MiSTied "Flight to Bespin" (1/6)

[castel...@nd.edu]

Okay, here's story #3. I also noticed that my server mashed up the
orignal text in my previous two stories. For that, my apologies.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Normal season 8 opening credits until they get the planet with the MST 3K
logo on it. Once at that, the camera pans really close to the planet, and
then slowly starts to pan upwards into the stratosphere. The music slowly
begins to change until it sounds like the music for the opening sequence
of Star Wars: A New Hope. All of a sudden, we see the Satellite of Love
from an undershot fly by the planet while being pursued by a very angry
Star Destroyer. Green turbolasers lance at the SoL relentlessly until the
back portion explodes.)

<SoL.>

GYPSY: (Rushing in.) Mike! Our power reactor just gave out. We can't
outrun them now!

MIKE: (At the steering wheel.) Great. If it isn't just one good thing
after another.

TOM: I told you this section of the galaxy was a speeding trap. I told
you very specifically, "Mike, don't speed through here." But noooo. You
have to say, "Let's see what this baby can do." And now here we are...

MIKE: Tom! I could use a little more support here right now.

(A violent shake interrupts there impending argument.)

CROW: Uh, guys. I hate to interrupt your enlightening conversation. But
they just locked a tractor beam on us. I think our impending doom is upon
us. Gypsy, will you kiss me goodbye?

GYPSY: No!

<Outside SoL.>

(We see the SoL being pulled into the hangar of the Star Destroyer.)

<SoL.>

CROW: We're dead. C'mon, Gypsy. Kiss me!

GYPSY: No, Crow!

MIKE: Come on guys, never give up. We have to fight. Get to defensive
positions!

TOM: Oh yeah? And what are we supposed to do? If you haven't noticed,
our arms don't work!

MIKE: Didn't the other guy program any self-defense mechanisms into you
guys?

BOTS: No.

GYPSY: You better hurry and think of something, Mike. They just accessed
the Satellite through the theater and are working their way up the tunnel
now.

(The sound of footsteps and doors opening, if slowly, are heard from
behind the bone door.)

MIKE: Seal that door, Gypsy. Now we need weapons. (Looks around.)
Weapons, weapons weapons. Oh, wait. (He dives underneath the table and
beings rummaging through stuff.) I know it's here somewher... Ah-ha! (He
comes back up holding one of those giant novelty toothbrushes.)

TOM: That?

MIKE: Well, it's better than nothing.

GYPSY: They're at the front door, Mike!

MIKE: All right everybody, get ready! (He holds the toothbrush up like a
lance.)

CROW: Gypsy, I just want you to know I love you very much. Now kiss me!

GYPSY: No! (She bashes him away with her head and he goes flying off stage
left.)

(Sparks start flying off the door and then the bone door flys open. Fog
comes out the opening, and then a figure steps forward. When the fog
clears, a very foppish figure in a Darth Vader outfit stands before the
crew. However, he is not as tall, not nearly as massive, and there's a
green trim to his gear.)

MIKE: Da' hell?

(The Darth Vader-like person, taking advantage of Mike's surprise, knocks
the toothbrush out of his arms and grabs Mike by the throat. He attempts
to lift Mike off his feet, but he doesn't get very fat, and the viewers
can see the strain this puts on the intruder.)

INTRUDER (familiar yet strained voice): Where are those...
transmissions... you inter... inter... Owwwww!

(The intruder then releases Mike's throat and falls to the ground after
throwing his back out. Mike, who didn't budge during all of this, stands
over him bewildered.)

MIKE: I though he'd be a lot stronger.

TOM: You know, that voice sounds familiar.

MIKE: Yeah, it does to me, too.

(Mike helps the intruder up, who is groggy. He then begins to remove the
helmet from the intruder. When the helmet is removed, it reveals a narrow
face wearing glasses, with frazzled hair going in every direction, and a
neat mustache with a white streak running down it.)

MIKE, TOM, & GYPSY: Dr. Clayton Forrester!

FORRESTER: Huh? Oh, hi Neilson. (He faints.)

MAGIC VOICE: Commercial sign now.

MIKE: I guess we'll be right back.

(Commercial button is hit. Fade out to Sci-Fi Channel commercials.)

<SoL.>

(Mike has gotten Forrester to stand, but he still seems a little groggy.
Mike gently slaps Forrester to wake him.)

TOM: Mike, this can't be Forrester. I heard he was dead.

MIKE: I don't understand either, but here he is. Wait, he's waking up.

(Forrester comes to. He looks around a bit.)

MIKE: Hi, Dr. F. I heard you were dead.

FORRESTER: Me? Dead? How dare you challenge my powers. I find your lack
of faith disturbing. (He raises his hand to do the Jedi strangulation to
Mike. But a sense of pleasure crosses Mike's face.)

MIKE: Oh, Dr. F. That is the best neck massage I have ever felt. Can you
go a little higher?

FORRESTER: Oh, poopie! (He gives up.)

TOM: Hey, Dr. F. I don't mean to ask stupid questions, but how can you be
here?

GYPSY: Yeah, I heard you were dead.

FORRESTER: Well, if you really must know, Pliskin wanna' bes, it seems
that your friend Crow messed up the time line when Marvin here sent him
back to contact his parents.

MIKE: It's Mike. And how?

FORRESTER: Well, it seems to be that I bumped into Crow at an all night
kegger in St. Paul. After beating him in five straight games of quarters,
he told me the whole tale about the future, mother strangling me and all,
and your inevitable demise to madness.

TOM: Huh?

FORRESTER: Well, anyway. Now knowing mother's plans for me, I made my own
plans. (Giggles madly.) Back at Deep 13, I made certain, um,
arrangements to ensure funding for my cloning project.

MIKE: Cloning project?

FORRESTER: Yes, booby. I sold off my stock in Gizmonic Institutes to a,
um, reliable source and therefore was able to clone myself. Upon D-day, I
went into hiding and mother, unknowingly, strangled a clone of me!
(Laughs.) Oh, my genius supprises me even sometimes.

TOM: But how did you live this long?

FORRESTER: I don't know. How did you live this long?

(Tom is stumped by this question.)

MIKE: Where did you get the Star Destroyer?

GYPSY: Yeah, and why were you shooting at us?

FORRESTER: Yes, well I'm sorry about that, but I thought you were a rebel
ship.

MIKE: Rebel ship? You're in charge of the Empire?

FORRESTER: Well, um, no. You see, when I sold my stock to my, um,
associate, he propelled Gizmonic Institute to economic gianthood. In the
year 2001, Gizmonic Institute took over the earth and founded the Gizmonic
Empire. After groveling at his feet for a couple of years, he rehired me
from Arbys and now my job is hunting rebels. Which reminds me... (He
taps a communications device on his arm.) Captain, prepare to continue
the hunt as soon as I... (He doesn't get a chance to finish as the SoL
shutters.)

GYPSY: Um, Dr. F. They just left without you.

FORRESTER: They're always in a rush. Oh well, they'll come back when they
realize they forgot me.

TOM (muttering): Don't count on it.

FORRESTER: What was that?

TOM: I mean, um, who's the emperor? And who's the rebel, as well?

FORRESTER (embarrased): Well I'd rather...

(At that moment, Crow walks in in a bit of a daze.)

CROW: Ohhhh. Gypsy, why did you hit me so hard... (He notices
Forrester.) Oh, hello. Who's our guest?

MIKE: Crow, this is Dr. Forrester. Don't you remember him?

CROW: Well, the name sounds familiar, but I thought he'd be taller. Oh,
by the way, Mrs. Forrester has found us.

FORRESTER (panicked): Mother? Quick, hide me! (He slams his helmet on
and hides behind Mike as Mike pushes the Mad light.)

<The Van.>

(Dr. Bobo is searching through the van in haste and Mrs. Forrester seems
very upset.)

PEARL: I want you to find my Tom Lehrer CD, now!

BOBO: Yes, law-giver. (He keeps searching.)

PEARL: (She looks up.) Ah, Mike and the X-Bots. I've finally caught up
with you. (She looks closer.) Do I know your friend there?

<SoL.>

(Forrester cowers behind Mike and shakes his head violently.)

MIKE: I don't believe so.

<The Van.>

PEARL: Why is he dressed like that? Did he just get tickets to go see the
Star Wars re-release or something? If that's the case, then he should
enjoy the experiment.

<SoL.>

FORRESTER (hissing): What?

TOM: Heh-heh. Sweet revenge.

<The Van.>

PEARL: This experiment comes from a promising writer in Down Under who
somehow fails miserably in this attempt. Please enjoy Cindy Olsen's,
"Flight to Bespin." Bobo! Where's that CD?

<SoL.>

FORRESTER: You can't make me.

(Warning klaxons go off.)

MIKE: Oh yes I can because...

MIKE & BOTS: We've got fanfic sign! Oh no!

(Mike grabs Forrester and pulls him offstage.)

*...6...5...4...3...2...0

(Everyone enter the theater. FORRESTER sits to the left of TOM.)

MIKE: Now remember Clay, if you don't help us riff this story, I'll turn
you in.

FORRESTER: Oh, all right. (He removes his helmet.)

>FLIGHT TO BESPIN

FORRESTER: Hey, I was going to send you this after "Laserblast."

CROW: Oh great.

>
>

>
>

>by Cindy Olsen
>email: wol...@ozemail.com.au

TOM: Wait a minute. Is that the same Cindy Olsen who wrote "Life Debt"?

MIKE: Yep, I think so.

TOM: Oh Cindy, how could you?

>
>

>
> DISCLAIMER :The following fanfiction story is intended purely for the
>
>
enjoyment of the reader and the author. While this story contains >
orginal
>
>
characters and/or situations,

CROW: Oh, that's doubtful.

> the author has included characters and/or
>
>
situations created and owned by George Lucas and/or Lucas film. No
>
>
money is being made

TOM: Such a waste... NOT!

> and no infringement is intended. This story may be
>
>
distributed as long as 1) It is done so intact and 2) The author is >
contacted
>
>
for permission before it is posted to another Internet Web Site,

MIKE: And 3), done while being totally naked.

>

>
>

>
>
Han Solo.

FORRESTER: Him again! I shall destroy him once and for all. (He
outstretches his hand in an attempt to use the Force, but instead the
movie screen just flickers and changes to "Green Acres.")

ALL: NOOOOO!

CROW: Quick! Turn it back! Oh the pain!

(Forrester quicky waves his arms around in blind panic until the screen
goes back to the story.)

ALL: Phew!

TOM: That was neat. See if you can get us the Playboy Channel next time.

> Every time she thought about him, the muscles in her neck
> and
>
>
shoulders tightened, pulling and cramping under her skin as if
>to breaking
>point.

MIKE: Whoa! Han gave her shingles.

> And she couldn't help but think about him;
>after all, she was in his
>
>
cabin, on his bunk and wearing his shirt.

CROW:
And his bra.

TOM: What?

> Leia finally gave up trying to concentrate on the datapad on
>her
>
>lap and returned it to the adjacent desk.

MIKE (Leia): Damn Gameboy. I hate Tetris.

> She uncurled her legs,
>stretched
>
>them down the length of the sleeping pallet, and adjusted
>the fabric of the
>
>dark blue dress shirt around her knees. She was
>glad there was no mirror

FORRESTER (wickedly): Look above the bed.

TOM: Hey, you have a sense of humor after all.

>
in the cabin; she thought she must have
>looked a sight in the shirt that was
>
>
many sizes too big for her,

MIKE (Leia): I look so fat in this.

> the
>sleeves rolled up around her elbows and
>
>the tight, formal collar
>loose around her small neck. Her long, cinnabar
>hair hung loose
>down her back.

TOM: And the studded leather harness and red satin pumps felt good on her,
too.

>
>

> Leia rubbed her aching shoulders. Had it really only been
>a week

FORRESTER: Since her last dental checkup?

>since the Empire had discovered the hidden Rebel base on
>the ice planet
>
>
Hoth? A week since the Empire had effortlessly
>crushed the resistance

CROW: Oh, kind of like a Catholic grade school.

>offered by two companies of the Alliance's
>best troops. A week since

MIKE: A plot point.

CROW: What plot?

>
Han - Han! Why are you still here? -

FORRESTER: She's hearing voices. The princess forgot her pills again.

>had rushed into the remains of the
>
>command centre and insisted
>that she leave.

CROW: Oh, they're breaking up all ready? How sad.

> After travelling in the Millennium Falcon in the same
>clothes for the
>
>
last seven days,

TOM: She began to smell like a wet wookie.

> cooped up with a lunatic pirate,

ALL (singing): They're coming to take me away ha-ha he-he ho-ho.

> a
>paranoid protocol droid

MIKE (C-3PO): I am not paranoid. Why does everybody say I'm paranoid?

>
>and an increasingly anxious Wookiee, Leia
>had decided a quick cycle in

CROW: The washing machine.

>the small refresher stall could only
>improve her mood.

FORRESTER: At this rate it doesn't seem that even prozac would improve her
mood.

> And she had felt
>
>better, until her plan to run
>her white combat outfit through the Falcon's
>
>
valet unit had
>faltered. Unfortunately, but predictable as with any piece
>
>
of
>equipment on this clapped out freighter, the valet unit had ceased
>
>

>operation halfway through the drying cycle.

TOM: Is this really vital information pertaining to the story?

MIKE: Maybe Cindy is writing something about the Maytag repair man.

TOM: Even he couldn't have been this bored!

> Her damp clothes
>now hung
>
>by the door and she'd been forced to raid Han's
>minuscule closet to find
>
>
something to wear.

FORRESTER: This is her revenge for the panty raid Han made when he was in
Alpha Beta.

> As she'd never seen
>him wear this formal shirt
>
>before,

CROW: The clown suit, yes. But not the formal shirt.

> she didn't think he'd mind if she
>wore it and she didn't care
>
>even if he did mind.

MIKE: Sounds like Leia has been reading Dworkin's work again.

>
A spasm jerked through her left shoulder. Part of her was
>
>

>uncomfortable with the connotations of a woman wearing a man's
>
>

>clothes,

TOM: Or a woman leaving the kitchen.

CROW: Or wanting attention.

MIKE: Or even a life of her own for that matter.

FORRESTER: Or owning a dog.

TOM: Oh, shut up!

> of the intimacy it implied. But she reasoned that she >was
>past
>
>
that, especially seeing as she'd been encamped in his cabin for
>about
>
>five days.

TOM: It's tough being an agoraphobic.

>
>

> Han had insisted that she take his cabin. The small room
>had
>
>
been as disarrayed as his mind,

MIKE: Ouch!

FORRESTER: She's not the most appriciative person is she?

> and she had spent the first hour
>just
>
>tidying it up, hanging up the clothes that were strewn across
>the bunk,

TOM (Leia): La da da, shirts go here, pants here... Wait a minute, lady's
underwear?

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