Misted: A Grey Day

[Mollie C-V]

Here's my first attempt....think it came out ok.

MST-001.MCV (c), insofar as possible 1996, Mollie Carson-Vollath
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello and welcome to Mollie Science Theater....and now, a
word from our author:

Disclaimer 1 - `This is my first attempt so be gentle', etc.
Disclaimer 2 - MST3K stuff belongs to Best Brains. The MiSTed short
belongs to Worst Brains (just my opinion:). The MiSTed story
belongs to Rob Bowell, who let me fold, spindle, and mutilate it.
Disclaimer 3 - Any spelling errors aren't my fault, but the fault of one
of my ferrets. That's the ticket.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Credits]

[Satellite of Love]

[The walls are decorated with construction paper cut into shell, fish,
seaweed, etc, shapes. Tom is off to one side, his globe filled with soap
solution, blowing bubbles out his mouth like a bubble machine. Gypsy is
wearing a long bright-orange wig and her tube part is wrapped in shimmery
green cloth. Crow has blue stripes taped to his body in a zebra pattern.
Joel has a long white beard and long white wig, and is waving a trident
around. Yup, they're doing the `Under the Sea' song from Little Mermaid.
Gypsy keeps singing in the background while the others talk.]

Joel: Oh hi, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. We were just enacting
our favourite scene from The Little Mermaid. Although somehow it's
not quite the same....
Crow: Yeah, I know. I look RIDICULOUS in these things. [starts tearing
off his stripes] I didn't want to do this. I wanted to do The
Producers, but noooo, King Triton here had to have HIS way and-
Joel: It was my turn to pick, Crow, come on.
Tom: [he's trying to speak but it only comes out extremely muffled, and
mostly the effect is for him to spew soap bubbles]
Crow: [nastily] What was that, Servo?
Tom: [same thing, more bubbles. He's getting frustrated and rocking back
and forth.]
Crow: What? Speak up!
Tom: [starts trying a third time, then switches tactics and shoots a
stream of bubbles at Crow, as hard as he can]
Crow: Ack! Heh hee, hey, stop, that tickles! Whahahhee, heehee....
[he falls down laughing as Tom continues the attack]
Joel: Knock it off, guys, we got commercial sign. [to camera:] 'Bots -
somebody should nail their fins to the floor.

[Gypsy keeps singing in the background for a few seconds after fadeout]

[Commercials....Coast: the eye opener. Mentos: the freshmaker. Pork: the
other white meat.]

[SoL]

[Everyone but Gypsy is back to normal (at least she's not singing
anymore, though). Mads' light is flashing.]

Joel: Uh-oh, Howard Ashman and Alan Menken are calling. [hits button]
Hello, sirs.

[Deep 13]

Dr. F: Hello, Sea Monkeys! You looked like you were having so much fun
up there, but don't worry, Doctor Forrester will fix all that,
yes. But first, a little something to make life more miserable for
those still on Earth, while also making life FUNNIER. Frank?
Frank: That's right, Steve. Don't you hate it when you step on a banana
peel and skid, windmill your arms wildly, and then crash clumsily to
the floor?
Dr. F: And don't you love watching the same thing happen to other people?
Of course you do. Well....

[Frank fishes around behind himself, then brings out a large bottle,
labelled `Froot-Lube'.]

With new Froot-Lube, ANY fruit can become as slippery and hazardous
as a banana! Just smear a few drops on, oh, say, this coconut I
just happen to have handy, like so. Think fast, Frank! [tosses the
coconut, now covered with bright pink gel, to Frank]

[Frank grabs for it but of course, his hands slip. The coconut hits the
floor and Frank, still off balance from trying to catch it, steps on it.
Crash, pratfall, you know.]

Frank: Ow! My back!
Dr. F: And what do you have for us, hmm?

[SoL. The crew are looking pretty skeptical at the whole Froot-Lube idea.]

Joel: Um, well our invention today is the Technobabbler. It takes any
regular story and converts it to sci-fi. Usually Star Trek.
Watch....this is a piece of The Adventure of the Copper Beeches, by
A.C. Doyle. [reads:]
`That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and
my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however,
that before taking the final step I should like to submit the
whole matter to your consideration.'

[Crow brings in a machine that looks like a toaster. Joel takes the paper
he read from, stuffs it in one of the slots, and presses the lever down.
A few seconds later, the toaster pops up and from the other slot comes
a piece of paper. Joel grabs it and holds it for Tom to read.]

Tom: `That is the letter the biolaterals just transmitted, Mr. Holmes,
and the computer ran a level-three logic check on it. But since it
arrived during the transglobular interferon migration effect, I'd
like to re-enportate it and get your opinion.' [pauses] Wow.
Crow: Yes, and look, on the side you can pick the technobabble setting,
anything from `light' to `brown'!
Joel: So, what do you think, sirs?

[Deep 13. Forrester is alone.]

Dr. F: [contained anger] Well, boopies, I'm happy to say that your
experiment today is called `A Gray Day', and it WILL make your
day grey, all right. [gloating now] And we also have a short, a
delightful item really, an anti-spam spam. En-jooyyyy!

[While he talks, Frank comes in quietly, carrying an enormous watermelon,
smeared with bright pink gel. He rolls it across the floor to Clay, and
just before it hits, says:]

Frank: Hi, Doctor F!

[Dr. F turns and goes down even more spectacularly than Frank. Frank's
face lights up happily and he walks over to the button, whistling `We
Have No Bananas, Today'.]

[Sol. Usual shouting and chaos at the usenet sign.]

[Door sequence]

[Theater]

>From ???@??? Wed Aug 21 01:48:36 1996
>X-State: 3
>X-Total-length: 7217
>X-Article #: 19351

Tom: X-amine your zipper.
Crow: X-caliber!
Joel: X-cruciating, I'm afraid....

>Message-ID: <321AB1...@E.SPAM>
>Path: news-e2d.gnn.com!news-e2a.gnn.com!howland.erols.net!Frankfurt.
>Germany.EU.net!Stuttgart.Germany.EU.net!main.Germany.EU.net!fu-berlin.
>de!newshub.tc.umn.edu!newsstand.tc.umn.edu!usenet
>From: Big Spamma Jammer <I...@E.SPAM>

Joel: You are one sick mamma-jamma, Spamma-Jammer.
Tom: We don't know that yet!
Joel: Artistic licence.

>Newsgroups: z-netz.forum.diskussion.sexualitaet,alt.homosexual,
>alt.magick.sex,alt.politics.sex,alt.religion.sexuality,alt.sex,alt.sex.anal,
>alt.sex.bears,alt.sex.bestiality,alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.breast,
>alt.sex.enemas,alt.sex.erotica.marketplace,alt.sex.fat,alt.sex.femdom,
>alt.sex.diapers,alt.sex.fetish.fa,alt.sex.fetish.fashion,alt.sex.fetish.feet,
>alt.sex.fetish.hair,alt.sex.fetish.orientals,alt.sex.fetish.smoking,
>alt.sex.fetish.tickling,alt.sex.fetish.watersports,alt.sex.homosexual,
>alt.sex.incest,alt.sex.intergen,alt.sex.masturbation,alt.sex.motss,
>alt.sex.movies,alt.sex.oral,alt.sex.pictures,alt.sex.pictures.females,
>alt.sex.pictures.male,alt.sex.plushies,alt.sex.prostitution,alt.sex.safe,
>alt.sex.services,alt.sex.spanking,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.d,
>alt.sex.strip-clubs,alt.sex.swingers,alt.sex.telephone,alt.sex.trans,
>alt.sex.voxmeet,alt.sex.voyeurism,alt.sex.wanted,alt.sex.wizards,
>de.alt.pictures.sex.children,de.talk.sex,fido.ger.sex,z-netz.alt.sex

Crow: That should cover it, yep.
Tom: Hey, it's not unreasonable to only post to alt.sex - everyone knows
the other newsgroups are fluff.

>Subject: ~@~ BUSTED !!! The RedQuetzal Gets Busted.
>Date: Wed, 21 Aug 1996 01:48:36 -0500
>Organization: Spam patrol

Joel: Starring Liam Neeson as Captain Gredigger.

>Message-ID: <321AB1...@E.SPAM>
>References: <4so9t4$e...@news.rwth-aachen.de> <DuuyC...@borg.owl.de>
><31F284...@mainhattan.de> <Pine.SOL.3.94.960721151529.23280B-100000@
>comp.uark.edu> <31F453...@adultsight.com> <320CE3...@earthlink.net>
><4urg3m$s...@morgana.netcom.net.uk> <321204...@earthlink.net>
><3212C5...@earthlink.net> <32187F...@olympus.net>

Tom: When posting, always include your references for the past 5 years.

>NNTP-Posting-Host: dialup-3-232.gw.umn.edu
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
>X-Mailer: Mozilla 3.0b5 (Win95; U)

All: [bad japanese accents] Mozilla is destloying Tokyo!

>To: illum...@olympus.net

Tom: UH-oh.
Joel: Told you.

>Xref: news-e2d.gnn.com z-netz.forum.diskussion.sexualitaet:653
>alt.homosexual:45889 alt.magick.sex:7457 alt.politics.sex:9593
>alt.religion.sexuality:9891 alt.sex:137163 alt.sex.anal:38403
>alt.sex.bears:10708 alt.sex.bestiality:26252 alt.sex.bondage:76732
>alt.sex.breast:43429 alt.sex.enemas:11928 alt.sex.erotica.marketplace:61321
>alt.sex.fat:17988 alt.sex.femdom:32274 alt.sex.fetish.fa:21411
>alt.sex.fetish.fashion:11810 alt.sex.fetish.feet:25665
>alt.sex.fetish.hair:13177 alt.sex.fetish.orientals:33389
>alt.sex.fetish.smoking:13341 alt.sex.fetish.tickling:19181
>alt.sex.fetish.watersports:16163 alt.sex.homosexual:29482 alt.sex.incest:24232
>alt.sex.masturbation:58196 alt.sex.motss:19046 alt.sex.movies:59482
>alt.sex.oral:19351 alt.sex.pictures:127972 alt.sex.pictures.male:50585
>alt.sex.plushies:4497 alt.sex.prostitution:11038 alt.sex.safe:10387
>alt.sex.services:45625 alt.sex.spanking:44278 alt.sex.stories:103691
>alt.sex.stories.d:12532 alt.sex.strip-clubs:42369 alt.sex.swingers:40387
>alt.sex.telephone:39431 alt.sex.trans:22527 alt.sex.voxmeet:3260
>alt.sex.voyeurism:42342 alt.sex.wanted:76193 alt.sex.wizards:25290
>de.alt.pictures.sex.children:652 de.talk.sex:34118 fido.ger.sex:21682
>z-netz.alt.sex:809

Crow: Deja vu!

>RedQuetzal wrote:
>>As I suspected, the Spammers have struck back.

Tom: Spammers Part Two: Revenge of the Spammers.

>> I have been busted!!!

Crow: Is this some kind of a bust?
Joel: [Leslie Nielsen] Yes, it's very impressive.

>>Effective midnight tonight (August 14, 1996), I will be kicked off my
>>ISP

Tom: Illegal Scam Pyramid?
Crow: Intra-Sensory Perception?
Joel: I Spam People?

>> (Internet Service Provider).

Tom: Oh.

>>When I started my Anti-Spam Crusade, I knew that the Spammers would
>>strike back.

Crow: He should have spammed alt.christnet instead of alt.sex. They just
turn the other cheek.

>> I knew they were going to get me.

Joel: They're coming to get me, ha-ha!

>> But I just didn't
>>imagine that it would take the money-rich Spammers only four (4) days to
>>get me busted. I guess they have more money, influence, and power than
>>most of us realize.

Crow: They earned it all through the magic of FASTCASH.TXT.

>>I am not sorry, though. It was a fight that had to be fought. Somebody
>>had to do it. When I saw that the NewsGroups were full of Spam, I

Tom: Grabbed a fork and dove right in.
Crow: Spam spam spam spam, spam spam, lovely spam....

>>waited several months to see if somebody would do something about it.
>>Nobody did. Finally, tired of waiting, I began my own Anti-Spam
>>Crusade.

Joel: It's the caped Anti-Spam Crusader!
Crow: Spam, Spam, and awaaaay!

>>Imediately after I began my crusade, the counter attacks began.

Crow: It's the Anti-Spam Crusader's arch-nemesis, Formica-Girl!
Tom: Attacked by a counter? Maybe that's what it means when it says
`this page has been hit #### times since....' Get it, hit? Heh.

>> Within
>>hours I got dozens of flames (hate mail). By the end of the day I had
>>received over one hundred flames. A mere four days after I began my
>>Anti-Spam Crusade I have received over two thousand flames in response
>>to my crusade!!!

Tom: [Sally Field] You hate me! You really hate me!

>>Most of the flames came from the Spammers themselves.

Crow: Imagine that, the people he's crusading against are the ones who
complained.

>> (After all, I was
>>exposing their little scam, messing with their money-making Spam,

Crow: Not only a delicious potted meat product, it also earns you money
while you sleep.
Tom: NOW how much would you pay?

>>and they were out to teach me a lesson).

Joel: Ok, now turn to page 53 in your textbook for today's lesson,
FASTHATE.TXT....

>>A lot of flames, however, came from regular NewsGroup subscribers
>>--regular people--who objected to my methods. I was called an idiot, a
>>moron, an imbecile;

Tom: But how do you REALLY feel about me?

>> I was urged to get a brain, to get a clue, to wake
>>up and smell the coffee; I was branded

Crow: Yowch!

>> a Spammer, a terrorist, a vandal.

Tom: I was handed a thesaurus, a reference book, a word guide.

>>I was threatened in every way imaginable.

Crow: Except for the way involving suffocation in a giant mound of dill
pickles.

>> I was threatened with
>>expulsion from my ISP (which came true), computer viruses via e-mail,
>>being commited to a mental institution, deportation, life in prison
>>without parole...

Joel: Yes, no crime is worse than Usenet abuse. You're getting off
easy, RedQuetz.

>> and one guy actually threatened to kill me! LOL!!!! :-)

Tom: Because death is funny!!!!

>>To all of you who wished me ill, now that I got busted, I guess you are
>>satisfied. YOU WON (for now).

Crow: If we won, how come he's still posting?

>>I guess my defeat was inevitable:

Tom: But I didn't let that stop me before, and it's NOT gonna stop me now.

>> I was just one lonely, ordinary guy
>>against the rich and powerful Spamming and ISP interests.

Joel: Spammers secretly rule the world.
Tom: Yup, it's true, they're the secret New World Order.
Crow: I heard they faked the moon landings in order to divert attention
from their nefarious activities in the Central African Republic.
Tom: Wha-?
Joel: Fnord.

>> The odds were
>>stacked way too high against me.

Tom: I should have started a second pile of them when the first one got
over 3 feet tall.

>>But by far, the most satisfying part of my Anti-Spam Crusade was the

Joel: Feeling of making an idiot of myself in public.

>>hundreds and hundreds of kindred spirits.

Crow: I find that very difficult to believe.
Tom: [Maxwell Smart] Would you believe....dozens and dozens?
Crow: I don't think so.
Tom: Well then, how about just my mom and dad?

>> People who, like me, are sick

Crow: You said it.

>>and tired of the Spammers, and fed up with the incredible amount Spam

Joel: Incredible amount Spam, kemosabe.

>>infecting our Newsgroups. They were very supportive; they wanted to
>>know how they could help. I got dozens and dozens of offers to join the

Crow: Supremes.

>>battle and fight along side me.

Joel: Wait a minute, he started this, and dozens of people write to
invite him to join himself in the fight?
Tom: I think the offers were for the people who wrote, Joel.
Joel: Oh.

>>To all those brave net users who are willing to fight back, the
>>CyberWarriors, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Crow: Mighty Spamming CyberWarriors.
Tom: From Sabai.

>>Even though I have been temporarily defeated, the CyberWarriors will
>>pick up the banner and keep the fight alive.

Joel: Surrender now! We've got a banner, and it's loaded!

>>Don't let the Spammers take over the NewsGroups. Fight to keep them
>>Spam-free. Don't give up. Keep up the fight.

Tom: Don't tell me what to do, young man.

>>And, finally I, like General Douglas Mac Arthur (and the Terminator),

Crow: I like Eddie Money and the Orkin man.

>>pledge

Crow: With new lemon scent.

>> that "I WILL BE BACK."

Tom: AND I WILL NOT BE TAKING IT ANYMORE.
Joel: sigh.

>>The RedQuetzal.

Crow: The GreenPretzel.
Joel: Quetzalcoatl.
Tom & Crow: Gesundheit.

>YOU ARE DESTINED FOR GREATNESS, OH, BRAVE ONE.
>ILLUMINATUS REX.

Tom: So, ok, RedQuetzal posts this anti-spam spam, and then Illuminatus
Rex quotes it all to add ONE line?
Joel: Well, it's not surprising that someone who does that would like the
post, then, is it? Come on, let's go....

[SoL]

Joel: Say what you will about the content of that post, guys, but the guy
sure knows how to punctuate a list.
Tom: Enough about the post, Joel. I'm hungry. How about a delicious,
low-calorie Spamchip? Why, they're the taste sensation a 'bot could
eat all day!
Joel: Spamchip? Tom, you shouldn't let that post get to you. There are
some words that, well, that it's just downright dangerous to dwell
on. And `spam' is one of them. `Smurfy' is another.
Crow: Spam? It sounds pretty innocuous to me....spam. Spam, spam,
SPAM! I don't know what your problem spam, Joel. Spam another
thing, how come you spam- [stops and shakes head rapidly] Gee, I
guess you're right after all, it IS dangerous!
Tom: [singing] Spam spam spam spam, spam spam spam spam....
Joel: [clamping Tom's mouth] Stop that, you. We gotta get back to the
theater now, see? [points to light which has just started
flashing]

[Brief pause, then the usual chaos but with Crow yelling `Spam!' among the
other cries.]

[Door sequence]

[Theater]

>From ???@??? Sat Aug 24 09:41:24 1996
>X-State: 3
>X-Total-length: 18932
>Received: from ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu [128.205.100.3])
by mail-e2b-service.gnn.com (8.7.1/8.6.9) with ESMTP id OAA31492 for
<lime...@gnn.com>; Fri, 23 Aug 1996 14:01:47 -0400 (EDT)

Crow: Limerick! Yay!
Tom & Joel: Huh?
Crow: Hey, always root for the one who's writing the MiSTing.

>Received: from ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu by ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu
> (PMDF V5.0-5 #13849) id <01I8M8ZVK...@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu> for
> lime...@gnn.com; Fri, 23 Aug 1996 14:01:44 -0500 (EST)

All: Limerick, yay!

>X-UIDL: 840891135.007
>Date: Fri, 23 Aug 1996 14:01:44 -0500 (EST)
>From: JAREK <V335...@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
>Subject: A Gray Day (1/2)

Tom: By Dr. Seuss.

>To: lime...@gnn.com

All: Limerick, yay!
Joel: Ok, enough.

>Message-id: <01I8M8ZVL...@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
>Organization: University at Buffalo

Tom: [Kevin Costner] Ta-tonka.

>X-VMS-To: IN%"lime...@gnn.com"
>MIME-version: 1.0
>Content-type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=ISO-8859-1
>Content-transfer-encoding: 8BIT
>Status: U

Joel: This message has been brought to you by the letters U and M, and by
the number 4.

>Path: acsu.buffalo.edu!news.acsu.buffalo.edu!dsinc!spool.mu.edu!sgigate.
sgi.com!news-res.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!hunter.premier.net!netnews.worldnet.
att.net!uunet!in2.uu.net!news.monmouth.com!1host

Crow: Path: over!river!thru.net!woods.edu!2grand.mother's.house.com

>From: rbo...@monmouth.com (Rob Bowell)

Tom: Oh, now THERE's a name to be proud of.
Crow: Bowell. John Bowell.
Joel: Hey, it could be worse - what if he were a composer? Then you'd
have things like Bowell's first movement.
Tom & Crow: Iww.

>Newsgroups: rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc
>Subject: What the hell?

Crow: Hey, don't ask me.

> MST this, too 1/2
>Date: Wed, 10 Jul 96 03:37:28 GMT
>Organization: Monmouth Internet Corporation
>Lines: 267
>Message-ID: <4rv8av$f...@news.monmouth.com>

Joel: Oh no, not another ID4 message!
Crow: [cop voice] Can I see your ID, son? Hmm, mm-hmm, ah. Sorry, sir,
but you just didn't look 267 lines long. Have a nice day.

>References: <4rv87f$f...@news.monmouth.com>
>A Gray Day

Tom: Soundtrack by Green Day.

> Donald Lawton’s

Joel: You should really clean your apostrophes regularly, you know. They
get all kinds of dirt and things stuck to them.

> world was a dim, gray place.

Crow: Limbo?
Tom: England?

> Every day brought
>nothing but the same as the day before, at best.

Tom: The more things change, the more they stay bad.

> A drive into the city that
>lasted a variable number of hours

Joel: When in New York, visit Manhattan. But be quick, the city expires
soon!

> began the day, and even the hiccups of
>excitement that contained (jackknifed tractor trailers, multi-car pileups,
>swerving motorists) were of the banal, mundane variety.

Tom: The banal excitement was hiccuplike?
Crow: Maybe the exciting hiccups were banal.

> In the city, and
>parked, it was off to a building that rather resembled a skeletal finger,
>crafted of steel and picking at the bilious slate-colored scabs above.

Joel: At the beginning of this sentence is missing.
Tom: Bilious, scabby, banal, mundane, AND grey. This is depressing, all
right.

> Once
>within, Lawton was slotted into a cubicle that held the same photographic
>testimonials of a life outside of the office that all of his co-workers had.

Crow: Whoa! Run-on grammar!
Joel: Insert Lawton (A) into slot (B).

>A simple computer terminal dominated his desk,

Tom: Bow before the mighty computer terminal!

> and that was about it. Drab,
>uneventful, boring, cloying.

Tom: And GREY, don't forget GREY.

> Lawton hated it. Hated it with a passion so
>intense that, given his unemotional upbringing, it would be quite difficult to
>pinpoint where this depth of passion could have been birthed.

Crow: You know, these sentences....[shudder]

> Lawton had always looked upon himself as a

Tom: Porcupine.

> victim of circumstance. An
>artist buried under a miasma of practicality and necessity, he labored daily
>in and out for the time when he would be freed of this need and be allowed to
>create in peace, gratis his pension.

Crow: No! Joel, make him stop DOING that!
Joel: Well, I would, but I don't know exactly what's wrong with some of
these sentences. They're kind of hard to assimilate.
Tom: Nah, they're more just trying to have attainment of that which, in
excess lengthiness, becomes what is found.
Crow: STOP THAT!

> He’d never actually created anything
>before, and only entertained this martyr fantasy when

Tom: He rented the X-rated version of `Nunsense'.

> the suffocation of his
>circumstances hit him especially hard.

Joel: Die! Die, circumstances, damn you! Suffocate!

> In these fits of pique, when it all
>seemed the worst, he made a silent prayer to God-a god

Crow: [rallying] Hey, when you gotta God, you gotta God!

> he only held faith in
>because his parents instructed him to-that he be delivered from this
>Purgatory-on-Earth into the world of the Wondrous.

Joel: ....Wizard of Oz.

> One day, something heard.

Tom: One part, sentence missing.

> Lawton was tip-tapping away at his keyboard, grunting in response to

Tom: [rap singer voice] Tip-tap tip-tap, oof, oof!
Crow: [singing] Tip-tap, through the keyboards....

>the various "Bye, Don"s he was offered.

Joel: Let "Bye, Don"s be "Bye, Don"s.

> His mind was elsewhere, dwelling on
>which of the three main dishes his wife usually prepared-a

Crow: She prepared-a da tomato-e sauce!

> variant on steak,
>baked macaroni and cheese or spaghetti with meat sauce-would be waiting for
>him when he got home.

Tom: Ooh! The non-stop thrills and excitement of dinner at home!
Crow: Excitement so thick you could compare it to hiccups.

> He was thinking of the inevitable squabbles between
>David and Mary he’d be called upon to mediate. No matter his decision,
>someone would feel slighted. He thought of the load of problems that his wife
>would feel obligated to unburden on him; a day with only child-minds to talk
>to

Joel: Suited her just fine.
Tom: Compared to talking to her husband, anyhow.

> wearied her immensely, and she felt the need to weigh down her mate with

Crow: Cement shoes.

>her trials.

Tom: Of a Time Lord.

> He also knew there was approximately a one in seven chance of a
>few moments of uninspired sex, coming as it did about once a week.

Joel: Little Donny Lawton always did well in math.
Crow: Sex, coming once a week. Hehheh.
Joel: Shh, you.

> All these
>things he reviewed internally,

Crow: Via x-ray.

> and the prayer came upon him again. "God
>please," the prayer went,

Tom: Sorry, God's on line one. Will you hold?

> "please get me away from all this. I know what I
>am,

Joel: Sam I am.
Crow: I'm Popeye the sailor-man.

> I know I wasn’t meant to live this way. Please, make my life
>interesting."

Tom: And while you're at it, how about the same for this story?

> Rarely was the supplication spoken aloud; fear of being thought weird
>held it internal, usually.

Crow: Glad to know he's not incontinent.

> Today, however, the office was empty by the time
>he was leaving and the dark solitude seduced the words to his lips.

Tom: And took the words right out of his mouth.
Joel: Ooh, baby, speak me!

> He was
>always experienced

Crow: ....by others, and never by himself.

> a little trill of pleasure

Tom: Dax?

> at the wrongness of the words,
>and moreso when he spoke them.

Crow: He'd like this story, then.

> For some reason, tonight, the flicker of
>sensation was even stronger.
> Once he was packed up, he went to the elevator, descended into the
>bowels of the building

All: Iww!
Tom: Would that be the Rob Bowells of the building?

> and made his way across the darkened parking garage
>toward his car, keys already in hand.

Joel: So, in other words, he left work.

> The self defense lessons that he and
>Katie had gone to after a break-in scare in their neighborhood recommended you
>have your keys in hand. Statistics showed that many muggings took place as
>the victim-to-be fumbled with his car keys,

Tom: Oh great, now it's a a safety lecture.
Crow: Yeah, next they'll tell us about the Club.

> and Lawton swallowed the
>statistics like sweet candy. He was a gourmet of assurances.

Joel: And master of metaphor.
Crow: Not!
Tom: [Homer Simpson] Mmm, statistics!

> He first unlocked the back door of his squarish, light blue
>car and tossed his briefcase into it. Leaving the door open for a moment, he
>walked around it, opened the front door, and sat down to start the car up.

Joel: So, in other words, he got into his car.

>The ignition caught. He turned the heat on full-blast and waited for it to
>warm up.

Joel: So, in other words, the car started.

> He began to unbutton his trenchcoat;

All: No!

> he so hated driving with the
>bulky thing on. As he sat there, the car was suddenly rocked on its shocks

Crow: And knocked from its blocks!
Tom: It IS Dr. Seuss!
Joel: `Fox in Socks'.

>as though he’d been hit. His routine was shattered and Lawton sat bolt
>upright, whipped his head about and scanned for the offender.

Tom: [Robocop] Scanning....you are violating the law. Please desist.

> There was none. The closest cars were halfway across the garage and
>quite still, holdovers from middle management execs on budget business trips.

Joel: Where they stayed at Budget hotels and drove Budget rent-a-cars.

> There were no vandals in evidence, either. Anger gave way to confusion
>quickly as Lawton tried to puzzle out what had happened.

Tom: But he kept getting distracted by thoughts of dinner, as usual.

> The heater’s work on his feet brought his episode of detective work to
>a halt.

Crow: He's doing it again! [shivers a little but calms down]
Joel: Again with the grammar, feh.

> He came back to himself

Tom: But I've never been to me.

> and was about to shrug off the mystery of the
>culprit

Crow: Perry Mason and the Mystery of the Confusing Culprit.

> and inspect the damage when a cool, soft hand closed over his mouth.
> His eyes widened and his mouth began to open, but the fingers, soft
>though they were, had a sudden iron grip.

Tom: In a velvet glove.

> Any thought of fighting, however
>futile, evaporated

Joel: Well, that's no loss, if his thoughts were futile anyhow.
Tom: Oh they are, Joel.

> as he felt a cool, sharp point press against the skin next
>to his adam’s apple. "Shhh. Don’t move, don’t scream, don’t fight
>Donny-boy," a feminine voice purred in his ear.

Crow: Ok. I won't fight Donny-boy.
Joel: Hey, it's much more fun being dominated by a feminine voice than by
my computer terminal.

> A few beats.

Tom: A few turnips.
Joel: Hey, man, dig it.
Crow: Yeah, coolsville, daddy-o.

> Perhaps the attacker needed to be reassured of his
>docility, then: "I need your help." The voice was musical in its beauty.
>Deep, though hardly mannish, and husky

Crow: With a little Irish Setter in it somewhere.

> . . . lullingly soft. All these things
>and, underneath it, a current of worry and fear.

Joel: It's everything you ever wanted in a voice, and more.

> At these words, the fingers separated, slowly loosing their grip on
>Lawton’s mouth. "Ho-" he began,

Tom: Chi Minh.

> voice rising in hysteria before a pinprick of
>flame as the blade dug into his neck cut short his words.

Crow: No! Noooo!
Tom: Where'd the pin and the fire come from?
Joel: Probably from Metaphors-R-Us, discount bin.

> "When I say ‘Shhh,’ Donny-boy, I mean it," the voice hissed. "Do it
>for your own good, as well as mine."

Crow: Oh, and also the good of the entire world.
Tom: Nike: just do it.

> Lawton began again, swallowing once before he did so. "How did you
>know my name?" he whispered.

Joel: I read it off your vanity licence plate.

> He tried desperately to ignore the trickle of
>liquid gliding down his throat.

Crow: We don't wanna know any more about that, thank you.

> Her laugh was intoxicating, despite the note of scorn in it. He
>caught a blur in the corner of his eye,

Tom: ....skinned, cleaned, and dressed it, and served it up in a tasty
casserole.

> then focused on the woman who’d
>suddenly appeared beside him. "Is that the only thing you can think to ask,
>Donny-boy?"

Joel: Yes. I'm kinda dumb, ma'am.

> Lawton had never dreamed a more beautiful woman.

Crow: Pat, I'd like to buy an `of'.

> Her plain clothes

Tom: Detectives had asked her in on the case.

>and makeup-free features flew in the face of the dicta of fashion magnates;

Joel: Scratching their eyes out.

>proof that beauty was independent of what you drape on it. Her eyes were
>larger than human had a right to,

Tom: You have the right to big eyes. But not THAT big.
Joel: She's an anime!

> though the aberration was anything but
>frightening. Similarly alien, the color.

Joel: Purple.
Tom: Alien 4: The Color.

> The green therein was literally
>bright,

Crow: As opposed to only metaphorically bright. Thanks for clearing that
up.
Joel: Well, she might have bright eyes, but is she bushy-tailed?

>casting a little nimbus of illumination about her face in the gloom of
>the parking garage.

Tom: If her eyes are glowing, how can she see out of them?

> High cheekbones, a noble, aquiline nose and full lips
>were set on an olive-complected face. Riots of black curls exploded from her
>head, tumbling to a length Lawton couldn’t determine in his first glance.

Crow: She's got Rodney King hair!
Tom: And it was vitally important that Lawton know how long her hair was.

> She
>wore simple black jeans, a white tee shirt and a thin leather jacket.
>Sunglasses, he noted distractedly, were perched in her hair. The dim light of
>the garage gleamed off of the switchblade between her dainty fingers.

Joel: Contrast and compare.

> His
>eyes fell once again on her mouth,

Tom: Oops. Sorry, I've been meaning to glue those in properly, but....

> stared there dumbly for several moments as
>it quirked up in its corners in a wry smirk.

Joel: Well put.
Crow: Oh, don't tease him.

> "Here’s a better question for you to think of while you drive,
>Donny-boy. Ever heard of the expression, ‘Careful what you wish for, you
>might get it?’"

Tom: Nope. Can't say I have. Ok, my turn: It's 6pm. Do you know what
my wife is making for dinner?

> The smirk pulled the corners of the rosebud mouth further,
>showing a hint of perfectly white teeth.

Joel: Kind of a pushy facial expression, there.
Tom: Bad smirk! You put those lips back where you found them.

> "I-" he began, and she cut him off.
> "Drive now, talk later."

Joel: Fly now, pay later.

> He hesitated for a moment, until the flash in the corner of his eye

Crow: Now HIS eyes are glowing.
Tom: Well, flashing.

>diverted his gaze from the woman’s entrancing mouth. She was stabbing the
>blade in his direction emphatically, not a direct threat, merely coaxing, but
>the implication of the instrument she used to encourage him was plainly clear.

Crow: Stabbing a knife at him? I'd call that a direct threat.
Tom: Coaxing, stabbing, encouraging....verbs you'd usually only find
together in a porno story.

> He whipped his head forward, took a deep breath, let it out quickly and
>slammed the door.

Crow: For some reason.

> He slotted the car into reverse, pulled out, and began to
>move forward at the dictated five miles per hour allowed within the garage.
> "Donny-boy, I didn’t hold a knife to your throat and tell you to
>whisper for atmosphere," the woman snapped.

Joel: Well, if you didn't have enough air, you'd whisper too.

> "We’ve gotta move!"
> Lawton bobbled his head.

Crow: Which made a pleasant change from whipping it.

> He had forgotten his fear of her as he
>became entranced with her looks.

Tom: He likes her. Ok. We got it.

> This urgency dissolved any impressions of
>docility, and reawoke the fear.

Joel: Fear, honey....c'mon, time to get up....

> Either he was in danger, as she said, or he
>was the captive of a psychotic woman.

Tom: In which case he'd be perfectly safe.

> Worse yet, it could be both.

Joel: Danger and psychotic women? Well, I GUESS they could go together.

> His foot
>slammed down on the accelerator and the car leapt forward, the rear door
>slamming shut from the change in speed.

Tom: I lost track. How many doors were opened? How many were shut?
Crow: I think that's the third one to shut. Does it matter?
Tom: Guess not.

> As the car caromed down through the
>parking deck at several notches above a safe speed, the woman’s words,
>‘Careful what you wish for, you might get it,’ came back to him. My God, he
>thought to himself. It’s happening.

Joel: I'm caroming through the parking deck above a safe speed!

> After several minutes of driving, thoughts of spaghetti had gone
>entirely.

Tom: See? I KNEW he was still thinking about his stupid dinner menu.

> No matter what his passenger would tell him, he knew already.

Crow: Oh, you think you're so smart, don't you?

> He
>knew his prayers had been answered. Here it was, Adventure. And he was proud
>of himself. He’d seen it and embraced it, knowing it in his heart for his.

Joel: Adventure! Excitement! Fresh Fruit!

>He cautioned a look over at the woman,

Tom: Be carefulled, `cautioned' may be a verb but not like THAT.

> found her sprawled out in the passenger
>side, studying him critically. The smirk had returned to her lips (though
>Lawton now had the wherewithal to focus on her entire face).

Crow: Way to go, Lawton!
Tom: Soon you will be able to see her as an entire person.

> "Did God send
>you?" Lawton asked.

Crow: No, I'm from your FTD florist.

> "God, huh?" she mused.

Joel: Never heard of him.

> "Look, sorry about the cut back there. I
>didn’t want to have to pussyfoot with you. You understand, right?"

Joel: But we can still be friends.
Tom: Way to crush the guy's feelings, lady.

> She sat
>up, looked over her shoulder, peering in their backtrail for something that
>Lawton couldn’t and didn’t want to guess.

Crow: Good move, Lawton.

> Lawton touched fingers to his throat, feeling the now-sticky blood.
>"It’s alright." He chuckled a little. "I’ve done worse shaving, really."

Crow: Actually, I'm incompetent at most tasks.

> The woman looked back at him, eyes flashing with mirth, the glow in
>them intensifying for a moment with emotion.

Tom: Her eyes are still glowing, but also flashing?

> "I never figured you for the
>macho type, Donny-boy."

Crow: Yup, she's got him pegged pretty well.

> Lawton allowed a little internal frown at the diminutive she’d
>attached to his name.

Joel: So, he JUST noticed that?

> He didn’t let the expression creep onto his face,

Joel: That IS what internal means in this case.

>though. "Don will do, you know. How’d you find out my name?" he asked again.
> The woman sighed and shook her head. She flicked her fingers,
>dropping the shades over her fluorescent eyes.

Tom: Oh, they're fluorescent. That explains the flashing glow. It'll go
away if she just leaves them turned on a few minutes.

> It wasn’t quite enough, the
>glow still bled out of the corners. At least it wouldn’t be noticed from
>afar, now. "I already told you that, Donny-," a pause, "Don. You wished."

Joel: Upon a star.
Tom: You wish.

> Lawton considered that for a moment. "You’re telling me you heard my
>wishes?" he asked, at the same time incredulous and awed. Again, the fear
>that had seized his heart was subsiding.

Crow: Mood swings.
Joel: What about them?
Crow: Just pointing it out.
Joel: Uh-huh.

> "Ding ding ding ding!"

Crow: The witch is dead!

> The woman snickered softly.

Tom: She's got a pretty weird snicker, there.

> "You win the
>forty thousand dollar prize."

Joel: Oh, is that what I wished for? I forget.

> She tossed a look over her shoulder again,
>peering through the back window.
> "But . . . how’s that possible?"

Tom: You were entered automatically in our sweepstakes, through your
Fruit of the Month club.

> He saw the green glow on the dashboard intensify.

Crow: It reminded him of her eyes.
Joel: The fuel gauge now read `Empty'.

> He looked over at
>her, and she was staring back at him, grinning manicly with the shades perched
>halfway down her nose. "C’mon, man. I thought you wanted this."

Tom: Which one of them said that?

> The corners
>of her mouth downturned in a pout. "Why do you have to question everything?"

Crow: The center of her mouth hasn't moved yet, you know. Just the
corners.

> "I-I’m sorry." He sighed. "Hell, no I’m not. Pardon me, but it’s
>rather goddamned unnerving."

Joel: Dang it to heck!

> He was surprised at the outburst. He wasn’t the
>kind of man to be expressive in his anger.

Tom: Or in anything.

> He wasn’t the kind of man to be
>expressive in anything, actually.

Tom: Called it.
Joel: Good going.

> It seemed to be the right tack, to judge by her reaction. She
>chuckled softly,

All: Ding ding ding ding!

> and when she spoke it was in tones of surprise and . . .
>relief? "I knew you weren’t a dud."

Crow: Guess again.

> The shifting sound told him she was
>looking back again.

Tom: A little bird told me. No wait, I'm sorry, it was a shifting sound.

> "Alright, you’re right. I heard your wishes. I’ve been
>hearing them for some time now.

Tom: And I have to say you are SICK.

> As for how’s it possible, you just have to
>trust me.

Crow: Cos if you don't, I'll have to think of a reason.

> So, I decided I’d give you what you wanted.

Tom: Dinner?

> But, Don, this isn’t
>TV.

Crow: It's a short story. They're easy to tell apart from TV.

> You gotta realize that.

Joel: [Leslie Nielsen] I realise that. Now.

> We’re both in danger. That’s why I sought you
>out, I was in danger, and I knew you’d be willing to throw off that life you
>had and come with me; help me."

Tom: Thanks for providing a synonym there are the end, at no extra charge.

> There was a lifting of her tone at the end
>that made the statement a near question.
> Lawton nodded to the question.

Crow: Hi there. Donald Lawton. Have we met?

> "Of course. I hate my life, this is
>what I wanted." He firmed his grip on the steering wheel. "So, who’s coming
>after us?"
> "Not who, Don. What."
> "What, then?"
> "A Hound, Don." A note of chill crept into the woman’s tone at the
>word.

Tom: Aha! Finally, we get to the plot.

>* * *

Joel: It's an Asterix comic.

> The beast was left alone, snuffling at the oil-slicked ground where
>its Quarry had just now been. It lifted its ponderous head to the air, its
>runny nostrils flaring and caught Scent of the thing that had denied it its
>prize.

Tom: CK1 perfume. For him....for her.
Crow: For it!

> It caught, too, the scent of the Other who had joined the Quarry.

Tom: Maybe it's German, and has the Urge to capitalise its Nouns.

>Man-scent, it realized quickly. The Quarry had broken another Law.

Crow: Bad Quarry! I told you a million times, no avalanches. It's the
law.

> The beast
>let out a hawking gob of phlegm

Joel: That's not the approved way to go hawking, though.
Tom: Most folks will use a hawk for that, mm-hmm.

> which was left to hiss and sizzle at the place
>where the Quarry had just been.

Crow: It moves pretty fast for a pile of rocks.

> Such blithe disregard for the Law was what had made the Quarry into
>the Quarry.

Tom: Before it broke the law, the Quarry was not the Quarry.
Joel: Before the Law was the Law, it was not the Law.

> It now reveled in its anarchy.

Tom: As long as you're breaking the law, you might as well ENJOY doing it.

> Realizing that made the beast
>furious. It had never understood the outsiders. They gnawed and worried at
>the hand that fed them.

Crow: Maybe they preferred the taste.
Joel: Nah, they were probably just reveling in their anarchy.

> Why? What was so painful about following a few
>rules.

Crow: Rule 1, no poofters!

> Far from being painful, the Hound found such demands welcoming,
>comforting, shielding.

Joel: We're back to the thesaurus again, once more, anew.
Tom: He's using words with similar definitions, meanings, connotations.

> It dug its hind legs into the pavement and leapt forward, nostrils
>finding the path of the Scent.

Crow: The rest of it found the scent of the Path.

> Divots of pavement

Tom: Uh, actually, a divot is earth with grass on it. You can't have
divots of pavement.
Joel: Hush, it's probably just another metaphor.

> blistered and cracked in

Crow: Here, you can borrow my Chapstick.

>its wake, exploded into the air. The Hunt was on again.

Tom: Well, divots DEFINATELY don't explode!
Joel: Let it rest, Tom.

>* * *

Crow: Meanwhile, inside....

> Lawton’s mind felt the danger in that word . . . Hound, he could hear
>the capital in it,

Tom: As well as in a few other recently-written words.
Crow: [Troi] Captain, I sense danger in that word. It's hiding something.

> and veered him away from the topic without his conscious
>mind even realizing it.

Joel: I veered me, you veered you, he veered him.

> He looked over at her and grinned, a little bit more
>confidently this time.

Crow: Yup, I'm grinning. Last time I wasn't sure, but yup, a grin.

> "You’ve got me at a disadvantage, miss. What’s your
>name?"

Tom: Romanadvoratrelundar.

> The mystery woman flopped back down her seat

Crow: Women! Always leaving the seat down!

> and answered, "Sonnet."

Joel: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Crow: My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.
Tom: Well, actually, HER eyes are kinda bright.
Crow: Oh yeah.

> Lawton seized on the name.

Joel: Does anyone know the Heimlich maneuver?

> It was perfection, a word as beautiful as
>the woman. As musical and joyous.

Tom: This woman really hasn't struck me as musical and joyous.
Joel: Dangerous and psychotic, is how she was described before.

> The last of Lawton’s worries expired.

Crow: For the umpteenth time.
Tom: I'm sorry sir, you can't worry here. This emotion's expired.

> He wanted Adventure, and here it was.

Joel: His mind could sense the capital letter....

> "Where are we headed?" he asked.
> "Um, away.

Joel: Oh, good answer.
Crow: Could you be a wee bit more specific, Sonnet?

> And damned quick. You see, Don, the Hound was after me.

Tom: Hounding me, you might say.
Crow & Joel: Boo.

>It’s got my Scent in it, and it won’t stop until it’s made me kibble.

Crow: How does one kibble, anyway?

>We don’t want that, do we?"

Joel: [falsetto] We just don't know what we want. It's all so confusing
sometimes, teehee.

> He sensed her eyes on him and looked over.

Tom: Hey! Don't shine those eyes in my face!

> She smiled back at him,
>eyes bared again and boring into his soul.

Crow: These are like Swiss army eyes, they have flashlights, borers,
probably a compass and Phillips screwdriver in there somewhere too.

> No, he certainly didn’t want this
>magnificent woman to die. He looked forward, a blush rising on his face.
>"No," he mumbled.

Joel: Yes, it's always embarassing to admit you don't want someone to die.

> "Great," she said. The gaze was on him for a few moments, then gone
>again.

Tom: Destroying his night vision.

> "We can’t run forever," she said.

Crow: Then why are we travelling `um, away'?

> "We’re gonna have to beat it,
>somehow."

All: [Beavis & Butthead laughter]

> "How?" Lawton wanted to know. "What is it?"

Crow: It's a Hound, remember? Your mind can hear the capital H.

> "It snatches up escapees, breakers of the Law.

Tom: That's nice, but my question was: what is it?

> It’s supposed to bring
>them back, but my crimes are great enough for me just to get killed."

Joel: She makes it sound like getting killed is the lesser punishment.
Tom: We could bring you back, but since your crimes were so wonderful,
we'll let you off with just death.

> Her
>eyes were on him again, he knew.

Crow: Look, lady, I can't drive if you're gonna keep your brights on.

> "It just wanted to capture me before.

Tom: ....the cows came home.

> You
>see, its masters like to have trophies.

Crow: [Sally Struthers] Do you like to have trophies?
Tom & Joel: Sure! We all do!

> When people color outside the lines,

Joel: It messes up the picture and destroys the experience for others.
Tom: Yes, you colour outside the lines, and you won't get a trophy.

>it’s far more effective to slap their knuckles in front of the whole class
>than it is to just send them to the principle’s office.

Joel: Although if anyone slapped the kids these days, they'd lose their
jobs.
Tom: Also, it's principal. You can remember by saying, `the princiPAL is
my PAL'.

> But when I got you
>involved, that pushed it over the edge."

Tom: I'm lost - pushed what over the edge? The trophies? The principal?
The crayons?
Crow: The Hound? The knuckles?
Joel: The imagery?

> "So, why’d you do it?" he asked, almost panicked.

Crow: Guess his expired worries got renewed, after all. Good for another
4 scenes.

> "Because, I will not go back. I won’t be cowed."

Joel: [Bart Simpson] Don't have a cow, man!

> She sighed. "I
>don’t do what I’m told, Don, and nothing’s going to change that.

Tom: Then I'm telling you not to do what you're told. Get out of THAT.

> I did it
>because I’m free, and being free’s worth dying for."

Crow: You did WHAT because you're free? How about letting us in on that
little bit of information, huh?

> She spoke the last with
>a steely conviction.

Tom: Three to Five years for aggravated assault.

> The words had several effects on Lawton all at once.

Joel: Yeah, no one in this story feels only one way at a time.

> Disappointment;
>he’d been hoping she did it out of some kind of attraction for him.

All: Did WHAT?

> Shame at
>the disappointment.

Crow: Confusion at the shame at the disappointment.
Tom: Anger at the confusion at the shame at the disappointment.

> He felt joy from her words as well, part of him cleaving
>to them.

All: Iww!

> Yes, he wanted this too. He wanted to be free. Didn’t he?

Tom: I don't know, did he?

>Finally, fear. A dread so powerful and deep-running that it shocked him,
>wound up taking up the majority of his attention.

Crow: So what's he afraid of this time?
Tom: Disappointment, shame, joy, and fear: the four stages of, um, doing
whatever's going on.

> Lawton had always been a
>rational

Crow: Number.

> man. The thought of living a life-for he knew by joining this woman,
>he would be leaving his old life behind utterly-in direct defiance of the
>rules

Joel: What rules is he defying, again?
Tom: Well, he broke the 5mph speed limit back in the garage.
Joel: Is that enough to constitute a life in direct defiance of the rules,
though?

> that had been set down for his protection made breath hard to come by.

Crow: Break the rules, get your oxygen ration cut back. It's the law.

> "But why me? I’m not a cop or anything. How could I help you?"

Tom: You could get lost.

> Lawton looked over and was struck again by that wonderful,
>intoxicating smirk.

Crow: Driving under the influence. Ok, so now he's broken TWO rules.

> "You just keep giving me reasons to quote clichés.

Tom: We noticed.

>‘Actions speak louder than words,’ Don." With that, she reached over and
>yanked hard on the wheel, forcing Don into an alley.

Joel: She's a back-seat driver. Literally!

> He slammed his foot down on the brake as a wall rushed up to meet the
>car.

Crow: Which stopped the car nicely, but didn't slow down the wall one bit.

> Lawton took a few gulps of air, his body rioting from the powerful and
>contradictory emotions that surged through him.

Joel: How does a body riot?
Tom: I really don't want to know.

> To his right, Sonnet
>snickered.

Joel: Oh, I though she was still in the back seat.

> He felt her touch his arm, and that helped control the tumult
>within.

Tom: Riot-control fingers. Those come in handy all the time.

>* * *

Crow: *** * * * ***
Tom: Huh?
Crow: Morse code.

> The Hound plowed along the streets, weaving between the cars, blending
>in perfectly to Lawton’s Gray World.

Tom: It's the Popeil Pocket Hound! It weaves, plows, and blends perfect
drinks. It also comes with the 5-piece power tool attachment, and
the FREE! Carpet-2000 stain remover!

> That was its function, after all.

Joel: [singing] Conjunction Junction, what's your function?

>To hunt down the Law breakers, its Quarry, in the land of men and return them
>home, or slaughter them.

Tom: Whichever it felt like that day.

> So, it had to be a master of

Crow: Ceremonies.

> camouflage. Being seen
>by the denizens of this place was out of the question.

Tom: I wouldn't been seen with them, not even for a million dollars.

> It was no hypocrite.
>It could hardly punish a crime it itself committed.

Crow: Aha! So THAT'S the big crime we've been talking about all along.
Joel: It was nice of the author to clue us in before part one ended.
Tom: But just barely, guys, that IS the end of part one.
Joel: So it is. Break time!

[Sol]

[Joel is wearing a police outfit and holding a ticket book]

Joel: Ok, mister Crow T. Robot, I see you. You're under arrest for
visibility.
Crow: Hey, copper, I revel in my anarchy. Bite me!
Joel: The fine is deportation or death. Biting is not a punishment
option.
Crow: Sheesh, well I'll take deportation then.
Joel: There you go. [hands Crow a ticket] Just bring that down to the
main office, they'll process you. [turns to Tom] Tom, you're in
trouble, young 'bot.
Tom: What? What'd I do?
Joel: I can see you. You've violating the visiblity laws too, my friend.
Tom: Aw, rats.
Joel: I've reached my quota for deportation, so your penalty is death.
Magic Voice: No it's not.
Joel: What? What do you mean, `no it's not'?
Magic Voice: You're visible too, officer. I'm placing ALL of you under
arrest.
Crow, Tom & Joel: [turn to camera, Monty Python voices] It's a fair cop!

[Door sequence]

[Theater]

[header snipped]

Crow: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -.
Tom: Morse code again?
Crow: No, that's the line for `cut here'.
Tom: Oh.

> So along it sped, outpacing some of the metal and plastic hulks to
>either side of it.

Joel: Most dogs move faster than metal and plastic.
Crow: I think he means cars.

> It felt the Scent grow stronger;

Tom: Geez, honey, what'd you do, use the whole bottle? Phew!

> the Quarry was near. It
>also felt the fear of

Joel: Flying.
Crow: Little green snakes.

> the Quarry’s companion.
> It narrowed its perceptions of the thief and anarchist’s

Joel: Cookbook.

> companion.
>These humans were just his kind of people, this one in particular.

Joel: A Hound - a human's best friend!

> The Hound
>knew that within the companion’s body dwelled a soul that was akin to its own.
> One that cherished calm and appreciated order.

Tom: But I thought Lawton was happy to live the wild rebel life.
Joel: Yeah, I think the Hound's sensors are on the fritz.

> The Hound’s rage mounted as the inspection continued. Stealing was
>one thing, bucking rules, another.

Crow: Come to the Fairbanks Rodeo and ride the wild, bucking rules!
Joel: So stealing doesn't count as breaking the rules?

> These vagaries were allowed with mild
>punishment at Home.

Crow: So, they weren't allowed then, were they?
Tom: [angry] Yes, I think `vagaries' is a good word for it. No one seems
sure about what is a crime or not, or what the punishment is, or if
it's allowed, or only if you're not at home, or-
Joel: Calm down, buddy.

> They were merely never allowed to spread.

Tom: [even angrier] Not spreading constitutes `mild punishment'? You
couldn't get much milder, could you? I mean,
Joel: Calm DOWN, Tom. Think of something else, ok? Try making a pun.
Tom: Um, ok. I'm ok now. Um....`Never let them see you spread'.
Joel: Feel better?
Tom: Yes.

>When dissension was noted, its instigators were rooted out and publicly
>punished to such a degree as to discourage any similar outbursts.

Crow: Outburst! The fun new game from Milton-Bradley.

> But when the Quarry had come here, had dared to tread into the
>well-groomed Gray land with its stolen treasures, it had committed a grave sin
>indeed.

Tom: The Gray land has stolen treasures? Then why not go after that?
Joel: It's modifying the Quarry, not the Gray land.
Crow: If the Quarry had gone to the ill-kempt Blue land, that would have
been ok.

> Only one thing was worse.

Crow: Roseanne singing the national anthem?

> The Hound now saw, in its inspection of-he
>now knew the name for the man-Lawton,

Joel: There's a Man-cub in the jungle, Baloo.

> that the Quarry’s infection had spread.

All: Iww!

> It had found seat in Lawton’s breast and become malignant and festering.

Tom: His seat's in his breast?
Crow: And his heart's in his throat and his eyes are in the back of his
head!

>Its rancid taint was about to swallow up the man.

Tom: So this is a malignant, festering, rancid, tainted, infection. The
worst kind.
Joel: Rancid taints must eat their own body weight in humans every 36
hours, just to stay alive.

> More importantly, it was
>about to make the man himself a carrier and disease spreader.

Crow: So, anarchy is contagious? Or is the Quarry's infection unrelated to
her crimes, and just thrown in for the heck of it?
Tom: Well, if so, then being diseased is against the law, now, too.

> This had to be halted immediately.

Joel: If only.

> And the Hound now sensed how it
>might do its job more easily.

Crow: Hire a temp for the busy season.

> A medium sized, blue and white lozenge had pulled out beside him some
>time back.

Joel: Just the thing for that sore, itchy throat.

> The Hound’s arcane perceptions drifted to its occupants and,
>within, found two examples of utter perfection in humanity.

Tom: Charles Atlas and Michelle Pfeiffer are in the car! Uh, lozenge.
Joel: Perfection in humanity, perfection in humanity, perfection in
humanity, perfection in human-
Crow: What?
Joel: I'm uttering `perfection in humanity'.
Tom: This gag stolen from an old Monkees episode, ladies and gentlemen.

> These minds were
>perfectly ordered, perfectly trained, perfectly ripe for what the Hound needed
>done.

Crow: [swishy voice] Oh, this fabric is just PERFECT! It'll set off those
DARLING humans I found the other day.

> It pulled back its rubbery lips in a skull’s smile and reached.

Joel: Somehow I can't quite picture rubbery skull lips.

>* * *

Tom: Uh....
Crow: Um....
Joel: Well, it IS getting hard to think up new star jokes.
Tom: [triumphantly] Second star on the right, and straight on till
morning!
Crow: Hey, well done.

> Sonnet didn’t let Lawton’s panic rule for very long before she was
>impatient to move on.

Joel: Stop panicing, I can't move until you're calm!

> "C’mon, Don." She sighed happily and vaulted herself
>up from the lax, lounging position she’d maintained through much of the trip.

Tom: She's pretty mellow for a dangerous and psychotic woman.

> "Enough resting." She looked over at Don and her grin widened.

Crow: Yeah, get up, you lazy bum!

> Lawton’s face was in battle with itself.

Joel: Wow.
Crow: His face was trying to cut his nose off, to spite itself. But then
his eyebrows allied with the nose and part of the chin joined in,
and soon it was a full-fledged battle!
Joel: Thank you, Crow.

> Part of him was horrified that

Tom: ....his face was in battle with itself.

>he’d run from the police;

Joel: When did he do THAT?

> that he was running from his very life and from
>all the attendant responsibilities he’d mastered so thoroughly.

Tom: Being dominated by his computer, slacking off work, thinking about
dinner, and being dumped on by his wife.

> This part
>showed itself with a tightening around his eyes, in his pupils dilated even
>more than the low light warranted.

Crow: Low light. I guess his girlfriend put her shades back on.

> But fear and arousal have similar signals
>and the difference between highly divergent ways of looking at things can only
>be picked up by subtle shadings.

Joel: Suddenly there's a psychologist in the car.

> The glimmer in his fear-widened eyes told of
>how invigorated Lawton was to be freed,

Tom: Fear is fun!

> and though the baring of his teeth
>teetered between a smile and a grimace, the tightness of negativity was slowly
>melting away.

Crow: Oh, please don't do that! The sentences haven't been doing that for
a long time now, don't start again!

> A hand was placed softly on his shoulder, and he looked down at it.
>The olive skin of Sonnet’s hand contrasted so nicely with the austere navy
>trench.

Tom: Did I mention I moonlight doing people's colours? Sonnet, you are
definately a Winter. Navy really works for you.

> He looked up her arm, and into her face . . . her ever-smiling,
>caution-to-the-wind loveliness.

Crow: I can't take it, Joel! I can't!
Joel: Well, ok, you can leave if you have to, but you can handle this,
no? It's not `Enterprized', is it?
Crow: Noooo....I'll try. But- [shudders] I'll try.

> "Come, Don. As much as I’d like to sit

Joel: On your face and wriggle.
Tom & Crow: Hey!
Joel: It's ok, they got away with it in Airplane.

> and
>soak up the adrenaline,

Crow: Just to coin a phrase.

> it’ll all be for naught if we don’t move . . . now."
>Her tone gained a subtle edge at the end that motivated Lawton. He began to
>think of this thrill-ride ending up with him in jail-and soon thereafter,
>divorce court-

Tom: [irritated] Although for that to happen, he'd need to break a law and
annoy his wife.

> and nodded vigerously. He sensed it would be a horrible irony
>for such an Adventure to end in such a mundane, negative . . . gray way.

Crow: Yes, jail and divorce can be so dull and unemotional.
Joel: Well, you gotta admit they're mundane and negative, though.
Tom: Don't forget horribly ironic.

>He sat bolt upright, fumbled with the doorhandle and finally freed it.

Joel: Fly, little door handle! You're free!

> Sonnet smiled at this, a deep, honest, relieved smile. Not the
>confident smirk or swagger, the mocking chuckle of before.

All: Ding ding ding ding!

> It looked to her
>as if there was a real chance with this one.

Joel: A chance of what?
Tom: Maybe we'll find out on the last line of part two.

> They traveled stinking, moist back alleys

Crow: Oh, that's disgusting.

> for a little while, the
>woman in the lead. She seemed to be heading somewhere definite, but Lawton
>had no idea where. He was content to follow along.

Tom: Lawton was, by nature, a sheep.

> Questions filled the time.

Joel: Tension filled the air.
Crow: Jelly filled the doughnut.

> "You haven’t told me anything yet. Why
>me?"
> The woman didn’t walk, she glided with the assurance and precision of
>a ballerina.

Joel: So, ok, they're walking now.
Crow: Yes, I think they left the car when Lawton freed the door handle.
It didn't really say.
Tom: It's not such a hot idea to ballet through filthy alleys, you know.

> She tossed a look over her shoulder and Lawton saw the glasses
>were back down again. "Because, first of all, there’s no more of a ‘fuck you’
>to the powers that be

Crow: Than to say `fuck you' to the powers that be.
Joel: Ah, the direct approach.

> than to break the Big Rule.

Tom: Don't feed them after midnight.

> You aren’t to be involved
>with us. The bosses your people juuuuust the way they are."

Joel: Her batteries are running low.
Crow: She should've used DURACELL batteries.

> She grinned at
>him, the grin seeming to say ‘isn’t that ridiculous?’

Tom: But it was actually saying `I'm not gonna pay a lot for this
muffler!'

> She turned her head
>around and continued, "But that doesn’t answer your question.

Crow: Actually, it did.

> Don’t worry, I
>am paying attention."

Tom: Whew!
Joel: That's a big relief.
Crow: I was worried.

> She chuckled. "Why you because you really, really
>wanted this. I knew I could trust you.

Crow: Because you don't have enough initiative or brains to betray me.

> I knew you weren’t juuuuust like
>They wanted you to be."

Tom: Damned U key's jamming again.

> After a few moments, Sonnet’s graceful lope picked up a few hitches
>and sudden motions.

Joel: It brought them back to her, but got in trouble. She'd told it
before, `no sudden motions'.
Crow: And no picking up hitchers, either.

> It occurred to Lawton, as these mounted, that she was
>dancing.

Tom: Well, she WAS moving like a ballerina.

> He couldn’t hear any music at first, and began to think that she
>might be as insane as he had feared at the beginning of their trip.

Joel: Naaaah.

> Still,
>Adventure was Adventure, wasn’t it?

Tom: And the Quarry is the Quarry.
Crow: When is Adventure not Adventure? When it's Great Adventure!

> "So, where do you come from? Like, some
>other planet or something?

Crow: Like, fer shur.

> You say ‘you’ like you’re not . . . a . . .
>person."

Joel: HIS batteries are going, too.

> Another soft, delicate giggle. "Well, Don, these ain’t really cool
>contacts." She tapped her temple and turned about,

Tom: She put her right foot in, she took her right foot out....

> walking backwards, still
>managing to keep up an increasingly elaborate dance. "And the where is just
>too complicated for either of us to really understand.

Crow: I don't know where I'm from, but it's someplace complicated.

> Just think of it as
>Somewhere Else."

Joel: Hey, yeah! That's a great name for it!

> "So there are other people like you." Lawton began to hear tones of
>music, found that Sonnet’s movements matched perfectly those few strains he
>could pick up. He relaxed considerably.

Tom: Yes, it's so reassuring that there's OTHERS like her. The world
doesn't have enough glow-eyed psychos.
Joel: It's also reassuring that her dance matches the tune on the
invisible music-box nearby.

> "Why come here?"
> "Because it’s a no no.

Crow: What better reason?

> I was sick and goddamned tired of seeing my
>people dine on the bullshit they were fed."

Joel: I don't think we need to say anything on this one.

> She turned back around in a
>graceful pirouette.

Tom: Ballet, alleys, bullshit, 20 questions: Which one doesn't belong?
Joel: Um....all of the above?

> "Alright. So where are we headed?"
> "Crowds, Don. The whole reason I’m in the crap I’m in as deep as I’m
>in it is

Joel: Because I wouldn't eat it like the rest of my people did, so it kind
of piled up.
Crow: Talk about elliptical sentence construction!

> because I revealed myself. The Hound wouldn’t dare do the same."

Tom: She's a flasher!
Joel: No, that's just her eyes.

> Don let out a soft ‘oh.’ He could now hear the music thumping louder,
>see the golden light pouring from the next bend in an alleyway.

Joel: Don't go into the light, Carol-Ann!

> "We’re here!"
>Sonnet exclaimed delightedly. "Let’s go party, Don. Let the tension out."

Tom: First we're running away, then we can't keep running, then we DO keep
running, then we go into a dance number and now it's party time?

> Lawton followed Sonnet into the crowd, watched as she wove through the
>crowded block party, delight plain on her face. The simplest thing tickled
>her fancy, and Lawton felt the joy rubbing off.

Crow: That's sick.

> He’d never given much thought
>to rubber puke, but suddenly it actually seemed like a novelty.

Joel: Whoa, where'd THAT sentence come from?

> Cotton candy
>had always been too sweet, corn-dogs too greasy.

Tom: But I digress.

> Sonnet infected him with her

Crow: Chicken pox.

>zest for sensation, though, and he found himself sampling treasures that he
>would’ve normally thought of as hokey, childish.

Joel: Synonymous, alike.

> Soon, nothing was too sweet,
>nothing was old. He watched Sonnet weave through the crowd, smiling and
>laughing, consuming, dancing, soaking it all up through every opening she
>could.

Crow: That's REALLY sick.
Joel: I gotta agree with you there.

> It was so easy for him to meld with that, so he didn’t fight it.
> He lost himself in the carnival of sensations for a time. Until he
>saw the policemen.

Tom: Yes, only a few hundred lines after Lawton is convinced the police
are after him for an unspecified reason, actual police show up in
the story!
Joel: It hasn't been quite that long, I don't think.
Crow: It feels like it, though!

> They were shoving through the crowd, heading in his and
>Sonnet’s direction. The lead one saw him and, after a flash of recognition,
>his dull gray eyes hardened with determination.

Tom: I've never seen you before in my life, but don't I recognise you?
Crow: Maybe he means recognition, like in Elfquest.
Joel: No, I think he recognised them cos HIS eyes flashed. He knew our
heros as fellow eye-flashers.

> Lawton gulped and grabbed Sonnet by the shoulder. She tore herself
>away from a rack display of pewter dragon’s claws,

Crow: Ouch!
Tom: It probably was pretty painful putting herself ON the rack of claws,
too.

> annoyance at the rough
>treatment plain on her face. "What?" she snapped.
> Lawton nodded at the approaching cops and the woman cursed softly.
>"Uniforms.

Tom: Yes, that IS a soft curse. I would've gone for something stronger,
like maybe `shucks'.
Crow: Or `aprons'.
Tom: `Oh, pantaloons!'
Crow: `Kiss my blouse, argyle-socks!'
Joel: Knock it off.

> Wonderful. C’mon, Don. Time to boogie. Push is officially about
>to come to shove."

Joel: [Monty Python voice] Very witty, Wilde.

> She now yanked his elbow, pulling him deeper into the
>swirling crowds.

Crow: Wait! I can't swim!

>* * *

Joel: And now, the All-Stars.

> The Hound’s frustration had only lasted a moment. It skidded to a
>halt before the boundaries of the block party, repelled by both the emotions
>there and the training to avoid such mass collections of humanity that were
>central to its essence.

Crow: [starts twitching] No!

> It looked over its shoulder at the machine which had
>so dutifully followed its mind’s siren-call, through the glass at the pair of
>tools.

Crow: No! [breaks down] No, no, nonononooo! Waah, oh the pain....
Joel: Ok, Crow, you can go outside for a minute, I think you need it.

[Crow has fallen to the floor. Joel helps him up and he staggers out.]

Tom: Poor guy.

> Here was its catspaw into the corruption of the party.

Joel: Ouch! I think Crow left just in time.

> The stick it
>would use to pry loose the grime ahead of it. It constructed a few simple

Tom: Metaphors, using sticks, grime, catspaws, and Elmer's glue-all.

>images, seated in the right thought-junctures of the humans, and stepped away.

Joel: It looks like the Technobabbler got at that sentence!

> The men got out of the car, had a brief conversation with one another and
>waded into the sea of color.

Joel: In their fashionable high-cut Speedos.

> The Hound padded away, grateful for the lessening in intensity of the
>rampant energy of the party.

Joel: Yup, it's technobabble, but fortunately on a light setting.
Tom: What made the energy lessen? The two men?
Joel: No, it just feels less cos the Hound's leaving.
Tom: Oh.

> Its mind followed the Scent, the strength of the
>trail marred by its dissolution in the festival. Eventually, it found its
>Quarry, though.

Joel: We'll just skip over the details, ok?

> The invisible strings were impossible to cut.

Tom: Probably because no one could find them.

> It altered its
>course to intersect with the Quarry, and took a bit of time to shift its
>perceptions, concentrating now on Lawton.
>
>* * *

Joel: Um....Stars of David?
Tom: It'll do.
Joel: [yelling] Hey Crow, it's the next scene, c'mon back and help us out
here, ok?

[Crow comes in, still a bit unsteady.]

> Sonnet led him back into the alleyways, then into a burnt out husk of
>a building. There, suddenly, she stopped.
> "What are you doing?" Lawton asked, panicked.

Crow: Stopping.
Joel: That's the spirit, Crow.

> "This is where it comes down, Don. Right here.

Tom: Where what comes down?
Joel: What went up.
Tom: What?
Joel: What comes up must come down, so what comes down must be what went
up.
Tom: Forget I asked.

> This is where we’ve
>gotta do it."

Tom & Crow: Yeah, baby!

> "What the hell are you talking about, Sonnet?"

Joel: I'd like to know, too.

> He felt terror
>creeping into his voice. The police had scared him badly.

Crow: But then again, almost everything scares him.

> He’d never done
>anything like this. He was a criminal now. He’d never been a criminal. He’d
>never been this afraid.

Tom: He was afraid now.
Crow: I'd still like to know WHY he's a criminal. He DID make up his mind
not to be lawful, but apart from driving over 5mph in the parking
garage, what has he DONE?

> Dimly, he wondered if this is what Adventure was
>really about.
> Sonnet looked hurt by his tones.

Joel: [Sonnet] You just can't read me very well, can you? I'm in iambic
pentameter, Lawton, so get your tones right.

> Hurt and scared. Now was not the
>time she could afford his falling apart.

Crow: What with the mortgage payments and the car repair bills and all.

> "Don, this is were we’ve got to make
>it happen." She sighed, her tones becoming pleading. "Don’t you get it?
>Finally? This is where we can beat it, and Them. Free the both of us at
>once."

Tom: Look lady, I don't think you should yell at him just cos he doesn't
know what's going on. You haven't exactly been a fount of
information, you know.
Crow: I thought they were already free?
Joel: No, that was being free of the laws. Now they're gonna get free of
the folks who are after them BECAUSE of their freedom of the laws.
Crow: You know, this is starting to make some sense then. And - it scares
me.

> Lawton turned fully on her, anger at her evasiveness building up.
>"Tell me, right now, exactly what you’re talking about. No more bullshit."

Crow: Aw, come on, Lawton, you know you're loving it.

> "Don, I need you beside me. I need you wanting this." She clutched
>his hand tight, squeezed it, then made a motion

Crow: Hey, it's turning into a porno flick!
Tom: Cool!
Joel: Hope springs eternal in you guys, doesn't it?

> to the world in general-their
>world. "If I can change you, free you, then I bought my way out of its
>place,"

Tom: What's place?

> she nodded in the direction of the gaping wound that they’d crawled
>through to get into this building,

All: Yuck!

> the place where they’d see their pursuers,
>"and into yours. The Hound, it . . . " her voice trailed off into a dim
>faraway buzz.

Joel: New batteries, please! Sonnet's winding down.

> Another Voice had awoken in his head.

Tom: I didn't know he had a first one.
Crow: Doesn't surprise me, though.

> Thou art of the Law, it rumbled.

Joel: [Elric] No! I serve Arioch!

> Lawton squeezed his eyes shut, terror racking him horribly.
> Calm thyself, the Voice insisted. It had become smoother, gentler.

Tom: Like Old Milwaukee Beer.

>I know thine pain, it whispered gently. I know what thou has endured.

Crow: I'm no expert, but shouldn't that be `thy pain' and `thou hast'?

> What
>that she-devil has done to thou. Thou are not the type of man to do this sort
>of thing.

Joel: I know thou'd never go to a party on your own.

> Thou have seen what she is, what she can do.

Tom: She is an alien, and she can do eye tricks and ballet.

> She has bewitched and
>disabused thou.
> Lawton tried desperately to shut the intruder-thoughts out. He could
>faintly hear Sonnet continuing her soliloquy,

Crow: Sonnet doing a soliloquy, that's rich.
Tom: Technically, if she's talking to someone else, it's not a soliloquy.

> her tone desperate. Inside, he
>prayed for it all to just end

Crow: I'm with you, Lawton!

> and, finally, the Voice did.

Tom: Well, that's that then.

> It slowly
>dissolved into a whisper then seemed to fade, leaving his own internal
>monologue in his head and Sonnet’s entreaty buzzing at his ears.

Joel: [making swatting motions] Honey, where's the bug spray?

> " . . . so if you just believe, Don, the Hound won’t have any power.

Tom & Joel: I believe....I believe....
Crow: I don't believe. He's just a nice old man with whiskers.

>Not with you, and not on me.

Crow: Oh, pick a preposition and stick with it!
Tom: And not on it!
Crow: Boo.

> So please, be-"

Joel: Nimble, please be quick, please ju-

> she cut her words short, her
>eyes darting to the entrance. Before turning about himself, Lawton

Tom: He's in orbit around himself!
Crow: Neat trick.

> noticed
>her neon eyes taken on a deep, muddy swamp yellow-green cast.

Joel: [barker voice] Getcher adjectives, fresh-baked, and only 4 for a
dollar!

> Turn around he did. What he saw, he later erased from his mind, but
>for fits and starts in the middle of the night.

Crom: So since he doesn't remember it any more, how about we skip it
altogether?

> The creature was . . .
>immense. It was as much inside his mind as before his eyes, and took up both
>vistas entirely.

Tom: Yup, that's big, all right.

> It loped easily into the shell of the building and affixed
>its gaze on him.

Joel: With a staple-gun.

> He could faintly hear Sonnet babbling in his ear again, but
>it was drowned out as the Voice boomed forth again. It sounded like it was on
>a train barreling toward him, soft at first, then gathering thundering power
>as the Doppler effect kicked in.

Crow: And made a doppleganger of Lawton.
Tom: [geezer voice] Yep, she rides a bit rough at first, not like yer new-
fangled contraptions, but she's ok once the Doppler effect kicks in.

> Thine is not to run. Thine is not to fear.

Joel: Thine is not to talk funny.
Tom: Thine is not to question why.

> Thou are a proud, noble
>creature.

Crow: Nah, that's way off.

> This which she offers thou is nothing but fear and flight. She is
>a trickster and a malcontent. Cast her away from thou.

Joel: Guess the Hound doesn't realise that Lawton LIKES fear and flight.

> The world returned to Lawton.

Crow: It had just run out for lunch.

> He saw that Sonnet had stepped before
>him. Her chin was thrust forward, he could see the most delectable of smiles
>on her lips, now. She let out a soft chuckle at the beast and informed it,
>"You’ve lost, puppy.

Tom: Awwww, a puppy. Can I keep it mom, can I, can I, can I?

> He’s mine. He’s alive,

Joel: With pleasure.

> just like me." She looked over
>her shoulder, the luminous grin remaining.

Crow: Oh, for crying out loud, now her MOUTH glows?

> The faintest flicker of fear toyed
>with her expression,

Joel: Expressions are not toys, boys and girls.

> but it was quashed thoroughly as she asked, "Ain’t that
>right, Donny-boy?" She turned back, waiting for his answer.

Tom: They keep turning back and forth a lot in this scene, don't they?

> She got it.

Crow: [singing] Yah baby, she's got it!

> The pain in his chest from running and the fear in his
>heart from the police and the Hound now married to an upwelling of shame.

Crow: Urk! [starts shaking a bit again]
Joel: I now pronounce you Pain and Shame.
Tom: You may kiss the Hound.

> He
>perceived the nickname-Donny-as the most recent in a series of verbal smirks

Joel: Wipe that verbal smirk off your face, young woman.

>at him. This woman didn’t care about him. She needed him for
>something-Lawton still wasn’t clear on what-

Tom: Nothing's clear in THIS story.

> and once done using him would toss
>him aside. She didn’t care about anyone but herself, she’d said as much.

Crow: She had?

>She’d made him forget his family, his life, his responsibility,

Tom: And even his dinner.
Joel: Enough with the dinner stuff, Tom.

> and now wanted
>him to risk his last remaining currency, his life, on defeating the glorious
>beast before them.

Crow: You can't afford to defeat the beast. Go out and get some more life,
then we'll talk.

> So Lawton gave his answer in the form of a

Tom: Question.

> harsh shove, delivered
>between her shoulderblades.

Joel: That's the postal service for you.

> She tumbled down, found herself sprawled out
>before the Hound.

Tom: dropped against the dollar.
Crow: That's Hound, not pound.

> She looked up at Lawton, and the look of anguish she gave
>him mustered up the faintest flutter of regret in his breast. Recognizing the
>rouge feeling,

Joel: Lawton blushed.
Crow: CoverGirl rouge: looks natural and lasts all day.

> Lawton stamped it down harshly.

Crow: I don't need this rouge! I look fine with just the lip gloss and
maybe some eyeliner!

> As a punishment to himself for
>that last moment of indecision, he forced himself to watch

Tom: I like to watch.
Crow: It's not really punishment, then, is it?

> as the Hound began
>excruciating the lovely creature between its paws.

Crow: Stop! That tickles!
Joel: Um, excruciating is an adjective, not a verb, you know.

> A few eternities later,

Tom: Gee, time really flies when you're being excruciated!

> when the slaughter was at an end,

Crow: Oh, just casually skip by the action scenes.

> the Hound
>looked up at Lawton. Its reddened lips pulled back away from its teeth in a
>horrible approximation of a smile.

Joel: Come on Hound, you can do better than THAT. Practice makes perfect!

> I am proud of thou, it purred to him.
>What does thou wish in return for the service thou has wrought for the
>Masters?

Tom: World peace, and an ice cream sundae.
Crow: A new car!
Joel: How about just ending the story?

> Its tone seemed to suggest it already knew. As it turned out, it
>did.

Crow: So that worked out ok, then.

>* * *

Tom: Barbed-wire plus signs?
Crow: Uh, sure.

> Donald Lawton’s world was once again a dim, gray place.

Joel: This is where we came in!

> Every day
>brought nothing but the same as the day before, blessedly. The drives into
>the city became a feast of blessed mediocrity.

Tom: He's back with the inappropriate metaphors again.
Crow: Blessed mediocrity - it's what for dinner!

> In the city, and parked, it

Joel: Ah, it's the sentence without a head. I remember this sentence.

>was off to a building that rather resembled a triumphant, proud

Tom: Erect....
Crow: Rampant....
Joel: Throbbing....

> finger,

All: [disappointed] Oh.

>crafted of steel and pointing towards glory,

Tom: Glory is a pilot.

> and the slate-colored clouds that
>protected the world from the hostile sea of suns it swam in.

Joel: Oh, now that's just taking a bad metaphor TOO far.
Tom: That's a PAINFUL sentence.

> Within, Lawton
>spent eight blissful, oblivious hours a day slotted into a cubicle that held
>the same photographic testimonials of a life outside of the office that all of
>his co-workers had.

Crow: Not again! Not again!
Joel: Hang in there, Crow, we're at the end.

> A simple computer terminal dominated his desk, and that
>was about it. Drab, uneventful, boring, cloying.

Tom: Yup, that's about it.

> Lawton loved it.

Joel: And he can HAVE it.
Tom: You bet! And hey, it had a happy ending after all.
Crow: Any ending-
Joel & Tom: -is a happy ending.
Joel: We know, Crow.

[Door sequence]

[Sol]

[There is a giant computer terminal next to the mad's buttons, and Crow and
Tom are staring into it fixedly. Joel is, too, but breaks off to talk to
the camera.]

Joel: Oh, hi. As you can see, we've installed this simple computer
terminal to dominate our desk area, and we've slotted ourselves in.
Life can be so bleak and dreary and grey and uneventful and so on,
can't it?
Crow: [monotone, eyes still on the terminal] Yes it can Joel. Boring
and bleary and droning and.... [peters out due to too much apathy]
Tom: [same situation as Crow] ....horrid and tedious and wearing and....
Joel: And dull, and-

[Gypsy has come into the room, with a wagon handle in her mouth. Behind
her, on the wagon, is a slightly larger-than-life statue of Richard
Basehart. It is obviously constructed out of crudely-carved foam rubber.
Gypsy is STILL in her Ariel outfit.]

Joel: Gypsy, are you still doing the Little Mermaid?
Gypsy: [ignoring him, gazing at statue] Oh Eric....run away with you?
Joel: We'll have to talk about this later.
Crow: Gypsy, get out of here, you're ruining our skit!

[Gypsy still isn't paying attention.]

Joel: Um, Gypsy, you'd better leave, uh....Flotsam and Jetsom are
calling!

[That does it, and Gypsy hurries off, statue in tow.]

Joel: [hitting button] Well, sirs?

[Deep13]

[Dr. Forrester's glasses have a cheap green glowing-eye effect done over
them. Think of Cassia in the Keeper of Traken, if you're a Dr. Who fan.
Frank is in a fuzzy dog costume.]

Dr. F: Very interesting. But now, don't you feel strangely compelled to
do my bidding and to-
Frank: Thou do not feel compelled, Joel! Listen to the Voice of Woofy
the Hound, and feel the capital H! Thy are not-
Dr. F: [turns and starts batting at Frank]
Frank: Ow! I mean, yip!

[The fight continues, and Joel and the 'bots shake their heads sadly.
One final look at Deep13, and then, click!]

> Once
>within, Lawton was slotted into a cubicle that held the same photographic
>testimonials of a life outside of the office that all of his co-workers had.

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Thanks to Dale Georg for a few of the quips and better-phrasing of some of
my quips. Thanks to Mr. Bowell (pronounced bowl) for not only not killing
me for this, but graciously saying it helped him pinpoint some of the
weak areas in the story which needed fixing. Thanks to Domino, my ferret,
for curling up by the keyboard and letting me pet her while waiting for
inspiration to strike. Froot-Lube is available at Sam Goody and better
Victoria's Secrets everywhere. And hey, I noticed as this was almost done
that Joel got Gypsy a Little Mermaid bath set in one episode (the same one
where Tom got his little car and Crow got trousers) so I guess that's
continuity of a sort. Let's hear it for the subconscious! Peacock.

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