MiSTED: Field Of Dreams, Chapter One (Part 1/Lots)
Spatch
It's gonna be posted in several parts because it's so $@#!$&!@ long.
Enjoy, lemme know what you think, yadda yadda yadda, that sort of thing.
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[ Opening sequence, all that rot ]
SCENE: The Satellite of Love interior, empty. A few seconds go by without
anything happening.
MIKE (offscreen): Hit it, Cambot! (a cheesy version of the beginning of
Gilbert and Sullivan's "HMS Pinafore" plays, and Mike, Crow and Tom
enter, dressed as sailors. They sing to the tune of "We Sail The
Ocean Blue", the first song in _Pinafore_.)
ALL: Oh, we float through open space,
And our satellite's a dinghy.
We are cooped up in this place,
CROW: But we still find time to sing-y.
ALL: When the scientists call, we get on the ball
And read posts from utter fools.
MIKE: Inventions I make, while readings they take...
So they know when I break the rules!
[ The Commercial Sign starts flashing. GYPSY enters, with a bonnet on
her head and carrying a basket in her mouth. When she sings, to the
tune of that "Little Buttercup" song, the basket drops and we hear a
breaking noise. ]
GYPSY: I'm called little Gyp-hyp-sy, sweet little Gyp-hyp-sy,
Though I could never tell why...
And still I'm Gyp-hyp-sy, happy ol' Gyp-hyp-sy, uh...
Though I could never tell why.
CROW (speaking): Oh brother.
GYPSY: Uh, I've got tasks and tobaccy, and excellent... uh... AIEEEEE!!!
[ runs off, screaming. Music stops. ]
MIKE (speaking): I think Gypsy's got stage fright, and we got commercial
sign. [ hits button ]
-----------
COMMERCIAL: Zo, you hate these Zima commercials? Tough zhit! Zee if I care!
-----------
SCENE: Coming out of the commercial, we see GYPSY lying her head on the table,
while MIKE is behind her, cradling her head in his arms. Flanking her
are TOM and CROW, of course.
MIKE: I'm sorry, Gypsy. We should have given you more time to memorize your
lines.
GYPSY (sobbing): I'm sorry, Mike! I'm just not a good actress.
CROW: That's not true, Gyps! Remember your one-woman show? It was
superb!
TOM: Yeah, Gypsy, Crow's right. I loved it!
GYPSY: You did?!
TOM: Yeah! We were humming the tunes far off into the night!
MIKE: Don't worry, Gypsy, tonight was only the dress rehearsal. Tomorrow,
when we open, you'll be back on that stage and you'll do perfect!
GYPSY: I don't think I'll be going on tomorrow night! Get Magic Voice to
go on for me! [ Mads light flashes ]
MAGIC VOICE: I'm sorry, Gypsy, but even though I sing with perfect tone and
pitch, I don't have that much stage presence.
MIKE: We'll deal with this later. Pitti-Sing and Nanki-Poo are calling.
[ Hits the Mads button, cut to Deep 13, where Dr. F and TV's Frank are
singing, too! ]
DR. F: I am the Scientist of Deep 13
FRANK: And a mighty mad scientist, too.
DR. F: You're such a brown-nose, but even so I s'pose
I can say the same for you!
FRANK: I'm such a brown-nose, and Dr F s'pose
He can say the same for me!
DR. F (speaking now): Oh, cut it out, Frank, that didn't even rhyme. Hello,
Monk, I take it you're ready for this week's invention exchange...
you've got that diabolical contraption on your table.
MIKE: Hey, that's no diabolical contraption, that's Gypsy!! [ GYPSY rises from
the table. ]
GYPSY: Yeah!!
DR. F: My apologies, uh, whatever you are. Frank and I shall go first, okay,
Frank?
FRANK: Sounds good to me. [ to camera ] Our invention this week deals with
the horribly amazing amount of spelling and grammar errors that
have been found in such fine works of literature such as Brian Perles'
"Once A Borg..." or Stephen Ratliff's "Enterprized!".
DR. F: That's right. We have taken your basic spellchecker program here...
[ holds up floppy disc ] and added to it a special form of virus which
adds all sorts of misspelled words and other such atrocities to the
spellchecker's dictionary, thus ignoring mistakes such as "wurd" and
"stoopid" when running!
FRANK: And we even got a special celebrity endorsement for it, too! It's
now called Stephen Ratliff's "Speelcheckir!" [ points to a big
wooden box with a hand sticking out of it ]
VOICE IN BOX: I hartilly endorse this product?." [ hand makes a thumbs-up
gesture ]
DR. F: Yes, that's right, it's USENET's Stephen Ratliff, ladies and
gentlemen! [ artifical applause ]
VOICE IN BOX: "Be sureto by eviry DEP !3 product you can!>"
DR. F: Thank you, Mr. Ratliff, that will be enough.
VOICE IN BOX: Can i go Now?
DR. F: In a moment, let's see what the fools up there have for their
invention.
[ MIKE and the bots are crowded around a computer. ]
MIKE: All right, Dr. Forrester. This week I thought I'd dabble into the
art of computer programming, but since I'm just a temp worker, I have
no real skills at BASIC or LOGO or whatever high-powered computer
language you are using nowadays. [ the bots snicker ] So I thought
I'd give Crow and Tom Servo a chance to write their own game.
CROW: Ours is called "Smashing Pumpkins Into Small Piles Of ... " [ he is
cut off by Dr. Forrester ]
DR. F: Seen it, you twerps.
TOM: We were just joking, Dr. Forrester! Sheesh. Anyways, our game is
called "SimUSENET". Now you can be the Ruler of Usenet! Configure
new newsgroups the way you like 'em!
CROW: I just made alt.fan.crow-t-robot.worship.worship.worship!
TOM: Watch as your newsgroups achieve total propagation, and see hundreds
if not thousands of dollars being wasted on silly topics such as
"alt.games.twiddlywinks!"
MIKE: Uh-oh, watch out, Crow, your newsgroup's gonna get the big ol' rmgroup
if you don't get more users in the next week!
CROW: I know, I know! I'll just send some lackeys over to do some
cross-posting... like in alt.cascade or something.
TOM: Then, click on one of the "disasters" icons and watch the havoc!
CROW: Oh no! "Fifty-seven newbies post MAKE.MONEY.FAST in the same week to
your newsgroup. Flame wars break out. A famous person dies and
Joe Six-Pack flames them posthumously, creating more flames."
MIKE: Tough luck, Crow. You should make a new newsgroup quick or else
the game's over.
CROW: Ooh, look! "There is a RFD regarding a newsgroup about a television
show you can't stand. As Grand Poobah of the USENET, do you let
the discussion take place normally, or do you flame the hell out
of it every chance you get?" Gee, do I really have to weigh
the consequences?! FLAME! FLAME! FLAME!
TOM: Yes, kids have endless hours of fun playing Joel Furr with their own
copy of SimUSENET!
MIKE: What do you think, sirs?
FRANK: I wanna turn! I wanna turn! I wanna make rec.arts.tvs.frank!
VOICE IN BOX: Me to, he Said.
DR. F: Later, you ninnies. (to camera) Mike, your experiment this week
is an enlightening yet humorous look into the dreams of the cast
of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It's called Field Of Dreams,
and lives up to that philsophy: "If you write it, they will retch."
Enjoy... Frank, give them the fanfic.
FRANK: Only if I can make alt.button.frank.push.push.push
DR. F: I'll push.push.push you off a cliff if you don't send them the
fanfic!
VOICE IN BOX: yaA! [ FRANK does what he does. ]
MIKE: Watch out, Crow, the Iminent Death of USENET is predicted!
CROW: Uh-oh! [ Fanfic sign or whatever blinks ]
ALL: WE GOT FANFIC SIGN!!!! [ race to the theater! ]
* ... 6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...
> Hello!
ALL: Hi there!
TOM: Friendly little sucker, ain't he?!
> This is a story I wrote while I was a freshman at RIT.
MIKE: His fourth year as a freshman.
> There will
> be
CROW: Refreshments and free mental health after tonight's programme.
> a continuation as soon as I get around to it. Enjoy!
ALL: Bye!
>
> Chrisopher Walck
TOM: Don't tell me he pulled a Ratliff and misspelled his own name.
MIKE (chuckling): "Pulled a Ratliff"? That's a new one, Tom.
>
>
>
CROW: Absolutely no one admitted during the exciting "Line Feed" scene.
> Chapter I
>
> "Stardate 46890.3. The Enterprise is heading to Starbase 220 for rest
> and relaxation.
CROW (as Picard): Mr. Data, set a course for... ROMANCE!
> Hopefully we will get the time that we deserve."
TOM: 5 to 10 years, for writing crappy fanfics.
> The bridge was rather active as the Enterprise left the Omega Three
> outpost.
MIKE: The Monopoly game was in full swing, as well as the beach Volleyball
tournament.
> In the command chair, Commander William T. Riker had a feeling that
TOM: If Picard saw him sitting in the chair, he'd throw a fit.
> finally they would get some rest. It had been a hard few months with any
> shore leave, he thought.
MIKE: And Ensign Ro was looking hotter by the hour.
> Behind Riker, the turbolift doors opened and out stepped
CROW: Donny and Marie!
> Captain
> Jean-Luc Picard.
TOM: Who'd you think would come out of the turbolift?!
CROW: Donny and Marie.
> Riker noticed that Picard also looked rather haggard.
MIKE: His head wasn't shining as brightly as it had been before.
> He
> needed the rest as much as the rest of the crew did.
TOM (singing): I'm sooooo tired...
CROW: It's Star Trek: The Nytol Generation.
> Picard walked down to
> the command chair.
MIKE (as Picard): Number One, get the hell out of my chair.
> "Number One, I relieve
CROW: - myself.
> you."
> Riker was thankful. "Thank you, sir."
TOM (as Riker): Did I mention I was thankful?
MIKE: Redundant, you mean.
CROW: No, Mike, Riker's being redundant.
> Riker got up and was about to leave, but Picard stopped him.
MIKE: Nuh-uh-uh! I didn't say "Simon Says"!!
> "and Will,
CROW (as Picard): If I ever catch you in my Command Chair again, I'm gonna
knock yer block off.
> get some rest. You need it."
TOM: So does everybody ELSE on this bleedin' ship!
> "Aye, sir."
CROW: Ear, too.
>
> * * *
MIKE: It's Intermission! Time for a snack!
CROW: Does this mean that the fanfic's half over?
MIKE: Uh, no, I don't think so.
>
> The doors opened for Riker.
TOM: But not for anyone else on the ship. You see, Riker had a special power.
A gift, you might say.
CROW: Oh, come off it, he had a KEY!
> He didn't care about eating or playing the
> trombone.
MIKE: He refused to share any of his cookies with Mr. Bear either.
> He was flat out tired.
TOM: We've already established that, thank
> He walked into the other room, changed,
CROW: And came out as Suzanne Somers!
> washed his face and hands and got into bed.
TOM: What, no goodnight kiss?
MIKE: And in the morning he was DEAD.
> A few moments later, he fell
> asleep...
CROW: About flippin' time, wouldn't you say?
TOM: I don't think he REALLY needs this nap.
> The battle bridge was filled with excitement and nervous energy.
CROW: All right, ladies, Roddenberry's in the audience tonight, so this episode
better be EXTRA special!
> Riker
> had told them the plan and hopefully, with the help of Commander Shelby,
TOM: Who?
MIKE: Commander Expendable, you mean.
> they
> would be able to save the Federation at the hands of the Borg.
TOM: "Locutos": The Hands of Borg.
CROW: Heh heh.
MIKE: What is it with this Hands of Fate thing?!
> The Borg ship hung there silently.
CROW: In exactly the same way that bricks don't.
> Then the ship was replaced by
> Locutus.
TOM: Oh, it's always the same old story. A nice, perfectly normal functioning
ship is replaced by a member of an assimilating race. Shoulda gone
Union years ago, I tell ya.
> "Locutus," Riker began, "we will not let you invade the Federation.
CROW: You nutty Borg, you!
> Return to where you came from."
MIKE: Remember to give the costumes back to Julie, we'll start off tomorrow
with the foggy planet scene.
> "Return is irrelevent. Federation will be irrelevent.
TOM: Apparently TENSES aren't relevant either!
> You shall be
> assimilated."
> "We will not be assimilated." Riker turned
CROW: Contradictory.
> and spoke to the tactical
> officer. The screen returned to a picture of the Borg vessel.
TOM: And we'll return to the picture of the Borg vessel after these
commercial messages!
> "All right, Shelby. Let's get this show on the road."
MIKE: Ooh, that's a rather manly thing to say. Picard usually says something
infinitely manlier, like "Make it so" or something.
CROW: Hey, where IS Picard anyway? Shouldn't he be the one doing all of
this?!
> On the main bridge, Shelby prepared for saucer seperation. "Saucer sep.
> in 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.."
MAGIC VOICE: Saucer sep. now.
TOM and CROW: What?!
MIKE: Magic Voice, what are you doing in here?
MAGIC VOICE: Sorry, I was just hanging around and couldn't resist.
> The locks disengaged and the saucer section lifted away from the
> stardrive. Shelby took up position for the next step of their plan.
CROW: Shelby, assume the position.
MIKE: Oh, that's just sick.
> Both commanders said simultaneously, "Fire."
TOM: Jinx! Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten YOU OWE ME A COKE!
> Phasers and photon torpedos smashed against the Borg ship.
CROW: Gee, maybe they should have exploded or something.
> But the Borg
> ship had already been attacked with these primitive weapons.
MIKE: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but phasers never hurt me.
> They were
> prepared for this. But they wondered about this saucer seperation maneuver.
TOM: Yeah, the Borg judges never like any new maneuvers, especially during the
Short Program.
> "Proceed to phase #2."
MIKE: We start the advertising blitz tomorrow!
> "Aye, sir. Fire antimatter spread."
> Both the saucer section and stardrive shook.
CROW: Ow! Don't fire at US! Fire at the Borg!
> The Borg had locked on with
> a tractor beam.
> On the stardrive, Riker was not suprised.
TOM: Just tired.
> "Engineering, break us out."
CROW: Sorry, Commander, I'm playing Pong right now!
> LaForge couldn't do anything.
CROW: Because he was playing Pong. Heh, heh, see?
MIKE: Pick your jokes more wisely next time, ok, Crow?
> The Borg had them.
TOM: And now, a song.
> On the saucer section, Shelby began to hear popping noises.
MIKE: Jiffy-Pop's ready!
CROW: Mmmm mmm!
TOM: Smells great!
> She
> immediately pulled out her phaser. The Borg transporters were in use.
TOM (as operator): All our transporters are in use. If you would like to beam
aboard the ship, please hang up and try again.
> The
> Borg beamed into the center of the bridge.
MIKE: The _entire_ Borg Collective?
CROW: That must be one big bridge.
> Shelby and the rest of the crew
> were stunned for a moment.
TOM: Quick, Nelson! The Borg beam aboard the Enterprise with intent of
assimilation! Shelby's reaction?!
MIKE: Uh, stunned?
TOM: The answer is: DULL SURPRISE!!!
MIKE: Oh no, not again...
> Then Shelby shot her phaser at a Borg soldier.
> It went down without a struggle. The other Borg had been taken down by the
> officers on the bridge.
CROW: Wow, that was a really exciting battle scene!
TOM: Yeah, sure puts "Tekwar" to shame.
> Another group of Borg beamed in.
TOM: Oh, I hate these tour groups! They're always coming in at the worst time!
> This time, Shelby fired her phaser and
> it bounced off the Borg shield. They were prepared for anything. The Borg
> fired several shots.
MIKE: Forty shots rang out.
CROW: Forty people fell.
TOM: Shelby and the Borg had missed each other, but they shot that bridge to
hell!
> The rest of the crew, except for Shelby, went down with
> a thud.
CROW: Shelby went "WHEEEEEE!"
> The Borg rushed over to Shelby, who tried to put up a struggle but
> was instead knocked unconscious.
CROW: I think I'm going for a walk...
TOM: You're not going anywhere, you'll be assimilated in a moment or so.
> The transporter beamed the Borg and their
> captive home.
MIKE: There's no place like captive home... there's no place like captive
home...
> The crew on the stardrive section were having a pitched battle of their
> own.
TOM: Curveball!
CROW: Knuckleball!
TOM: CURVEBALL!
CROW: KNUCKLEBALL!
MIKE: Cool it, you two. Everybody knows it's "slider".
> Using an idea that Wesley had,
CROW: Oh, brother!!
TOM: Yep. They're in for it now.
MIKE: Does this kid ever NOT save the ship?!
> Riker was able to retune the phasers
TOM: To A flat.
MIKE: I was going to say B natural.
TOM and CROW: NOOOOO!!!!
MIKE: What?
> every shot so that the Borg were unable to adjust.
MIKE: Hey, I think I already saw this one.
TOM: It happens in EVERY episode!
> Several borg had already
CROW: Eaten and left the restaurant, leaving Riker with the check.
> fallen in battle by the time the saucer section was cleared out by the Borg.
TOM: Efficient little lifeforms, ain't they?
MIKE: Y'know, I hear Hilton is hiring them as hotel staff.
> Riker was hidden behind the command chair
CROW: Pleasedon'tfindmepleasedon'tfindmepleasedon'tfindme
> when a flood of Borg beamed on
> board. Riker shot a few shots, downing the Borg who were at the receiving
> end of them.
MIKE: There's just something fundamentally STUPID about that last sentence,
something that just screams "OBVIOUS!" but I can't figure it out.
> The rest of the bridge crew was not faring so well. They were all dead
> except for O'Brien.
TOM (chuckling): Yeah, I guess that's what you call "not faring so well."
CROW: I think Mr. Understatement wrote this fanfic.
> He ran from the conn to the tactical station. The Borg
> fired an energy pulse and O'Brien went down in a wave of pain.
MIKE: Oops, now O'Brien's not faring so well either.
TOM: Yeah, he's having a really poopy day.
> Then the Borg
> put a hypospray to Riker's neck and they beamed back to the cubical ship the
> Borg called home.
MIKE: There's no place the Borg call home... there's no place the Borg call
home...
> The Borg ship hummed around Riker as he was strapped to the Borg
> equivalant of an operation table.
CROW: They're so happy, they hum while they work. Riker's on the Happy Borg
Ship.
TOM (singing): Hum while you assimilate... hum while you assimilate...
> Several Borg started working on Riker.
MIKE: Oh, we're going to make you look FABULOUS!
> Within a few moments, Will was one of the Borg collective.
ALL: Yaaaaaaay!!!
CROW: Will's in the club!
> His first order as a Borg was to destroy the Enterprise.
TOM: He gets the tough order. All the other new Borgs have to get a keg for
the next party.
> Since he
> was part of the unimind,
CROW: What's a 'unimind'?
MIKE: Like a unicorn I think.
> it took a thought to fire the weapons that destroyed
> his former ship.
TOM: Now _that_ was exciting!
MIKE: Whaddya mean?! We didn't even get a lousy explosion!
> Then the Borg started moving again. This time there would
> be no one who would be able to stop the power of the Borg...
TOM: Except the Lego Maniac!
> Riker came to. The Borg vessel had a strange hum.
MIKE (as Riker): Hmm, sounds like "Stardust".
> Riker began moving.
> He noticed that he was laying down. He also was alone.
TOM: He was also tired.
> There were no voices
> in his mind. Riker also was dressed in strange clothing, not the usual black
> leather with metal attachments of the Borg.
CROW: He was in a dowdy flowery dress!
MIKE: It's Mrs. Doubtriker.
> Riker got up stiffly and looked around. Everything was wrong. Then he
> heard a voice. "Will?"
TOM: You marry me?!
> Riker listened. The voice was almost sweet, but sweet was irrelevent.
MIKE: Thank you Mr. Narrator.
> He walked towards the door. The door opened and Riker saw a woman. Not a
> Borg, but a woman.
TOM (singing): She may not be Borg but she's only a woman to me...
> His mind immediately knew what she was.
CROW: Lemme take a wild guess and say: a woman?!
> "Race, Betazoid. You shall be assimilated."
MIKE: Oh, great way to say hello, Riker.
> Deanna almost fainted.
TOM (as Riker): Funny, she usually giggles when I say that.
> Immediately, she touched her communicator.
CROW: When she thinks about Will Riker she touches herself.
MIKE (hitting CROW): No, she touches her communicator.
CROW: Oif!
> "Dr. Crusher to Commander Riker's quarters. Emergency!"
MIKE: I'm having ... chest pains!
CROW: We've notified the paramedics, Counsellor Troi.
> Will looked at Deanna as though she was a stranger to him. Suddenly, he
> grabbed her arm and started squeezing.
MIKE: Indian sunburn!
TOM: Hey, that's not PC. Leave Indians out of this.
MIKE: OK... uh... Goofy Burn!
> Deanna felt pain shooting up
CROW: But then the heroin kicked in and she felt happy...
> her arm.
> "Please Will, stop."
MIKE: If Will was on the U.S.S. Antioch, he would have needed verbal consent
first to go as far as he has already.
CROW: Oh, like what? "Can I squeeze your arm real hard?"
> Dr. Crusher and a medical team ran down the hall. "What's the matter?"
> Will released Deanna's arm. He turned towards Beverly. "Race, human.
> You shall
TOM: Have your arm squeezed real hard.
> be assimilated."
> Beverly couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe that Riker was
> a Borg.
MIKE: She had always suspected it in the corner of her mind, but now her fears
were true!
CROW: Riker was working for the CIA.
> * * *
*** COMMERCIAL ... That Mentos kid gets into a wacky jam and comes out of
it grinning with his Mentos. ***
... Part 2 coming soon! ...
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This is a work of fiction, duh. Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its
characters are property of Best Brains, Inc, which had nothing to do with this
post. This post is meant for entertainment purposes only and is not intended
as a personal attack on Christopher Walck, Stephen Ratliff, Joel Furr, or
Pope Pius Ignatius XXVII. Mike, Crow, and Servo will return in "Field Of
Dreams part Something Or Other" soon. This work is copyright (C) 1994
R. Noyes. Something like that. If you can read this you're at a perfect
distance from your computer screen. Babble on.
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-----
Christopher Walck:
> The rest of the bridge crew was not faring so well. They were all dead
> except for O'Brien.
-----
--
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