[MiSTied] Star Trek meets The Three Little Pigs
Melvin Pollack
Greetings and welcome to my fourth misting. Despite my original plans
to only
battle conspiracy posts and religious cult brochures, I decided to press
onward
with two Star Trek parody posts. Once again, comments go to:
mpol...@glue.umd.edu
Melvin "no .sig" Pollack
Proudly resisting .sig files since 1993.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Script for a sixth season MST3K. Opening Song.]
[1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...]
Tom: Prepare to die, rebel scum!
Crow: Not so fast. I'm placing an Ewok catapult right next to your
Walker.
Tom: Why you....
Mike: Hello there. Mike Nelson here. Today's opening segment is....
going to
have to wait. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are calling.
[D13]
Dr. F: Greetings, my favorite windmill. I suppose that you have your
invention
ready?
[SOL]
Mike: That's right. We've been contracted to do a Crossover videogame
between
all the Star Wars games, and Civilization.
[The Bots start arguing. Mike is oblivious to this.]
Mike: We call it Command and Endor. Basically, you get to set up Rebel
and
Imperial forces in any way that you want....
[Argument become physical.]
Mike: .... In a game that is sure to bring friends closer together,
thanks to
it's realistic fight engine.
[Bots take out light sabers and start fighting with them.]
Mike: So, what do you think Sirs?
[D13]
Dr. F: I think that segment would be better in Season 8. Anyway, my
invention
is a takeoff on the subspace emitters in Star Trek. Frank?
Frank: Yes, sir. As you know, Star Trek allows you to connect to any
person in
the universe within seconds, even if theyre in an entirely different
quadrant. Once the connection takes place, they can talk to each other
with less of a conversation lag than if you called California from the
East Coast by phone.
Dr. F: Despite this, they never developed the subspace fax machine.
Until now.
I simply press this button, and presto. Some of the fanfics I've found
are now being read by people in the Delta Quadrant.
[SOL]
All: Boo. That's terrible.
[D13]
Dr. F: Thank you. Today's fanfic is a Voyager/MST3K crossover called
"Shadows
in the MiST." It is a ....
Frank: Uh, sir. We don't have that fanfic anymore. We sent it to the
Delta
Quadrant just now.
Dr. F: What about Ratliff?
Frank: We sent those too.
Dr. F: Well, then. We'll just have to break out the emergency fanfics.
Today's
experiment is two short fanfics. One is an obvious ripoff of Amok
Time.
The other is a Star Trek/Three Little Pigs crossover. So long,
suckers.
[SOL]
Mike: WE'VE GOT FANFIC SIIIIIIIIGGGGGNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All: [Scream and run around.]
[6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]
>From: Bernhard Rosenkraenzer <BE...@flash.gun.de>
Tom: Oh, he likes lazer tag.
>Date: Wed Feb 15, 8:26pm +0100
>To: j...@tivoli.com
Mike: Be good to your car, so your car wil be good to you.
Bots: Jfy Lube.
>Subject: Voyager: A Mock Time
>From BE...@flash.gun.de Wed Feb 22 23:16 CST 1995
>X-VM-v5-Data: ([nil nil nil nil nil nil nil nil nil]
Crow: I wish this story would become nil.
> ["4759" "Wed" "15" "February" "1995" "20:26:00" "+0100" "Bernhard
>Rosenkraenzer"
Tom: and Guildenstern.
> "BE...@flash.gun.de" nil "111" "Voyager: A Mock Time" "^From:"
>nil nil "2" nil "Voyager: A Mock Time" nil nil]nil)
>Return-Path: <BE...@flash.gun.de>
Mike: Hi. I'd like to return this story.
>Received: from tivoli.com by kenya.tivoli.com (5.0/SMI-SVR4)
Tom: Yes, folks. It's an Italian from Kenya.
Crow: Do we really have to do the header?
> id AA28505; Wed, 22 Feb 1995 23:15:17 +0600
>Received: from gtndupc1.du.gtn.com (gtndupc1.du.gtn.com [194.77.8.5]) by
>tivoli.com (8.6.9/8.6.9-ESMTP) with ESMTP id XAA26453 for <j...@tivoli.com>;
>Wed, 22 Feb 1995 23:15:13 -0600
Mike: I guess we ought to go to sleep. Reserve our strength.
Bots: [Lean on Mike's shoulder.]
>Received: from ius2.gun.de (ro...@pppius2.du.gtn.com [192.168.3.2]) by
>gtndupc1.du.gtn.com (8.6.9/8.6.9) with SMTP id HAA08577 for <tivoli.com!jfy>;
>Thu, 23 Feb 1995 07:07:58 GMT
Crow: Mike, can I have a drink of water?
Tom: Read me a bedtime story.
>Received: from ius.gun.de by ius2.gun.de with bsmtp
>(Linux Smail3.1.28.1 #1)id m0rhUwQ-0005GrC; Thu, 23 Feb 95 05:14 GMT+0100
Tom: By the way, I would have whipped your butt in that game.
>Message-Id: <5ft8I...@p0000021.flash.gun.de>
Crow: Why you....
>Path: ius.gun.de!flash.gun.de!BERO
Mike: Guys, settle down.
>Organization: United Federation of Star Trek Writers (UFSW)
Bots: [Stop fighting.] Huh?
Mike: Oh, no. They're getting organized.
>X-Mailer: CrossPoint v3.02 via [DOS/NCBMail-NC V2.1O REL.:281194]
>X-Gateway: ZCONNECT UX ius.gun.de [UNIX/Connect v0.71]
>Mime-Version: 1.0
Crow: And they're using MIMES!
Tom: Damn recruiting measures.
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Tom: In reality, worth only 2bits.
>X-Z-Post: Bernhard Rosenkraenzer; Auf der Hard 3; 54456 Tawern; Germany
Mike: Remember the rules for out of town writers, guys.
Bots: Yeah, yeah. No grammar riffs.
>X-Z-Telefon: V+49-6501-14202
Tom: It's the XZ Telephon, with operators standing by.
>X-Z-Via: 19950223...@flash.gun.de
>Lines: 110
Mike: I think he's talking about this header.
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
>Content-Length: 4759
Crow: Good content length: 0.
>From: BE...@flash.gun.de (Bernhard Rosenkraenzer)
>To: j...@tivoli.com
>Subject: Voyager: A Mock Time
>Date: Wed, 15 Feb 1995 20:26:00 +0100
>Status: OR
Tom: Or what?
Crow: Isn't this header over yet?
Mike: I think so....
>* SCRIPT FOR A SIXTH SEASON STORY OF VOYAGER *
Mike: We've survived the header.
All: Yaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dr. F: But will you survive the story?
All: AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
>
>STAR TREK: Voyager
>A Mock Time (Sorry for my misspelling. Wanted to say "Amok Time". ;))
Crow: Damn copyright laws.
>
>JANEWAY: Captain's log, star date VoyStart+x
Tom: This is what happens when you let engineers write fiction stories.
> (when does Voyager start?).
Crow: [Janeway, valley girl] I seem to have forgotten. Tee, hee.
Mike: I may be wrong, but didn't Voyager already start?
> Tuvok has shown strange behavior in the recent few days.
>(Fade to Tuvok's quarters)
>TUVOK: _GET OUT OF HERE, YOU DAMMIT FOOLISH TARG!!!!!!!_
Crow: [Urkel] I don't have to take this. I'm leaving.
Tom: When did Tuvok become Klingon?
>(Throws bowl of plomik soup after an unnamed officer who runs out of the
>room. Janeway enters.)
>JANEWAY: What's up with you, Mr. Tuvok?
Mike: Yeah, what's going down, brother.
Tom: What was that about grammar riffs?
Mike: Sorry. It slipped.
>TUVOK: That's none of your businesses you foolish...
Tom: Targ?
All: Say it. SAY IT!
>JANEWAY: Mr. Tuvok, your actions are pretty illogical.
Crow: Oh, wait. That's your line. Can we move the cue cards closer?
> Did you realize
> that insulting a superior is court-martial?
Crow: And you should know from our bedroom experiences that....
Mike: Crow!
Crow: What?
>TUVOK: Court-martail by whom? We're out of known space,
Tom: Better pick some up at the store.
> and far away from
> all courts, and the security officer is on _my_ side!
Crow: [Janeway] Oh, well as Captain I'm in charge of the ship, and I'm
allowed
to discipline you according to Starfleet regulations.
Mike: That's why she can't do anything about him.
Tom: Red tape gets you every time.
> Get out of here!
> (Tells his replicator to get another bowl of plomik soup,
Crow: What's the deal with this soup, anyway?
Tom: I'm still trying to figure out what the unnamed ensign was doing
in his
quarters.
> suddenly
> realizes he's been acting strangely.)
> Sorry, Captain. I need to go back to Vulcan.
Mike: I need to fix my car, and it's under warranty there.
>JANEWAY: But, you haven't requested shore leave in the recent six years...
>TUVOK: Well, it's about biology...
>JANEWAY: What do you mean by that?
Mike: Well, I think it's related to the fact that he hasn't been off
the ship
in six years.
>(Tuvok explains the ponn farr to his Captain)
Tom: Thank you for sparing the details.
>JANEWAY: Oh, I'll ask Starfleet Command.
>(Fade to bridge)
Crow: [Janeway] Can you explain this Ponn Farr business to me?
>JANEWAY: ... We request permission to cancel our current mission in order
> to take Mr. Tuvok to Vulcan for his ponn farr ...
Tom: For God's sakes! It isn't bad enough that you copied the original
episode? Couldn't you at least TRY to make it somewhat relevant.
> When will it arrive, Mr. Paris?
>PARIS: If there are no blocking subspace anomalies, the message should
> arrive at Starfleet Command in about 6 years.
Crow: [Janeway] But we're only three blocks away.
Tom: [Paris] We're sending it by first class mail.
>(Janeway leaves, Tuvok enters)
>TUVOK: Set a course for Vulcan, max. warp!
Crow: [Paris] I already did that. When Janeway said we were going to
Vulcan, I naturally assumed....
Tom: [Scotty] I canna take any more of this....
Mike: Hang on, little buddy.
>(Fade to Janeway's quarters, show Janeway looking out of window.)
Mike: And if you look to your right, you can see the Statue of Liberty.
>JANEWAY: (Taps communicator) Janeway to bridge. Why have we changed
> course?
Crow: [Paris] Because you said.... Oh, never mind.
Mike: It's nice to know that she can tell they changed course from
Earth to
Vulcan just by looking out the window.
Tom: I'm starting to lose it, Mike.
>VOICE: Tuvok ordered it. He said it was necessary for the ship's security.
MAGIC VOICE: How did I get in this stupid fanfic?
Mike: Come on, Tom. Just a little more.
Tom: I'm starting to lose it.....
>JANEWAY: Have the security officer escort him to sick bay.
>VOICE: But, Tuvok _is_ our security officer!
Crow: Apparently our ONLY security officer.
Mike: Come on, it can't get much worse.
>JANEWAY: Ah, yes. I always forget about that. In my opinion, Vulcans
> belong to science department.
Mike: I stand corrected.
Tom: [Strained voice.] Captain Janeway, closet racist. [Starts
crying.]
Crow: [Janeway, southern] And I also think blacks belong in the back
of the
ship. Don't get me wrong, some of my best friends are black
vulcans....
> I'll take him to sick bay myself.
>(Janeway takes Tuvok to sick bay, holographic doctor appears)
Tom: [Leans on Mike's shoulder.] It's too much. TOO MUCH!
>JANEWAY: Have a look at Mr. Tuvok, Doctor. He's in his ponn farr.
>COMMUNICATOR: Bridge to Captain. Unknown ship is approaching and sending
> a message to our computer.
Crow: Communicator?
Mike: She's better known as Seven of Nine.
>JANEWAY: To our computer? Can you decode it?
Mike: How about trying to stop it, instead?
Crow: [Seven of Nine] We must let the ship do strange things to us.
>COMMUNICATOR: Negative.
>JANEWAY: I'm on my way.(leaves)
Crow: [Seven of Nine] You must try to decode it. Resistance is
futile.
>TUVOK: This doctor is a holography... Maybe he can be converted to
> something that makes more sense.
Tom: You wanna talk about sense? YOU WANNA.... OH GOD, LET ME OUT!
Mike: Sorry, Tom. You have to stay here.
Tom: There must be another way. THERE MUST... BE... ANOTHER... WAY!
>(Tuvok starts manipulating the sick bay's computer, fade to bridge.)
Crow: Whoops, looks like he pressed the wrong button there.
>PARIS: The message they transmitted seems to be... a computer virus!
>JANEWAY: Hail them.
>PARIS: They are not responding!
Mike: We are getting an AOL-4-FREE message, though.
>CHAKOTAY: They're firing at us!
>JANEWAY: Return fire!
>(Voyager fires a phaser at unknown ship, unknown ship is destroyed.)
Crow: When did Marissa get on board?
Mike: What was the purpose of that scene?
Tom: [hides under his chair]
>JANEWAY: I'll be in sick bay.
>(Janeway leaves bridge, enters sick bay, where the Doctor has pointed ears
>by now.)
Tom: [Peaks out.] AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Hides
again.]
>JANEWAY (Confused by the doctor's ears and eyebrows): What happened?
Mike: We're getting you back for that crack about Vulcan science
officers.
>DOCTOR: Ah, a challenger. According to the ponn farr ritual, you have to
> fight to death.
Crow: So, if she wins, she gets to sleep with whoever Tuvok was going
to sleep
with?
Mike: Uh, yeah. Those are the rules for a challenging party.
Crow: Maybe this fanfic will be okay after all.
>(Tuvok grabs a medical injector, and tries to attack Janeway with it.
Tom: [Tuvok] I'm giving you a booster shot whether you want one or
not.
Mike: Good to have you back, Tom.
>Janeway reaches for her communicator to shout for help, but Tuvok
>destroys the communicator first.
Crow: Oh, and that caused her to have larangytis.
>Janeway destroys a chair to have something to hit Tuvok with.
Tom: Couldn't she just hit him with the CHAIR?
Crow: Isn't a challenger supposed to have the same weapons as the other
one.
Tom: And how can Janeway be the Challenger if Tuvok demanded the fight?
Crow: And shouldn't there be a bunch of security officers rushing in
right now?
Mike: Don't think. It's not worth it.
>After a long fight, Janeway lies at the floor.
Crow: It was only a two sentence attack with no excitement whatsoever.
Tom: It was still too long.
> Medical devices show her to
>be death. Tuvok calms down.)
Mike: So, she's death. Suddenly, everything makes sense.
Crow: That's it. Another grammar riff and you'll be getting a timeout.
Tom: Switching lines. It worked for Voyager, and it can work for you
too.
>TUVOK: What have I done???
>(Calls for a security team, requesting his arrest. They arrive and take
>Tuvok to an arrest cell.
Crow: Where he can get arrest.
> A second team arrives to take Janeway away.
Tom: You're under arrest for acting stupid.
Mike: I'm innocent I tell you! It was the fanfic!
>Janeway stands up.)
>JANEWAY: What happened?
All: You stood up.
Tom: I guess nobody remains aware of what they've done.
>UNNAMED SECURITY ENSIGN: We thought you're dead...?
>OTHER SECURITY ENSIGN: The medical displays indicate you _are_ dead!
>THIRD SECURITY ENSIGN: Maybe it's because of the computer virus.
Crow: The Three Stooges in a role that you won't believe.
Tom: I'd just like to point out how stupid this all is....
Mike: Hey, at least it's the only semi-original segment in this story.
>(An engineering team repairs the computers, the normal Doctor re-appears.)
>JANEWAY: I think we shouldn't be too hard with Tuvok. Release him.
Crow: I'm saying nothing. NOTHING!
Tom: Yeah, but I mean the plot holes, and the fact that Janeway is so
forgiving
about the fact that he tried to kill her.
Mike: You expect it to make sense NOW?
Crow: It could be worse. It could have been an actual show.
>(Tuvok enters.)
>TUVOK: Captain? I thought you were dead...
Tom: [Tuvok] Oh, wait. We already did that line. Can you move that
cue card
up some? Thanks.
>JANEWAY: Dead? Well, I was not.
Mike: So there!
>DOCTOR: Maybe our Tuvok had a dream due to the new medication I gave him...
All: Wah, wah, wah, waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!
Crow: Yeah, the new medication. Never mind we established you can't
give ponn
farr patients medication and that Vulcans remain fully aware of their
actions, because none of the other things make sense anyway....
>(Fade out, show Voyager from outside going to warp)
Tom: The only good scene in this fanfic.
>END
All: [Cheering]
Mike: Almost over. We've just got to get through the credits.
>StarFleet Admiral Bero,
Crow: Wanted to say Nero, but those copyright laws....
Tom: Mike, this is pathetic.
Mike: I know.
Crow: Even Ratliff doesn't go around claiming he's a Starfleet admiral.
Mike: I know.
>current Captain
Tom: I thought we established that he was an Admiral.
Crow: He was broken in rank for plagirism.
> of the starship U.S.S. Tawern, NCC-54456
Crow: Oh, so he's in charge of a starship's tavern.
Tom: Where they only serve vodka.
Mike: That would explain a lot, actually.
_
.-----________________--_ ________.--'-`--._____
\____==================_) \_'===================`
_,--___.-|__|-.______|=====/ `---'
`---------._ USS - Tawern|
`-._ - - - ,'
\_____,-'
Tom: Which looks suspiciously like the Enterprise.
Mike: God. Even his .sig files are unoriginal.
>e-mail: Be...@ufpnet.com
>
>## CrossPoint v3.02 ##
Crow: Isn't crosspoint a sewing stich.
>Bernhard Rosenkraenzer (Bero)
>
>Be...@Flash.gun.de
All: [singing] Flash!
>## CrossPoint v3.02 ##
Mike: Okay guys. It's over.
[1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...]
[Tom is typing on a computer pad and humming to himself. Mike and Crow
walk in,
causing Tom to stop typing and step in front of the screen.]
Crow: I can't understand it. Why would anyone waste their time going
to Star
Trek conventions and writing fiction shows?
Mike: I don't know.
Crow: I mean, why don't they spend their time going to MST3K
conventions and
writing MiSTings like normal people?
Mike: I don't know. Hey, Tom. What are you doing?
Tom: Oh, nothing. Nothing. That was a horrible article, wasn't it.
Crow: You said it. What was with the admiral guy, anyway?
Mike: Well, he was probably with some gaming group. You know, some
group where
they write story pieces to a newsgroup.
Crow: You mean so they can write more fanfiction and live out their
fantasies
as a Starfleet Officer. That is beyond pathetic.
Tom: Well, I don't know about that. I mean, sure it's silly, but....
Mike: Hey, are you writing something?
Tom: Me. No, no, I'm not.... Hey! Let go!
[Mike and Crow shove Tom out of the way. Mike looks at screen.]
Crow: What is it?
Mike: It looks like a story about a Romulan getting drunk with an
Orion.
Tom: Well, you know, the preffered terms are Rihanna and Shevreshal.
Crow: [Reads from screen] Submitted by Melvin Pollack. Lt Cmdr Avikar
th'Tellan. OPS USS Chesapeake.
Tom: All right! I admit it! I was weak....
Mike: You belong to a Star Trek gaming group?
Crow: Tom, how could you?
Tom: I don't know. I came across the newsgroup about two years ago. At
first,
I tried to ignore it. Then I figured I'd try it for a mission or two.
And the next thing I knew.... [Starts Crying] Oh, I tried so hard to
keep a wild voice. I wrote posts that satirized the posts of others.
I
entered a bootleg MiSTing group in the ship. But in the end....
Mike: It's all right. We understand.
Crow: Yeah, and we still like you. Even if you are a hopeless nerd.
Tom: [Stops Crying] Why you....
Mike: Save it. We've got posting sign....
[6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]
>Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!hobbes.physics.uiowa.edu!
Mike: I still can't believe that you're involved in a Role Playing
group.
Tom: I feel so ashamed.
>math.ohio-state.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!not-for-mail
Crow: ...will I stop my battles.
>From: zsha...@cae.ca (Sharad Gupta)
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: STORY: ST:TNG meet The Three Little Pigs
Tom: He's kidding, right?
Crow: Please tell us he's kidding.
>Date: 29 Nov 1993 13:15:33 -0600
>Organization: UTexas Mail-to-News Gateway
>Lines: 218
>Sender: dae...@cs.utexas.edu
Mike: Oh, he's a demon. That explains a lot.
>Message-ID: <9311291922.AA12348
All: Who do we appreciate? Packers! Packers! Go Packers!
> @cae.ca>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: news.cs.utexas.edu
Crow: Yeah, I got news for you, pal!
>~Subject: In really bad taste,
Mike: This isn't a good sign.
> I present the crossover of crossovers:
Crow: Definitely not a good sign.
> ST:TNG meets The Three Little Pigs
Tom: I think I should get on the floor and start crying right now.
>Copyright 1993 by Sharad Gupta
>{Append standard disclaimers}
Tom: Standard disclaimers?
Crow: You know. Please don't let Paramount sue us.
Mike: Please don't expect this to be good.
Crow: Please don't claim this story as your own for some unknown
reason.
Mike: Please don't use this story as an excuse for suicide.
Tom: All right, I get the picture.
>I have a two year old daughter who will not eat unless someone, usually
>me, reads the "Pigs" story to her.
Tom: Animal Farm?
Crow: Cop Stories?
Mike: Feminist Tracts?
> I had started to feel it's effects
>only recently,
Mike: So I must not be human.
> so to avoid brain meltdown,
Crow: [Dr Solomon] I don't care if my brain is melting. I want to
marry you,
Dr. Albright.
Tom: [Same] Oh, I was really dreaming? Never mind.
> I modified the story a
>wee little bit. [No, Barney is not real, Barney is not real, barney
>is not..., barne...]
Mike: [monotone] Barney is real. Barney is God.
Tom: [monotone] We love Barney.
Crow: [monotone] Barney loves us.
All: [singing, monotone] We're a happy family....
>[BTW "three little starfleet officers" is serious tongue twister to
>the unwary.]
All: [Try doing the tounge twister]
Tom: Hey, I guess it is.
>This is the story of three little starfleet officers,
Crow: Who objected to being called little.
>and one big bad Borg. [Surprise surprise.]
Crow: Their dates gave corroborating testimony....
Mike: Crow!
Crow: Well, you let the other one slide.
>The three little starfleet officers lived in a starship
>at the bottom of a gravity well.
Tom: Where they wer crushed by the amazing force.
>They lived with their bartender, Guinan.
Crow: Now that's living. Three little kids with no parents and their
own
bartender.
Mike: Somehow, this isn't what I think of when someone mentions family
values.
>The big, bad Borg lived in a starship
>at the top of the gravity well.
>He lived all alone.
Tom: But it didn't really bother him because he was comprised of
millions of
beings spread out over hundreds of planets in an area 70 million light
years away.
Mike: It must be a large well.
>One day Guinan said,
>"Boys, it's time for you to go your own way.
Crow: Who gets the bill?
>And live in your own starships."
Crow: [Guinan] You're almost nine. You're old enough.
Tom: When did they decide you only needed one officer in a spaceship?
Mike: Well, it started when Marissa Picard first appeared....
>"Yes, it is time," said the first little starfleet officer, Wesley.
>"To go our own way," said the second little starfleet officer, Geordie.
>"And to live in our own starships," said the third little starfleet officer,
> Data.
Crow: And to finish each others sentences.
Tom: And to act like we've already been assimilated by the collective.
>So the three little starfleet officers packed their bags.
>They left the starship at the bottom of the gravity well.
>"Good-by now," Guinan said.
Mike: Good riddance.
>"And don't forget-watch out for the big, bad Borg.
>He assimilates little starfleet officers."
Crow: I thought they left the ship.
Mike: Well, she's talking to them while they're standing outside.
Tom: In the vacuum? Cool!
>"We won't forget," said the three little starfleet officers.
>"B is for big," said Wesley.
Mike: The author forgot to mention he'd seen one Sesame Street too
many.
>"B is for bad," said Geordie.
>"Borg is for wolf," said Data.
Mike: O is for obvious, said Mike.
Tom: S is for stupid, said Tom.
Crow: C is for cookie, said the cameo guest star.
>They waved good-bye and went their merry way.
>
>Soon they came to a place where three wormholes met.
Mike: Oh, so now it's a Babylon 5 crossover.
>"I'll go this way and build a starship," said Wesley.
>"I'll go that way and build a starship," said Geordie.
>"And I'll stay right here and build my starbase," said Data.
>So each little starfleet officer went his own way.
>
Crow: So, that's how the Star Trek franchise got started.
>Wesley built his starship of straw.
Tom: Oh, that's really gonna protect him from asteroids.
> [Ok, I know. YOU give me a better idea.]
Crow: Uh, metal.
Tom: Wood.
Crow: Poison.
Tom: Nitroglycerin.
Mike: I don't think we can read this to preschoolers anymore.
>One, two, three, snip, snap! His starship was done.
>It was not a very good starship.
Tom: But that was okay, because he was testing the effects of a straw
starship
and therefore wasn't interested in safety coinsiderations.
>It was not a very strong starship.
Crow: People kept kicking sand in it's face.
>
>"But who cares?" said Wesley.
>"I don't want to work all day.
>I want to dance and play."
Mike: [Wesley] And figure out how I went from being supernerd to
superslacker.
> [All together: SHUT UP WESLEY!!!]
All: SHUT UP WESLEY!!!
>He did.
>
Crow: On the other hand, there are times that I actually LIKE this
fanfic.
>But someone was watching from the top of the gravity well.
>Someone who liked to assimilate little starfleet officers.
>
Tom: And plant microchips in their buttocks.
Mike: I knew Dr F shouldn't have made us watch that Oliver Stone
marathon.
>Geordie built his starship of sticks.
Tom: Oh, so I guess Wesley couldn't make his out of wood, then.
>One, two, three, zip, zap!
>His starship was done.
Crow: [imitates oven timer]
Mike: Now, we allow it to cool before we serve it.
>It was not a very good starship.
>Or very strong. [Typical starfleet engineering]
Tom: Yep. Even in the 23rd century, NASA still cuts corners.
>"But who cares?" said that little starfleet officer.
>"I don't want to work all day.
>I want to sing and play."
All: SHUT UP GEORDI!!!
>This is what he did. [Picture Geordie dancing around playing a fiddle.]
>
Tom: I guess it doesn't work on everyone.
Crow: Bummer.
>But someone was watching from the top of the gravity well.
All: SHUT UP GUPTA!!!
>Someone who liked to assimilate little starfleet officers.
Crow: Major bummer.
>
>Data built his starbase of tritanium pre-fab bricks.
Tom: I'll say this for the author. At least he understands that you're
required to make up at least one new substance per episode.
>Now this little starfleet officer worked hard.
>He made a floor of dilithium. [He had to be different.]
Crow: Oh, you just had to be different.
Mike: [Data] I gotta be me.
Tom: Yes, folks. It's the only starbase in the world that doesn't need
a gas tank.
>He made an airlock. [Whatever for?]
>
Crow: It's lot like anyone would ever visit him.
>He built his starbase brick by brick.
>And he made a docking pilon at the hub. [Instead of on the rim like a dork.]
>
Tom: So, now it would be a lot more likely for someone to crash into
it.
Crow: Hey, safety is for dorks. Living on the edge, that's so cool.
Mike: Besides, we established that he isn't going to have any visitors.
>"Now I have time to rest and play,"
>said the third little starfleet officer.
All: SHUT UP DATA!!!
>And so he did.
All: Woo, hoo! We've got the power!
>
>But someone was watching from the top of the gravity well.
Crow: No, wait, let me guess. Someone who wants to sell insurance.
Tom: Someone who wants to send him junk mail?
Mike: Someone who wants to borrow his lawn mower.
>Someone who liked to assimilate little starfleet officers.
All: D'oh. That was such a shock.
>
>Next day, someone came down the gravity well.
>THE BIG, BAD, BORG!
Tom: With all of the planets and all of their men....
Crow: .... Couldn't fix this plot hole again.
Mike: It was a REALLY big gravity well.
>He matched courses with the starship of straw.
>He opened hailing frequencies.
Tom: We are the Borg. You will be assimilated.
Mike: Your technology will be absorbed into the collective. Life as
you know
it will cease to exist.
Crow: Resistance is voltage divided by current.
Mike: Crow!
Crow: What?
>"Little starfleet officer, little starfleet officer, drop your
>shields," he called.
Crow: [Wesley] Not on a first date.
Mike: Crow, you're looking at one major time out.
>
>The first little starfleet officer looked at the viewscreen.
Tom: [Wesley] When did I build a viewscreen?
>He saw the big, bad Borg.
>"No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,
Mike: [Wesley] But thanks for stopping by.
>I won't let YOU in," said the first little starfleet officer.
Crow: [Wesley] Now, Seven of Nine on the other hand....
Mike: Crow!
Tom: Actually, Wesley IS a teanager.
Mike: Good point.
>"Then I'll power-up, and fire phasers, and I'll blow
>your starship in," said the Borg.
>
>He powered-up, and he fired phasers.
Tom: You know, it was really nice of the Borg to announce what they
were
going to do.
>And he blew that starship of straw right down.
>That little starfleet officer beamed out just in time.
Crow: Right into the empty void.
>[Sorry, maybe next time.]
Crow: Oh, well. That's life.
>
>He beamed to Geordie's starship of sticks.
>"Help! Help!" he cried. "The big, bad Borg is coming."
All: Oh, no, Mr. Bill!
>The second little starfleet officer quickly beamed him aboard,
>and put up his shields.
>
>Now the big, bad Borg cloaked his ship in a hologram of
Tom: A giant peach?
Crow: [Borg] Resistance is fruitile.
> NCC-1701.
Tom: Which was destroyed 70 years ago. What a brilliant plan.
>He matched courses with the starship of sticks.
>He opened hailing frequencies.
Crow: And the hail completely destroyed the ship. The end.
>"Little starfleet officers, little starfleet officers, let me beam over,"
>he said in Uhura's voice.
>
Mike: [Wesley] Oh, yes!
Crow: Hey, stop stealing my act.
>"Who are you?" asked the second little starfleet officer.
>"I am Captain James T.
Crow: I thought it was Uhura's voice.
> Ki...," said the Borg sweetly. [Puke, gasp, choke]
Crow: [Kirk] Sorry. I swallowed my hairpiece.
Mike: It's sad how nobody seems to respect Shatner anymore.
Tom: After Star Trek V, he doesn't deserve any respect.
>The two little starfleet officers checked their sensors.
>They could see the Borg ship where the corners stuck out of the
>hologram.
>So geordie said,
Crow: [Geordi] You guys are MORONS!!!
>"No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.
>I won't let you in."
>
Mike: What's worse? The fact that this story is so stupid, or the fact
that
we're reading it, anyway.
Tom: The fact that it's more realistic than a Marissa Picard fanfic.
Mike: I think that joke's getting old.
>"Then I'll power-up, and I'll fire phasers, and I'll blow
>your starship up," said the Borg.
>
>He powered-up, and he fired phasers.
>And he powered-up some more, and fired phasers.
Crow: Mike? Do you ever get deja vu?
Mike: I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response.
>And he blew that starship right up.
>
>The two little starfleet officers beamed out just in time.
>They beamed over to their brother's starbase of tritanium pre-fab bricks.
>
Tom: Seeing as how they were right next to each other the entire time,
couldn't
they have coordinated a defense?
Crow: In this story, the characters are only nine. They won't learn
Basic
Fighting Tactics until they're 12.
>"Help! Help! The big, bad Borg is coming."
>The third little starfleet officer quickly let them in,
>and sealed the airlock.
Mike: [Data] So THAT'S what the airlock was for.
> [So who cares about reality anyways.]
>
Tom: Apparently nobody who watches Star Trek, let alone fanfic writers.
Crow: [Borg] Common sense is irrelevant.
>The Borg came. He opened hailing frequencies.
>"Little starfleet officers, little starfleet officers, let me beam over,"
>the Borg called.
>"No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,
Crow: [Borg] In that case, I will do my Kirk impression again.
Tom: [Kirk] There must be another way into that ship! There...
must...
be... [Puke, gasp, choke]
>I won't let you in," said the third little starfleet officer.
Mike: I wonder what he's going to do now.
All: Maybe, just maybe....
>"Then I'll power-up, and I'll fire phasers, and I'll blow your starbase up,"
>said the Borg.
>
All: Oh, wow! He did it.
>The two little starfleet officers were afraid,
>But the third little strfleet officer said,
>"Don't be afraid. The Borg can't blow this starbase up.
>This is a very strong starbase."
>
Tom: Well, with logic like that....
>He said to the Borg,
>"Go ahead, fire. Blow your head off.
>We're not afraid of a big, bad Borg"
>
Crow: So the big, bad Borg misunderstood and shot himself in the head.
Mike: Feeling dark, Crow?
>So the Borg began...
Tom: ... dance lessons!
>He powered-up, and he fired phasers.
Tom: Oh.
>Then he powered-up, and he fired phasers.
>then he powered-up, and fired phasers...
>His engines overloaded.
>His warp core melted.
>His sensors overloaded.
Crow: His driver's license expired.
Mike: His fuzzy dice had static cling.
>BUT...still..
>He could not blow up that starbase.
>
Tom: So the Borg used their cutting rays and sliced the space station
into
cruton - size pieces. The end.
>Now the Borg was mad!
Crow: He was so mad that he switched tenses.
>He had to get those starfleet officers.
Mike: It's the biggest craze since Tickle Me Elmo.
>"I know what I'll do," he said.
>
>"I'll go up the side of the starbase-
>brick by brick.
>Then I'll slide down the docking pilon."
>
Tom: Or, I could beam in.
Crow: Or, I could cut my way through one of the sides.
Mike: But hey, we already established that reality was irrelevant.
>The three little starfleet officers heard him on the docking pilon.
>"He's on the docking pilon," said Wesley.
All: Duh. Really?
>"He'll come down through it," said Geordie.
>Data said, "Quick, let's throw Wesley to the Borg..."
All: YES! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!
> [Just kidding.]
All: D'oh!
Mike: You know, I think Wesley might be getting a little too much
punishment
in this fanfic.
Crow: Are you kidding? He isn't getting nearly enough!
>Data said, "Quick, get a pot of hot antimatter."
>They got a pot of hot antimatter.
>
Tom: And the antimatter reacted with the electrons in the outer
atmosphere,
causing an explosion than vaporized every ship in the sector.
>It was very hot!
>They put it under the docking pilon.
>The Borg came down the docking pilon.
>
Crow: Meanwhile causing a hull breach that sucked both the Borg and the
Starfleet officers into the dark void of space.
Tom: Hey. That's my line.
Mike: Switching lines. It worked for Voyager, and it can work for you
too.
>PLOP!!! He fell right into the pot of hot antimatter.
>"Help! Help!" cried the Borg. "I'm in hot antimatter!"
Crow: Gee. I wonder if he's in hot antimatter.
Tom: So let me get this straight. A race of beings spanning hundreds
of
planets and consisting of millions of assimilated people....
Mike: It was a really large pot.
>
>He jumped up.
Crow: And disintegrated because of the antimatter.
Mike: Crow, this is a kid's story.
>He beamed out of the starbase.
Tom: So he couldn't beam in, but he could beam out....
Mike: For the last time, this story isn't supposed to make sense.
Crow: [Borg] Thinking is futile. Join us. Don't be afraid.
>He ran, and ran, and did not stop
>until he got to his starship.
>And he never came down the grvity well again.
>
Tom: Hey, you were right. Once I stopped worrying about how stupid
this
fanfic was, I began to feel better.
Crow: I'm glad someone does.
>The Borg still lives in his starship,
>at the top of the gravity well.
>Alone.
Mike: Although he DID invest in a time share in Florida.
>He is still big, but isn't so bad.
Tom: He's just written that way.
>He never assimilates little starfleet officiers any more.
Crow: He's moved to torture and dismemberment.
>
>Now the three little starfleet officers live together
>in the starbase of bricks.
>They play and sing and are merry all day long.
Crow: Oh, they're a fraternity.
Mike: Well, without the fights and the large goat.
Tom: Is it over. Please tell me it's over.
>
Mike: Don't worry. It's almost over.
Crow: Besides, how much worse can it get?
>"Who's afraid of the big, bad Borg,
Tom: Are they singing?
>The big bad Borg, the big bad Borg?
Mike: I think so.
Crow: I guess my question was answered.
>Who's afraid of the big bad Borg?
Tom: Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop!
>Tra la la la la-a-a-a!"
>
All: Who's afraid of the bad fanfic,
The bad fanfic, the bad Fanfic?
Who's afraid of the bad fanfic?
[Ship rocks.]
Bots: What was that?
> **** The End ****
Mike: Let's find out.
[1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...]
[SOL is shaking. Mike and bots move TOS style.]
Crow: Gypsy! What's happening?
Gypsy: We're under attack! They're throwing hail at us.
Tom: Attack? By whom? Does Ratliff know we're out here?
Mike: I don't think so. Cambot, give me Rocket Number Nine.
[Shot of outside. A borg cube is moving about in significantly worse
special
effects than usual. It can be seen firing on the satellite.]
[SOL]
Crow: It's the big, bad Borg!
Tom: They must have received the messages Dr. F sent, and traced it
back here.
Gypsy: Mike, they're opening hailing frequencies.
Mike: On the hexfield.
[Hexfield opens to stock picture of Borg interior.]
Borg: We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Your technology will
be
absorbed into the collective. Life as you know it will cease to exist.
Resistance is voltage divided by current.
Mike: Huh?
Borg: Well, why should you guys get all the laughs. Now, let us come
in so we
can assimilate you.
Tom: Not by the hair of our chinny-chin chins.
Mike: Uh, Tom.
Crow: Don't worry. We'll be safe. You read the story.
Borg: Then we'll power up, and fire phasers, and.... Wait, your
starship is
composed of a titanium allow much stronger than either straw, wood, or
bricks. Therefore the phasers will not work.
Bots: That's right.
Borg: I guess we will have to use our cutting beam to slice you to
ribbons.
Tom: Uh, gee. We didn't think of that.
Crow: I guess it's time for Plan B. PANIC!
Mike: I think we need reinforcements. What do you think, sirs?
[D13. Dr. F and Frank are wearing Borg costumes and are standing in
attention
in the foreground. In the background is a borgified Barney overseeing
the Mads.]
Dr. F: It is too late. We have been assimilated.
Frank: Resistance was futile.
Dr. F: Frankutous, push the button.
Frank: Yes, us.
[Poof]
Mike: Guys, I've got a bad feeling about this.
[Roll credits.]
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and all characters are trademarks of
and copyright (c) 1994 by Best Brains, inc. Best Brains have absolutely
no idea about this post, so don't call them up and complain.
Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager, and all characters
are
trademarks of Paramount Pictures. They don't know about this post
either.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes
only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks by Best
Brains, inc., or Paramount Pictures, inc., is intended or should be
inferred.
This post is copyrighted (c) 1997 by Melvin Pollack. Use of this
article
or parts of this article for any purpose other than entertainment
requires
my permission.
This post is for entertainment purposes, and was not designed to insult
any particular person or group. Any and all offensive remarks are
completely accidental. To any people or groups that are offended, I
sincerely apologize and wish to stress that the offense was not
intentional.
This post was unfortunately written without express knowledge of
Bernhard
Rosenkraenzer, who could not be reached. I did receive permission from
Sharad
Gupta, and I would like to thank him. This is in no way meant as a slam
against
either of them, and no copyright infringement was intended.
Avikar th'Tellan is my character on alt.startrek.rpg, a Usenet Role
Playing game.
(Before I get a large number of messages asking how I could do such a
thing, may
I point out that I haven't posted anything to ASC. Yet.) All
characters
mentioned in the asr posts are copyright by their respective authors.
To find the ASR posts mentioned, go to:
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Corridor/4424/
and click on archives. The MiSTing intro is "RUT6K is on the Air",
under August
1997. The satire is "th'Tellan's Murky Post... Er, Past", under March
1997, but
I suggest reading a couple of earlier posts from Masako Goto and
Christine
Fontaine. Try it, you'll like it.
This post was written without causing pain to any animals. Void where
prohibited. Post no bills.
> [So who cares about reality anyways.]