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Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k
From: "Angry Johnny" <jstansh...@gmail.com>
Date: 27 Jun 2006 18:42:15 -0700
Local: Tues, Jun 27 2006 9:42 pm
Subject: *new MiST* Smallville: Moonage Daydream
Well Kids, I've got a new MiST for you, so, yes, someone is still
writing them. It's been a long time coming, but I worked myself raw getting it done in time for "Superman Returns," since this is sort of a Superman fic (well... in the same way "Un chien andalou" is about Clifford the Big Red Dog.) I hope you all like it, but if not... do something better. Please. Incidently, this is my first MiST, so... don't set the bar too high. jstansh...@gmail.com Smallville: Moonage Daydream Original Text by WeAre138 As Riffed by Angry Johnny Warning: this fic veered occasionally into a vernacular that was, 1...2...3...4...5...G We open, as always, on the Satellite of Love. The Bridge has been CROW: You know, I really love being able to express myself creatively TOM: I can feel my self-esteem growing all ready! JOEL: Oh, that's great, you guys, that's why we're doing this. TOM: Thank you, Joel. A-HEM! "Archie & Veronica: A Romance In JOEL: "Archie and..." Servo, is this about the Archie comic TOM: Well, sort of. I'm taking established characters, then CROW: Oh, I loved that one! JOEL: Um... CROW: Especially when Mickey kills Captain Pete with the spud gun! TOM: Can I begin? JOEL: I guess. TOM: Ahem. "Archie Andrews stood alone as he watched the only girl Joel and Crow stare in stunned silence. TOM: What? Commercial lights start flashing. Pause. SERVO, not getting it: What? JOEL, seizing the book: Let me see that book. TOM: Did you like it? Was it good? Crow shakes his head, Joel taps the button. [A steady stream of vaguely attractive women in beds extol the virtues Meanwhile, California falls into the Pacific Ocean and no one seems to The S.O.L. is back to its usual state; Joel and Crow continue to look TOM: But it's really a meisterwerk of Lacanian analysis! A triumph of JOEL: Servo, this just isn't the kind of thing I think a robot your age TOM: Well, I don't see what you could possibly have a problem with. JOEL, cracking open the book: Look here on page 9,382... "As Archie Pause. TOM: So? JOEL: Archie is *not* slamming Mr. Weatherbee! CROW: Well, he could be. JOEL, shakes his head: Earl and Randy are calling. Joel taps the Mads light JOEL: Hello, sirs. Deep 13. Doctor Forrester stands with a shopping cart in front of a counter Dr. F: Greeting, Life Obstacles. My invention this week is built FRANK: Auuughhh!!! Aaauughhh!!! Dr. F: That's right, it's Doctor Clayton Forrester's Patent Corneal FRANK: It hurts so much!!! Why, God, Why!?! Dr. F: And that's not all, it also works on loan officers, kindergarten S.O.L. Super-tight close-up of Joel and the Bot's horrified faces. After several seconds, Joel attempts to shake it off and press on with JOEL: Well, Sirs, I've been trying to get the Bots here to express Tom beams with pride. JOEL: Well, it hasn't been going well so far... TOM: Hey! JOEL: But Crow was very eager to have another go at the old invention Joel holds up a white plastic object about the size of a fist, JOEL: ...Is what he came up with. Um, what is this, Crow? CROW: Well, I'm glad you asked, Joel, because I'm more than happy to JOEL: Um, Crow, were you going somewhere with all this? CROW: Oh, right. If a human is going through his day and realizes his TOM, casting a bitter glance towards Joel: And it still doesn't help. CROW: Now, imagine that same human, going through his human day, aging, JOEL: Oh, I don't like where this is going at all. TOM: Funny, I think I do. CROW: Well, with Doctor Crow's Miracle Hiney Inserts, it's problem JOEL, very quickly setting Crow's invention down: Um... CROW: That's right, it's once up the bum and no harm done and the Joel shakes his head vehemently in stunned silence. Deep 13 Dr. F: And his greatest creations give birth to a suppository. Must be FRANK, pleading a Dr. F's feet: Please, please make the hurting stop... Dr. F: Take it like a man, Frank and send them the post. [Frank pokes Dr. F grins triumphantly as he waits for the blindly groping Frank to And keeps waiting. And keeps waiting. And keeps waiting. Dr. F: Oh, for crying out [he roughly shoves Frank out of the way and S.O.L. The regular flashing chaos. JOEL: We've got movie siiiiiiiiiiiiiign!!! G...5...4...3...2...1 Joel and the Bots file into their appropriate seats and sit down. JOEL: Ech. > 138 Productions Presents: TOM: Yes, "Smallville," where you can watch the most powerful hero in > Moonage Daydream the history of American fiction whine and complain for an hour a week about what a raw deal he got. CROW: Man, if I were Superman, I'd do things differently. JOEL: Really? CROW: Yeah, I'd fly around the Universe in a respectable pair of flat-front khakis and I'd eat raspberry smoothies every meal JOEL: Sounds pretty cool, Crow. CROW: ...and I'd punch Batman around, just so he didn't get any big ideas. JOEL: I'd try to bring the Earth to a new era of peace and harmony, without war, hunger, or poverty. TOM: I'd make it with Wonder Woman. JOEL: That's a good idea, too. TOM: And Hawkgirl and Black Canary and... JOEL: Okay, Tom. > Chapter One: CROW: "In Which Certain Events From The Past Come Back To Tear Apart The Present And An Enemy Long Thought Dead Is Shown To Be Very Much The Contrary." > "Are you here for masturbation?" CROW: Boy, this story just grabs you from the beginning, doesn't it? > "Excuse me?" Lana Lang snapped as her eyes widened in CROW: Apparently Lana regularly mistakes indignation for astonishment. >indignation. TOM: I've got a sneaking suspicion it's all dull surprise from here. > "Oh, sorry," the sanitarium worker seemed to shrink JOEL: Yeah, I think we've all had dates like that. >deep within himself as he realized his mistake, TOM: Joel! >"new CROW (as worker): Sponsored by Gatorade, oddly enough. >therapy program, Dr. Hans Bergle's intensive masturbation >sessions," TOM: "Hans Bergle?" >he explained. "Down Room 229, Ward E," JOEL: Ward E? Isn't that the place where all the radio stations play "Crazy Train" over and over and over again? CROW: No, it's like when you walk out of the Burn Ward and right into the Other Burn Ward! TOM: I think it's like watching a bunch of really old people eat bucket after bucket of fried chicken. ALL shudder. >he TOM: Um, Joel, what's he talking about? >continued, gesturing in the appropriate direction. "We >get a lot of people for that, lately. JOEL: Um, I don't know, Tom. TOM: No, seriously, what is he trying to get Lana to do? JOEL: Well... TOM: She certainly seems to be upset about it. What is it, exactly? JOEL: This is not a productive area of discussion. >You just had 'the JOEL: The look of someone fantasizing about a >look,' about you, you know." disabling-though-non-crippling injury? > Lana had, of course, never been either so offended in CROW: It's an enchantment that disguises her true elf-shape and allows >her life nor quite so specifically offended; she was >fairly tempted to ask the technician what, exactly, this >"look" she had was, her to walk unmolested through the World of Man! TOM: Huh, not working to well, then. >but she quickly pushed such concerns CROW (as Lana): I have a View-Master! >aside. "Look," she said, biting back venom, >"I'm here to TOM (as Lana): His name is Arch Hall, Jr. >see a friend of mine. >I called ahead, my name is Lana Lang..." CROW: Although I also respond to Vicki Vale or Silver St. Cloud. > At that the worker's face flashed with recognition. JOEL: Like many deep-sea creatures, the local sanitarium workers produce their own light when they successfully identify credited members of the cast. CROW: Cool, dad! >"Ohhhhh... ALL: I thought you were *Dale!* >you want Room 138! ALL groan. >Down that way." TOM: With the butt of a sawed-off shotgun. >He said, > pointing in the opposite direction. > Lana thanked the man >and proceeded towards the TOM: "Nice hinder!" >indicated room. She was almost out of earshot when she >heard him call back to her, JOEL: "You left you blinkers on!" CROW: "Do you still have my copy of 'Shaolin Soccer?'" >"But I'll tell you now, CROW (as man): Damned if that stops them, though. >masturbation won't help those two!" > Of course Lana knew what the technician had been to dream of. >and found them, JOEL: Apparently you *do* have to be crazy to work there. >even his sense of normality, warped as it had been from >years of service in this and other mental institutions, >could still appreciate someone being just a little off, >and what Lana found in Room 138 was no disappointment. CROW (Lana): Paper towels! Kleenex! Heavy industrial rolls of toilet tissue! I've found the mother lode! > Clark Kent and Lex Luthor sat at opposite ends of TOM: Trying to grift the zanies out of all the pudding they had. >square institutional card table, >their mutual silence TOM (shaking his head): Another tragic metaphor crash. >just another white coat of sterility on the blank walls, >both young men completely motionless. CROW: Apparently Edison has yet to invent the Rotoscope. >Clark had the look JOEL: Let's just let that one go, okay? >of clean-cut certainty and single-minded drive on his >face previously reserved for Cold War radioactive lizard >movies and Depression-era comic book heroes, TOM: Hey, I was just thinking about how much I miss watching Cold War lizard movies. CROW: Those were better times, weren't they? >he stared TOM: Joel, I getting "slash" vibes left and right here. >into Lex's eyes as if trying to read his aura; the whole JOEL: Always a possibility in fanfiction, Servo. TOM: But... JOEL: Just do your best and don't worry. TOM: Okay... >picture might have had the flavor of a massive staring TOM: Mumbling to himself and manning his handle. >contest had not Lex's glazed eyes been unfocussed on >nothing in particular. CROW (shakes his head): Same old Lex! > "Clark," Lana said, carefully approaching Clark but not ALL, sleazy: "Field of vision," eh? >interrupting his field of vision, >having made that TOM: Yeah, get caught in the heat vision and you learn *real* fast to >mistake just once before. watch where you step. CROW: Kentucky Fried Human: Extra Crispy Style. >"It's me. It's Lana." CROW (Lana, cheerful): I brought my world-famous grilled cheese sammiches and a pharmacy full of prophylactics. I was hoping we could have a picnic! > "Lana, I'm think I'm on the verge of a breakthrough," JOEL (Clark): It will look like a pump and *feel* like a sneaker! CROW (Lana): Um... >Clark said without, somehow, moving his jaw or anything CROW: He's a really cheap woozle! >else. TOM: I think he's just out of synch with the dub. > "Of course you are, Clark," Lana managed in her most TOM (Lana): Now let's get you washed up and straight to bed, you've got >reassuring tone, school tomorrow. >"but you're parents and I want you to CROW (Lana): Which is to say your parents are out of town. >come home." Now she let her concern show through, >"If TOM: I traveled there and back in the millisecond you just blinked. By >only for a little while." > Again, Clark did not even flinch. "I was just home." the way, your package from Good Vibrations arrived. CROW: He's oddly more Supermanly here than he is on the show. TOM: Yeah, it's nice to see the old detached, inhuman Clark instead of the whiney 35-year-old adolescent we've been stuck with ere these last five years. CROW: Makes me wish I was reading "Kingdom Come," though. TOM: Yeah. > Lana sighed and said "Clark, that was five days ago." JOEL: Just like the day my Magic 8-Ball broke. > No response. > "Clark," she was pleading with him now, TOM (Lana): Please let me stay up 'til Conan! Pleeeeeeaaaaasseee! >"you need to JOEL (Lana): Or some clean clothes. >take a step away from this for a few days. Maybe even >weeks. Get a fresh perspective on all this." > His jaw seemed carved out of granite. TOM: Oh, so Alex Ross *is* doing the art for this one. > "Clark," Lana placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, All exhale loudly. >"it's been two years now." TOM: Geez, no wonder she's so horny. > That much Clark had not, could not have, lost track TOM: Unfortunately, he tried to repair his psyche quickly using duct >of. It had been two years since Lex had his psychic >break, tape and Gorilla Glue, instantly driving down ther value in the collector's market. > two years since he uttered his last words to Clark or JOEL (Clark): I already knew Geico could save me money on car >anyone and, given the nature of those words, Clark hardly >found any consolation in being the one to hear them. insurance, damn it! >In TOM: Scaring the hell out of the inmates by constantly bursting into >the time since, Clark had been a frequent visitor to >Belle Reve, song. >a fact that both Lana and his parents had CROW: So, this is where Superman learns that with great power comes >hoped would somewhat lessen with the inevitable >realization that there was simply nothing Clark could do >to help his closest friend. great responsibility? TOM: Crow, this is Superman. He never learns jack. >However, what had come to JOEL: Dear God! Clark's powers have been reversed by rare! ...mint >pass was quite the reverse. green! ...Kryptonite! >As time went on, Clark TOM: Aged visibly and became a vast, beery corpse, leading many to question his plausibility as an ageless immortal and the ultimately leading to the cancellation of his show. CROW: Servo, you're thinking of Boreanaz again. TOM: Oh, right. [Chuckles] Boreanaz. >became more and more obsessed with Lex's problem and came JOEL: The fact that he'd taken to doing his Dame Edna impression >to blame himself more for it. This was only worsened by virtually round the clock. >the sudden, completely unexplained disappearance of the TOM: Hey Joel, where do you think all the monsters of the week go >meteor-freaks that used to occupy Clark's time on a >nearly weekly basis during the summer hiatus? JOEL: Oh, they take a few months off to travel to other small-towns-that-are-inexplicable-beacons-for-the-unexplained, see their latex and mood-lighting families, and maybe do a forgettable summer feature or two. TOM: Oh, okay. >;upset as Lana and his parents were CROW: Or, at the very least, padded out the scripts with gratuitous >by these weekly dangers, they soon came to understand >such activities were essential to both Clark's mental and >physical well-being, violence. >keeping him occupied and testing his TOM: Might even provide a plot of some kind. >powers to their limits; such a distraction would do well >now, >but both meteor rocks and meteor freaks seemed to JOEL: Despite speeches by our most distracting politicians. >have gone extinct overnight TOM: Damn school kids have been rolling and smoking 'em. >and with school behind him, JOEL: Oh, it's going to be like "St. Elmo's Fire." >there's was now nothing else to hold Clark's attentions. TOM: Um, I don't think so. JOEL: Oh, sure, they're all going to come to terms with the second adolescence, and laugh and cry and ultimately accept that the future they've all been following was just an illusion. TOM: Joel, almost everything in Rob Lowe's speech is wildly inaccurate, the characters in "Smallville" have been tied down their futures for five long, agonizing years, and that movie was so bad not even the presence of Judd Nelson could save it. JOEL: Well, granted, but... > "Lana," Clark repeated the phrase that had become his TOM (Clark): And the answer is... "when all else fails, play dead." >mantra, "the answer is in me. I can feel it." > "I know, Clark," she said, taking him by his arm and CROW (basso): Arise, Rodimus Prime! >forcing him to rise from his seat, "I know." > As Clark stood up, he felt Lana behind, JOEL: Earning him a prompt mallet to the head and the standard "baka." TOM: Somehow I doubt that's where this is going. >felt her soft CROW: Gave her his card as copy editor for "Perfect Ten" magazine. >curve of her small, perfect breast >against his massive TOM: Attack. >back CROW: All hairy and spotty and greasy and gross. TOM: I was close, though. >and for a split second snapped back into reality. JOEL (as Clark as Keanu Reeves): Whoa. >Lana is the only brief spot of life in this entire room, CROW (in his classic film strip scientist voice): Witness with me the > this entire hospital. healing power of *boobies*. >She is warm and bright and TOM: Fortunately, with new Vitale Sassoon Ultra Hollywood Hair, color, >breathing while Lex and I and even the walls around us >have become cold and dull and lifeless. style, and body were only five minutes of searing, blinding agony away! >How could I have JOEL (slaps his forehead): Plastics! >missed it, he thought, it's all so obvious. BOTS: Huh? What? Etc. > Lana could tell something had changed in Clark, she TOM: Ah, yes, dull surprise abounds. >could sense it. CROW: It's just like a big dinosaur movie! >"Clark?" her voice was choked with hope. CROW: Geez, makes her lady-place sound like a special move from a > "Lana..." he could feel the warm pulsating from her very >core, strange red Eden. Japanese role-playing game. > "Clark?" She looked deep into his eyes as they burned TOM (Clark): Do you think the Pet Shop Boys would speak at >like splitting atoms. Commencement? CROW (Lana, disappointed): Oh... I don't know. > He was silent for a few seconds, then he said, "Do you CROW (Lana, pleading): But why? WHY?!? >think Lex might be the messiah?" and she knew the light >had gone out again. TOM: Because it was made in Taiwan where they have no manufacturing standards and don't believe in God. CROW (Lana): And yet I'm still not satisfied. > "I... don't know, Clark," she choked, CROW: Oh, God, we're losing her! Quick, Servo, give her the Heimlich! >leading him out the JOEL: He's like the kid who sold the most candy bars. >door. > Clark nodded, beaming child-like pride >for his new TOM (Lana): Well, he *has* been wandering around healing himself >theory. "The leper messiah... lately. >I think he'd like that." CROW: And I imagine it would go *something* like this... > As the door closed behind them, Lana found herself awash >in an involuntary wave of cynicism. "Yes, Clark, I >imagine he would..." > Neither of them heard, as the door slammed shut behind TOM: Boy, Nurse Ratchet really plays fast and loose with the >them, Lex Luthor, his mind full of jellies and apricots, medication, doesn't she? >as he muttered once more his last words to Clark Kent; TOM: Strangely it was "You got peanut butter in my chocolate." >words Clark had been too frightened to share with anyone >else... CROW: No one knows why. >then once again fell silent. JOEL: Like a thousand voices... TOM: Please, no. >Far underneath Smallville, in a disused LuthorCorp >forgotten by all save Lionel Luthor who took the TOM: Along with the secret recipe for the MegaNut LuthorBar. >blueprints with him to the grave a strange, >mad CROW: So they only had one big one to share between them? >celebration was well underway. The meteor freaks, danced >and swayed around their great erection. JOEL: I think they mean they built something very big. I *think.* >For the last TOM: Ah, freshmen and their Massives. >sixteen months they had been acting in secret, shunning >the light and the human world and its ways, >building CROW: Or they did, but the writers were too lazy to come up with them. >their own nation amid the rubble. They no longer had >names; TOM: Let's just say they're all called "Buford." >they had even surrendered language, adopting a CROW: And interpretative dance. >series of emotional aggregates TOM: Naturally. >and, for some, a sort of CROW: With horrible, scarring acne like that, who can blame them? >limited mental telepathy. For sixteen months they had >worked under cover of night, >stealing the precious TOM: Purchasing it at local conventions, then selling it on eBay at >kryptonite from the other world, inflated prices. >digging it from the TOM: Now the Son of Jor-El would BOW BEFORE THEM! >ground or diving for it beneath the waters. Sixteen >months and now it was done. JOEL: You do realize that's your quota for the experiment. TOM: But-- JOEL: Sorry, Tommy, but everybody gets *one*. > The statue took up most of the lab area, TOM: It was made of elephant dung and was said to resemble the Duchess of York from a certain angle. >while it was JOEL: ... and shocking pink... >naturally composed largely of the more common green K, >there were stripes of red, blue, and white CROW: ... and lamb and turkey... TOM: And original recipe with optional crispy strips. >and now they JOEL: Love. >had the most important element; >never before seen but JOEL: Easily recognizable for it caramel coating and the prize that >they all knew it had to be real: the only miniscule piece >of gold kryptonite on the entire planet. came with it. CROW: It'll pull your teeth right out! >As the freak TOM: By Frank Zappa. >specially chosen for the task >began to fuse the gold K CROW: Cyclops? Is that you? >into the larger chunk with his heat vision, a mere shadow >of the true Krpytonian's, TOM: Knew he got away somehow. >the freaks around him danced TOM, deadpan: And they danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced. They >themselves into a Bacchanalian frenzy, were liars in love and they danced. JOEL, ditto: And they danced and danced and danced. >hearing a music CROW: This is like a really is a bad remake of "Labyrinth," isn't it? >twinkling from the hazy cosmos themselves. JOEL: Except that nothing happens. CROW: Oh, what I wouldn't give for an odd, quipping puppet right about now. CROW: Excellent, let's exeunt omnes TOM: Double time. 1...2...3...4...5...G Servo sits behind the counter with a magazine and a bagelwich of TOM: Huh, I didn't know mammals could bend like that. CROW: Hey, Tommy! What's the haps? TOM: Oh, hi, Crow. I was just reading the new issue of Maxim and CROW: Hmm, sounds good. TOM: Oh, it's *very* good. Suddenly the Hexfield irises open to reveal a bald white man with a TOM: Hi, Lex. LUTHOR I: Thomas, Crow, a pleasure as always [sips from a highball.] CROW: We're, uh, we're reading one of your fanfics. "Moonage LUTHOR I: But of course, Crow. In fact, I arranged for you to read it TOM: You gave Forrester this incomprehensible stinkwad? LUTHOR I shakes his head in utter condescension: No, Thomas, you CROW: But, Dr. Forrester- LUTHOR I: ...Is just another unwitting pawn in my cosmic game of chess. TOM: Um, that's really cool, Lex. LUTHOR: But, of course, now that you know all this... CROW: You just told us. LUTHOR: ...We have to think about how we're going to proceed from here. MIKE o/s: Arghh! Arghh! All right! I'll talk! I'll talk! Just... LUTHOR I: Please excuse me, I must check on that. The Hexfield irises closed. CROW: So, who's in this month's Maxim, there, Tom? TOM: Jenna Fischer. CROW: Aw, cool, can I see? TOM: By all means. Crow begins to flip through the magazine eagerly, when suddenly the LUTHOR II: Crush! Kill! Destroy! TOM: Oh, hi, Lex. LUTHOR II: Luthor mad! Rawr rawr! Luthor kill! CROW: That's good, sweetie. LUTHOR II: Luthor will have his revenge! Gar-garghgar! Gringr-snark! TOM: Hm, I smell bread. LUTHOR II: Rawrl-ra! Arrooo... The Hexfield irises shut once again. CROW: Huh. I didn't see that one coming. TOM: What? CROW: Jenna says in real life she'd chose Dwight. TOM: Wow. The Hexfield irises open to reveal a bald, white man who kind of looks TOM: Oh, hi, Brian. What's up? BENDIS: Well, I've just finished writing 37 of the fifty-eight comics CROW: Well, thank you for choosing us. BENDIS: Hey, it's my honor. Can I get your thoughts on this new TOM: Sure, go right ahead. BENDIS: Well, I thought issue one would start with Peter fighting some TOM: Sounds good. Fresh. BENDIS: Yeah. CROW: But... do you really think you could tell that big a story in BENDIS: You're right; I'd better throw in another issue of padding. The Hexfield irises closed. TOM: You know, he didn't swear that much for being Bendis. CROW: Maybe that was Bendis II. The Hexfield irises open again to reveal a somewhat more Moby-ish bald, TOM: Oh, hi, Lex. The commercial sign flashes. LUTHOR-E: Hi, guys, I just wanted to let you know that it's all gonna TOM: Oh, well, that's, um... great, Lex. [To Crow, under his breath]: LUTHOR-E: You know, you're really both such beautiful people and... CROW tapping the button with his beak: We'll be right back. TOM, clearly uncomfortable: Um... it's okay, Lex... just, um, let it Commercials. G...5...4...3...2...1 Joel and the Bots file into their appropriate seats and sit down. TOM: Hey, how did all those Luthors get our number anyway? > Chapter Two: JOEL: Do you think we should take a moment here to recap what's happened so far? Before we move on? TOM: Joel, we don't know what's happened so far. JOEL: Oh, right... > "Oh, I'm sorry, am I offending the perverts?" CROW: No more than usual. TOM: Excellent. [To Fic] Carry on, then. > "Ms. Lang," Dr. Bergle tried to calm the fuming Lana JOEL: Oh, she must have interned with Bill O'Reilly. >with an out-stretched arm (which she duly dodged), >"these TOM (as Bergle): Well, *he* is and I am, but that's the extent of it. >men and women aren't 'perverts' at all, >they're very JOEL (as Bergle): And a few rounds of jumping jacks, if it's not too >troubled individuals deserving of your respect and >patience much trouble. >who happen to be best served by my own unique CROW: Which means chocolaty Klondike bars, and lots of 'em! >brand of therapy." > Lana raised an eyebrow. "Your brand of therapy? You TOM: Kept "Baywatch" on the air for ten years, though. >get total strangers to sit in a circle and masturbate; >that just isn't normal." CROW: To say nothing of Dead Or Alive. > "Ms. Lang," Dr. Bergle again tried to defuse the JOEL: But he cut the wrong wire and the whole room went down in flames. >situation, >he knew being verbally abused by a young woman TOM: And where will *that* leave the editors of Maxim? >as beautiful as Lana would be emotionally crippling to >his patients, he even feared some of them might never >masturbate again. JOEL: Andy Sedaris is called in. > "Dr. Bergle," Lana said, regaining some of her CROW (as Lana): Thank God I have these back! I never should have sold >collection. my back issues of "Groo the Wanderer!" >She had always been a sweet, understanding JOEL: Like a Savoy truffle with the Dalai Lama in the center. >girl, >but the years of weekly bouts of being knocked TOM: Ah, that ancient mystery that all girls must cycle through as they >unconscious grow into women. JOEL: Um... not quite, Tommy. >by various meteor- born freaks had proven CROW (grimly): Now she was out for justice. >severely draining to her bullshit tolerance. TOM (as Lana in the kind of voice Frank Miller probably thinks in): Smallville's a hideous bitch goddess that gets you down on your knees begging for mercy or you're begging for more, more, more... then she takes you out back and kicks your skull in while her new boyfriend Tony laughs at you and calls you a puss. JOEL: Still bitter, Tom? TOM: Not really. >"I don't TOM, rapid fire: 37! >mean to disrupt your... session, but I need answers. CROW, ditto: The Teapot Dome Scandal! JOEL, ditto: Who is Ben Stein? >Yesterday, Lex Luthor was in his room with no signs of CROW: He just broke out all his old ColecoVision games and his >going anywhere any time soon. all-Pavement mix tape. TOM (shaking his head): We won't be seeing *him* for a while. >Today, he's vanished JOEL (as Bergle): Fife, Alabama. Nobody knows why. >without a trace. Tell me where he is." > Dr. Bergle gave Lana what he hoped was a sincere look CROW: Now, *there's* a telling typographical error. >of remorse, but he suspected such gesture was somewhat >hurt by the extend >to which he memorized her every petite TOM (tour guide): And here on the right you can see where the fic is to >curve for later session work. "I can honestly tell you >that I have no idea. make the Porno Leap, but hasn't quite got the guts. JOEL and CROW: Ooohhh... Ahhh... >No one broke into the hospital, TOM: Two killer robots, a drunken wino, and some big Native American guy broke *out* the other day, but that's another story. >no CROW: We replaced him with Professor X a few weeks ago. So far no >one signed Mr. Luthor out, and I can hardly imagine he >walked out of his own accord." one's noticed! TOM: Oh, it's going to be a good long while before anyone goes looking for *him* again. CROW: Still, the Juggernaut line was cute. TOM: Nah, it was just too easy. >Lana's eyes flared, CROW: Reducing Bergle to ash in seconds. TOM: Did we do that one already? CROW: I don't think it matters. >but she kept her cool and managed JOEL (as Bergle): My hand! My hand! >to curtly thank Dr. Bergle before ruefully slamming to >door on him >and his whole crew of wankers. ALL: Our hands! Our hands! CROW: Talk about a vital loss! >"How am I TOM: Well, I guess start with the masturbation and sort of work your >ever going to explain this to Clark," she thought. way back from there. CROW: Mm-Hm! > For the first time in months Lex Luthor was being to chocolate chip mountains, vanilla-blue sky... It's the Land of Dairy Queen, all right. >Four CROW: Someone must have snuck in and painted the walls! >walls, grey, this time, not white. TOM: Gasp! >The scent of CROW: Easily recognized by the accompanying scent of throat and lung >industrialization cancer. TOM (gasping seductively): And globules the color of tomato ketchup. But it flows... >(he knew it well, it was as integral to JOEL: There were indiscretions in your golden and middle years to hush >his role as a captain of industry as his million dollar >suits and youthful indiscretions) up as well. TOM: Not to mention politicians to buy, lobbyists to fund, environmental reports to shred... CROW: It's the hardest job you'll ever love. >was all around, and he TOM: Forcing him to recall the shameful incident that lead to his >was being monitored. lifetime barring from Lord & Taylor. CROW: And the awful truth that rating weren't what they had been in previous seasons. > In each of his hands he held six Lego men, each a TOM: Dear God, he's been kidnapped by Tron Bonne! >different of race, profession, and appearance, at least >so far as the limitations of their maker allowed. CROW: You know, she really is my ideal woman. TOM: Yeah, whatever, Crow. >His JOEL: Oh, he's been, um, sniffing the paint thinner again. >eyes wide with child-like wonder, TOM: Clearly *someone* has. >Lex named them each in JOEL: Alvin, Simon, Theodore... >turn: Matthew, Thomas, Peter, and the others. >Finding an TOM: Soon found himself slashed to death by an irate Man-Thing. >open drain in the floor, Lex >delighted himself by CROW (as Data): Guys! I was saved by my Pinchers of Peril! >dangling the little Lego men above the gaping void, >frightening some with the prospect of their own mortality JOEL: Others were more well adjusted and accepted their death as an inevitability. >and dropping only those he deemed fit. Others he CROW: Or took them to Taco Bell and made them order off the dollar >beheaded with a flick of his thumb, menu. JOEL and TOM wince sympathetically. >or ripped to their CROW: Kind of like Marvel in the early Nineties. >component parts, only to build new, hybridized Lego men >out of the bits of the fallen. TOM: Oh, you mean Image? > If Lex still had access to his memories, he would find TOM: What, better than the trip to the fudge factory? >that this was the happiest he had been in his life, CROW: Better than the day he found the keys to the jam cupboard? JOEL: Guys, it was even better than the day he got fifty percent off on Mentos! BOTS: Wow... >looking down on these men over whom had been given TOM: Um. Yeah. >dominion. They were Legos in the hands of an angry god. > Presently, one of his captors turned to speak to the JOEL (as second captor): Every since the *tractor accident.* >other. "How long has he been like this?" > All the way back to the barn, Lana had tried to think >Obviously he would be devastated, TOM: As would the city shortly thereafter. >it would be a safe bet TOM: Leading, as it often did, to bawdy French farce. > that he would try to find Lex as he always had before in >such cases, CROW: Oh, I love bawdy French farce! TOM: Of course you do! Everybody does! >frequent as they once had been. But Lana CROW: I *knew* this would all end in slash. >knew that it would be different this time. Clark was >above Lex right now TOM: At this point, I'd be happy just to have something *happen*. >in terms of mental and physical CROW: Yeah, old Clark's always having his ass handed to him. >health, but just barely. Even if he found Lex, Lana had >serious doubts he could go toe to toe with his captors, >whatever they may be. TOM: In *this* show he is. >By the time Lana was in visual JOEL: Her printer just died on her and the big essay contest is >distance of the farm, she knew she had other things to >worry about. tomorrow! TOM: Eh, Jimmy's got that sewn up, anyway. > Red light like Amsterdam in the New Year poured out of JOEL: Then she heard the music and realized they were filming a >every window in Clark's loft; Smirnoff commercial. >that weird, rushing steam JOEL: Oh, she's wandered into George A. Romero's Fright Nights. >that somehow only exists in old horror movies burped and >gargled out with it. TOM: Okay, *now* this is making sense! >Lana ran into the barn, not fully JOEL: Plate after plate of delicious, healthy meals for the whole >knowing what to expect, completely unprepared for what >she was about to see. family! Rachael Ray had done it again! BOTS: Yum-O! >Clark, naked as a Greek Olympian, TOM: Was fondling a pre-pubescent boy. JOEL: Um... standards? >stood a full foot above the ground, his face contorted in CROW: Guest writer: Rick Veitch. >pure hatred. His eyes, burning like twin nuclear pylons, TOM: And Alan Moore. CROW: And J. Michael Straczynski. TOM: And... hell, this image has been ripped off more than Gwen Stacy on the Bridge. >were the source of the red light, JOEL: Although the soundtrack by Interpol remained a subject of much bafflement. >and, though this light JOEL: And strangely had a soothing vapor action! Action! Action! >brought the request heat with it, it was a heat that >burned Lana like ice. >Involuntarily, Lana's eyes drifted TOM: Facing dog. >downward CROW: *I'll* say she was! >and she was shocked and even a bit frightened to CROW: Was make entirely out Nestle brand chocolate! >find that his penis ALL gasp. >(a schlong of REMARKABLE girth) was TOM: Don't make any sudden movements! It could go off at any second! >granite hard and pointed straight at her. > She wondered if Clark was aware she was in the room with CROW: Oh, I think *that's* a safe bet. >him. >She wondered if he could see her with his burning TOM: Oh, then could you ask him to help me find my keys? >eyes or if he could somehow see everything. >Clark CROW: Glad to see someone does. >brought such concerns to a close when he finally spoke. > "I know what's happening, Lana." >It was all too much for Lana to take in. ALL: Mm-hmm. Yeah. >"Clark?" ALL, singing: And I can do anything! > He nodded. "I am power itself, Lana." He said in a >voice that sounded like mountains a universe away. "I am >Superman." only thing I really know so far is what music the authors have in their iPod? JOEL: Don't worry about, Ralphie-honey. CROW: Okay, daddy. TOM: C'mon, let's get out of here. Pick me up, Joel. ALL exit. 1...2...3...4...5...G The Bridge of the Satellite has been completely covered with Superman TOM, bowing and chanting: OoooOOOOoooo... Chant with me, Crow. TOM & CROW: O, Man Of Metropolis, steal our hearts... O, Man of Joel walks in, drinking a FayGo Red Pop and eating sammich. JOEL: Hi, Tom, Hi, Crow. CROW: Hi, Joel. TOM: Hokay hey. Joel continues walking for a bit, takes a long sip of his soda, JOEL: Jumping Jebus on a pogo stick!!! What's going on here!?! BOTS, a little guilty: Nothing. JOEL: You two are worshipping Superman, aren't you? TOM, not at all convincing: No. JOEL: Yes, you are! [He gestures all around] Look at all this! You CROW: Well, it just makes sense doesn't it? I mean, people worship Pause. CROW, uncertain: Can he? JOEL: You can't compare Jesus to Superman! TOM: Oh, c'mon, Joel, Superman and Jesus are two peas in a pod! TOM: ... Only he had the remarkable good taste to it in a 38-issue, CROW: Now we dedicate our every waking moment to studying the sacred JOEL: So you have... what? The Siegel Code? The John Byrne Code? Tom and Crow share a conspiratorial glare. BOTS: The Kirby Code! JOEL, understandably confused: The Kirby Code? TOM, in the hushed tones of awe: Joel, as you may well remember, in the JOEL, unsure: Um... okay? TOM, as before: And, in each and every panel of those sacred volumes, JOEL: Okay... TOM: Yes, and I have given over my life to study, prayer, and Pause. JOEL: And why did you join this cult, Crow? CROW, chipper as ever: Oh, I just like the uniforms. JOEL: They are cute. TOM: Infidels. Movie sign commences, chaos ensues. JOEL: Weeeee've got Moooooooooovie Siiiiiiiiiigggnnn!!! G...5...4...3...2...1 It's an orgy of bloody and gore as Joel and the Bots jockey for JOEL: Tom, if it makes you feel better, most religions fail in the > Chapter Three: CROW: "Descent Into The Forbidden Liar of Lust!" JOEL: "The Mystery of the Lace Stocking." TOM: "The Death Dance of Marlius Atrophy." > "And I have not yet begun to fuck with people!" Clark catalyzed. CROW: Hey, who can blame him? > It had been three days since he rose into the sky from JOEL: But now the lights were gone and we would not see their kind >his loft, his eyes burning so brightly he had been >enveloped in the light. again. TOM: As usual, it was all flash and promises, only to end up leading back to square one. >In that time, his powers had ALL, bored: Now Clark crush. >only seemed to grow with his increasing rage; >great red JOEL: Oh, he's having a "Highlander" moment. >clouds had formed around the last son of Krypton, his >power radiated out in vast crashing winds: TOM: Either that or filming any music video from 1987. >to the CROW: It was clear another rumble with the Socs was in the offing. >outsiders, >it might have seemed that all of Smallville CROW: Or that Smallville had been absorbed by a giant jell-o mould. >had been devoured by round, spherical tornado. TOM: I hate jell-o. JOEL: Oh, come on, there's always room for jell-o. > Clark knew that the damage was he doing was doing was TOM: Where they immediately came into conflict with several dozen races >mainly property, all the citizens of the town had long >since gone underground, of tunnel-dwellers. >to shelters built after the JOEL: As well as wedgies, purple nerples, and even "the dreaded rear >meteor showers or twisters, admiral." >some even left over from the JOEL: Easily recognizable by the big, Drew Carey glasses over the front >Fifties; of the building and the super-rise chinos. >but all that did little to placate his rage. TOM: This is where the rabbit from the commercials would mix up some chocolaty Quik and send him on his way. CROW: What a plot twist that would be. >He CROW: He had his flyswatter and nipple clamps at the ready. >would find who had taken Lex Luthor and he would punish >them. >It was his fault Lex was in his current state, JOEL: Wisconsin. TOM: No wonder he blames himself. >anything JOEL: At least it was until he switched to Head and Shoulders. > else that happened to him from here was also on Clark's >head. CROW: Guaranteed to strip the paint of a boat or you money back! > Clark knew this wasn't going to end well. TOM: Smart money was it wouldn't even end. >He could CROW: And that the local Kroger still carried that pizza with the sauce >feel it. Privately he made a wish that Lana would get >out of this alive, in the crust. >and he kept storming. TOM, hammy: Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the... JOEL: That's plenty, Tom. TOM: But... but... okay. > Chloe Sullivan sat on the floor in her underwear amidst >Her room stank of stale female musk and marijuana and Lana CROW: Hey, Joel. >was starting to have serious concerns about her friend's >current daily hygiene regime. JOEL: Yeah, Crow? CROW: Who do you think the authors of this fic like better: Chloe or Lana? JOEL: You know, little buddy, I'm not sure. CROW: Hmm, me either. JOEL: If only there were some little clue. >"Did you find anything out TOM (as Chloe): Yeah, apparently he can recite the whole script for >about Lex?" "Monster Squad" from memory! How cool is that? CROW (as Lana): I meant anything *relevant.* TOM: Oh. Then, no. >Lana asked, already suspecting the answer. JOEL: "Reply hazy, ask again." CROW: No, it was "Julie Meadows," oddly enough. > Chloe shook her head, eyes not even leaving the game as CROW (as Chloe, stoned): Hey, we got about twenty minutes until the >the squeals of death blasted out of the screen, Kung Pao gets here, wanna make out a little? >"Well, no TOM: In a surprise plot twist, the calls turned out to be coming from >one's made any ransom demands and there's always >disgruntled LuthorCorp employees out for blood. They >probably had someone on the inside." inside the house. CROW: Wow, I never would have seen that coming. JOEL: Worthy of the remake of "the Outer Limits." > Lana nodded, noting that Chloe talked about the TOM: When will the government crack down on online role-playing? How >situation as if it were just another one of her games, many more young lives must be ruined before they step up to the plate? >so CROW (as Chloe): Virtual Valerie 3. And be quiet, I've almost beat the >Lana did the polite thing and asked her "what are you >playing?" high score. > "Lego Star Wars," TOM: So, do we rule it as a leitmotif or just more meaningless symbolism? JOEL: I say we let the folks at home decide. >Chloe told her as a Lego JOEL: Oh, Begbie must have finally caught up with him. >approximation of Ewan McGregor exploded into a pile of >Lego guts, >only to respawn unscathed a second later. TOM (as Chloe): Really? I thought it was supposed to be Ewan McGregor. > "You realize that's Clark in there," >Lana said, TOM: We got another Apocalypse rolling into the plain states. Expect >gesturing to the storm roiling outside. rivers of lava, temperatures upwards of 451 Fahrenheit, and the collapse of civilization as we know it. If you're planning on going out tonight... you might want to reconsider as the Rapture is upon us. We'll be providing updates on the situation as they come; now, here's Bill with the Sports. > Then, for the first time, Chloe paused her game and CROW (as Chloe, stoned): Do you mind if I really open up to you? >spun round and looked at Lana with the deepest, most >serious eyes Lana had ever seen in her quirky little >friend's head. >"I know that, Lana," she said, "I think TOM: If there's one thing I've learned in all my years orbiting this >I'm being to understand everything that happening," planet, it's that the more characters who claim to understand the plot, the less the author knows where the story is going. >she TOM: Nude photos of Anne Hathaway? But why? >said in a tone that Lana could help but believe, then she >threw Lana a pile of papers. > "What's all this?" Lana asked, sifting through the JOEL (as Chloe): Oh, these are just lyrics from Grandmaster Flash and >print-outs. The Furious Five. I thought they might prove important later. > "I've been doing a little research on you friend Hans TOM (as Lana): And? >Bergle," CROW (as Chloe): I feel dirty. >Chloe said, the old fire for snooping back in TOM: Or else she's been possessed by the old lady from "Murder, She >her eyes for the first time in years. Wrote." CROW: Honestly, who could tell the difference? > "And what did you find out?" TOM: It seems we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively and death is a dream. By the way, have you tried these mushrooms? They rock! >Lana found it hard to CROW: But, much like the conquering Gummy worm is invariably raises to >believe a slimy worm like Bergle could be at all integral >to all this, the top of the cup of Oreo crumbs and chocolate pudding, so too is the most inept-seeming pervert always host to unimaginable power. TOM: If we've learned nothing else from Japanese Animation... >but she had to admit Chloe was better at TOM: Which is to say, Lana was rock stupid. >seeing connections like these than herself. > Chloe gave her patented Chloe smirk. "Until about six TOM: So long as he's not Bendis. >months ago, 'Hans Bergle' went by the name 'John Byrne.'" CROW: Or Brett Ratner. > Lana's eyes went wide. TOM: God, if her eyes went any wider in this thing, they'll fall right out of their sockets! >"And before that?" JOEL: He played weddings and birthday parties under the name "Dr. Funke's 100% Natural Family Band Solution." TOM: But that's a story for another day. headquarters of Christian Science Ninja Team Gatchaman, Hig Hurtenskank and his monkey legions were hard at work planning their next assault against Tsung Tsi Tsung and his all girl army! > Dressed, once again, in a wicked-cut black-on-black JOEL: Or else he's finally learned the value of a good stealth mission >suit, Lex Luthor might have seemed to have returned to >his former glory, under cloak of night. TOM: Personally, I'm praying he's going for a late night jog. >but the blank expression would more CROW: The absence of Kim Cattrall, however, quieted that fear >likely indicate the presence of a Lex mannequin than the >genuine article. instantly. >Dr. Bergle hovered over Lex, ALL make flying saucer noises. >straightening his collar and wiping the smudges from his TOM: Instantly recalling Lex's years as an altar boy. >cheeks as Lex were his four-year-old son. JOEL: And here I thought I programmed you two with the boundaries of taste. CROW: Mm... no, I don't think so. > "Well, Lex," he said, cooing over him with real JOEL (as Bergle): I think the elbow glue and macaroni sprinkles made >affection, "you've made some real progress since I took >you in as my own personal project. all the difference in the world! >I think we'll be TOM: Dialogue sparkles with the searing orange freshness of Scope! >ready for your big coming out party very, very soon." > Dr. Bergle took a step back. There was something off TOM: Lex Mentalli: Man of Muscle Mystery! >about Lex. Mentally CROW: Now with Kung Fu Grip! >slapping himself on the forehead, he JOEL (as Bergle): Now, the poisoned gas is in this cufflink, 007... >went in to adjust Lex's left cufflink. > "Yes, Lex," he continued, "I truly think that you're CROW (as Bergle): In the sausage sense, I mean, of course. >very nearly cured." > Suddenly, Lex's arm wrapped itself around Bergle's neck, TOM (as Bergle, choking): Safety word... safety word... What was the >choking him. damned... safety word? >Bergle struggled, tried to break free, but CROW: And so Dr. Bergle was doomed by the fruits of his own training. >Lex's arm was too strong, far stronger than it should >have been. JOEL (shaking his head): He scampered with God's restraints. >All that time in the hospital, Bergle CROW: ...Snickersnagged by the older boys and laughed at in the locker >thought, Lex's muscles should have atrophied from disuse, >he should be weaker, barely able to move; room after Gym Class. >as it stands, TOM: A-HEM. >he's stronger than any man Bergle had known before. CROW: And twice as fragrant! >Finally, Bergle lost conscious from being deprived of TOM: Just like Gojira! >oxygen, >Lex slammed the therapist to the ground, hard, TOM: No more soccer! >then brought his foot down, crushing Bergle's face. >He CROW: Odd, I thought this fic had more of an "Eraserhead" feel to it. >smiled. "Oh, I was cured all right." TOM: Well, it's over, in anyway. TOM: Hey, it's the only way they stayed true to the source material. I say enjoy it. CROW: But what about the mutants from the first part and Clark and Lex's big, stupid, final conflict that will last until their next big, stupid, final conflict and... JOEL, picking Servo up and slowly leaving his seat: Just let it go, sweetie; the bad men are gone now. CROW: But... TOM: Come on. Joel and the 'Bots all file out of the theater. ALL exit. 1...2...3...4...5...G The Bridge. Joel and Tom are huddled sympathetically around Crow, who JOEL: It's okay, Crow, just push it away. We've dealt with worse CROW: But, it's just so unsatisfying, Joel. There was no conclusion, TOM: It meant a bunch of guys got together, decided to write a CROW: But what about Lana and the tornado, and Doctor Bergle's secret Crow is interrupted by a sharp pounding sound on the hull. TOM: Now what do you suppose that is? Enter Gypsy. GYPSY: I've been hearing that sound for a while, Joel. I think JOEL: What? Cambot, get me Rocket Number 9! Floating outside the Satellite we see an idealistic young superhero GRAVITY: Hi, guys. I'm Gravity, your local representative of the TOM: Uh, hi, Gravity. GRAVITY: I'm just going from satellite to satellite taking a brief JOEL: Um... GRAVITY: If the election were held tomorrow, would you vote for or CROW: For? JOEL: Um, against... I guess. TOM: I have no strong feelings one way or the other. GRAVITY making a note: Okay... On a scale of one to ten, how would you JOEL: Um... TOM: Who the hell is Joe Quesadilla? GRAVITY starts laughing uncontrollably: Hey, do you guys like "Napoleon CROW: No. GRAVITY, sheepish: Oh, okay. How likely are you to see a major motion TOM: What's the lowest option possible? GRAVITY: Um, "H." TOM: Put us down for two under that. GRAVITY: Um, okay. [Makes a note.] Well, thanks for your time, Gravity flies off, a little wiser and a little less naive from his CROW: Joel, can you promise me that this will be it for super heroes TOM: Yeah, I'm yearning for the craft and subtlety of a good Godzilla JOEL: Well, our karma's pretty good, but let's not forget our fate is Deep 13 Frank wanders from the left side of the screen to the right, pumping Dr. F: I must admit, I would have thought your brains would be so much Frank gropes blindly from the right side of the screen to the left, Dr. F: But rest assured, peons, the next experiment will make Ray Once more, Frank stumbles across the screen, disturbing virtually Dr. F, awkwardly: ...I mean in artistic merit, not, you know, mass... Suddenly, Frank, wearing a Daredevil mask, drop down from the ceiling FRANK: "And a blind man shall lead them..." Dr. F slowly and painfully reaches his hand up and presses the button. * Pwooooo... You must Sign in before you can post messages.
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