MiSTed: Rocky Dwarf (3/6)
TICK
Part 3 of 6
by the Badger
Halfway through...this is the funniest of the lot. (As you can tell,
I, the Tick, had nothing to do with it.) The guy's embarassingly
good.
Love, Tick
*****************************************************************
[Scene opens: Mike and the bots are wearing dressed in uniforms
from BABYLON 5]
MIKE: Welcome to Sattelite of Love 5. It's a way station, an
intergalactic port of call for con-men, traders, deal makers and
hustlers...
CROW: Larry Flynt is going to be here?
MIKE: NO! Would you just say your line?
CROW: Oh, all right. 'Dead or alive, you are coming with me.'
TOM: That's PETER WELLER, from ROBOCOP. You're supposed to be
Commander Sisko.
MIKE: No, Commander Sisko's the pilot of the ship in LOST IN SPACE,
isn't he?
CROW: I think you mean Dr. Smith, the guy who went to Washington.
[Light begins to flash]
CROW: Uh, I think Danger and Will Robinson are calling...
[Mike Pushes the button.]
[Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is wearing a strange patterned shirt and
a bow-tie, and his hair is cut in a flat top.]
Dr. F: Well, Bubba, stupid is as stupid does.
[SOL]
MIKE: What...why are you talking like that?
[Deep 13]
Dr. F: Well, bubba, I've decided that I'm not popular enough. Oh
sure, I'm evil as the day is long, but nobody LIKES me. So know me
as I am now, as...FORRESTER GUMP.
MIKE AND THE BOTS: WHAT!?
[Deep 13: Frank walks in shot, wearing a shrimper's clothes and
carrying a big basket of shrimp.]
FRANK: Shrimp understand me. Shrimp know my needs. Shrimp give you
the sexual potency of a rhino! Shrimp don't crush their babies like
Panda's do.
[SOL: Mike and the Bots have that "Uh-oh" look on their collective
pusses.]
MIKE: Ooh, I don't like the way this is going...
CROW: Mike, will this happen to us?
TOM: Don't worry, Crow. It's not like we're dressed up like
fictional characters...or...anything weird...like that...nevermind.
[Fanfic sigh begins to flash]
MIKE: I'm almost glad to see it.
7...6...5...4...3...2...1...
>Part III:
CROW: A NEW HOPE: The Republic is no more...
>=========
MIKE: HOW PROFOUND!
TOM: C'mon, Mike, at least wait till it gets stupid to flame it..
>Scene Shot: The Cat,
TOM: Okay, NOW you can flame it.
>having cleaned his suit four times and
CROW:(In CAT voice) I'll NEVER get the smell of this fanfic offa
me!
>realising it was time for his pre-midnight snack, is roaming
>through part of the higher levels of the mansion.
MIKE: Are there REALLY any higher levels here?
CROW: RODERICK USHER, YOU ARE MINE!
> He arrives, via a lift, in a large open room, high above is a
>painted domed ceiling and a viewing gallery surrounds the room.
MIKE: Tonight on ER, the doctors observe a fashion conscious twit
rambling through a deserted mansion...
TOM: In a deadly game of cat and mouse!
CROW: Boring...How many times can you look at the Sistine Chapel,
anyway?
>Towards the back of the room the Cat spies a large glass tank with
>a strange collection of taps overhanging it in a circle, he slides
>over to it looking around the entire room in the manner of someone
>who shouldn't be there.
MIKE: And LORD, How I know how he feels!
CROW: Nobody should be here!
>Riffraff, whilst showing Kryten the broken transmitter that is
>behind some of the statues in the storeroom, glances at a monitor
>and sees the Cat standing next to the glass tank.
CROW: CURSES! FOILED AGAIN! It's that blasted UNDERDOG!
>RIFFRAFF: Well, it seems your cat has found himself in the
>master's lab. I do hope he doesn't touch anything or the master
>will (pauses) not be pleased.
CROW: And that (pauses) would not be (pauses) a good (pauses..takes
out newspaper, begins to read, puts it down) thing.
TOM: This things so full of pregnant pauses, I keep expecting naked
pictures of Demi Moore!
MIKE: As long as she doesn't have any lines...
>LISTER: We better stop him.
MIKE: Oh, yes, please. Stop him. And while you're stopping things,
give some thought to stopping this fanfic altogether, would you?
>RIMMER: Oh-oh-ohh, the Cat's in trouble this time Listy.
CROW: And I'm TELLING MOM!
>KRYTEN: If you don't mind sirs, I think I'd better get started on
>the transmitter, it may take some time.
TOM: Or maybe not. Maybe it will happen instantly the second I
touch it. Hard to say, really. Wish I understood this consarned
"theory of relativity" thingamajig.
>RIFFRAFF (beaconing to Lister and Rimmer): Follow me.
ALL: AHH! We're blind! Shut off that damn beacon!!
>The Cat looks all round the tank and at the circle of taps
>hanging above it.
MIKE: He finds a note. "Dear Cat...We just had no reason to live.
Please don't think harshly of us, even though suicide is the
cowardly plumbing's way out..."
CROW: Sheesh, Mike's gone all Flaubert on us!
>CAT (to himself): Arroowww, what have we here... hey, it's a
>dyeing tank.
TOM: Someone call 911! This tank's DYING!
CROW: No, I think he means a Sherman Mk-11 with an industrial ink
gun instead of a cannon...
MIKE: Read on and see.
CROW: I don't WANNA!
>I better put this to good use,
TOM: Naa...Nothing else has been put to good use here, why start
now?
>this suit's colour is
>starting to get unfashionable.
MIKE: It's so Five Minutes ago, rilly.
CROW: He's CAT: VAMPIRE SLAYER.
TOM: Maybe he's supposed to be a metaphor for Gus Van Sant.
>He starts turning the taps randomly, letting various coloured
>liquids flow into the tank, oblivious to the fact that there is
>a body lieing inside,
CROW: Hmmm-hmm-hmm, nope, no body in THIS tank, nope nope nope.
MIKE: I'm beginning to feel a bit oblivious to the entire sad
affair.
TOM: "The RED DWARF Affair...when good TV becomes BAD, BAD fanfic."
Tonight on the ROLANDA show.
>the figure of Frank'n'furter struts into the room from the
lift
TOM: And here's Rolanda's first guest! Tell me, Mr. Curry, what's
it like to be a talented character actor in a horrible storyline?
CROW: Hey, check out the gams on that babe!
MIKE whispers in Crow's ear.
CROW: Oh, I don't feel so good.
>in which the brightly dressed woman known as Colombia waits.
CROW: Now, is THAT a real girl?
TOM: Yes it is.
CROW opens mouth.
MIKE: Say it, and you'll be on latrine duty for a month.
>CAT: Aww no, this isn't a fashionable colour at all. I better
>turn a few more of these taps.
MIKE: And if that doesn't work, I'm writing a nasty letter to Mr.
Blackwell!
>FRANK'N'FURTER (sees the Cat and runs over): No, no what are you
>doing to my experiment... it's ruined.
TOM: Oh no. I can't believe it. I'm so angry. How could you do this
to me. I feel apopleptic. I fear I may go mad with rage.
>The glass tank is now rapidly filling with multicoloured liquids
>and Columbia walks over to the Cat as the lift descends into the
>gloom below.
MIKE: Tell me about descending into the gloom below. I KNOW ALL
ABOUT IT!
TOM: Ooh, look at the pretty colors...
>FRANK'N'FURTER (desperately turning of the taps): You evil little
>creature, you've ruined my experiment, now I'll never have my man.
CROW: I'll be kicked out of the Mounties! You've ruined everything!
>CAT: Hey bud, how was I to know your dye machine was hands off.
>COLOMBIA (in her wonderfully high pitched voice): Well, you've
>certainly haven't got into the master's good books now have you.
TOM: In her wonderfully high pitched voice? And what's the deal
with all these damn periods? Hasn't this guy ever taken a writing
course?
MIKE: Have you been READING this?
CROW: Glass explodes all over the room. THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!
>CAT (turning to Colombia): Hey, I don't need to be in any books
>-when you're as good looking as me, everyone knows who you are
>already, awwroww.
CROW: Besides, me and T.S. Eliot are like THIS!
TOM: And just like the husbands sitting in the theatre, I must ask
the question "Where the hell are the singing cats?"
>The lift arrives back and Riffraff emerges with Lister and Rimmer
>- they all walk over to where the Cat and Colombia are, noticing
>Frank'n'furter trying to salvage his experiment.
MIKE: If I just get the keys on my typewriter fixed, I may yet be
able to write a coherent fanfic!
>COLOMBIA (seeing Cat's teeth): Woaww, you're a cat.
MIKE: Holmes, you're BRILLIANT!
>CAT (acting slightly cooler than before): Yeah I'm cool, but I
>wasn't going to boast about that which is so blatantly true.
CROW: Besides, there's so very little for me to boast about.
TOM: That's disgusting on so many levels.
>FRANK'N'FURTER (stamping his foot and still turning the taps):
>It'll never work now, it's totally ruined.
MIKE: Woah! Watch it, sparky, that firey dialogue might frighten
someone!
CROW: "I'm taking my bondage outfits and GOING HOME!"
>COLOMBIA: No, I mean you're a cat, a feline sapian... so am I.
TOM: Oh, God, no. They'll BREED! There'll be THOUSANDS of them!
This Fanfic will NEVER END!
MIKE: Now, now, Tom. Don't worry. This writer would NEVER write a
sex scene. Trust me when I say that the mind that wrote this has
no concept of sex.
>CAT (almost taken aback): What, no way - I'm the only Cat around
>here. (Quietly to Lister who just arrived) That's a woman right?
CROW: SEE! Even HE doesn't know anymore!
MIKE: Trust me...the author hasn't a clue either.
>Lister nods slightly to the Cat and turns to look at Colombia.
TOM: Hmm, breasts..check. No adams apple...check. I'd say, yeah,
that's a woman. I think.
>Cat also turns to Colombia and makes a cross between a purr and
>a growl as he walks round her looking her up and down.
MIKE: Then he walks into the wall!
CROW: Hoo-gan!
>Riffraff is now helping Frank'n'furter
TOM: And who can blame him!?
>to stop the taps and starts talking to him quietly. Rimmer just
>stands around trying to listen in
>on what Riffraff and Frank'n'furter are saying.
CROW: Arthur has to know EVERYTHING.
TOM: Are you talkin to me? Are you talkin to me?
MIKE: Stop whispering! I can barely make out the part about
bedwetting!
>Colombia tries to ignore Cat now
MIKE: Trust me, honey, we've tried too...it just encourages him.
>and turns to face Lister as he speaks.
CROW: Woof! Woof!
MIKE: Good boy. That's a good british actor currently in prison.
TOM: You is MY woman now.
>LISTER: Are you really one of the Cat race? I thought it only
>evolved on Red Dwarf?
TOM: That's what I thought? I seem to speak in questions?
CROW: What's the capitol of Assyria?
MIKE: Who AM us, anyway?
>COLOMBIA: Yes, I was on the second arc that was heading to Fushal
>but I was banished from the ship and sent through a time hole to
>here.
TOM: Someone told me a blathering assortment of twits were going
to take over the ship...You haven't seen anyone like that, have
you?
CROW: Irony...Just because Winona Ryder can't define it doesn't
mean it doesn't exist.
MIKE: I feel like I stubbed my toe.
>LISTER: But why were you banished, I certainly would have kept
>you on board.
CROW: I could have thought of ALL SORTS of things you could do...
MIKE: Crow, you keep this up, and you'll be making an appearance
on POLITICALLY INCORRECT.
CROW: AHHH! BILL MAHER! I'LL BE GOOD!
TOM: Geez, that was cruel of you, Mike.
MIKE: It's the only way he'll learn.
>COLOMBIA: They said my singing was too cool, so it broke the one
>law.
>CAT: Hey, what's wrong with being cool?
TOM: Not that I'd KNOW or anything...
CROW: AYYY, Mr. Cunningham, why're you wearing that tight leather
outfit?
>COLOMBIA: The one law, "Thou shalt not be cool" as declared by
>Clister the Stupid.
>LISTER: I never said that!
MIKE: IS YOUR NAME CLISTER? NO! SO SHUT UP! NOBODY CARES WHAT YOU
THINK! IT'S ALL MEANINGLESS! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE ALONE AND
UNLOVES, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND!!
CROW: Mike, relax. Have some dip.
>COLOMBIA: What?
>LISTER: Oh nothing, it's a long story.
TOM: A long, uninteresting story, that goes on and on and on and
on like something written by the illegitemate son of Thomas Pynchon
and Joyce Carol Oates if he was in a horrible accident and locked
in a woman's prison with only bad british TV and a video-cassette
of the Rocky Horror Picture show to keep him company until finally
his brain just SNAPPED and he went totally around the bend...
CROW & MIKE: TOM! COME BACK FROM THE ABYSS!!
TOM: But it's so warm...the dark is so soothing.
CROW: Tom, listen to me: Deep inside, I can still feel the good man
who was Anakin Skywalker inside you. THERE IS STILL GOOD IN YOU!
MIKE: They never broke Hester Prynne! Don't let them have you!
TOM: I (pauses) won't (pauses) break! I (pauses) will (pauses) not
(pauses) give (pauses) in! REMEMBER THE SKYDIVERS!
>Frank'n'furter having finally shut down the taps, the tank now
>being about half full of an almost glowing collection of coloured
>liquids, turns sharply from Riffraff and points directly at the
>Cat.
TOM: J'accuse!
MIKE: It was him what offed Leighton! He did it!
>FRANK'N'FURTER: I want that... that... thing locked up.
ALL begin a frenzied celebration.
CROW: And our long national nightmare is over!
> Riffraff (he flicks his head to one side and lets his hand drop
>slightly) take him away and lock him up for tonight's banquet.
MIKE: We're having Republican.
>Colombia puts her hand to her mouth and runs to the side of the
>room to be away from the others.
CROW: If only we could join her.
TOM(Feminine voice): Do you think they know I'm not as fresh as I
could be?
MIKE: I think she just read ahead a little bit is all, she'll shake
it off.
>CAT: Hey, you can't lock me up with nothing to eat until
>tonight...I'll starve,I've got have my five or six snacks a day
>so my mouth doesn't forget how to eat.
CROW: PLEASE lock him up! PLEASE!
TOM: Well, his mouth's ALREADY forgotten how to form a coherent
sentence...I'd say the damage has been done.
MIKE(Forrest Gump voice): I'm not a smart man, but I know what a
bad character is...and this guy's it. I say give him the hook.
>FRANK'N'FURTER (with a slight laugh in his voice): Who says
>you'll be eating.
CROW: McCloud, again with the periods!
TOM: WiTh a slIghT laUgH in HiS VoiCE?
>LISTER (Catching onto Frank'n'furter's meaning):
MIKE: He may well be the only person in the world who has.
CROW: I hear he's up for a Nobel prize for it.
TOM (Johnny Carson voice-) Transvestites, Aliens, and Craig
Charles...(Tearing sound) People who understand this fanfic.
MIKE: Ho-ho-ho...You are Correct, Sir!
TOM: May the writer of this fanfic marry a pregnant yak.
> Hey, no way man
TOM: It was JUST a SUGGESTION.
>- nobody's eating my friends, not while I have something to say
>about it.
MIKE: Which will be at least until lent.
CROW: Besides, us british types taste AWFUL.
>RIMMER (who is smiling to himself): Don't be so sentimental
>Lister, I'm sure the Cat will go down fine with some Ciante wine.
CROW: Remember your Aquinas, Clarice...Cats are a RED meat.
TOM: C'mon down to FLAMBE' CATS! We broast those kitty's the way
you like!
>LISTER: Oh thanks Rimmer, that's really helpful that is - Miss
>Sausage of the year here wants to eat Cat and you start giving
>recipe tips.
MIKE: Besides, he's all gamey and stuff...I'd much rather eat a
chilean soccer player...much juicier.
>RIMMER: Oh I'm sure the worse that could happen is someone would
>get a furball stuck in their throat.
CROW: Or Telly Savalas' shambling, rotting corpse could crawl out
of the grave and begin a Diner's Club commercial.
TOM: Or David Hasselhoff could begin his German takeover of the
world...He's really Hitler's clone, y'know.
MIKE: Now I understand! Now it all makes sense! I KNEW that his
popularity couldn't just be on account of Knight Rider.
>CAT: Wow, thanks a lot smeg-for-brains, I like my fur just where
>it is.
>RIFFRAFF (turning to Frank'n'furter): Don't you think master,
>that he would be of better use to you in your floor show?
MIKE: Uh-oh, Guys...are you thinking what I'm thinking?
CROW: I think so...but how are you going to fit an elk up there?
TOM: NO! He means...A MUSICAL NUMBER!
CROW: The horror...the horror...
>FRANK'N'FURTER (considering): Hmm... Yes, I suppose he does have
>a certain (pauses as he looks the Cat up and down) animal
>attraction.
MIKE: Y'know, I've figured this out. Really, I have. They all have
Multiple Sclerosis. Either that, or Tourette's Syndrome. That's why
they keep PAUSING like that.
CROW: Or maybe they just take care of the place while the master
is away...say, I wonder...
>They are interrupted by a slight moan coming from the glass tank,
>they all turn to see someone climbing out of it (remarkably dry,
>despite the liquids) though he seems to have a large head wound
>that looks fairly fresh as he stumbles to
>pull himself out of the tank.
TOM: Witness little Tommy Peters, a poor soul who attempted to make
logical sense out of the horror of this fanfic, here, in the MST
zone.
MIKE: I bet what happened was he tried to stop the writer, and like
all the enemies of the fatherland, was disposed of.
>COLOMBIA screams: Eddie!
TOM: Van Halen?
MIKE: Fitzgerald?
CROW: Munster?
>She rushs over to the tank and starts helping him to get out,
>Lister also goes over to help whilst the Cat, Frank'n'furter,
>Riffraff and Rimmer just stand there. Riffraff seems as
>uninterested as always but Frank'n'furter
>has a look of surprise on his face and turns to speak to the Cat.
CROW: Look, I know I threatened to eat you and all, but let's be
pals. I don't like the looks of that guy.
TOM: Have you looked in a mirror lately?
>FRANK'N'FURTER: It works? My experiment works! (Pointing at the
>Cat again) You, which order did you put the taps on... I have to
>know.
TOM: It's very important. The fate of the world depends on it. I'm
atwitter with excitement. Giddy as a schoolgirl. Really. I could
kiss you.
>CAT: Hey, does this mean I'm not the main course anymore bud?
MIKE: No, we're still going to eat you, but would you tell me
anyway?
>FRANK'N'FURTER (waving his hand in dismissal): Yes, yes,
>whatever... just show me which taps you turned!
CROW: This reminds me of a novel by Vladimir Nabokov...except it
sucks.
MIKE: I blame Ross Perot.
>Lister and Colombia have just managed to get Eddie out of the
>tank, he is now sitting next to it coughing out some of the liquid
>as Cat leaps over to the
>tank, closely followed by Frank'n'furter, Riffraff and a rather
>uninterested Rimmer.
MIKE: YOU WANT TO TALK UNINTERESTED?!?
CROW: Have I made it ABUNDANTLY clear how much I hate this fanfic?
TOM: The blood...coating my non-functional hands like crimson
gloves...
>CAT (Looking at the taps): Well first I turned the red one, then
>the blue (pauses)... or was it the yellow... no the first was the
>yellow...
MIKE: PYLE!
CROW: Yer YELLA, aren't ya, ya damn dirty apes!
TOM: White Heat AND the Planet of the Apes?
CROW: Two great tastes that taste great together!
MIKE: I'm not so sure...
>Cat continues trying to work out what he did, while
>Frank'n'furter and Riffraff listen to him. Eddie is finally able
>to speak and the others are standing around
>him. Frank'n'furter, Riffraff and the Cat are too busy, and
>ignore the others.
CROW: If Eddie begins a pointless exposition, and nobody is around
to hear it, does it in fact happen?
>COLOMBIA (hugging Eddie): Oh Eddie, you're alive again.
MIKE: I was afraid OJ'd gotten you!
>EDDIE (rubbing his head wound): Yeah babe, it takes more than an
>ice pick and a lobotomy to get me down.
TOM: A lobotomy? Guys...It's the writer!
CROW: KILL HIM! HE MUST DIE!
MIKE: KAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHN!
>LISTER (thinking about this): You mean you were killed?
CROW: Yeah. But I got better.
MIKE: Can they really say that he's thinking?
>EDDIE (looking at Lister): Well yeah, that evil guy, Frankie over
>there, he did it.
TOM: And he's gonna pay...in PAIN.
CROW: A year ago, they put him in a horrible fanfic. Now, he's back
from the dead, and he's going to get his vengeance. He's...Eddie
Lee.
>RIMMER (brain ticking over): And that overgrown fish tank brought
>you back.
>EDDIE (glancing back at the tank): I suppose.
>COLOMBIA (still hugging him): Well you're back now, I don't care
>if the master killed you.
ALL: NEITHER DO WE!
CROW: I hope he does it again, myself.
TOM: There's nothing like pointless death in a badly written story
to make you forget how horrible it really is.
MIKE: Did Ron Marz write this?
>RIMMER (to himself): If it brought him back, then maybe it'll
>work for me!
MIKE: The Ronco Re-Animator!
CROW: Hi, I'm Dr. Herbert West! Are you tired of being dead? Then
try my patented Re-Animator! It's guaranteed to bring you back from
the dead or your money back!
>LISTER: Hey guy, I knew the underwear freak was dangerous, but
>murder that's serious?
TOM: Why yes...Murder IS serious.
CROW: So is rape, by the way. Just for future reference.
MIKE: That was low.
CROW: Hey, I call's em like I see's em.
>EDDIE: That freak deserves to be locked up, he doesn't seem human
>to me.
>LISTER: He isn't.
MIKE: Oh, okay then.
>COLOMBIA & EDDIE: What?
TOM: Look, even attempting to recap this plot would just end in
blood. There's no need to go through that again, is there?
>LISTER: He's from some weird planet way out in space,
>Transatlantic or something, it was them that sent us here... I
>think they have it in for him.(Indicating Frank'n'furter)
MIKE: Seems he was their accountant, and he swiped a heap a swag
from em...now he's a marked man, cookie!
CROW: They want him rubbed out! Sleepin' with the fishes! A baker's
dozen!
>Rimmer slowly wanders towards Frank'n'furter, Riffraff and the
>Cat whilst talking quietly to himself about being alive again.
>Lister explains to Eddie and Colombia the situation that brought
>him here.
TOM: See, she came on to me...
MIKE: All right, that's enough. No touching on any personal
tragedies that the actors who portrayed the characters in this
fanfic might have undergone.
CROW: Doesn't this whole fanfic count?
>RIMMER (to himself): To touch, to eat, to feel again...
TOM: How did it feel to kill, Data?
>CAT (giving up): Aww, how am I suppose to concentrate on an empty
>stomach, I haven't eaten in at least an hour.
MIKE: I got your fifty pizza's, Mr. Brando. Where do you want your
bucket of lard?
>Frank'n'furter is getting slightly annoyed and seems about to
>storm off in a huff when Riffraff speaks.
CROW: The museum's guarded only by this shoeshine boy...I'm sure
HE'LL be no problem.
>RIFFRAFF: Don't worry master, I'm sure the cameras will have it
>recorded somewhere.
CROW: This IS Graceland, after all.
TOM: Thank you, Thank you very much, Thank you.
>FRANK'N'FURTER (relaxing): Yes, I forgot about that... I must
>study them tonight. I have much work to do. (Turning) Riffraff.
>RIFFRAFF: Yes master?
MIKE: Wear some bright clothing, do something with your hair, LIVE
a little!
>FRANK'N'FURTER: See to it that invitations are delivered,
>tomorrow I shall hold an affair to unveil my (laughs slightly
>under his breath) man.
CROW: I'll unveil MY (swears slightly under his breath) revenge!
MIKE: This guy's like some sort of effeminate Dudley Do Right.
TOM: Dudley Do Wrong?
>RIMMER (to Frank'n'furter): Excuse me, but I couldn't help but
>notice your obvious genius in this matter... I was wondering if
>I
TOM: Could convince you to put some pants on?
CROW: Might be excused. I'm not well.
MIKE: Could sing a little song I wrote last night for you.
>could discuss this discovery with you, as one genius to another.
MIKE: Know what I mean, nudge nudge?
TOM: This is SO sick, on SO MANY LEVELS.
MIKE: It's like peeking into Newt Gingrich's mind, isn't it?
>Rimmer smiles hopefully as Frank'n'furter turns to him slowly,
CROW: NIAGARA FALLS!
>the Cat smirks at Rimmer and grips his own stomach lightly.
MIKE: I'm thinking he's gonna puke.
TOM: He finally stopped and read this, didn't he?
>FRANK'N'FURTER (look Rimmer up and down): I suppose you could be
>of some help, yes (he starts to walk towards the lift) come with
>me. (He laughs under his breath again).
CROW: What an inspirational children's book this would make!
TOM: Why is this guy so happy? Doesn't he know he has cottage
cheese thighs in that get-up?
>Frank'n'furter and Rimmer leave in the lift, Lister, Eddie and
>Colombia are still talking and Riffraff turns to face the Cat who
>is hugging his stomach with both arms now.
CROW: Shouldn't...have...eaten...before...this...fanfic.
TOM: Where's Sigourney Weaver? Wasn't she supposed to be in this?
MIKE: For the last time, it isn't going to happen!
>CAT (sounding in pain): Hey bud, I really need some food... my
>stomach is killing me man.
CROW: Why is it TAKING SO LONG!?
TOM: Have we mentioned that we hate him?
>RIFFRAFF: I'm sure the kitchen can drag something in for you.
>CAT: Yeah, whatever... just get me there quick man or I'll end up
>as the main attraction at a worm party.
CROW: And you know how those worms love to rhumba!
MIKE: Riffraff should take him on the scenic route.
TOM: Woah, even Mike's succumbing...this really IS a bad fanfic.
>RIFFRAFF: Quite... Then follow me. (Loudly to the others) I
>suggest you retire to your rooms, it could be a (pauses) long
>night.
MIKE (Loudly): Dress warm...and ignore the man behind the curtain.
>LISTER (to Eddie): Well man, I think I'll help you to get this
>fishnet dude, you said he was working on some sort of plan.
>COLOMBIA: He's always working on some sort of plan.
MIKE: Not that you could tell from reading this...
>EDDIE: Yeah I overheard him talking before, that's why he hit me
>with the ice pick, he probably needed someone for this experiment
>too.
CROW: But I'm over that now. It doesn't bother me. Who cares that
he killed me and dumped me in a vat full of Nickelodeon Solar Gak?
Not me, uh-uh. I'm kicking the dust of this crummy town off a my
feet and heading to Broadway!
>LISTER: Well, we'll find out tomorrow, his days are numbered.
MIKE: I'm just afraid it's a HIGH number.
CROW: Is that it? Is it over? FREE! We're Free! God bless you,
Oscar Shindler! You're an angel from God!
TOM: No, Crow. There are still three more parts to go.
CROW: DAMN YOU! WHY! SHE'S MY DAUGHTER! SHE'S MY SISTER!
MIKE: Crow, you don't HAVE a mother. Or a sister.
CROW: Oh, what else? Maybe you'd like to hold me down and dress me
up like a girl?
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To be continued...
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