MiSTing: Home For Christmas [STNG/Holiday/Ratliff] [PG] [2/2]
Matthew R Blackwell
[The bridge of the SoL, still decoratively decorated. The crew is once
again huddled around a TV.]
TV Voice: Mary! Mary!
Gypsy: This is so sad.
Mike: Boy, we sure lucked out, getting to watch a great movie
for a change.
Crow: Of course it's the *colorized* version of "It's a Wonderful
Life".
Mike: Still, it's probably the best movie we've ever been able to
watch up here. You know, [The lights on the Bridge dim, and
Mike steps to the front of the stage, illuminated by a
spotlight.] the holiday season is one of my favorite times
of the year. It's a time of loving and caring, a time when
random passers-by will stop and give a friendly "Hello" to
each other.
Tom: [From the darkness] When they're not yelling at each other for
taking their parking space.
Mike: ...a time when peace and harmony are in the air.
Crow: [From the darkness] Along with Christmas carols that you've
been hearing constantly since Labor Day.
Mike: [Angrily] A time when people lend each other a helping
hand without any regard for a reward.
Tom: [From the darkness] Fist fights are erupting over who gets that
last Gigapet...
[The lights return to normal. Mike steps back to join the others.]
Mike: Fine. No more sappy speeches from Mike about Christmas. Are
you two happy now?
Tom: Yeah.
Crow: Quite.
Mike: Look, let's just finish watching a good movie for a change,
okay?
Crow: Sure, Mike.
Tom: Fine with me.
[The three rejoin Gypsy at the TV. A moment or two passes.]
Tom: You know Mike, I really hate George Bailey.
Mike: What?
Tom: That's right Mike, I wish that George Bailey was never born. I
mean, Mr. Potter was making Pottersville into an entertainment
mecca that could easily rival Vegas or Reno, and Bailey just had
to ruin it. . .
Mike: Tom, you're missing the entire point of the movie.
Crow: And where was the action? Okay, it started well, with the train
and all, but after that, nada. Couldn't they have had some drug
dealers or terrorists in it or something?
Tom: Ooh, like in Lethal Weapon or Die Hard?
Crow: Yeah! And George could go out and buy some guns, and take care
of Mr. Potter, permanently.
Tom: Can we toss in a big breasted blonde and some clones too?
Mike: [Angrily] Okay, dat's it! Out you two pixies go - trough' da
door, or out da airlock!
[Mike opens the airlock and begins trying to stuff the two bots into
it.]
Tom: Mike! Hey! We were just kidding!
Crow: Yeah! It was just a joke! We liked the film!
Tom: It was great! Come on! Stop it!
[The lights begin to flash.]
Gypsy: Mike, could you take care of that later? Your lights are on.
Tom: Mike! We've got fanfic sign!
Crow: Thank you fanfic sign! Thank you!
Bots: We've got fanfic sign! AHHH!!!!!!
[Mike reluctantly puts the bots down as the door sequence begins.]
[1. . . 2. . . 3. . . 4. . . 5. . . 6. . .]
[The trio enters.]
Tom: Gee Mike, can't you take a joke?
Crow: Wound a bit tightly, aren't we?
Mike: It's the holidays. They're always really stressful for me.
> After Mass, the family left the church out onto the new fallen
>snow.
Tom: Missionaries soon appeared in an attempt to bring the snow back
into the graces of the Church.
> But before they could get into the horse driven sled, Philippe
>Boucher intercepted Isabelle.
Mike: [Football announcer] And Boucher takes Isabelle back to the
40... the 30... the 20... the 10... before being forced out of
bounds at the six-yard line by Suztakowski!
> "What do you want, Father," Isabelle
>asked, somewhat sad and defiant.
Crow: And don't say, "I want a rock to wind a string around" because
I've heard it before.
Mike: Okay, how about a tasty treat that combines the taste of
chocolate and the zing of Worcestershire sauce?
> Philippe had tears running down his face as he looked at his
>daughter in her bright red winter coat, carrying her baby son. "I know
>I don't deserve it, and you have every right to refuse," he began.
All: She refuses!
>"But I'd like your forgiveness for how I've treated you the past couple
>years. And I'd like to get to know my grandson."
Tom: [Philipe] Hopefully, he'll turn out better than you did, you
ungrateful little wench.
> "And what brings this sudden change of heart," Isabelle asked,
>clutching her son closer to her breast.
Mike: [Rene] Hmm. Should I tell her how much the Ferengi are offering
for babies these days? Nyah. Better not.
> "A lot of things, with your brother away at school, and the
>fifth anniversary of you mother's death," her father replied. "I had
>time to think about how I'd been treating you, and how Louse would
>have wanted you to grow up.
Crow: My mother, the Louse!
Mike: She met her fate tragically, just like her sisters - Tick, Flea
and Mite.
Tom: Curse Philippe and his Hartz two-in-one collar!
> I don't think I had any part in it, but
>you're just like your mother. Determined, you don't back down when
>you want something. Caring, you are everything you mother was and
>more.
Crow: [Isabelle] See? You always ignore me! You come over to see me
and suddenly, you're talking to Caring! I hate you, I hate you!
> I just want to be a small part of your life again."
Mike: [Philippe] So maybe I can visit you at your new wine cellar.
*home!!* *Home*, I meant, of course!
> "Well, it is Christmas, and Rene is already having to grow up
>without a father," Isabelle remarked.
Mike: Well, it's really set back the careers of the various Kid's Crew
orphans. Marrissa might be running the galaxy by now if her Dad
was still around.
> "You can come over to see me
>and Rene Tomorrow for Christmas dinner. We'll see about anything
>more."
> "Thank you Belle," Mr. Boucher said. "You don't know how
>much this means to me."
Mike: [Philippe] By the way, how much silverware does Marie have?
And where's the nearest Pawn shop?
> "I know your cooking," Isabelle shot back, as she moved
>toward the red sleigh.
Tom: Tom Hanks is the Man with One Red Sleigh.
Crow: A *sleigh*?!? What, did they forget all of their technology
at once or something?
> As she boarded the sleigh, Marie asked, "What did your father
>want?"
Crow: He said something about all of the children of the world coming
together to sing.
Mike: Wow, that was really a nice image, Crow.
Crow: And then he babbled something about placing a woman on a
pedestal just high enough so that he can see up her dress.
Mike: Never mind.
> "Forgiveness, and to see Rene," Isabelle replied, sitting down
>beside her son's grandmother. Marie snuffled her disapproval.
Mike: Snuffled?
Crow: Isabelle's imaginary friend was Mr. Snuffleupagus! It all
makes sense now!
> "I
>invited him to Christmas Dinner. He deserves to get to know his
>grandson, and it is Christmas."
>
Crow: Just one more reminder, in case you forgot in the last half
paragraph, that it's Christmas!
> "... And laying his finger aside his nose,"
Tom: Old St.Nick did couple of lines!
Crow: No wonder he was such a right jolly old elf.
Mike: Great. Now I'm trapped up here with Cheech and Chong.
> Jean-Luc read to the
>assembled Picard family in the living room. He was seated in the big
>black chair, with Marrissa and Theresa at his feet.
Mike: Marrissa, Theresa - rhyming symmetry, if you will. Pretty
subtle, for Ratliff.
Tom: I bet it's like that family on "Designing Women", where all the
names rhymed. There's probably another cousin named
"Clarrissa"
Crow: Who'll explain it all.
> The fire was
>lending a warm glow to the room. Little Rene and Jackie were
>already asleep, their mothers sitting with Marie on the sofa. "And
>giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
Mike: [Child] Ooh! Why didn't he use the transporter?
Tom: [Jean-Luc] Shut up, kid.
> He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave
>a whistle,
Tom: Then he called them for an offsides penalty.
> and away they All flew like the down of a thistle; but I
>heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
All: Leave the Bronx!!!
> 'Happy Christmas to
>all, and to all a goodnight!.'"
Crow: Well, except to the little atheist kids, or course.
> Jean-Luc closed the book and looked down at his daughter and
>niece.
Mike: Ratliff's story seems to have been replaced with another
one of Patrick Stewart's one man Christmas shows.
Tom: Wow. Things are getting better and better.
> They were already dressed for bed. Marrissa was wearing red
>and black Starfleet issue pajamas.
Mike: Starfleet is color coding their pajamas? Why does this disturb
me more than anything else written in this story?
> She had her arm around her
>cousin, who wore a cute green nightgown befitting her age. Theresa
>yawned, then brushed her blond hair back.
> "I think it's time for bed," Marie said, as another yawn
>overtook both Theresa and Marrissa.
Tom: AARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!! It's another horse racing scene!!!!!
Mike: It's okay Tom. They're just yawning.
Crow: But they're both overtaken by Beetlebaum!
Tom: AARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!
Mike: [To Crow] You're not helping.
> "Do I have too," Theresa asked. "I wanna stay up and see
>Santa Clause,"
All: <Groan.>
Mike: Great, there's one film that Pearl forgot to send to us. And now
she's been reminded of it. Thanks Stephen.
> "He won't come until you are asleep in you bed,
Tom: That way, it'll be much easier for him to kill you.
> visions of
>sugar plums dancing in your head," her uncle Jean-Luc replied. "And
>I think you better get some rest too, Marrissa."
> "What are sugar plums?" Theresa asked.
Mike: You got me, kid.
> "They're small sugar candies," Beverly replied. "If you were
>good this year, Santa might leave some in you stocking.
Tom: <Sniff> Beverly, Tonto, and Tarzan sing a Christmas Carol...
[Tom begins to quietly weep.]
Mike: Tom, we miss him too.
> Now off to
>bed, you two."
> As the two ascended the stairs, Isabelle yawned, and said, "I
>think I better turn in as well. I'll see you all Tomorrow morning
>after Marrissa and Theresa wake you up and before Dad arrivies."
Crow: Memo to self: If our "clock" doesn't go off, be sure to send
Stephen a new spell checker.
Tom: <Still crying> That's spel chekur.
> "Good night, Belle," Jean-Luc, Beverly, and Marie chorused.
Crow: Now don't you, Biv and DeVoe stay up too late, you hear?
> After Isabelle was safely out of ear-shot, Jean-Luc spoke up,
>"Now what is going on between you and Isabelle's father."
Tom: [Picard] We're planning to rob a casino. It'll be me, Phillipe,
Sammy, Frank, and three other hoods.
> "Do you know how she came to live here?" Marie asked. Jean-
>Luc shook his head, so Marie continued.
Mike: She was attending a party here, and she fell asleep in the tub.
The next morning she woke up, and we needed a new roommate, so
we invited her to stay. But, we've had to convince our landlord,
Mr. Roper, that she's gay...
> "After you convinced him to
>accept Isabelle having Rene's baby summer of last of last year, things
>went on petty well until she started showing. Then Belle started
>coming over complaining about him commenting about how she'd
>dishonored him and his family.
Crow: Then the Klingons started picketing the house babbling about
how Isabelle had dishonored the House of Boucher.
> On Christmas morning I found her
>on my doorstep, tears following, holding her seventh month pregnant
>belly, in just her bathrobe. It was twenty degrees out!"
Mike: Of course, the French have been using Celsius for centuries by
the Star Trek era, so it's actually almost seventy Fahrenheit
and she'd probably be quite comfortable in just a bathrobe.
> "Later in the day he had the nerve to try to come over and
>apologize.
Crow: Gasp! The nerve of realizing that you were wrong and then trying
to make amends!
> Isabelle didn't want to see him. I collected her stuff from
>his front yard where he had thrown it.
Tom: [Marie] Who knew one person could collect so much useless crap
in just a few short years?
> I had to have her Preakness
>trophy repaired.
Mike: It's over there. See the thing wrapped in duct tape?
> Since then he has tried to apologize on her birthday,
>while she was visiting Rene's grave, and the day Rene junior was
>born. Bell's rebuffed him every time, and told me to keep him away
>from her. I've tried to do that."
Mike: Aside from actually moving away from him, or anything
practical.
> "From Isabelle's tone, I'd say that has changed," Beverly said.
>"She seems to be looking forward her father's visit."
Tom: Well then, Isabelle's probably the only person in the world
who's looking forward to having her parents visit her for the
holidays.
> "Maybe so, but I don't want her disappointed or hurt," Marie
>replied. "She'd really like her father's support, but he's always
>favored her older brother over her. When she won the Kentucky
>Derby, his reply was, 'that's nice, did you here about my son's
>straight A's.'"
Mike: I'm sorry. Did either of you say something?
Tom: We were too busy contemplating the glory that is Marrissa to hear
you.
> "Hopefully, that's changed," Beverly said.
> "I will have a word with Philippe Tomorrow," Jean-Luc
>promised. "Now I believe we have some presents to put under the tree,
>Doctor."
>
Crow: Wow, a coupon for a free angioplasty!! Thanks, Doc!
> Morning had not yet dawned on the Picard Chateau when the
>door opened to let a warmly dressed man in from the gently fAlling
>snow.
Crow: It's Lee Majors!
>Wesley had taken his mother's parting words to heart.
Crow: Shall we?
Tom: Should we?
Mike: For old times' sake? Why not?
All: *Shut up, Wesley!*
> He took off his
>coat and boots, and walked into the living room to warm up by the fire
>and await the waking of the family. He stopped by the kitchen and
>made himself some coffee with a little bit of cream. He wasn't a tea
>drinker like his step-father.
Mike: That's right. Wesley preferred bourbon in the morning, just like
a *real* man should.
> Upstairs, the aroma of coffee woke the StarFleet Lieutenant
>who'd been having way too much of it lately.
Tom: Ooh boy. I can imagine Marrissa on a caffeine jag.
Crow: [Marrissa] OKAY! It's 4:30! I've already conquered Cardassia,
Feringanar, and Betazed! WHO'S NEXT?! I AM THE QUEEN!!!!!
> Marrissa loved the
>smell of coffee in the morning,
Mike: Because it smells like victory.
> but her parents preferred tea, and
>tried to get her to give up caffeine.
Tom: Um. . .
Mike: Here, let me. You mean that Marrissa's antipathy towards the
Romulans is all because she didn't get her morning cup of
coffee?
Tom: Actually, it was "Doesn't tea have *more* caffeine in it than
coffee does?"
> She put on her black robe,
>flipping her hair out from under it and tip-toed down the stairs.
Tom: She's still wearing those pajamas underneath the robe, right?
Mike: Maybe not. Ratliff might be writing TrekSmut now. . .
Tom: ACKKK!!!!
Mike: Hey, that's kind of fun. I'm beginning to see why Crow likes
doing that.
> She found her
>step-brother placing presents under the tree from his large sack. He
>turned and smiled at her.
Mike: [Wesley] Marrissa. Good. I wanted to kill you first.
> Wesley showed the coffee and earl grey tea
>he'd prepared.
> "When did you get here?" Marrissa asked, sitting on the sofa.
Crow: [Marrissa] Wow! Look at the time! It's really late, Wesley.
Shouldn't you be running home?
> "Just a few minutes ago," Wesley whispered. "I don't want to
>wake anyone up though."
> "Too late for that, you made coffee," Marrissa whispered back.
>Tiny footsteps where heard on the stairs.
Tom: Hey, maybe this is a crossover with that old Twilight Zone
episode with the tiny astronauts attacking the old lady!
> Little Theresa came into the living room. She took in the
>scene. The stockings were full.
Mike: The stockings were hung by the chimneys...with Death!
> Presents were stacked under the tree,
Tom: Look! Santa left a note, "Marrissa, I'm afraid that the
Riker-B-Gone is on backorder right now. Lots of people are
asking for it. I've left the "Riker Away" voodoo kit in its
place. Toodles, St. Nick."
>and the milk and cookies she had left had been eaten. "Santa came!"
>Theresa exclaimed.
Tom: Well, the Ferengi might have taken the milk and cookies in
exchange for leaving the presents.
> From behind her came her mother. Then came Jean-Luc,
>carrying his daughter, and Isabelle carrying her son.
Crow: The five year old has a kid? Boy, the Federation's gone to
Hell (TM) in a handbasket.
> Last to enter was
>Beverly. She spied her son and exclaimed, "Wesley, you made it!"
>She ran over to the twenty-four year old.
> "Did you really think that I'd miss my little sister's first
>Christmas?" Wesley asked, hugging his mother.
Tom: [Beverly] Well, we were hoping so. We wanted her first holiday
season free of your influence.
> "Can we open the presents now?" Theresa asked, pleading
>with her mother.
> "If everyone will sit down and Marrissa will hand out the
>presents," Marie replied.
>
Mike: [Marrissa] These aren't all mine? There's going to be a
beheading...
> The presents were unwrapped, and soon everyone had departed
>on their separate ways until dinner time. Isabelle and Marie retired
>to the kitchen to begin dinner. Marrissa took Theresa to the stables
>to see the horses. Beverly and Wesley retreated to the Library to
>catch up on recent events.
Tom: [Wesley] Well, I was dating Chelsea for a while, but then I met
this cool mutant, and I hung around with her for a while. Then I
met this cat named Artemis. . .
> Jean-Luc Picard, with his best Captain's face,
>waited outside in the snow for the last visitor for Christmas dinner to
>arrive.
>
Mike: [Picard] I wonder what's keeping that Rabbi? If he doesn't get
here soon all the ham will get cold.
> About ten o'clock, he spotted his prey.
Crow: With razor-sharp claws and fangs, the vicious Enterprise Captain
sprang and began rending it limb from limb.
> Philippe Boucher was
>walking toward the Picard Chateau with a bag slung over his shoulders.
Mike: Philippe Boucher: Drunken ingrate, louse-lover, "Old Spice" man.
>His face was downcast. His gait had a procession march with a slight
>hesitation that the Captain recognized from his long career as of a man
>marching toward certain doom.
Tom: He had the same feeling himself after he read the script to
"Masterminds."
> That walk changed Captain Picard's
>approach. He'd been intending to take a stern tact, laying down the
>law.
Mike: Setting him straight.
Crow: Putting him on the right path.
Tom: Parting those gray clouds of deception to show that silver
lining.
> Instead he placed his best diplomatic smile on and welcomed
>him like an old friend. "Philippe, I'd been wondering when you'd get
>here," the Captain said, walking up to the man and placing his arm
>around the man's shoulders.
Crow: Before plunging the dagger into his back.
> "Why are you welcoming me," Mr. Boucher said, puzzled. "I
>thought I'd have to run though a gauntlet of people lecturing me
>before I'd see Isabelle."
Tom: [Picard] Oh, I'm not going to lecture you. I'm just going to
kill you.
> "Well Theresa and Marrissa are off at the stables, my wife and
>her son are catching up, and Marie and your daughter are starting
>dinner," Jean-Luc replied. "They sent me to pick out some wine to
>serve at dinner. Perhaps you would join me in that task?"
Crow: [Philippe] Jean-Luc, I'm French, remember? We're all on strike
right now.
> "Why not, I've put off the enviable a long time as it is,"
>Philippe responded.
> "And the enviable is?"
Tom: Something not found on the SoL?
Mike+Crow: Good answer! Good answer!
> Jean-Luc said, leading the way to the
>wine cellar.
> "Isabelle throwing me out, just like I did to her last year,"
Mike: Yeah, I'd really envy that myself.
>Philippe said, as the entered the outside door to the wine cellar.
> Captain Picard lead the father back into the cellar.
Mike: Say Philippe? You want to get that cask of Amontillado out of
the back for me?
> "And what
>makes you think that she will do that?" he asked, inspecting the labels
>on one shelf.
Crow: Thunderbird, Colt .45, Thunderbird, Mad Dog, Thunderbird,
Harvey's Bristle Cream, Zima...
> "What comes around, goes around," Philippe said, his eyes on
>his feet. "I treated her badly, she will do the same."
> "I think you underestimate your daughter," Jean-Luc began.
Mike: Moments later, Isabelle blew up the Death Star, just before it
could fire on Yavin 4.
> "She's no longer my daughter, she's discarded me like a torn
>shirt," Philippe said, looking up, his eyes full of sorrow.
Crow: [Philipe] She took my Doobies Brothers CDs with her when she
left! Jean-Luc, how can anyone be so cruel?!
> "I find that hard to believe," Jean-Luc remarked. "Yes she
>doesn't need you in the same ways. Isabelle has grown up. I have two
>daughters myself.
Mike: Yep. Those two or three years of parenting experience make you
much better qualified to speak on parenting than his sixteen
years do, Mr. "I don't like children Number One."
> True, Marrissa isn't as old as Isabelle, but she
>doesn't need me the same way that she did when I adopted her. She
>isn't twelve years old any more and she has changed.
Crow: Now she's twelve and a half.
Tom: Wait, wasn't Marrissa thirteen in "Enterprized?" Picard didn't
adopt her until after that! How does Picard know what she was
like when she was twelve? *Is she getting younger?*
Mike: Ooh, it's another Dark Marrissa moment.
> Just as your
>daughter isn't a little girl anymore, she's mother now. You can't do
>everything for them any more."
Mike: All the promotions that you give her, all the Romulans that you
let her kill, all of the ships that you give her, none of that
will fill that hollow feeling inside.
> "What can I do?" Philippe asked. "She refuses my advice. She
>doesn't let me do anything for her. She's impossible."
Crow: So the normal teenager is considered odd, while the family
with the teenaged uber-Captain, and her omnipotent brother
are considered to be normal?
> "Just be there for her, let her know you still care," Jean- Luc
>responded, pulling out a bottle and dusting off it's label. He smiled
>the smile of discovery. "I told Marie that there had to be some of the
>`33 around."
Tom: [Picard] See? We put a mouse into every bottle of wine that year.
Boy, that promotion bombed.
> "That doesn't sound like Starship Captain advice," Philippe
>remarked.
Mike: Nah. It's from a letter that I sent to Dear Abby. She titled it
"Dear God, she's only thirteen?!"
> "It's not, I had some problems with Marrissa," Jean-Luc said.
>"She's my Security Chief now, and I had a hard time adjusting to the
>changes the job caused."
Crow: Like being held under house arrest all of the time.
> "You appointed her Security Chief?" Philippe inquired, his
>mind leaving his own problems.
Mike: [Philippe] Yes, my estrangement from my daughter is far less
important than Marrissa's accomplishments.
> "Well when Lieutenant Commander Worf declined to serve as
>Chief of Security, I told him to pick his successor on the new
>Enterprise, giving the search over to him," the Captain replied,
Tom: [Picard] Of course, if I had known how easily intimidated he was
by pre-teen girls, I would never have let him do it.
>leading the way deeper into the wine cellar. "I was quite surprised
>when Marrissa reported for duty."
Mike: Yeah. It's about as surprising as a bunch of people dying in a
slasher flick.
Crow: Hmm. "Marrissa takes Manhattan." I like the sound of that.
> "You didn't know who was going to be your Chief of Security
>until she reported for duty?" Philippe said, disbelieving.
Crow: But he blew his save, so this story's still going on.
> "I gave Worf full authority on the appointment, telling him
>that he was appointing his successor," Picard said, taking a set of
>stairs.
Tom: Philippe took the nearby elevator.
Mike: Picard's rather strong if he can lift those stairs.
Crow: Mike, he's probably gotten stronger by working out on the
Stairmaster. See? Lifting stairs, Stairmaster... It's funny!
Tom: No it's not.
Crow: Laugh!
Mike: Maybe later.
>"It's not an uncommon thing to do, especially when a large portion of
>the crew is being filled. Not letting me know until Marrissa reported
>for duty, well that was my fault."
> "Your fault?" Philippe questioned, following him up the gray
>painted stairs.
> "I was otherwise engaged with Beverly," Jean-Luc said,
>opening the door to the kitchen.
Mike: So, Picard was engaged for several weeks then, while Worf
screened the possible candidates?
Crow: Nice job, Jean-Luc!
> "Oh."
> "Marie, I have the wine you wanted," Jean-Luc announced to
>the two inhabiting cooks. Both Marie and Isabelle looked up from
>their food.
Tom: Hey, finish your g'ahk before it gets cold!
> Spying Mr. Boucher, Marie grimaced before straightening
>her face. Isabelle smiled at first, but then forced her face into a
>neutral expression.
> "Father," Isabelle greeted, trying to be monotone.
Tom: Someone call Duchovny. He can give her some pointers.
> "Hello Isabelle, how is my favorite daughter?" Philippe said
>tentatively.
Mike: [Isabelle] Well, I'm fine, but there's this annoying bald guy
who keeps wandering around, doing nothing but talk, and talk,
and talk. And. . . oh. Hi, Jean-Luc!
> "Dad, I'm your only daughter," Isabelle scolded.
> "That's right," Philippe said, apologetically. "I'm sorry I
>haven't been remembering how valuable you are lately."
Tom: She's worth about six bucks in minerals with current market
prices.
> A moment of awkward silence followed. Neither of them quite
>sure how to continue. Marie and Jean-Luc watched from behind each
>of their charges.
Tom: Marie knew that Isabelle had more stamina, but Jean-Luc felt that
Philipe's power and reach would win the fight.
Crow: Meanwhile, Don King gleefully counted the fees for the PPV.
Mike: Boucher/ Boucher. Vengeance in the vineyard!
> Marie was not sure if she wanted a
>reconciliation between the two, but knew that Isabelle missed her
>father. Jean-Luc preferred a reconciliation.
Crow: He always does.
Mike: Negotiate with the monster? Sure. We can do that.
> Philippe had been a
>boyhood friend, not his best friend, only Louis could claim that, but a
>good friend.
> Finally, Isabelle broke the silence. "That's OK," she said.
>"Would you like to see little Rene? I just put him down
Mike: ... because he broke his leg.
Tom: AHHHHHH!!!!! The horse racing's back! AHHHH!!!!!!
Mike: It was just a joke! Calm down!
Tom: When will the horror end? When?
> for a nap, but
>chances are that's the only way you'd be able to see him anyway."
Crow: As when he's awake, he's the fastest tot alive.
Tom: See? I was right about the Allen shrine.
> "Oh?" Philippe questioned, as his daughter embraced him.
> "Ever since he started walking, he's been impossible to keep up
>with," Isabelle remarked,
Crow: And his Kobyashi Maru time is just incredible!
> "Marie, can you handle
>things for a while here?"
> Marie smiled, "I've been running this kitchen since you were a
>baby, Belle. I think I can handle it while you show your baby to your
>father."
Tom: Whoops. The stove seems to have caught fire. I hope my souffle is
okay.
> "Thank you."
>
[Crow and Tom face each other]
Bots: Dr. E.
Mike: Who?
Tom: Before your time, Mike.
> Isabelle slowly opened the door to her son's nursery. Her
>father followed behind her. Little Rene was in his walnut crib,
Crow: Riker, no! Get that giant nutcracker out of here! <Crack> Oh!
Oh, the humanity!
>fast asleep. The two crept up on him.
Mike: Just in case. After all, the baby might be packing heat.
> He laid in the crib
>with his left thumb in his mouth and his blanket spread evenly across
>his chest.
Tom: The blanket rested on the baby, with an occasional 0.1 cm high
wrinkle in the cloth. The baby himself lay 22.1 cm from the east
side of the crib...
>Philippe Boucher looked on his grandson for the first time. "He's
>perfect," Philippe whispered.
Tom: Except for the extra head, but that goes without saying.
> "I know," Isabelle replied.
>
Mike: Wasn't that the other guy's line?
>--
>Stephen Ratliff CS Major, Radford University.
Tom: That's it?
Crow: No "everyone introduces themselves" scene?
Mike: No fight scenes?
Tom: No alien invaders?
Crow: Or guest appearances by the Pope?
Mike: Heck, not even a scene with Philipe joining the Picards for
dinner?
Tom: <sniff> Not even a "God bless us everyone"?
Crow: I guess that Ratliff felt sorry for us and just ended it.
Tom: Or he quit writing before he did anything stupid in this one.
Mike: Well, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth.
Tom: Please don't say "horse" in a Ratliff story anymore.
>srat...@runet.edu Radford, Virginia 24142-7496
Tom: So, All of this was just a prologue for another story?
Mike: I don't think so.
Crow: Well, we never did see a Chapter 1, so this must have been just
a really long prologue.
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
Crow: Here's my webpage, one of many hopelessly cluttering up the
internet:
>http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/
Crow: And here's a webpage with pictures of my dog:
>http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer and
Crow: And here's my CD collection:
>http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/index/ Index Maintainer for
Crow: And my page of links, most of which lead to Yahoo, or Zima, or
the Spot:
>http://aviary.share.net/~alara/ alt.startrek.creative
>
>"The only reason they haven't killed me is that I'm part of their
> victory celebration. 7:00, Dukat makes a speech, 8:30, cake and
> raktagino, 8:45, execute the Ferengi."
> -Rom, DS9 "Sacrifice of Angels"
>
Tom: And behold! A light has appeared in the rear of the theater!
'Tis the exit, and we shall follow it to gaze upon the wonder of
the bridge!
[The trio exits.]
[1. . .2. . .3. . .4. . .5. . . 6 . . .]
[The Bridge. The crew is gathered around a brightly-lit tree, while
Mike is distributing presents.]
Mike: ...okay, here's one from Tom to Gypsy.
Gypsy: Hooray!
Mike: And one to me from Tom. Thanks Tom. finally, one from Gypsy to
Crow. And that's all of them.
[Packages are ripped open by all except Crow, who looks forlornly at
the floor.]
Tom: Wow! A rock tumbler! Thanks Mike!
Mike: You're welcome! I'm glad that you liked it.
Gypsy: A lawnmower! Thanks Tom!
Mike: Lawnmower?
Tom: She kept dropping hints about one.
Gypsy: An example of pre-Minosian pottery celebrating the harvest day
feast during the 6th year of the reign of King Adreppi! Thanks
Mike!
Tom: Where'd you get that?
Mike: It was in the cupboard, behind a box of Grape Nuts.
Tom: Ah. That explains it. No one likes Grape Nuts.
Mike: Hey, Crow? Are you okay? You haven't touched your presents.
Crow: Well Mike, I... <sniff> I..., didn't get you guys any presents.
Gypsy: Scuba gear! Thanks Magic Voice!
Mike: [Comfortingly] Well, why not?
Crow: I was too wrapped up in the season, and I just forgot about it
until it was too late.
Mike: Why, that's okay Crow. It happens to all of us...
Gypsy: Picasso's "Starry Night!" Thanks Cambot!
Crow: Plus, we *are* out in space, 20,000 miles away from the nearest
store. By the way, where did you get all of these gifts?
Tom: The nanites built a "Mall of Nanitia."
Gypsy: A NASCAR Barbie! Thanks Bobo!
Crow: Great! Are they still open, I could go over there and. . .
Tom: Nah. It's gone. The nanites shut it down a few hours ago when
some idiot starved to death on his way there. "He couldn't find
it," they said. How can you miss something that big? Sheesh!
Gypsy: Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History of Time." From Observer, who
writes, "It's a laugh riot!" Thanks Observer!
Crow: Oh. Well, I guess that's that then. I've failed you guys.
<sniff>
Mike: Now now Crow. Look around you for a second. [Heartwarming music
begins to play in the background.] You're surrounded by people,
and robots, who care about you. None of us care about who gave
who a gift...
Tom: I do.
Mike: ...we love you no matter what you gave us. We give gifts because
we care about you, and we don't expect anything in return. We're
your friends, Crow. [The console light begins to flash, while
the music swells to a crescendo.] And remember Crow, no man is
a failure who has friends. [To the screen.] What do you think,
Pearl?
[Castle Forrester]
[Pearl appears to have been crying, clearly moved by the above
exchange.]
Pearl: Mike, that was beautiful. Maybe I've been wrong to trap you in
that satellite. Why, I should just let you out of there right
now!
[Bobo enters, dressed in a 1920s High school letter jacket. He begins
to speak in a voice vaguely like that of Jimmy Stewart.]
Bobo: Lawgiver? Are you feeling sad? Well, let me cheer you up
somehow. Do you want the moon, Lawgiver? Let met just throw a
lasso around it, and I'll drag it down to Earth for you. Then
you could swallow it, and be able to shoot moon beams out of
your fingers. Then watch as the world trembles before you!
Ha-ha-ha!
[Pan back to Pearl, who's looking quite annoyed.]
Pearl: Mike, forget what I just said. Banana brain here just ruined
the mood for me. I'll be sending you up something with Pauly
Shore in it later today. [To Bobo.] Bobo, did you ever see
"Rear Window"?
Bobo: No Lawgiver.
Pearl: Well, I'm going to recreate it for you.
Bobo: Great!
Pearl: First thing though, we'll have to break your legs.
Bobo: Great! I mean, what?
[Pearl grins evilly and the transmission goes dead, but not before we
hear Bobo screaming in terror.]
[SoL]
Mike: Well, so much for *that* ray of hope. [Cheerfully] Oh well.
It's still Christmas.
Crow: Mike, what do you mean "No one is a failure who has friends?"
That's silly. I mean, look at Uncle Billy. He was a lousy
businessman, *and* he lost a bunch of money at the bank...
[Mike begins to develop a "Don't make me angry. You won't like me when
I'm angry." look in his eyes.]
Tom: Crow, Mike's losing it...
Crow: Uh oh. [pause] Hey everyone! Let's go caroling!
Tom: Yeah! Caroling! That'd be great!
Gypsy: I can wear my new galoshes that Pearl sent me!
Crow: Mike, you like caroling, don't you?
Tom: Come on, I'll start us off. o/~God rest ye merry, Gentlemen. Let
nothing you dismay...o/~
Mike: [Slowly at first, but gaining enthusiasm quickly.] o/~ Remember
Christ our savior was born on Christmas Day...o/~
[The quartet begins moving offscreen, with Tom and Crow trailing
behind.]
Crow: You did get him some Thorazine for Christmas, didn't you?
Tom: Yep.
Mike: o/~...to save us All from Satan's power cause we had gone
astray. Oh tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and
joy....o/~
[They exit. The singing grows fainter and fainter until the bridge is
silent. Moments pass until a sparkling blue beam of light appears on
the Bridge. The light coalesces into a human form, that of a young,
bespectacled man carrying an armload of presents.]
Stephen: Merry Christmas everyone! [He begins to stumble around the
Bridge, trying to find a place to deposit his burden.]You
know, I was feeling sorry for you guys sitting up here and
being forced to read bad stories and watch cheesy movies.
Oh, and by the way, I'm really sorry about Time Speeder. I
shouldn't have released that one. Anyway, I contacted some
of my friends in Starfleet, and they agreed to come here and
take you home! Isn't that great!? [Near the end of his
statement, Stephen finds the console, and places the
presents atop it. He then looks around expectantly.] Guys?
Hmm. Someone else must have picked you up before I got here.
Oh well. I hope you have a nice Christmas, wherever you are.
Better turn off the lights. Computer, dim the lights please.
[The lights dim, and Stephen stands in silence for a moment while
looking at the tree's lights before he hits a device on his chest and
speaks again.]
Stephen: One to beam up.
[The transporter activates, and he vanishes in a flash of blue energy.
Cambot focuses in on the tree as the end credits begin.]
Home for Christmas:
Written by Stephen Ratliff <srat...@runet.edu>
MiSTing by Matt Blackwell <mbla...@ix.netcom.com>
Editing assistance from: Bill Livingston, Doug Atkinson, Steven
Savage, Peter Milan, Jen White, Ruth M. McIlhenny, and Jeff Roberts.
Star Trek:The Next Generation and all related characters and
situations are trademarks of and copyright of Viacom. All rights
reserved.
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations
are trademarks of and copyright of Best Brains, Inc. All rights
reserved.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for non-commercial
parody, review, and commentary purposes only; no infringement
on the original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains,
Inc., Paramount, Inc., or anyone else, is intended or should be
inferred.
No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s)
are or should be implied. All characters in this work are
fictional , and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is
purely coincidental.
Stephen Ratliff's appearance was made possible by a grant from the
Chubb group. Mr. Ratliff's wardrobe is courtesy of The Men's Wearhouse
of Norfolk, Virginia. Great clothes, a great price, I guarantee it.
An explanation for the incense, record label, and Canadian coin joke
is available from the author upon request.
Special thanks to Dave Hines for being able to spell "Snuffleupagus."
For Christmas fun all year round, visit the North Pole Amusement Park,
located minutes outside of beautiful Colorado Springs.
Keep circulating the posts.
[The screen fades to black as the copyright appears.]
Mike: [v.o.] Hey, who gave me this copy of the Star Trek Technical
Manual?
[Guitar chord.]
> Then Christmas morning I found her on my doorstep,
>tears following, holding her seventh month pregnant belly, in just her
>bathrobe. It was twenty degrees out!"