MiSTed - Roland Warner's "Hostage" (4/4)
Bill Livingston
TOM: New agreement: the less said about the "dustball" incident, the
better.
ALL: Agreed.
> * * *
>
>The alarm blasted a song called "Venus Nights" and Lloyd hit the alarm
>button.
CROW: Punched it straight through the nightstand, in fact.
MIKE: Must've been a "New Backstreet Boys" song.
> Seven o'clock. He had slept for five hours. The sunlight shone
>through his window and brighterned up the room.
MIKE: It was bright, cheerful, mass disease kinda day!
> Lloyd took a shower, ate
>breakfast, and walked into the office room and dialled up the president.
>
>"Hello?"
>
TOM: [Prez] Lloyd!! Have you met my, um, personal massage advisor?
>"Mr. President, where's that pilot of yours?"
>
>"He's just left Earth. Remember, you'll get the pieces at five o'clock.
>What time is Hunter going to pick up the pieces?"
>
CROW: Oh, we'll be a long time picking up the pieces from this, my friend.
TOM: I may require several years of therapy.
MIKE: Oh, c'mon, one day life will seem worth living again. Maybe.
>"Eight o'clock tonight."
>
>"Okay, that'll work. I've got to give a speech to the Inter-galactic
>Congress tonight so I won't be able be there when you catch Hunter so I
>wish you good luck. I can't be bothered for the rest of today.
TOM: [President] I have too much golf to play to worry about the end of
life as we know it.
> When you get
>the pieces, move the pieces to the hard drive Louis gave you. Place it on
>the street corner and then you decide what to do then."
>
MIKE: [Jethro] I wanna be a double-aught agent! And a short-order cook!
>"Thank you, Mr. President. Good luck with you speech, bye."
>
>"Good luck." The president's image disappeared.
>
CROW: [Prez] Well, enough of that "serving the public" crap! Time to
indulge in some serious money-laundering and carousing with cheap,
blowzy babes!
>Lloyd opened the front door and was flooded by several media reporters
>asking questions about the hostage situations. Lloyd denied everything and
>slammed the door in the reporters faces.
>
TOM: So, basically, it's the same as today.
CROW: Would it be trite to point out that there are no actual hostages?
>One bye one, the people who worked in the FBI struggled through the crowd
>of media reporters, denying answers to their questions.
TOM: [reporter] What's the meaning of life?
MIKE: [agent] No comment.
CROW: [reporter] Any truth to this "Blair Witch" story?
MIKE: [agent] No comment.
TOM: [reporter] Who put the bop in the bop-shu-bop-shu-bop?
MIKE: [agent] No comment.
CROW: [reporter] What's the value of X for (10x2 - 2x - 36 = 440)?
MIKE: [agent] No comment.
> Finally, the police
>were dispatched and took care of setting up boundaries to hold back the
>reporters.
>
MIKE: Yeah, I'm sure the FBI just loves calling in the local police for
crowd control.
>The holophone rang and Lloyd answered it.
>
>"Hello?"
>
>"I was just watching the news and saw that you've become the victim of the
>media circus. Whatever happened to keeping the public calm? I thought that
>was your job?"
>
TOM: Why start now?
MIKE: The sun has just gone nova, and temperatures should reach 8 billion
degrees in a few minutes. All panickers will be summarily shot!
>"My job is none of your business. Why do you care? All you want is to get
>your money. Why are you doing this anyway?"
>
>"Because I know how to do it and I can. You see, if I don't know how to do
>it and I know I can't do it, chances are that I'm not going to do it.
TOM: So, to sum up - Just Do It.
CROW: Sounds like he's already caught the Nike Virus.
> I
>know what to do with my money after I get it. Don't confirm anything about
>this hostage situation the media.
CROW: But there are no hostages! Just Mr. Nobody and his magic eggs!
MIKE: Hush, Crow - you're blowing the suspension of disbelief here!
> It would be terrible if one of those
>viruses was to be set off by mistake, wouldn't it?"
>
>"Good bye, Hunter."
>
>"See you at eight." The static disappeared.
>
TOM: Oh, but what shall I wear?!?
>Lloyd opened up the desk drawer and pulled out a small rectangular remote
>with a television screen at the top. He set the remote inside the computer.
>He would have to wait for at least one hour for the remote to gather a map
>of the five planets.
>
MIKE: Couldn't he have just called the Jet Propulsion Labs for that?
TOM: Obviously Lloyd's never heard of Mapquest.Com
>During that hour, Lloyd watched the news in front of the FBI office. They
>were declaring that they wouldn't leave the office building until one of
>the people inside gave a Q/A session about the hostage situation.
>
CROW: Like, for example, how you can have a hostage crisis with no
discernible hostages.
>At the end of the hour, the remote was done and Lloyd set the remote onto
>the hard drive and allowed it to set the fequencies to the same wavelength
>which took twenty minutes.
>
MIKE: Almost as long that whole sentence.
>Outside, the noise grew louder and louder.
TOM: RHUBARB!
CROW: CANTALOUPE!
TOM: RHUBARB!
CROW: CANTALOUPE!
TOM: RHUBARB!
CROW: CANTALOUPE!
> He finally gave in and walked
>outside to do a the Q/A session with the media. Some where not far off, he
>could imagine Hunter laughing at him.
>
>"I'm here to answer only six questions.
TOM: [Lloyd] Five of which have to do with flower arranging.
> Then I'm going off.
MIKE: [British] That's it! I'm off then!
> Yes, you sir?"
>Lloyd pointed to a balding tanned reporter.
>
CROW: [reporter] Sir? would this question count as a question?
MIKE: [Lloyd] Yes.
CROW: [reporter] How about this one?
MIKE: [Lloyd] That one too.
>"Jack Lowenstein, VPEN News. Is there a hostage situation going on right
>now and if there is, who does it involve?"
>
>"That's two, no, there is no hostage situation and it involves nobody.
CROW: See? *One* character agrees with me!
> Yes
>ma'am?"
>
>"Lauren Higgins, The Martian Eye.
MIKE: [Tim Conway] Uh, Mrs-a Higgins, could you-a please come in-a here for
just a min-
TOM: [Carol Burnett] Hello?
> If there is no hostage situation, what is
>Hunter planning on doing with the virus he got in the Venusian Caverns?
>After all, you were with him when he got it."
>
>"I have no comment.
CROW: [Lloyd] And remember, if you panic, we'll have to kill you.
> Third row, lady in the black shirt."
MIKE: Nancy Sue Goerring?
> A crowd started
>gathering.
>
>"Megan Smith, civilian. I want to know if I'm safe."
>
TOM: Considering that the FBI lets perfect strangers penetrate their press
conferences? Just bend over and kiss it goodbye now, lady!
>"For the meantime, yes you all are safe. Yes, you sir in te blue hat on the
>fifth row."
>
MIKE: Actually, the whole virus thing doesn't bother as much as the fact
that a grown man is wearing a blue hat.
>"Justin Loch, WQRZ News. Will this cause any problems with the recently
>acquired Inter-Galactic Peace Treaty?"
>
>"I've told you all, there is no problem with a hostage situation. And even
>if it were real, there would be no problem.
CROW: [Lloyd] And anyway, it's all Richard Jewell's fault.
> Yes, you sir?"
>
>"Eric Mathews, Jupitarian Tribune.
MIKE: [Mathews] Any clues to the disappearance of the word "Jovian"?
> My paper recieved an anonymous phone
>call late yesterday afternoon, declaring that there was a hostage situation
>involving the five planets. Can you give us any clue as to who this person
>is?"
>
>"Describe the voice."
>
>"A scratchy deep voice. There was no picture on the platform."
>
CROW: It's Colin Quinn!
TOM: It's Tom Waits' latest album!
MIKE: It's the ghost of Lucille Ball!
>"I couldn't really tell you anything about it. My suggestion is that it was
>a prank caller. If you don't mind, I'd like to get back inside and complete
>some paper work."
CROW: ["Riding with Death" guy] I have to finish these patent papers!
> Lloyd said and walked back into the building.
>
>Outside, he could hear the crowd noisily departing.
>
>The holophone rang.
>
>Lloyd left the phone ringing.
>
>"Lloyd, answer the holophone." He heard over the scanner.
>
TOM: [Hunter] I know you can hear me, so pick up the phone and listen
to me!
>Lloyd refused to pick up the phone and didn't answer the holophone.
>
TOM: Correct me if I'm wrong here, guys, but I think the author is trying
to communicate that Lloyd wasn't answering the phone.
MIKE: Oh, you and your post-modernistic interpretations!
>"Lloyd, answer the holohpone or else I will do something drastic."
>
CROW: [Hunter] I might take some actual hostages, and *then* where will
you be, hmmm?
>Lloyd walked over to the phone and pressed the buttons.
>
>"Hello Lloyd, I saw you on the holovision a few minutes ago. I'm surprised,
>you were such a good actor at denying all those things.
MIKE: [Hunter] In fact, I've nominated you for a "Best Cop in a Supporting
Role in a Virus-Related Crime" award.
> It's nine o'clock,
>11 more hours until the drop off. Be there." The static disappeared.
>
>"Damn! that guys becoming annoying." Lloyd shouted.
>
TOM: Once again, Lloyd's shrewd deductive mind comes to an earth-shattering
conclusion.
>For the next 3 hours, Lloyd would make up for the sleep he missed the night
>before.
>
MIKE: *ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*
CROW: *pheeeeeeeeeeeeew*
TOM: *Eebeebeebeebeebeebeeb*
>At 12, he left the building and went to the area which would be the drop
>off point. A giant field with only a few giant trees layed before him.
CROW: Or maybe he's just tiny and doesn't realize it.
TOM: [Tiny Elvis] Man! That dogwood is *huge*!
> As a
>kid, there used to be houses and buildings all around him. Now, it was a
>clear field with a intersection of roads that were hardly ever used
>anymore.
TOM: Urban de-newal?
> Far off in the distance, he could see a hairling of trees along
>the horizon.
CROW: Now, see, that's just embarrassing. The horizon's growing its trees
huge and then combing them over!
> Lloyd began to think of a way in which he could keep an eye on
>Hunter and stay hidden. Then an idea came to him.
MIKE: Lunch!
> He could have his men
>climb up the tree and when Hunter came, his men could shoot at him from the
>trees.
CROW: It's a job for Agent Zacheus!
> It was the only way he could do it. That was another hour he had
>spent. Two more hours he spent gathering together seven men,
TOM: Geez, the FBI's sending out for temp help!
> one per tree
>and two to stay behind and monitor the base, lasers, battery packs,
>headsets, and more.
MIKE: [Lloyd] Bob, Dave - you stay here and stare at the equipment!
> At three, he briefed his men on the mission they would
>undergo and what each one's postion was and what they would do once Hunter
>arrived. That took an hour and fifteen minutes.
>
MIKE: Well, at least we got to skip all the gory details.
CROW: We got all the details we needed in the first part of the story!
>Lloyd took the men to the area nad
TOM: Well!!
CROW: Ahem...
MIKE: Remember - proofreading can be *your* friend, too!
> showed them the places they'd be hiding
>at. Lloyd showed them what it would be like by using androids as their
>targets.
CROW: HEY!!!!!!!
TOM: BOOOOOOOO!!!!!
CROW: How'd you like it if we took shots at *you*, pal?!?
MIKE: Um, actually, you kinda are.
TOM: Say, if they have *androids*, why'd they even need the stinking
stupid FBI agents?!?
CROW: The androids have more dignity than that.
> That took about 45 minutes.
>
>Five o'clock Lloyd
TOM: [singing] But it's a Five O'clock Lloyd where the people go...
> waited by the door for the hard drives with the pieces
>in it. Ten minutes later, the delivery man arrived with the hard drives.
>
CROW: Brother! This isn't a story - it's an itinerary!
>"Sorry I'm late sir, traffic was tied up for the longest time. Here's your
>package. Please sign this form." The man held out a pad of paper.
MIKE: Federal Express: when you absolutely, positively have to save the
galaxy overnight.
> Lloyd
>took the sheet of paper and without thinking signed it, Lloyd Heinrich,
>FBI.
>
>"Wow, your that guy on holovision this morning. Is it true that . . ."
CROW: Yes, it's true. This man has no [different voice] brain.
MIKE: What was *that*?
CROW: [regular voice] My network dialogue bowdlerization subroutine.
>Lloyd left the man hanging in his sentance and walked back into the
>building with the package only saying thanks to the man.
>
>Lloyd opened up the box and found two hard drives, each one had two billion
>pieces in it.
TOM: Some assembly required.
> He took the hard drives and placed them inside the suitcase
>along with the other hard drive from Louis.
MIKE: I think it would've been easier just to write a check.
> After tossing the suitcase into
>the back of the FBI van, he gathered together his seven soldiers
CROW: Of Victory.
> and piled
>them into the back of the van.
ALL: Ow! Watch it, you... Got your elbow in my... Heyheyhey, that's...
Move your big fat... heck off of me!!!
> On the way, Lloyd brought out a map of the
>area and reminded the soldiers of which tree was theirs and the procedures
>of what to do.
>
CROW: Get ready, get set, annnnnnd - mark your territory!
>Once at the crossing,
TOM: A train smashed into them and they all died. The end.
MIKE: [mournfully] Why don't they look?
> thirty minutes remained till Hunter would arrive.
>Each soldier climbed into a tree and prepared each station.
MIKE: They all built a super-neato treehouse with a big sign outside
reading "NO GURLZ ALOWWD".
> Lloyd took the
>two other soldiers, Jackie Lyons and Henry Doves, to the base of
>operations, a quarter of a mile away from the drop off point.
CROW: It's Lyons season!
TOM: It's Doves season!
CROW: Lyons season!
TOM: Doves season!
CROW: *Lyons season!!*
TOM: DOVES SEASON!!!
> Jackie would
>monitor what each soldier said. Henry would keep watch over where the money
>went through a remote televison screen.
CROW: And Lloyd would be back at the base, guzzling a pitcher of daiquiris.
> And there they sat, waiting for the
>arrival of Hunter.
>
TOM: This fall, on Nick at Nite!
> * * *
>
>The car drove to the corner directly at six o'clock. The sun had gone three
>quarters across the sky.
MIKE: Ooooh, I love those new 50 State quarters!
> Birds began to fly off from the noise the car had
>made as it pulled to a halt three feet from the suitcase.
TOM: [Tweety] I tawt I taw a tewwowist!
> The car remained
>sitting there for five minutes. The soldiers could not see what was going
>on in the car but they had a pretty good idea about it.
CROW: [Python] I bet they did, eh? Eh? Eh? Say no more!
> Hunter was scoping
>the scene for any traps. Then, one bye one, the five trees which held the
>soldiers blew up in rapid succession.
MIKE: My Uraniumfruits!
TOM: [Tweety} I did! I did taw a tewwowist
> Hunter quickly exited his car,
>grabbed the suitcase, and drove off.
>
CROW: Wait! You forgot the matching carry-on bag!
>"Sir, we no longer have radio contact with the soldiers!" Jackie yelled.
>
TOM: [Jackie] Except one guy who said "AAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEIIIIIIGHGHGHGH!!!"
>"Sir, the bags moving, let's go." Henry handed the remote to Lloyd. Lloyd
>jumped into the front seat of the FBI van and began driving down the road.
MIKE: [singing] East bound and down, loaded up and truckin'...
>Lloyd zigzagged through traffic until he was ten feet from Hunter's car
>when Hunter pulled off the road onto an old cracked road.
CROW: It's an ambush by Sylvester P. Smythe!
> Lloyd pulled out
>a Hammert Laser and fired, barely missing the tires.
TOM: I guess it wouldn't STOP! Hammert tires! Heheheheheh!
MIKE: Tom, I may have to hurt you for that.
> Hunter reached through
>his window and fired several shots through the window, two shots hit
>Lloyd's left arm.
>
>"Jackie, take over driving for me! I'm going out!"
>
CROW: [Lloyd] Want anything?
>"But your arm . . ."
>
MIKE: [Lloyd] It's going out, too!
>"To hell with my arm! Drive!"
>
>Jackie sat down at the seat and steadied the car.
>
>"Get into the left lane, just so that I'm at the back of the car. Once I
>jump, keep behind the car. If it slows down, you slow down, do whatever the
>car does, you got it?"
>
MIKE: Agent Jackie was later found with smoke coming from under her
hairline and a flat shoe.
>"Roger that, good luck."
>
>"Lord knows I could use it."
>
CROW: Lord knows we could, too!
>Lloyd opened the car door and waited until the precise moment before he
>jumped. Once on the back of the car, Lloyd drug himself over the roof,
>avoiding the laser shots.
MIKE: Well, as long as he avoided the buffalo shots.
> Hunter drove the car off the road and into a
>field where he stopped, exited the car, and climbed onto the roof.
>
TOM: [Hunter] If I climb on top of my car, they'll *never* be able to
reach me! Heh-heh-heh-heh!
>"Looking for me?" A voice behind him said.
>
>Hunter fell off the car roof and landed on his back. Looking straight up,
>he saw a barrel pointed at his forehead.
>
CROW: He's being threatened with a keg of pilsner!
>"Get up! Now!"
>
>Hunter slowly got up off the ground with his hands in the air.
>
>"Sir, here's a bandage for your arm!" Henry began to run across the field
>waving his hands in the air and distracting Lloyd for the moment.
ALL: D'OH!
CROW: *Good one*, Henry!
> in that
>moment, Hunter took his advantage to pull out his laser and point it at
>Lloyd before Lloyd could fire his weapon.
TOM: [Dark Helmet] I see your Schwartz is as big as mine!
> Two dogs of equal strength, which
>one wins?
>
MIKE: The one with the most chew toys.
>It was that moment that Hunter realized who he was.
MIKE: Jimmy Hoffa?
CROW: Judge Crater?
TOM: Amelia Earhardt?
CROW: Howard Hughes?
TOM: J.D. Salinger?
MIKE: Wally Johannson?
CROW: Who?
MIKE: Oh, this guy I went to Junior High with. Haven't seen him in years.
> The barrel of the laser
>reminded Hunter of his own father pointing guns at him and his mother's
>heads just to see the terror on their faces.
CROW: Oh, he's Charlton Heston, Jr.
> He was no longer Hunter now,
>but Ray Gunther, the man he used to be, the child he used to be.
MIKE: The load he used to be.
> He was no
>longer a ruthless killer but the victim of an abusive father. The memories
>of his child hood hit him, the time he drew on the walls as a child and
>recieved a very sever beating. The time he knocked the family heirloom off
>the table and broke it, he recieved a uncalled for harsh whipping.
>
CROW: Wha...?
TOM: Hello?!? Where's all *this* coming from?
MIKE: I think the plot just gave me whiplash.
>Ray cringed and backed into the side of car, waving his hands in the air,
>trying to block the memories from coming back.
>
CROW: If it works, let us know, okay?
>"No, daddy, don't!" He shouted.
MIKE: Don't you walk so fast!
> Ray continued to shout and curse the name
>of his father. Henry slowed down to a walk as he approached Lloyd.
>
>"What happened?"
>
TOM: The plot just exploded, that's what!
>"Hunter has learned about his true self and his father. His father killed
>my father and vice versa.
[All groan]
CROW: But how does he know that? Are they part of a killer-victim family
correspondence program?!?
MIKE: Lloyd must've read the *other* version of the script.
TOM: Okay, that's it! Story, you go right to your room, and you don't
come out until you figure out what it is you're doing!
> He told me a while back that he couldn't even
>remember his own name and now, he has it figured out.It's like the missing
>link has been figured out.
MIKE: And on top of everything else, he's the Piltdown Man!
> Hunter has been erased and Ray Gunther has been
>put back into play."
TOM: But he'll be traded to Cleveland for a cornerback and a second-round
draft pick.
> Ray continued to kick and scream as Lloyd beam-cuffed
>him and placed him into the back of the FBI van and they drove him off.
CROW: Oh, he's just a little cranky like that before nappy-time.
TOM: And they drove him away and no one ever saw him again. The end.
>
> THE END
>
TOM: YESSSSSSS!!!!! I *knew* it'd work sooner or later!
MIKE: *sigh* Yes, Tom. We know
CROW: Let's just split before there's a sequel or something!
[All leave]
O |2| <3> (4) {5} [6]
[SOL - Bridge]
CROW: Wow! What an incredibly contrived ending.
TOM: To an incredibly insipid story.
MIKE: Yeah, but - to be fair, though, Rolaid was only like, what, 13 or so
when he wrote it.
CROW: I don't care if he was an embryo - there's still no excuse!
TOM: Especially that part about mixing all those different viruses to
create a whole new species of exploding virus!
MIKE: Well, think about it - I mean, you get all those different diseases
and stuff interacting, and who knows what might happen?
CROW: [sigh] Mike, try not to do any heavy thinking, okay?
TOM: Yeah, I mean, if you infected someone with a witch's soup of viruses,
you *might* get multiple symptoms or something! But something
that drastic and that quick?!? No way, my friend!
MIKE: Well, I suppose...
TOM: There's no supposing about it! Take a look!
[The camera pulls back to show a small black plastic egg, the kind L'eggs
pantyhose comes in, on the counter next to them. And it's open.]
MIKE: [hand over forehead] Servo - *tell* me you haven't done what I think
you've done!
TOM: Exactly, Mike. I've mixed together a wide variety of viruses - making
sure to remove the *really* fatal ones, of course - and released it
into the air.
CROW: Uh, Tom, I'm not sure this is such a fantabulous idea.
TOM: Oh, don't be a whiner, Crow, Absolutely, positively *nothing* drastic
is going to happen to -
[Gypsy enters. She now has *two* eyes and is painted red]
TOM: - us?
GYPSY: [Patrick's normal voice] I don't feel too good, guys. I think I'll
go lie down for a while. [exits]
[Mike & Crow glare at Tom]
TOM: Of course - I could be wrong.
CROW: You could be *scrap metal* you - [lights flash]
MIKE: Oh, wait, we better see how Pearl's doing with the disinfestation
squad.
[CF - Pearl & company are still with Casey & Renee]
CASEY: I hope - he gets back soon. This monkey - really smells.
BOBO: That's just my cologne - Paco Rabonne's "Spoiled Banana Mush".
PEARL: Hey, Mike-rocephalic, it looks like - Nelson? Are you guys okay?
[SOL - Mike now has a third arm in the middle of his chest and has on a
bright orange fright wig. Servo has a head-piece net like Crow's, and his
hands have swelled up to 5 times normal size. Crow has three eyes and a
very very very short beak]
MIKE: Well, Tom's been messing around with some viruses and stuff, but I
think we're pretty much okay.
CROW: [high-pitched voice] But thanks for asking.
[CF - Everyone's gathered around, gawking]
OBSERVER: It's just that you look a bit - I don't know, um...
BOBO: Weird.
OBSERVER: Exactly.
[SOL - All three are now sporting Groucho-style fake glasses, eyebrows,
moustache and cigar.]
CROW: No, we feel fine. Though I can't say how long that'll be true for
some of us - *Servo!*
TOM: Look, guys, I said I'm sorry!
MIKE: Well, just don't do it again.
TOM: Believe me, I won't! I've learned my lesson!
MIKE: Well, okay. So Pearl, how's everyth- Pearl? Pearl?
[CF - Everyone is just staring]
[SOL - Mike is now Dr. Peanut. Crow is Krankor. Tom is Roger Miller.]
PEANUT: Oh, *I* know! You're waiting for the info and stuff! Why don't
you give it to them, Crow!
KRANKOR: Very well! To join the MiSTing Authors Dibs List, simply send an
e-mail to majo...@neylonpc.engin.umich.edu with the message
"subscribe dibslist [<your name>]" in the message body. Read the
FAQ, do not work blue, and surrender your puny planet to me - or
suffer the consequences! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha.
PEANUT: Thanks, pal! [pause] Wow! For some reason I feel a need to roller
skate around in a diaper. Hey, Tom, you better get working on an
antidote for this virus thingy.
ROGER: [singing]
I'll try to find a cure - in the haaaaaarborrrrrr!
Why don't you grab a biiiite while I do? [leaves]
KRANKOR: So, what do you think down there - ya *scum*?
PEANUT: Say, Bobo, I must say you're looking very handsome today!
[CF]
BOBO: Oh, thanks, Mike. You look very fetching yourself.
PEARL: Would you just-
[Dusty re-enters]
DUSTY: Okay, um, well, the good news is, I convinced the generals not to
blow us all up.
CASEY: Say, that is - good news, way - to go, Dusty.
OBSERVER: Yes, very nice, but when you say "good news" in that manner, it
implies "*bad* news" is to follow shortly, yes?
DUSTY: Yeah, um, yeah. See, the bad news, guys, is that - okay, now
you're all gonna very very upset with me, I can tell.
RENEE: Oh, don't be silly.
DUSTY: No, no, I can tell, y'know? You, and him, and her, and him, and the
ape, are all gonna be ticked.
CASEY: C'mon, Dusty we - aren't gonna be upset.
DUSTY: I just, I just have this, y'know, this premonition that-
PEARL: WILL YOU JUST TELL US, YOU STAMMERING, METHOD-ACTING WEINER?!?!
DUSTY: What'd I tell you?
OBSERVER: The news, man, the news!
DUSTY: Okay. Um, the, uh, the generals want to keep a close eye on this
whole monkey/satellite/evil scientist/virus situation, so they've
kind of, um, assigned us here - permanently.
RENEE: Now, see that wasn't so -
[pause]
ALL: PERMANENTLY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
OBSERVER: Is this some kind of joke?!?
CASEY: Yeah, is this - some kind of - joke?!?
PEARL: Hey, I can't have you CDC meatheads running around here! I've got
experiments to run, worlds to conquer, bad movies to send, and
guinea pigs to mercilessly torture!
DUSTY: Hold on, um, it's okay, y'know, I'm, I'm working a really great
grandstanding speech to, uh, to get us out of this.
RENEE: That's how we got into it IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!! [Pulls off her
helmet and grabs Dusty] Look, I've got deals for pictures with Mel
Gibson AND Pierce Brosnan, pal, and if I wind up stuck here with Bozo,
Bonzo and *this* broad, your life is gonna be *such* a living hell!
BOBO: Yeah, and I've only got a couple of pints of bodily fluids left!
I can't spare any more for tests!
[All start shouting and complaining to Dusty, who backs away cringing as
the scene fades out. Then we hear:]
PEARL: [V.O.] Look, Dusty, whaddaya say you and your crew just scram, and
I'll let you have a crack at - these! [sound of ripping fabric]
[Long, long, long pause]
DUSTY: [V.O.] Mrs. Forrester, you're trying to nauseate me! Aren't you?
OBSERVER: [V.O.] Hey, that's *my* cape and cowl!
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"HOSTAGE" BY: Roland "Rolaid" Warner
MiSTING BY: Bill "Bill" Livingston
ADDITIONAL RIFFS BY: Matt "Mr." Blackwell
MiSTING DIBS LIST MAINTAINED BY: Michael "Doc" Neylon
POTATO CHIPS BY: Golden Flake
I GET BY: With a Little Help From My Friends
THEY'RE DINKY: They're Pinky and the Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain.
SPECIAL GUEST STARS: Jim Mallon as Casey, Paul Chaplin as Dusty, and
Bridget Jones as Renee.
THANKS: to MiSTies, MuSTies, the teachers of America, James Cameron,
and to that Scottish guy for not interrupting this MiSTing
for a quid.
"Mystery Science Theater 3000" trademark of and (c) Best Brains, Inc.
All rights reserved. Electrifying acres of killer earthworms since 1988.
Viruses trademark of and (c) Nature (a division of God). All syndromes and
pathogens reserved.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment purposes
only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by
others is intended or should be inferred.
No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s) are or
should be implied. All characters in this work are fictional, and any
resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Anything else you've been told is all lies, do you hear?!? Lies!!!!
Think you can take me? Come on ahead!
Keep circulating the posts.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
>"Well, Mr. President, I'm working on a plan. I have no idea what I'll do
>but I'm working on one.
#######################################################
bi...@Traveller.COM http:\\www.hsv.tis.net\~bill
He that is of a merry heart hath
a continual feast - Prov. 15:15b