I will.
>
> They leave the room.
>
Tom: Hey, it's time for us to leave, too.
>
> =====================================CUT HERE===================================
1...2...3...4...5...6
(Tom, Crow, Mike, and Gypsy are all in mock Starfleet uniforms. Servo has
a "visor" over his dome, and Mike is in whiteface.)
Crow: Captain's log, stardate 8675309. Counselor Gypsy has been having
visions of her mother, trapped in flames. I keep telling her that
she doesn't have a mother, but she's still pretty bummed. I wish
there was something we could do to cheer her up!
Mike: Captain Crow, there is something coming in on the hex field.
Crow: On screen.
(The hex screen opens to reveal a large bearded man, surrounded by flowers)
All: Merlin Olson?!?
M.O.: Hello, guys. Gypsy feeling down? Why not raise her spirits with a
TNG floral arrangement? Our new "Sorry you're empathically
experiencing your mother's firey death" bouquet is just what she
needs to let her know that you care.
Tom: Gee, thanks, Mr.Olson! This'll make her feel a whole lot better!
M.O.: No need to thank me. It's just what I do. Gotta go. I've got to give
William Shatner this "Please stop trying to write and direct"
bouquet. Take care, guys. And remember; I may be a sensitive guy who
sells flowers for a living, but I'm still big and strong enough to rip
you to shreds with my bare hands if I choose to. Well, bye now.
(Hex screen closes)
Gypsy: What a nice man!
Mike: Yeah. Kinda makes you feel like everything's gonna be okay, doesn't he?
(Sirens, lights, etc.)
Crow: We got fanfic sign!
6...5...4...3...2...1
> =====================================CUT HERE===================================
>
> INT. TEN-FORWARD
>
>
>
> Riker and Troi walk over to a table and sit down. A
> WAITER walks over to them.
Mike: Think he's related to the TECHNICIAN?
> RIKER
> Nothing for me.
Crow: Big spender. Buddy, these tables are for paying customers only.
> TROI
> I'll have a hot fudge sundae.
>
> The waiter walks away.
Tom: In digust. He can't figure out why the ship's bar serves ice cream.
> RIKER
> So you've spoken with Lwaxana?
Mike: Once or twice. We met at a party.
> Troi nods slightly.
>
> TROI
> She really is scared. She thinks
> she's going to die there.
Crow: Yeah, she's probably right. By the time we reach her, there'll be
nothing left but a smoldering husk. Sure glad I was hear to comfort you.
> RIKER
> What do you think?
Tom: Ah, I get it. He's a Freudian. The mother thing, asking what she
thinks; it all fits together.
> (CONTINUED)
Crow: What does Freud say about that?
Mike: C'mon, Crow! Sometimes a "Continued" is just a...
> CONTINUED:
>
> The waiter returns with Troi's sundae. She picks up the
> spoon and plays with it briefly before answering.
>
> TROI
> I don't know.
>
> (beat)
Mike: Ow!
> I don't know.
Mike: Well, why take it out on me?
> Riker puts his hand over Troi's.
Crow: The words "wrong time" mean absolutely nothing to this man.
> RIKER
> You have to hope for the best.
Tom: But expect the worst. I mean, it's *possible* we'll save her, but
let's face facts...
> Troi puts the spoon down on the table.
>
> TROI
> But I have to be prepared for
> the worst.
Crow: Which is to say, she's probably ready for basting by now.
> Troi leans back in her chair and looks out the window.
Mike: Well, if my mom had to die, at least she picked a really nice day
for it!
> RIKER
> Your sundae's going to melt if
> you don't eat it soon.
Tom: Stop hinting, Will. Just ask her for some!
> TROI
> I'm not very hungry anymore.
Mike: Too busy thinking about your mom getting incinerated, huh? Well, at
least you've got me here to lean on.
> PICARD (o.s)
Crow: Open Season?
Mike: Oh, Donald!
Tom: One Snake?
> Picard to Riker.
>
> Riker taps his communicator.
>
> (CONTINUED)
Crow: ...tapping of the communicator can shorten the life of the batteries,
so it is not recommended.
Mike: We were hoping not to have to do any more of these jokes, but this
cryptic phenomenon...
> CONTINUED:
>
> RIKER
> Go ahead Captain.
>
> PICARD (o.s)
Crow: Otter Spit?
Tom: Ostracize Sinners?
Mike: Orthodox Synagogue?
> We should be approaching Betazed
> shortly.
Tom: We *should* be, but unfortunately Mr.Data got us lost, and he's too
stubborn to ask for directions! He insists he knows where he's going, but
we've passed the same nebula three times now!
> RIKER
> We're on our way sir.
>
> They both stand up and walk towards the door.
Crow: Then, Clunk! They walk right into each other!
> INT. BRIDGE
>
> Picard, along with the rest of the crew, are in their
> regular positions. The turbolift whirs to a halt as
> the door quickly opens and Riker and Troi enter the
> bridge. Picard stands up and faces them.
>
> PICARD
> Counselor, how are you feeling?
Mike: I know this is a modern, sensitive show, but can we ditch this
constant group therapy crap?
> Riker and Troi both walk to their chairs.
>
> TROI
> I'm alright Captain.
Tom: By the way, when did you grow antlers?
> Troi sits down in her chair. Picard looks at Riker
> before they both sit down.
Crow: She can't remember how to sit down on her own, and she thinks she's
alright?
> Data spins around in his
> chair to face the captain.
Crow: He is wearing a short white skirt, and no--
Mike: Crow!
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: We get the friggin' point! It's continued! They continue! He
continues! She's continuing! Everybody continues! (he begins sobbing)
Crow: Servo, get a grip. Have a waffle!
Tom: <sniff!> I'm sorry, guys. I guess I'm okay now.
> CONTINUED:
Tom: AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGHH!!!!!
> DATA
> Sir, we should approach Betazed in
> approximately eight minutes.
Mike: Well, actually, you should've been approaching it since you were
back in that asteroid belt.
Tom: And since when does Data give approximate times? He never rounds off!
Mike: Quite the little trekkie, aren't you, Tom?
> PICARD
> Thank you Mr. Data.
>
> LaFORGE
> Once we're in range, I'll try
> to lock on the Ambassador's
> signal.
Mike: What signal? She's not wearing a communicator!
Crow: Hush, child.
Mike: What?
Crow: Well, that's what the other guy used to say when I pointed out
plot-holes!
> PICARD
> Good. Mr. Data, please inform
> me once we're in transporter range.
>
> DATA
> Aye, captain.
Tom: Good thing you told me. I was planning to keep it a secret.
> Data turns back around in his chair to face his
> computer.
>
> RIKER
> I'm sure your mother's going to
> be fine.
Crow: Mind you, this is really only a guess. I mean, for all I know she
could be dead already. Well, glad I put your mind at ease. Now, I'll
be on the holodeck if you need me.
> Troi gets a distant look in her eye. Voices begin to
> fade.
Mike: It's happening without the drug!
> PICARD
> Lwaxana always seems so invincible.
Crow (as Picard): But I guess none of us are fire-proof, hmm?
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: Noooooo! Mommy, make it stop! Make it stop makeitstopmakeitstop!
Mike: C'mon, Tom. We'll get through it. Brace yourself now...
> CONTINUED:
>
> Troi begins to waver in her seat.
Tom: I know the feeling!
> RIKER
> I know what you mean. She certainly
> has done some unbelievable things in
> the past.
Crow: Yeah, remember the time she got really wasted and hooked up with
that Martian guy?
> LWAXANA (o.s)
Tom: Overcooked Steak!
Mike: Obliterated, Surely.
Crow: Obviously Seared!
> (weakly)
> Little One. This is it. I know this
> is the end.
Mike: ...of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.
> Troi stands up. She is very dizzy and begins to stagger.
> Sounds begin to blur together with the images of the
> bridge.
>
> TROI
> (telepathically)
> Mother? Hang on!
Mike: To what?
> LWAXANA (o.s)
Crow: Oozing steam!
Tom: Omelette, Soon!
Mike: Ooh, Sizzle!
> There's so much smoke.
Crow: By this time, my lungs were aching for air!
Tom: I was wondering when you'd get to that.
> And the
> flames are so hot. (beat)
Mike: Ow!
> Goodbye Little One.
All: Goodbye, Lwaxanna!
> The voices of the bridge crew are still fuzzy and
> distorted. Lwaxana SCREAMS.
Crow: Okay, cue the last-minute rescue.
> TROI
> (out loud)
> Nooooo!!!!!!
>
> (CONTINUED)
Tom (out loud): Nooooo!!!!!!
> CONTINUED:
>
> Everyone stops talking as they gaze upon Troi. She begins
> to collapse. Riker jumps up to catch her. He grabs her
Mike: Not now, Will!!!
> and gently helps her to the ground. She is unconscious.
Tom: Lucky stiff!
Crow: Wait a minute! You mean Lwaxanna really died?
Tom: Can they *do* that?
Mike: That *is* depressing, isn't it?
> PICARD
> Picard to Dr. Crusher.
>
> EXT. SHOT FROM SPACE OF BETAZED
>
> PICARD (v.o.)
Mike: That one I know! It's a Voice-Over!
> Captain's Log supplemental: It has
> been nearly a day and a half since
> Counselor Troi entered her coma.
Crow: Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
>
> Though Dr. Crusher says it is a
> natural event in this situation,
> I can't help but be concerned.
Tom: Since Dr.Crusher hasn't been right once in this story.
> I
> also dred telling her of her mother's
> death when she finally awakens.
Mike: Okay, all those with living mothers, raise your hands.
All: Not so fast, Troi!
> INT. SICKBAY
>
> Riker is asleep in a chair next to Troi's bed. Troi
> slowly opens her eyes. It takes them a minute to focus
> before she looks over at Riker. She smiles weakly,
> then SIGHS as she looks up at the ceiling. Dr. Crusher
> turns from her computer and looks at Troi, then walks
> over to her.
>
> DR. CRUSHER
> He's been here all night.
Tom: Oh, and by the way...
> Troi smiles again, but does not respond. Dr. Crusher waves
>
> (CONTINUED)
Mike: Steady, Tom. It's almost over.
> CONTINUED:
>
> her tricorder around Troi. Riker stretches, then opens
> his eyes. He smiles when he sees Troi awake.
Crow: So, did they tell you your mom's dead?
> DR. CRUSHER
> How do you feel?
Mike: Well, a little stiff from sleeping in that chair, and...oh. You mean
her.
> Troi takes a deep breath before answering.
>
> TROI
> Alone.
>
> The smile fades from Riker's lips.
>
> RIKER
> You know, don't you?
Tom: Know what? Hey, how's my mother, anyway?
> Troi's eyes begin to tear.
>
> TROI
> She was so scared.
Mike: And with good reason, it seems.
> RIKER
> There was nothing we could've done.
> She was already dead by the time we
> were in transporter range.
Crow: Way to go, Will. I'm sure that'll make her feel better!
> Troi closes her eyes as a few scattered tears roll down
> her cheeks.
>
> INT. BRIDGE
>
> Picard sits in his command chair with Riker sitting on
> his right.
>
> PICARD
> Did you tell her about her mother?
>
> RIKER
> I didn't have to.
Crow: And it was more fun just leaving her hanging.
> Picard looks at Riker.
Mike (as Picard): You know, I think I liked you better without the beard.
> RIKER
> (continuing)
> She already knew.
>
> INT. LWAXANA'S HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - DAY
Mike: Ironically, they're in the LIVING room.
> Troi stands in front of a table, putting things in
> boxes. Riker stands in front of the fireplace removing
> photographs from the mantle. Neither are in uniform.
Tom: Wackachickawackachickawackachicka!
> The room is silent. Riker picks up a photo in a gold
> frame. He LAUGHS.
Crow: Heh-heh-heh! Did I tell you how she smelled when we found her body?
> RIKER
> Remember this?
>
> He turns and walks over to Troi. She finishes placing
> something in a box. Standing behind her, Riker places
> the photo in front of her. A large smile spreads
> across Troi's face. She takes the photo from Riker and
> gazes at it.
>
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: Which is more than we can say for Lwaxanna.
> CONTINUED:
>
> TROI
> I can't believe she framed this.
Mike: But at least I destroyed the negatives!
> RIKER
> Look how short my hair was.
>
> TROI
> What hair? You can barely see it
> under all that whip cream.
Crow: That one is just too easy.
> The two laugh briefly.
All: Ha!
> TROI
> (continuing)
> She loved you so much. She wanted
> me to marry you.
Mike: Or anyone else, for that matter.
> RIKER
> I know. She was always looking out
> for you. You were the most important
> thing to her.
>
> (pause)
>
> She was a very special woman. And
> she has a very special daughter.
Tom: Say, you come here often?
> Tears begin to form in Troi's eyes.
Mike: Does the author really need to keep specifying "eyes"? How often do
tears form in your hair?
> TROI
> I wish I could've been with her.
Crow: You wish *you'd* ended up extra crispy, too?
> RIKER
> But you were.
>
> (CONTINUED)
Tom: Hey, that one wasn't so bad!
Crow: Uh, Servo?
Tom: No, really, Crow! I'm okay this time. It was rough at first, but I
got through it!
Mike: Listen, Tom...
Tom: You guys are sweet to worry, but I hardly even felt that one. I've
finally--
> CONTINUED:
Tom: AAAAAAAAARRRGH!!!
Crow: Tried to warn you.
> Riker puts a hand on Troi's shoulder and gently turns
> her around so she faces him.
Mike: Now that your mom's dead, we've got the house to ourselves!
> RIKER
> (continuing)
Crow: ...relentlessly.
> You were lucky enough to be able
> to speak to her the whole time.
Tom: Yeah, nothing luckier than experiencing your mother's painful demise.
> (beat)
Mike: Ow!
> I know when my mother died, I
> wasn't allowed anywhere near her.
Crow: Since I was a suspect, and all.
> I would've given anything to have
> been able to say goodbye.
>
> For the first time, Troi begins to cry.
Mike: First time? So what were all those other "tears forming in her
eyes"? Her contact lenses bothering her?
> TROI
> I'm going to miss her.
>
> She begins to cry.
Crow: Deja vu!
> Riker wraps his arms around her as
> she cries into his chest.
Tom (muffled voice): Let me go!
> THE END
Crow: Free at last!
Mike: Let's get out of here before it turns out to be continued again!
>
> --
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fare thee well for I must leave thee
> Do not let this parting grieve thee
> jlp...@ultb.isc.rit.edu
>
>
> =====================================CUT HERE===================================
1...2...3...4...5...6
(Crow, Tom, and Gypsy are sitting at typewriters)
Mike: Whatcha doing, guys?
Tom: Well, Mike, we thought we'd take a cue from today's experiment, and
write TV scripts where a recurring character dies.
Crow: I'm writing a Brady Bunch episode where the family has to deal with
Jan's tragic death in a senseless auto accident.
Tom: And I've chosen the sensitive, intelligent, egalitarian Dr.Quinn,
Medicine Woman. I hope I got the details right; being a guy, I've
never actually seen the show. But anyway, I have Dr.Quinn succumbing
to typhoid fever, and the population of the town dwindling for lack of
medical care.
Mike: If anybody ever asks, I'm gonna swear up and down that the first
four and a half seasons were your formative years. How about you, Gypsy?
Who did you decide to kill off?
Gypsy: Nobody. I'm writing a thank-you note to that nice Mr.Olson.
Mike: Ah, that's sweet. What do you think, sirs?
(Deep 13)
Dr.F: I think I oughtta send you a shock to the shammies, flower-child.
Frank: Dr.Forrester? There's somebody here to see you.
(Merlin Olson enters with a bouquet)
M.O.: Dr. Clayton Forrester? I have something for you from a Mr.TV's Frank.
Dr.F: Oh, Frank, you shouldn't have!
Frank: Oh, it was nothing.
M.O.: I hope you like it. It's our "sorry nobody likes you" bouquet, with
poison ivy, skunk-cabbage, and stinkweed. Oh, and that's C.O.D., so
you owe me $21.95. Thanks, and remember to say it with flowers. Bye now.
Dr.F: Frank!!!
Frank: I'll just push the button, then.
\ | /
-- --
/ | \
DISCLAIMER:
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and all related characters and images are the
property of Best Brains, Inc. Star Trek: The Next Generation and all
related characters and images are the property of Paramount. The preceding
was an unauthorized MiSTing of an unauthorized fanfic, and was intended in
the spirit of fun. No personal offense is intended toward the fanfic
author, the creators or the characters, the actors portraying the
characters, the fans who religiously watch the characters, the characters
themselves, or the readers. Complaints should be addressed to Rush
Limbaugh, and mailed postage due.
> This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard
> of the Enterprise. I have reason
> to believe Lwaxanna Troi is in grave
> danger. I was wandering if that
> were true?
--
__________________________________________________________________________
| Harlan Freilicher | "Are you happy in your work?" |
| har...@acpub.duke.edu | -Gypsy |
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