[MiSTing]: 'Doorway' Voyager fanfic

[The Bad Guy]

Well, here goes my first MiSTing... (sniff) gosh, I'm getting all
teary-eyed...

(recovers composure)

OK, I'm going to put a voluntary 'PG' on this one - I've got a couple of
references that would just go over the kids' heads, so....yeah.

And now, to make it official....

Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations
are trademarks of and (c) 1997 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights
reserved.

Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks
held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred. So there.

******************

(Opening credits and theme. We start on the SoL, watching Crow chase
Tom around. Crow is wildly swinging a tube sock with some kind of
weight in the end over his head and yelling. Tom is running for his
life. Mike pops into the shot from the lower left of the screen. In
the background behind Mike's speech below, we hear cries of Tom yelling
"It sucks!", Crow yelling in return "No, you suck!", followed up by the
razor sharp "Bite me!" et. al.)

MIKE: Oh, hey, everyone. I suppose you're wondering why Crow is
chasing Tom around with, as he calls it, his 'Rock-In-A-Sock'. Well, We
couldn't decide what to use for today's invention exchange, because we
all came up with some pretty good ones. At least, I thought so. Tom
didn't like the 'Rock-In-A-Sock', however, and, well, he let Crow know
about it. Of course, bots will be bots, and the end result is the
reprehensible scene you see behind me.

(The Mad's light turns on.)

MIKE: Anyway, because Crow and Tom are too busy to worry about the
Exchange this week, I'll just volunteer my services.

(Mike hits the Mad's light.)

(D13)

Dr.F: Oh, hello, Zagnut. (notices chaos in BG) What's going on?

(SoL)

MIKE: Oh, not much. We just had *so* many good things for the
Invention Exchange, that we have a friendly debate going on over which
one to use...

(The 'Rock-In-A-Sock' goes whizzing through the air, and only misses the
side of Mike's head because he ducked in the nick of time.)

MIKE: So maybe you'd better go first.

(D13)

Dr.F: (pause) All right. Frank! Bring in today's Invention!

FRANK: (OS) I can't! My legs are stuck!

Dr.F: Suck it up and deal with it , Frank! Our invention today is an
improvement on that most useful of the household appliances, Cling
Wrap. I know, I know, someone already improved on it with the advent of
the so-called 'Ultra' Cling Wrap, but I've taken the final step to....
*OMEGA* Cling Wrap!

(Frank waddles in - mostly because he has Omega Cling Wrap all around
his legs and torso, and can't really manage much more movement than
this.)

FRANK: (pathetically) Get it off. Please.

(Frank then falls out of the shot with a pathetic 'whumf!'.)

Dr.F: Among the major improvements I've made are the fact that, well,
it clings a whole lot better than regular Cling Wrap - and, it's ALIVE!
*ALIVE*! It actually grows on it's own, so you'll never have that last
annoying piece of Cling Wrap that won't wrap anything!

FRANK: (os) Please! Help mmmmpppphhhhhhh!

(We hear Frank struggling against the malevolent Omega Wrap, to no
avail).

Dr.F; Well? Top that one, Mike!

(SoL)

MIKE: Uhhhh.... OK, I'll give it the old college try! Well, our
consensus invention this week solves a problem of apartment renters and
hotel goers everywhere. You know how every time you're looking for a
new apartment or hotel room, you always want a 'Room With A View'?
Well, our solution is the *Portable* 'Room-With-A-View'!

(Gypsy enters with a window-sized piece of canvas with a pleasant ocean
scene painted on
it.)

MIKE: See? Anywhere you go, just plaster that sucker on the window,
and BINGO! Room With A View. What do you think?

(D13)

Dr.F: (stunned silence)

(SoL)

MIKE: Dr. Forrester?

(D13)

Dr.F: Oh, boy, do you deserve today's experiment. For your
displeasure, I've found another of those beloved fanfics, this one based
on Star Trek: Voyager. It's called 'Doorway', and as much as you'll
want to find the doorway in this one, you have to SIT THROUGH IT!

(Dr. F. throws a switch, and the USENET light turns on)

ALL: AHHHHH!! We've got USENET sign! AHHHHHHH!

(6....5....4....3....2....1)

> From: Rob...@s054.aone.net.au (Robin Lawrie)

MIKE: Australia? Maybe Neelix will throw some shrimp on the bah-biee!

> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative

ALL: <sigh>

> Subject: NEW:Doorway, VOY, J/Q, [PG] 1/1
> Date: Sat, 20 Sep 97 04:38:27 GMT
> Organization: Customer of Access One Pty Ltd, Melbourne, Australia

CROW: What's a Pty?
TOM: The fact that we have to suffer through another one of these.

> Lines: 261

MIKE: Holy Mother of Bhudda, it's a long one. Buckle up, fellas.

>
> =======
> Doorway
> =======
> by Robin Lawrie
> Sept, 1997
> VOY, J/Q, [PG],
>
> WARNING: This isn't my usual happy little fanfic.

ALL: (assorted cries of): My God! No! Please, why me? Make it stop!

> This is a sequel to Keyhole. It helps to read it first, but I've
> included the last two paragraphs for continuity.

MIKE: Yeah, that's helpful. You write a several page fanfic based on
*another* fanfic *that you wrote*, and you expect us to get caught up
with a couple of paragraphs?

> I also consulted
> Jeri Taylors "Mosaic" for some location details. (Just between you
> and me, I've read fanfic on asc/e/m that reads and works better
> than Ms Taylors effort.

TOM: News flash! The centre of the universe has NOW been revealed to
be: Robin Lawrie's EGO!

> Don't start me.

ALL: We won't!

> I digress.)

ALL: Yes, you do!

> Don't worry about the up-in-the-air ending on this one. I decided it
> was going to take longer than I thought to resolve things, so
> there'll be a third part that tidies up the loose ends, in about a month.

TOM: So there are going to be so many loose ends in this story that a
third part is already required? Lock and load, boys!
MIKE & CROW: (making chk-chk-ing noises, like loading of machine guns).

>
> Summary: Janeway has a choice to make.

CROW: 'Should I switch to decaf?'

>
> Comments: Whatever. Wherever.

CROW: Whoever. Whenever. However. WHYever.

>
> Disclaimer: Star Trek, Star Trek Voyager, and the characters in
> this story are the property of Paramount.

MIKE: Well, at least it's not that stupid FBI warning we always see at
the start of home videos.

> =======================================
>
> Q watched as Voyager disappeared into the blinding crack of light.

CROW: 'Well, that's taken care of that crew. Next?'

> At least B'Elanna had the warp drive back on line. That should
> cheer her up some. She seemed so lonely. He'd only tried to help.
> She had to know, didn't she?

TOM: 'B'Elanna, *I* am your father!'
MIKE: 'Noooooooooo!'

>
> Janeway watched the stars turn into star lines.

MIKE: I wonder how many star lines the Captain can do?
CROW: Oh, lots. You don't think she's that wound up from COFFEE, do
ya?

> At least the warp
> drive was back on line. She smiled grimly. In the darkness of her
> unlit quarters, in the only privacy the Captain was permitted,
> Janeway relaxed the fist around her heart, and allowed the hurt.

MIKE: I always get heartburn from Replicated food, too.

> For a few minutes. Hell, she had a ship to run. She had to get
> these people...home.
>
> <I ended Keyhole here>

CROW: And there was much rejoicing.
MIKE & TOM: (weakly) Yay.

>
> ************
>
> Q looked down at the small object in the palm of his hand. The
> small, brass key seemed so ordinary, yet perhaps it could unlock
> more than just a doorway.

CROW: Maybe a window.... perhaps a small safe....

> Q raised his eyebrows hopefully. She's
> probably over her little tantrum by now. Best go check.

MIKE: No, man, don't do it! She's all wigged out on Star Lines! She'll
PEAK!

>
> With a snap, a quick spark of light took off after Voyager. This
> time, he'd get it right.

CROW: Get what right?
MIKE: I dunno. I really think we got shafted on Robin's two-paragraph
"intro".

>
> ************
>
> 'Captain?'
>
> 'He's gone, Tuvok.'

MIKE: Hey, now I know she can be harsh, but Janeway's clearly female.
TOM: And where did she go?

>
> 'Q?'
>
> 'Sorry, who?

TOM: '**Q**'!

> Yes. Q. That's what I meant.'

TOM: Then why didn't you SAY so?

>
> Tuvok remained in the doorway, watching his Captain stand
> silhouetted against the window in the darkened quarters.
> Apparently the encounter with Q had left her troubled.

MIKE: Apparently.

> Tuvok
> resisted the urge to shake his head, resigned to the emotional
> needs of humans. Still, the logical thing to do would be to offer
> assistance.

TOM: Nothing to see here, keep that plot moving along, nothing to see
here....

>
> 'Captain, can I help?' He approached cautiously, aware of the
> Captain's protectiveness of her personal space. Perhaps the
> standard 'Starfleet pat on the shoulder' was appropriate. He drew
> closer, reached out a hand, pausing, as he noticed the small
> jerking actions of the Captains chest and shoulders.

CROW: SHE'S SPAZMMING! Gimme 2 cc's of Somethingozine!

> Surely she
> wasn't...sobbing?

TOM: Geez, it even reads like Shatner.

>
> He continued the motion, bringing both hands up to firmly press
> down on tense and shaking shoulders.

CROW: 'However, Tuvok soon forgot his own strength, and reduced the
Captain to so much Silly Putty.'

> Tuvok squeezed gently and
> began the antithesis of a Vulcan neck pinch.

CROW: One pinch and you're fully awake.
MIKE: The last thing Janeway needs is to be more awake.

> A soothing stroking
> rhythm soon had Janeway relaxed and breathing easy. She rolled
> her head and sighed as the massage continued.

TOM: Is this the Blue version?
CROW: Maybe they had to edit out some scenes....
MIKE: Stop it, you two!

>
> 'Thanks Tuvok. I needed that.'

CROW: Told ya!
MIKE: Sh!

>
> 'Au contraire, ma capitaine! I'm back!'

TOM: 'Au contraire?' What, he just contradicted a neck massage?

>
> Without turning, Janeways head dropped. 'Hello Q.' she
> mumbled.

CROW: 'What? Speak up!'
TOM: 'HEL-LO, Q!'

>
> 'Aren't you going to ask me to stop?

CROW: Not if it's the Blue version...

> Yell at me? *Swear* at me?'

CROW: Now I'm *sure* this isn't for kids!
MIKE: Family show, Crow....

>
> 'No. Strangely enough, you're doing a great job. And I thought you
> saved the French for someone else.'
>
> 'French is the language of love, my dear.'

CROW: Now this just *PROVES*...
MIKE: STOP IT!

>
> 'Exactly. Q, you're stopping!'
>
> Q flung himself dramatically onto the lounge.

MIKE: And Janeway follows up with a quick elbowdrop - AND PIN! WE HAVE
A NEW CHAMPION!
TOM&CROW: (crowd noises)

> 'I grew tired of
> bruising my hands on your boney scapulae. Come. Sit. Please tell
> me I'm forgiven. Hmm? I have something for you.'

CROW: I decline comment on an obvious and easily made joke.
MIKE: Good.

>
> Janeway perched on her desk and swung her legs, studying the
> elegantly sprawled immortal like a mongoose eyes a cobra.
> 'Another present? Sorry to disappoint you but after last time? I
> don't think so. Now what's this about love,

TOM: What's love got to do with it?
MIKE: Yeah, what's love, but a second-hand emotion?
CROW: Just who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?

> and just where did you
> learn to massage like that.'

CROW: That's not a question.

>
> Q flapped his hands at Janeway, shooing her words away.
> 'Shooosh, you.

TOM: Hey, he's so powerful he even talks to *words*.

> We're not talking about *that*. That was then, this
> is now. You humans are so *linear*. Let's talk about me instead.
> And my present. Look.'

MIKE: Get your mind out of the gutter.
CROW: What? WHAT?

>
> Q fished about in a pocket

CROW&TOM: (laughing)

> and held up the small brass key. He
> flicked it into the air with his thumb and Janeway snatched it
> before it landed. She studied it for a moment then pulled out her
> Keyhole. She placed the two items next to each other on her desk
> and turned to Q . 'It unlocks the door, doesn't it?'

MIKE: Just what the hell are they talking about?
TOM: I think it has to do with this mysterious first story.
CROW: I vote to KEEP it a mystery.

>
> 'Oui.'
>
> 'I can get to Earth?'
>
> 'Oui aussi.'
>
> 'And the crew, too?'
>
> 'Mais non, unfortunatement.'
>
> 'Merde.'
>
> 'D'accorde, ma Capitaine. So. Will you go? '

CROW: 'Well, let's see, I could return to Earth, live out my life
happily, go on to a show with continuity control, AND leave Neelix
behind. Yeah, sounds good! Let's go!'

>
> 'Can I return to the ship afterwards?'
>
> 'Now, you see? This is the tricky part. If you go and *stay* what
> you do there will affect the time flow and change the future, yadda,
> yadda, yadda ... However, if you choose to return, anything you
> get up to on Earth will never have happened and you're back on
> your dinky little, squid shaped ship making your pathetically slow
> way back to the alpha quadrant. Simple. Stay, and play with Mark
> and the dogs, and forget about all your pals here; don't worry. I'll
> look after them. Or come back, having achieved, well, nothing
> really.' Q smiled a happy little smile, as if he was bestowing the
> greatest of all gifts.

CROW: 'Like I said, let's go! What are we waiting for?'

>
> 'Can I think about this?'
>
> 'No.' Q raised his fingers as if to snap them.
>
> 'Fine. Then I'm going.'

ALL: (cheering)

> Janeway grabbed the gifts from her desk,
> inserted the key and turned it. Q watched, still smiling, as Kathryn
> Janeway vanished in a Q-like flash.
>
> 'Hmm. Not bad for a beginner.' He settled back, and crossed his
> legs, snapping up the sealed section of Cosmo and a cappuccino.
> 'She'll be back.'

TOM: Hey, guys, the lead of the show just left, so why are we still
here?
MIKE: Hey! No kidding! Let's go!

(1....2....3....4....5....6)

TOM: Whew! No surprise why these people aren't ACTUAL writers on the
show.
MIKE: Yeah! Anyone willing to write the main character out of a show -
and, therefore, writing *themselves* out of a job - should really
consider another profession.
CROW: Yeah! (pause) Hey, d'you think *we* could write a certain
someone out of the show, so we could get on with other things?
TOM: Like what?
CROW: Um...I dunno... stuff.
MIKE: Hey, good idea, Crow! I think I saw a copy of this week's script
on your computer!

(Still SoL, but at Crow's computer.)

CROW: Uhmmmm... here we go.... yeah, here's the Script... yeah,
Dr.F.... Omega Wrap.... Aw, poor Frank!
TOM: He'll get over it! Now, c'mon, scroll down to where we are in
the story!

(Crow scrolls down)

CROW: Here we are, see? It says 'Crow scrolls down'.
MIKE: Yeah, and then you say 'Here we are, see? It says 'Crow scrolls
down'.'
TOM: And then you say, 'Yeah, and then...'
MIKE: Shhhh! We gotta do this before Dr.F catches on! OK, Crow,
write something in that'll get Dr.F out of our hair for a while!
CROW: Okay... what about....

(Crow types away)

TOM: (giggling) Yeah, that's good!
MIKE: Great!

(The Mad's light turns on, Mike answers it.)

MIKE: Hi, Dr.F, what's up?

(D13)

Dr.F: Why aren't you mallot-heads in the theatre? I should....

(Hey everyone, Crow here. This is that new part of the script that I
wrote in a couple of minutes ago. I know it doesn't look like it's me
talking, and that's because I'm not. These are actually stage
directions, that instruct Dr. F. to fall flat on his face right - now!)

Dr.F: OOF! Hey, what's going on?

(Wow, that was fun! Hey, Tom, you try!)

(OK! Tom here. Now Dr.F should.... begin singing 'Castle on a Cloud'
from Les Miserables!)

Dr.F: There is a castle on a cloud, I like to go there in my sleep,
Aren't any floors for me to sweep, Not in my..... cut that out!

(Hey, my turn! Now Dr.F should ORDER MIKE AND THE BOTS BACK INTO THE
THEATRE BECAUSE I SAW THROUGH THEIR SILLY SCHEME AT THE TOP OF THE
SHOW! HAHAHAHA! I'M BAD! I'M BAD! I'M SO BAD I SHOULD BE IN
DETENTION! HAHAHAH!)

(We get USENET sign, and Mike and the bots hurry back into the theatre.)

(6....5....4....3....2....1)

CROW: Nice going, Mike.
TOM: Yeah. Stellar job, big guy.
MIKE: But - it wasn't my fault!
TOM: Sure.
CROW: That lame-ass excuse may have worked in Star Wars, but it just
ain't doing it's share of the chores around here, Mike.

>
> *************
>
> The air in the Botanical Park was still and crisp,

MIKE: And therefore difficult to breathe.

> with the scent of
> lilacs. The pre dawn light made the sky glow orange, giving an
> alien feel to the landscape that Janeway found disconcerting. Has
> it been so long? Have I forgotten so much? Then she recognised
> where Q's magic had dumped her.

CROW: (Doug Henning voice) It's *maahhhh-jjjiiikkkk*!

Damn. If I turn around the
> bench will be there.

TOM: So don't turn around, if it bothers you so much.

> *The Bench*.

CROW: Coming soon to a theatre near you. From the writer of
TOM: *The Client*
CROW: And
TOM: *The Firm*
CROW: Comes this not exceptionally suspenseful, not particularly
intriguing story of a Starfleet Captain's conflict with a couple of
planks of cedar. Praise for the writer's previous works...!
MIKE: (Woman's voice) 'The Firm are the only workout tapes on the
market today that work. If you don't use the Firm, you're probably
overweight and $49.95 richer.'

> Where Hobbes had become
> Mark,

TOM: Does Bill Watterson know about this?
MIKE: I'd call that copyright infringement.
CROW: Yeah! No transmogrifying without permission!

> and her life had become just a little more complex. She
> turned. The bench was still there. Damn.

MIKE: But maybe if you close your eyes and wish *real* hard....

>
> A humming noise overhead startled her from her reminiscing.

TOM: (vibrato) Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

> A
> runabout was making a detour over the Park on its way to Starfleet
> Headquarters. Suddenly the enormity of her position hit home.

TOM: ('Tiny Elvis' voice) Whoa, man! Did you see that position! Man,
that thing was *HUGE*!

> Earth! She was home! First things first, Janeway tapped her
> communicator.
>
> 'Captain Kathryn Janeway to Starfleet Headquarters. Reporting
> for duty.'

TOM: Yeah, first things first. She's been missing, presumed dead for
three seasons - pardon me, years, - and you would think that the first
thing to come to mind would be, y'know, call the family, talk to
mom, but Janeway *reports* *for* *duty*.
MIKE: Yep, quite a life you lead there, Kathryn.

>
> *************
> Admiral Paris couldn't stop shaking his head. And grinning.

MIKE: Looks like the Captain brought some Star Lines for everyone.

>
> 'So he's made himself useful, has he? Captain, you're the best
> news I've had all day, all year, dammit.'

TOM: 'You don't know how hard it is to get Star Lines in the Alpha
Quadrant.'

> Janeway had finished an
> exhaustive debriefing session. The two old friends had moved on
> to socialising, and catching up over some good hot coffee.

CROW: Wow, lucky thing it was *good* hot coffee...
MIKE: Yeah, I hate drinking the bad stuff.

> Janeway sipped blissfully.

TOM: (loud slurping noises)

>
> 'Tom's been a real asset.

TOM: Hey, thanks!

> Not an angel by any stretch of the
> imagination, but we'd've been in a lot of trouble without him.

TOM: Gosh, gee, thanks, Captain.

> Thanks for confirming his promotion. I know what it'll mean to him.'

CROW: You enlisted?
TOM: I don't want to talk about it.
MIKE: Are you sure? We could...
TOM: No.
CROW: But....
TOM: No.

>
> 'All we have to do now is get him home.

TOM: Right with you on that one.

> How's the science team
> progressing?' In the week since her return, Janeway was the stick
> in the Starfleet ant nest,

MIKE: ('Jack Perkins' voice) And so she found herself swarmed by
thousands of Starfleet Science personnel, driven into a frenzy by their
Queen.

> pulling in all favours and kicking off new
> directions in wormhole research, long range communications, and
> subspacial anomalies. The explanation of her return was accepted
> without too much comment;

CROW: 'And you, sir, what do you think of Captain Janeway's return?'
TOM: 'Well, I think that it's about time that Starfleet-'
CROW: 'That'll be enough from you, sir, that's *too much comment*'

> Q having a known track record for
> interference in Starfleet matters. However, a solution wouldn't be
> found overnight, and Janeway felt a little disappointed.

MIKE: Only a little disappointed, though.

> Admiral
> Paris tried a different approach.

CROW: 'Red Leader, this is Gold Leader, moving in for Attack Run!'

>
> 'So, seen Mark yet?'
>
> 'I've, ah, been a bit busy.'

TOM: 'Stay on target.'
CROW: "But they're coming in too fast!'
TOM: 'Stay on target!'

> All week, the rationalisations had
> continued, with the urgency of getting her ship back being the
> excuse. But now the research was progressing under its own
> momentum. There were no more excuses. She realised the
> Admiral was watching her closely.

MIKE: The magnifying glass was a bit much, though.

>
> 'Take a break, Captain. We can carry on for a few days without
> you. I'll keep the whip cracking.'

CROW: Observe as I let yet another opportunity for a Blue joke sail
peacefully on by.

>
> Janeway smiled as the decision was made for her. 'OK, Admiral.
> And thanks.'
>
> ************
> The quarters assigned to her had the sameness of all Starfleet
> rooms. It was comforting, in a way. She hadn't returned to the
> apartment she and Mark shared when they were both in San
> Francisco. Just in case.

CROW: Just in case of what? Just in case your HUSBAND might be home?
TOM: Yeah, her husband - and his new girlfriend.

>
> Janeway wrapped her gown tighter, and fussed with her hair. She
> made more coffee,

MIKE: I think Janeway should be cut off.
CROW: Doesn't she ever have to pee?

> and decided her nails could use some
> attention. Grabbing her bath bag and a trashy magazine

TOM: Ech-hem.

> she
> settled on the lounge and began buffing, clipping, sipping, flicking
> through, and generally putting off doing what she really should be
> doing. Calling Mark. Her coffee gone, her nails trimmed, and the
> magazine tossed, Janeway sighed and gave up. No more excuses.
> She sat behind the console and accessed Marks number in South
> America. With a determined poke, she completed the connection.

MIKE: After several tries, at least. She's shaking so bad from the
coffee that she can't see straight.

>
> The screen on the console cleared.
>
> 'Hello Mark.'
>
> 'Kath! Where are you?'

TOM: That's it? Your wife - missing, presumed dead - shows up after a
three year absence, and the bright and loving reply is a decidedly
downplayed 'Kath! Where are you?' Sheesh.

>
> 'Here. Earth. San Francisco. Can I...?'
>
> 'Wait right there! I'll catch the first runabout back. God it's great
> to
> see you. You look great, wonderful, just, great.' His hand reached
> out to stroke the screen. 'Welcome home Kath.'

CROW: <sigh> Welcome home, yourself, you big lug.

>
> ***********
> Q looked up from his perusal of an article on the removal of facial
> hair, and sighed sadly.

MIKE: 'I wish *I* had facial hai - oops! Guess I better watch what I
say. I *am* Q, after all.'

>
> 'Oh dear, Kathy. What *have* you done? There'll be tears before
> bedtime, I'm afraid.'

ALL: (ala Beastie Boys) No! Tears! Till Bedtime!

>
> He tut tutted and returned to his reading. Ah! Here we go. "What
> Women Really Want In Bed". This could be useful research.

CROW: Yessiree, those omnipotent Q-guys really have troubles with-
MIKE: Crow!

>
> ****************
>
> End part 2

TOM: Oh, cripes. That means there's more. Let's book.

(6....5....4....3....2....1)

(SoL. We join Mike and The Bots walking down the hallway.)

MIKE: Geez, glad that one's over.
TOM: No kidding! Consistency is everything, guys! I mean, c'mon!
Captain Janeway is gone for three years, and you mean to tell me her
sense of duty is *so* strong, that the first thing she does is report
for *more* work?
CROW: I'm just afraid of this mysterious third part - what happens when
Dr. F finds out about it?

(D13. We can - barely - see Dr. F and Frank desperately swimming in a
sea of Omega Wrap.)

Dr.F: I don't CARE if there's another part! We ran out of things to
wrap half an hour ago, but the wrap just keeps getting hungrier!

MIKE (on SoL): Maybe if you just push the button, the set crew will
have to come in and clean everything up!

Dr. F: Good idea! Push the button, Frank!

FRANK: Where is it?

Dr. F: To your left! Underneath the ughmph!

(Dr. F is taken under by the wrap!)

FRANK: Steve! Where did you go? Steve?

Dr. F: (muffled) Aha! Here's the bu-

(fade out)

> Admiral Paris couldn't stop shaking his head. And grinning.

************************

There we go! My first MiSTing! I'd love any feedback and comments.

Thanks!
The Bad Guy
bad...@cadvision.com
---
Give me the strength to change what I can, the grace to accept what I
cannot, and a great big bag of money.