MiSTed: Stolen Memories (15/29)
Rottweiler
an
issue of _Mad_ magazine. He folds and unfolds the inside back cover.]
MIKE: See, when you fold in the cover like so, it becomes a picture of
Alfred E. Newman.
(He repeats the folding/unfolding action a few times. TOM is agog.)
TOM: Why, that's remarkable! That shrubbery... it became his left eye!
MIKE: Right, and the little toy boat in the duck pond became the gap in
his
front teeth.
TOM: And that nonsensical paragraph at the bottom. When you fold it in,
it
says "What Me Worry?" Talk about a paradigm shift. I mean...
(CROW enters, stage right. MIKE turns to face him.)
MIKE: Hi, Heckle.
CROW: Hey guys! While you were busy with your little comic books, I did
some snooping around on the satellite. And guess who I found
curled
up underneath the foosball table!
MIKE: Norman Fell?
TOM: Carole Bayer-Sager?
CROW: No! Even better...I found that Sensualist guy!
TOM: Who?
CROW: You remember, the half-cat, half-man guy who has the hots for
Julian
in the story. I call him "Senchy" for short. (calling) Hey,
Senchy!
Come here! I want you to meet my friends! C'mon, don't be shy.
(The SENSUALIST, portrayed by Paul Chaplin, timidly enters. He's a
scrawny, pale fella clad only in BVDs. Other than cat ears on the top
of
his head and a tail attatched to his undies, he looks human. His soft
voice cracks a little.)
SENCHY: Uh... hi, Crow's friends. I'm the Sensualist, but you can call
me Senchy.
MIKE: (trying to shake his hand) Nice to meet you, Senchy. I'm Mike!
SENCHY: (cowering) Ahh!!! Don't hit!
CROW: You'll have to forgive Senchy. After years of living in a
Felistian
harem, he's understandably jumpy. Aren't ya, Senchy?
SENCHY: Yeah... well... I...
CROW: Anyhow, just like the story says, Senchy's one hell of a singer.
Why
don't you wow us with one of your famous medleys, Senchy?
SENCHY: Gee... I don't know... I...
CROW: Great! Hit it!
(The lights go down and a spotlight hits the SENSUALIST. We hear a
gentle
piano accompaniment in the background. The SENSUALIST clears his throat
and begins to sing. His voice is unsteady and flat and occasionally
cracks. He doesn't handle the transitions between songs well, either.)
SENCHY: (singing) Oh what a beautiful morrrrrrning
Oh what a beautiful...
Dayyyyyyyy-O
Day-yah-yah-O
Daylight come and me wanna go...
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope...
Play that funky music, white boy!
Play that funky music right
Play that funky music, white boy!
Lay down and boogie and play that funky music
(his big finish here)
TILLLLL...YOUUUUUUUU...DIEEEEEEEEEE
(The music ends. The lights come back up. There is a curious lack of
applause.)
MIKE: That was really... something.
TOM: I haven't heard music like that since... I don't know when.
SENCHY: (lower lip quivering) You hated it, didn't you?
CROW: Of course they didn't! They loved it... right, guys?
MIKE: I don't know if "love" is exactly the word. It was certainly
different.
TOM: An acquired taste, I'd say.
SENCHY: (blubbering) I KNEW you hated it! I'm so humiliated. I'll
never
be able to show my face again!
(He runs off crying and flailing his arms)
CROW: Well, I hope you two are happy. You've just dashed Senchy's hopes
and dreams of becoming a professional singer and moving to
Nashville.
It'll take hours just to get him out from underneath the foosball
table. Felistian-Terran fusion males are very sensitive at that
age.
MIKE: I really didn't know. How old IS Senchy, anyway?
CROW: Forty-seven.
TOM: Forty-seven?!? And he's STILL at that awkward stage?
CROW: Obviously, you know nothing about the prolonged adolesence of
Felistian-Terran fusion males, Tom. Really, both of you should be
ashamed of yourselves right now.
MIKE: I dunno... I'm actually feeling pretty GOOD about myself right
now.
How about you, Tom Swift?
TOM: My self-esteem is through the roof! And I'm not feeling so much as
a
slight twinge of guilt.
MIKE: I guess there are times when a total lack of concern for the
feelings
of others really pays off.
TOM: Amen to that.
(Lights flash, sirens blare, movie sign pandemonium)
MIKE: We've got fanfic sign!!!
[Dog Bone]
[Door 6]
[Door 5]
[Door 4]
[Door 3]
[Door 2]
[Door 1]
[SOL Theater. MIKE and the BOTS enter and take their seats.]
> Week Seven.
> ===========
TOM: The Matriarch is probably "cheering up" Julian's dad, if you know
what
I mean.
> Alistair noted that Julian looked extremely distracted
> all the time
MIKE: (Alistair) Damn Spring fever.
> and kept blushing during his lessons in
> sensuality.
CROW: What kind of certification do you get in sensuality?
TOM: Well, actually it's usually an associate's degree at a community
college.
MIKE: You can also get a minor at an accredited University. It's a BA
in
Bar Hopping.
> So making the correct assumption being near the
> Sensualist embarrassed him Alistair decided to start giving
> Julian some lessons in basic first aid.
CROW: Huh?!?
TOM: Okay, I'm stumped. Any guesses?
MIKE: It's perfectly simple. Alistair is giving Julian lessons on how
to
meditate, and Julian is blushing because that Sensualist guy keeps
hanging around.
CROW: So Alistair's solution is to teach Julian first aid?
MIKE: Exactly.
CROW: And this sovles the problem how, exactly?
MIKE: Uh... well...
> "Who knows, if you're here long enough I might even
> turn you into a doctor. You've certainly got the knack for
> it," Alistair commented at the end of the first weeks
> instruction.
TOM: So this is how Bashir becomes a doctor.
CROW: If you ignore the fact that Bashir became a doctor at age ten
after
becoming so impressed with doctors that he used to practice on his
teddy bear...
MIKE: That's what THEY want you to believe.
> He wasn't just saying to increase Julian's confidence
> either.
CROW: The old guy was saying what, now?
TOM: It looks like the English language has finally been destroyed,
guys.
Now we have to move on to Ebonics.
> Julian was extremely attentive.
TOM: He be noticin' whazzup. Word.
MIKE: We are NOT going to use Ebonics.
TOM: Awwwww...
CROW: An'cay e'way use'yay ig'pay atin'lay?
MIKE: No.
CROW: Amn'day.
> He seemed to absorb
> medical knowledge like a sponge.
CROW: "Like a sponge" - three words that suit Julian perfectly.
> A very thirsty sponge at
> that.
MIKE: Julian Bashir - the quicker picker-upper.
> He never grew bored or embarrassed,
TOM: So he isn't reading _Stolen Memories_.
CROW: Hey, when are they gonna get around to the memory-stealing part,
anyway?
> he stayed
> interested through out every lesson and was curious enough
> to actually start asking questions. Seeking answers.
MIKE: (Julian) Alistair, where do babies come from?
> That
> pleased Alistair tremendously.
TOM: Julian even stayed after class to clean erasers.
MIKE: He's Julian Brownose.
> Week Eight
> ==========
CROW: Julian's dad must be reciting "Ode to Spot" to the Matriarch about
now.
TOM: Or singing that "Lifeforms" song.
> Julian was picked by the Harem Keeper to serve a
> noblewoman who came looking for a breeding partner.
TOM: I think we're gonna have one disappointed noblewoman on our hands.
> Before
> sending him off, Alistair instructed him to remember his
> meditation and sensuality instructions.
MIKE: (Alistair) Remember to take a coat in case it gets cold later!
> No matter how hard he tried, Julian couldn't respond to
> the noblewoman the way she wanted him to.
TOM: Damn pollsters get more aggressive every year.
> That lead to a
> complaint being made to the Harem Keeper,
CROW: Who asked her brother, the Crypt Keeper, to help.
> who then gave her
> something to give to Julian to drink and instructed her to
> `play' with the manling for a while.
MIKE: (Harem Keeper) But be careful. He has small parts that are easy
to
lose.
> Being thirsty at the
> time Julian had taken the drink.
CROW: Hey Julian, how about a nice Hawaiian Punch?
> Not long after the
> noblewoman began to `play' with him, he began to respond
> just the way she wanted him to.
TOM: Yes, a glass of orange juice and playtime will cause any manling to
toe your party line.
> Julian cursed his hormones, his manhood, his nervous
> system and anything else he could think of for responding to
> the woman.
MIKE: Curse you, Red Baron!
CROW: Damn you, sunspots!
TOM: A plague on both your houses!
> He felt humiliated. He hadn't wanted to be there.
> He hadn't wanted to have sex with her.
TOM: He also hadn't wanted Ross to marry Emily on _Friends_.
> He'd hoped that
> making her feel good would have been enough. It hadn't been.
MIKE: Which brings us to the controversial topic of what women really
want.
> She wanted to breed and she made his body respond.
CROW: This woman looked at Julian and thought, "I want his genetic
material
to be passed down to my children". I think that could be
considered
premeditated child abuse.
> Then she
> made use of him against his will, just like Alis' sister
> had. Julian was dragged into the Harem several hours later
> by the Harem keeper and a servant to be dumped on the bed
> where he immediately curled up into a foetal ball.
TOM: Then he was then autographed by all the team members and put on
display in a barbeque restauarant.
> Once the
> women departed
CROW: They held a nice funeral service.
> Alistair hurried to Julian's bedside to
> examine him.
MIKE: For some reason, he spend an unusual amount of time studying
Julian's
crotch.
> All he could find were some non-serious
> scratches on the boys back, bruising on his throat and
> puncture marks.
TOM: He'd literally been pussy whipped.
> Week Nine
> =========
CROW: Meanwhile, the Matriarch is trying that "consort's collar" crap on
Julian's dad.
> Under Alistair's ministrations,
TOM: Mmm... I could go for a nice, hot bowl of ministrations.
MIKE: Uh, that's ministrone.
> and the occasional
> pleasurable attentions of the Sensualist,
MIKE: Because nothing cures sexual trauma like more sex.
> Julian came back
> to his senses to blubber on Alistair's shoulder.
CROW: Blubber, blubber, blubber!
MIKE: Mukluk!
TOM: Macademia!
> It took a few hours but Alistair finally got the story
> out of Julian.
MIKE: With a crowbar.
CROW: A me bar?
> It seemed he'd been lax, Alistair that is,
> not Julian.
MIKE: (Alistair) It's my fault that Julian is a terrible lover!
> Julian had followed his instructions well,
> pleasing the lady in question. Unfortunately after his
> experiences he hadn't been aroused one bit,
CROW: Because the "lady" bore a strong resemblance to Robin Williams.
> they'd drugged
> him to get an erection out of him, then his `mistress' had
> bitten him.
TOM: She should have eaten a Snickers instead. It would've been much
more
satisfying.
> "The first and most important thing I should have
> taught you Julian, m'boy,
CROW: Who's M'Boy?
MIKE: Must be an alien, since all aliens have apostrophes in their
names.
TOM: No, no. Julian just became Scottish.
> was to take pleasure in what you
> were doing.
MIKE: When you enjoy your work, that will be swell.
CROW: This message has been brought to you by the Good Morale Council.
> It's only when you do that their bite and the
> venom they use can take you to paradise."
CROW: You mean out of this story?
> "I don't understand."
> "Bio-chemistry boy.
TOM: Bio-Chemistry Boy, the new action hero!
> It's all to do with bio-chemistry.
MIKE: So, enjoying sex requires a Junior Chem course.
> When you're enjoying yourself your bio-chemistry is
> different to what it is when you're scared or not enjoying
> yourself.
CROW: (Julian) Uh, could you dumb this down about six or seven notches?
> At those times, the woman's venom can take you to
> hell.
TOM: (Alistair) The same thing happens when you stay out too late with
your
friends at the bar.
> It's even worse when they drug you, the drugs make the
> venom more potent.
CROW: Those Flintstones chewables really pack a wallop.
MIKE: Remind me never to let myself be bitten by a rattlesnake while
snorting cocaine.
> If you don't let yourself go with the
> flow and enjoy it, it's sheer unadulterated hell.
TOM: Actually, if you think about it, this IS about adultery in hell.
> You have to stop being frightened and just take
> pleasure in it. If you don't, each and every time you
> service a woman,
CROW: (Alistair) You'll have to wipe her windshield and gas her up.
> you'll go through the same thing.
MIKE: Five minutes of sex and two hours of listening to her whine about
her
last flea dip.
> Trust me
> on this.
TOM: Forget all about love and happiness. Lust and pleasure are the
only
true emotions.
> It's a lesson I learned the hard way.
CROW: (Alistair) They beat me until my morale improved.
> Unless you're
> in the right mental and bio-chemical state, their bite is a
> one way ticket to pure hell."
TOM: (singing) He's got a ticket to ride...
> Julian vowed to remember that
MIKE: Alistair's birthday was next week.
> and his gaze drifted to
> where the Sensualist was lounging on a cushion watching him.
CROW: (singing) This magic moment, so different and so new...
> Julian never wanted to feel the way he felt when he'd been
> bitten again.
TOM: (singing) Once bitten, twice shy.
> He needed to learn how to go with the flow,
MIKE: How to stay funky.
> and none of the women were about to take the time to teach
> him. So that left only one other person.
CROW: Alexander the Great?
TOM: Elton John?
MIKE: Michael Jackson?
CROW: Liberace?
TOM: Pope John Paul II?
MIKE: Chief?
ALL: McCloud?
> The Sensualist.
ALL: Ohhhhh.
> Alistair caught the direction Julian's gaze drifted in and
> then correctly worked out what was going on in his mind.
CROW: He's trying to remember the lyrics to the _Misfits of Science_
theme
song.
> "Julian," he said, to catch his attention.
> Julian looked at him.
> "Has he... tried doing it again?"
TOM: (Alistair) Did he steal your lunch money again?
> Julian blushed, an answer in itself.
MIKE: Only if the question was "What does a blush look like?"
> "Why didn't you tell me?"
CROW: (Julian) Because of the "Don't ask, don't tell" policy.
> "I... didn't want you to beat him again.
TOM: (Julian) Can't you let him win at Battleship just once?
> He didn't hurt
> me, not the first time, not the last time either.
MIKE: (Julian) Every time in between, he smashed my head into the wall
repeatedly.
> He backed
> off when I made it plain I didn't want to have sex with
> him."
CROW: (Julian) I gave him a sternly-worded memorandum about it.
> "I see... Now you're curious about it... Aren't you?"
TOM: (Seinfeld) Not that there's anything wrong with that.
> "I... Enjoyed what he did to me," Julian admitted.
> Alistair sighed.
MIKE: (singing) Boy... you'll be a woman, soon.
> "Of course you did, he's been in the harems for near on
> five years now. He knows every single trick in the book.
TOM: Unfortunately, the book is John Norman's _Imaginative Sex_.
> Hell, I taught him everything I could when I thought he had
> a brain in his head."
CROW: Then I found out he actually had a small intestine in his head!
Darn
alien physiologies...
> "He does you know?"
MIKE: (Yoda) Think we not does he.
> "No, he's just like the rest, witless, just..
TOM: ...like Craig Kilborn.
> more
> headstrong than they are, but, that doesn't matter.
MIKE: (Alistair) All that matters is that I can't stand homosexuals.
All
right?
> What
> does matter is the fact you can't enjoy sex after what
> happened to you.
TOM: (Alistair) Normally that doesn't happen until after you're married.
> Since you admit to enjoying the heavy
> petting he got up to.. I don't see why shouldn't explore it
> further if you're curious."
MIKE: But there's no use getting into heavy petting. It only leads to
trouble and seat-wetting.
> "You aren't going to yell at me?"
CROW: (Alistair) Of course I am, just not for that.
> "Hell no,
ALL: We won't go!
MIKE: Wait, I will.
TOM: Me too.
CROW: Not me. I've got a morbid interest in seeing if this story
actually
goes somewhere. This isn't an experiment anymore. It's a quest.
Oh, who am kidding? I'd leave in a second if I could.
> It's your body Julian, if you want to share
> it with a male, that's your right.
MIKE: Which Amendment is that, anyway?
TOM: (Alistair) And if you want to be selfish and keep your boyish sex
appeal to yourself, that's your choice.
> And your prerogative.
> It's not like you get much choice at anything else around
> this place.
CROW: Well, you do get to choose whether you eat Fancy Feast or Whiskas.
> If it makes you feel good to be with him that
> way, then go for it," Alistair said, then left Julian alone
> to think it through.
(ALL hum the Final Jeopardy music as TOM hovers onto MIKE's lap. They
continue as MIKE picks TOM up and ALL leave the theater.)
[Door 1]
[Door 2]
[Door 3]
[Door 4]
[Door 5]
[Door 6]
[Dog Bone]
[SOL Bridge. MIKE and the BOTS enter. They are obviously distraught.]
CROW: So let me get this straight, Mike - the basic message of _Stolen
Memories_ is that women are beings of pure evil who exist solely
to
cause pain and suffering for men?
MIKE: That pretty much sums it up, Tom. The story seems to be advising
men
to avoid having any relationships with the opposite sex, since
they
only lead to degradation and agony in the long run.
TOM: Oh, what I wouldn't give for a POSITIVE image of femininity right
now!
MIKE and CROW: Amen!
(As if on cue, GYPSY dashes in)
GYPSY: (urgently) Guys! The satellite is about to pass through an
asteroid
belt! We need to prepare ourselves for severe turbulence! Does
everyone remember Emergency Drill #1106B?
MIKE and BOTS: (cheerfully) Gypsy!
(The guys all rush to greet GYPSY. MIKE gives her a bear hug, while TOM
and CROW affectionately lean against her. For some reason, MIKE and the
BOTS regress to a childlike state.)
TOM: Gypsy, it's so good to see you!
CROW: Oh Gypsy, we missed you!
MIKE: Would you tell us a story, Gypsy? Would ya? Huh?
GYPSY: Didn't you hear what I just said? We're about to go through an
asteroid belt! We need to get ready PRONTO! There's a serious
chance we could all perish!
CROW: Oh, Gypsy, you say the nicest things!
MIKE: You'd never subject us to humiliating torture, Gypsy. Not like
those
mean old Felistian women.
TOM: Would you sing us a lullaby, Gypsy? Please?
MIKE and CROW: Yeah! A lullaby!
GYPSY: There's no time for that! We've got to... OH, FORGET IT! You
guys
are on your own!
(GYPSY leaves in a panic)
TOM: Wait! Come back!
CROW: Don't go, Gypsy!
MIKE: Don't leave us alone again, Gypsy!
(Too late; she's gone. MIKE and the BOTS let out a collective sigh.)
CROW: Oh, well. At least we learned that not all women are cruel and
manipulative. Some of them really do care about...
(Suddenly we hear a loud crash, like rock hitting metal. The whole
bridge
shakes and the lights flicker.)
TOM: Hmmmm. I wonder what that was.
MIKE: Probably nothing. If we were headed for trouble, Gypsy would keep
us
posted. Right?
CROW: Of course she would! Gypsy loves us!
(Another crash. MIKE shrugs, utterly ignorant of what's happening. A
piece of panelling from the ceiling falls off and conks him on the head,
knocking him unconscious.)
[Planet Bumper]