MiSTing; The Chosen One
cek...@pomona.edu
Chris Ekman (script) & Ken Applebaum (improvement)
This here is our second MiSTing, ever, so you don't have to be nearly as
charitable. We'd love to hear any comments or suggestions. I'll be at
cek...@pomona.edu until Sunday, at which point I'll switch to
76452...@compuserve.com for the summer. Ken will be at
appl...@stu.beloit.edu until about the same time, and then he'll change to
lmu...@umd5.umd.edu. Keep in mind that we'll be imprisoned at
alca...@devils.island.aol.com for most of August. Oh, and remember to set
your clocks two hours ahead.
-----------------8<----------------CUT HERE----------------8<------------------
[Satellite of Love bridge. Mike and Tom are sitting in a pair of comfy chairs.
Mike looks almost as drowsy as "the other guy". Tom is wearing a fright wig.
Crow is in the background playing keyboard.]
CROW: And now, live from the CNBC studios in New York... it's the Charles
Grodin Show!
[cheezy theme song, and out]
MIKE: [Grodin drone] Hi, glad you all are with us tonight, for a very special
edition of the Charles Grodin Show. Our guest later on tonight will be
Art Garfunkle again, mainly because this is the first paying gig he's had
in the last decade or so. But with me now is one of my favorite
performers... he's been laying low for a while, and it's great to see him
back on the scene... Yahoo Serious, ladies and gentlemen.
TOM: [Australian] G'day, moite!
MIKE: [ditto] You know, I've got to tell you- and I mean this as a friend, I
really do, I'm a big fan, but when I- you know, with the- with the hair
and all, I've gotta tell you- Serious isn't the first word that springs
to mind.
TOM: [megaditto (yecch!)] Ha, ha! Well, I've often-
MIKE: I kid, you know I'm just kidding, of course. I love this guy. In part
because he's Austrailian. Y'know, the Australians are a great bunch of
people, really full of spirit. Actually, that reminds me of a story...
do you know Paul Hogan, uh, Yahoo?
TOM: I once-
MIKE: Because I was at a party with him, uh, once. Palm Springs, I think it
was. We were at Warren's summer place- Warren, that's Warren Beatty, by
the way- and I was with Paul, uh, Tom Hanks was also there, Jodie Foster,
and Tommy Lee Jones. Anyhow, Gregory Peck walks up to us, and he can't
find his car keys. I mean, he's just looked everywhere for them, and
they simply aren't to be found. Which is funny, because usually think of
Gregory Peck as this really together guy, suave, collected, and here he
is, and, you know- he can't find his keys.
TOM: Ha, ha! I was wonder-
MIKE: Marlon offers to give him a ride back to his place, and the party's
getting dull anyway, so we decide to all go out and get a bite to eat.
So here we all are, Jack, uh, Jack Nicholson, Geena Davis, Gregory, me,
and of course Marlon, and we're all crammed in this little car of his.
So we go out, and it's a nightmare. We're all over- Marlon, he's a
terrific guy and I love him, but- let me give you a word of advice,
Yahoo, if Marlon Brando ever offers you a ride, just- don't go. Trust me
on this.
TOM: I'lltrytoremember-
MIKE: So half an hour later, we finally find the restaraunt, and who do we see
but Kevin Costner. And he was supposed to meet some people, you know,
Sally Field and Gene Hackman,
TOM: I'VEGOTAMOVIECOMINGOUTIN-
MIKE: but for some reason neither of them showed up. So he wants to know if he
can join us, and we say sure, you know, why not. So then...
TOM: -COMINGOUTINJULYANDIT'S-
MAGIC VOICE: Commercial sign in 10 seconds.
MIKE: Ooh, I'm sorry, it's looks like we're out of time. I'd like to thank you
for being on with us this evening-
TOM: What? What about my movie?
MIKE: Next up; Art Garfunkel. Don't go away.
TOM: YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! WE HAD AN AGREEMENT!
[cheezy theme song, and out to... commercials!]
[A gaggle of "twentysomethings" are at a bar. "Let's watch bass fishing."
"Hey, I want to watch the O.J. trial!" "Don't worry, guys... we can watch
both!" At which point the latter speaker thumps the TV with a beer bottle.
There is an ominous crackling noise, and the picture tube suddenly goes dead.
Disconsolate at having no TV, the "twentysomethings" opt for a narcotic that's
nearly as potent- beer. We see them passing out on each other as the announcer
booms, "Miller Lite! Can *your* beer do this?]
[back on the SOL. The comfy chairs and synthesizer are gone. Tom is still
wearing the wig, and Mike is pulling on it.]
CROW: What'd you use to stick that on there, anyway?
MIKE: [normal voice] We were out of rubber cement, so I used a little Elmer's.
TOM: [normal voice] What were you *thinking*?
MIKE: I didn't know it'd be this hard to get off!
TOM: And why did I have to be Yahoo bleedin' Serious, anyway?
MIKE: I told you, this is the only wig we had left. Now quit complaining, and
I'll go get a chisel.
TOM: No! You'll scratch up my dome!
[Mads' light flashes.]
MIKE: Oops, Tom Snyder is calling. [hits button]
[Deep 13. Dr. Forrester comes on the viewscreen, is about to speak, and stops
dead.]
DR.F: Mitch! Why, you've done it! You've perfected that hair-growth formula
I've been working on! And I didn't even expect an invention exchange
this week! I'll be rich! Maybe I'll let you off easy this time.
[SOL]
MIKE: [still pulling] It's not real hair, sir, it's- urgh!- a Yahoo Serious
wig.
TOM: Oh, no...
[D13]
DR.F: Toying with my emotions, are you, Mitch?
[SOL]
CROW: [mocking] Oh, Ms. Wooormwoood! Didn't you forget to assign the homework?
MIKE: Oh, (argh) bite-
[the wig pops off of Tom's dome, and Mike goes flying backwards.]
[D13]
DR.F: I'm not going to regret this one bit now, Mitch. Your assignment for
this week is a morass of self-pity I found on rec.arts.prose. You're going to
suffer like Al D'Amato at a diversity awareness seminar! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!
[SOL- Mike is still out of sight, on the floor.]
TOM: Is he conscious?
MIKE: Unfortunately.
[lights flash, sirens blare- you know the drill.]
ALL: AAAAAAHHH! WE'VE GOT USENET SIGN!
1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... *
[all enter theater.]
> X-News: pomona rec.arts.prose:4193
CROW: Oh, no. Not rec.arts.prose. I still haven't recovered from the *last*
one!
MIKE: Be strong, guys... maybe it's not so bad...
> From: ral...@cello.gina.calstate.edu (Kiss you so hard...I'll take your
> breath away)
MIKE: Whoa, there! We haven't even been properly introduced!
CROW: This guy must be a graduate of the Bob Packwood Charm School.
TOM: [Barry White] I'm gonna kiss you so long you'll need to breathe out
your-
MIKE: Shut yo' mouth!
TOM: I'm just talkin' 'bout this post.
MIKE: Then I can dig it.
> Subject:First chapter of potential book
MIKE: Hey, guys, I hear the earth might potentially explode tomorrow!
CROW: I hear the Cubs might potentially go all the way next season!
TOM: I hear Congress may potentially limit campaign contributions!
> Date: 9 Apr 1995 15:54:05 -0700
TOM: A date that will... oh, forget it, I'm bored.
CROW: [British] Is that what you wanted to be, a gynecologist?
> Message-ID:<3m9oid$8...@cello.gina.calstate.edu>
MIKE: Cello.gina?
TOM: Is that like Orangina? Ha! I slay me!
> Subject: First chapter of potential book
> Newsgroups: alt.prose
> Distribution:
TOM: No distribution?
CROW: If only.
> --
> Why hello there!
TOM: Hiya, pally! How's life been treatin' ya?
CROW: Where've you been hiding yourself?
MIKE: How's your mom doing?
> I just found this newsgroup, and have decided to participate in it. Well,
> this is the first chapter of a book I am writing and would just like to share
> it I guess. Enjoy
MIKE: Guys, I take back what I said before. We're doomed.
> < ---Italics--- >
CROW: < ---Please tilt your computer to the left for the full effect--- >
TOM: How is that pronounced?
CROW: Sort of like John_-_Winston.
> The Chosen One
TOM: Funny, he doesn't *look* Jewish.
MIKE: Shhh!
> By: Robert Bennett Allen
CROW: (sarcastic) Oh, will the *great* Robert Bennett Montgomery Winchester
Bertram Davies Herbert Walker Allen be *gracing* us with his presence?
> In The Beginning
MIKE: ...there was the void. And the void was called:
ALL: "The Chosen One".
> Ben
TOM: Full name; Bennett Allen Roberts.
> looked about the room, surveying it's potential in his minds eye.
> True, it wasn't very big, but he didn't have much choice in the matter.
MIKE: Don't worry, Ben. With the strategic use of mirrors, we can give the
*illusion* of space.
TOM: That's next week on This Old House!
> He was barely making it on his own even after the first year. He had to drop
> his only saviour, college, because of the gross expenses.
CROW: $300 worth of live grubs, $550 worth of pig manure... Animal House may
be a fun frat, but the pranks get pricey!
MIKE: It'll seem a lot less pricey, though, when he tries paying for his own
apartment with only a high-school diploma.
TOM: I guess you'd know, Mr. "Happy Temps"?
MIKE: Watch it, or I'll have Dr. F send up a Don King wig.
> His parents were not any help, they had kicked him out on his 18th birthday.
> They were happy to be rid of his prescence, he often wondered why they even
> had him.
TOM: [gruff] Sure, he'll be a bitch to feed, but think of the tax write-offs.
> "So, do you like it?" A female voice asked from somewhere behind him.
ALL: GAH!
MIKE: [Ben] Don't sneak up on me like that!
> Ben's mind slowly drifted back into the situation at hand.
CROW: Still nothing happening? Good, I'll drift off again.
> "Yeah," He responded rather drly, looking around the apartment, "it's
> livable". The words hit her like a freight train without any brakes.
TOM: (gravelly) My roscoe belched hot lead, but the dame was too fast for me.
Her cheap gunsel walloped me with a blackjack, and a symphony of pain
broke out in my skull.
> <It's "livable' eh? You should be thanking the sweet God in heaven I
> lowerd the price for you> She thought with great disdain, but none of it
> showed.
MIKE: Except for the steam coming out of her ears.
> She let out a slight grin, and replied.
> "Yeah, thats how it is these days, when your just starting out, livable"
> Ben allowed himself a moment of pleasure as a small smile escaped him,
TOM: Oh, good, it'll be company for the slight grin. Now they can frolic and
be free together!
> but the moment quickly passed. He resumed his appraisal of the apartment.
> It was basically one "big" room branching off into two smaller rooms.
> One contained a bathroom, the other a small, but usable, kitchen. A small
> closet was inset into one side of the main wall. The only pre-move
> furnishings were a bed, a stove, and a sink. he would have to bring his
> "mini-fridge", as the label called it, for the perishable goods.
CROW: The "big" room had four walls, a ceiling and a floor, as did the smaller
rooms. Three of the walls in the "big" room had "doors" in them, two of
which led to the "other rooms", and one led to a "hallway", through which
he could leave the "building".
TOM: Robert, if you're reading this, DO YOU SEE HOW ANNOYING THAT WAS?
> The woman behind him noticed his glancing eyes.
MIKE: [falsetto] I think they rolled underneath the heater.
> "We've already signed a contract you kno..."
TOM: [Ben] It calls for term limits, a balanced budg- heey, wait a sec!
> "Yeah, I know, just giving the place a quick look, to see where I'm
gonna put my things."
> She started, he finished. Who was <he> to interrupt <her> she thought.
MIKE: [deep, scratchy voice] I'll get you next time, Gadget... neeext tiiiime!
CROW: [Madcat screech] RRRREEEEOOOOWWWW!!!!
> She owned this whole motel chain, and he owned, lets face it, nothing.
TOM: Oh, great, it's Leona Helmsley Jr.
> Anger coursed through her veins, but yet again, she managed to keep up her
> friendly demeanor. She shot a sly smile in his direction, and he returned
it.
CROW: [whispering] ...and she misses the return. Score is 15-love.
MIKE: Trust me, I don't think there's any "love" here.
> <He thinks it's all a joke eh? They always do, lifes one big joke to
> them.
TOM: Oh, yeah, Ben seems like a real barrel of chuckles.
CROW: A veritable Gallagher, I'm sure.
> Well, he'll find out soon enough how life can be,> The woman thought to
> herself, He'll find out soon enough.
MIKE: [falsetto] Just as soon as he finds the cockroaches in the pantry.
> Ben looked up at her, and back at the empty floor.
TOM: Up at her? Where is she, hanging from the light fixture?
> There was something speculative in his eyes. Not many could see past her
> disguise, she wondered exactly how far past he saw.
MIKE: Most people just believed that she *was* Groucho Marx.
> Her instinct told her this was one to be dealt with.
CROW: [gangster] Guido, I think it's time you paid our Ben a little... visit.
> The floor looked unfamiliarly bare to Ben this day. He had seen empty
> apartments, even had moved into a studio apartment, but today he was ever so
> susceptable to this saddening bit of information.
MIKE: Why? Because the empty apartment is a metaphor for... quickfire!
TOM: His soul, lacking all hope!
CROW: His family, lacking all compassion!
TOM: His life, lacking all meaning!
CROW: His brain, lacking all creativity!
MIKE: Great! You guys are fit to be English majors now.
> As it turned out he could not hide his feelings as well as his female
> companion was able, she picked up his expression right away.
CROW: The uncontrollable sobbing was a tip-off.
> "Tell me the truth, is it all you were hoping for?" She asked, seemly
> geniunly concerned.
MIKE: [Ben] Well, it's a lot better than that cardboard box I've *been*
sleeping in.
TOM: [Ben] I'd sort of been hoping for a country villa, but that will have to
wait until I've sold this manuscript. Want to read the first chapter?
CROW: [falsetto] Well, I *am* out of toilet paper...
> "Well, to be honest, I wish I could get a better place, but we don't
> always get what we want do we?" Ben replied,
MIKE: But if we try sometimes, we just might find, we get what we need.
> memories haunting his soul.
TOM: [Ren] STOP HAUNTING MEEEE!!!
> Life could be very unfair, and it was that way to Ben.
MIKE: (singing) Always look on the briiight si-ide of life!
BOTS: (whistling part)
> His parents seemed to have had him from a sense of duty
MIKE: [drill sargeant] Now you folks hop in that sack and make an mopey hack
writer for Uncle Sam!
> and not desire, or
> even love for each other. Family life was hard, as noone showed any signs of
> caring about anybody. It hit him hard when his sister died, drowning in the
> bathtub because his mother was too lazy to watch her.
CROW: Oh, come on! She was 17 at the time!
> They showed great grief to the people around them, but at home it was like
> the whole incident was forgotten.
TOM: [falsetto] Well-p, guess we'll have to replace her.
CROW: [gruff] Maybe we should have a spare this time?
> Outside socialization was forbidden as they said it would ruin him.
TOM: Wait a minute. If they didn't love him, why'd they want to keep him
around constantly?
CROW: Maybe they wanted to age him like a fine WHINE! Ha ha... get it? Whine?
Wine? It's funny!
MIKE: Crow, I *knew* letting you watch the Smothers Brothers on E! was a big
mistake.
CROW: *I* thought it was funny...
> To this day he did not know what they meant by that.
MIKE: It means, like, talking to other people and stuff will totally mess
you up.
> "I know what you mean," The woman said empatheticaly,
TOM: Would you explain it to us?
> "I was in your
> position more than once you know."
CROW: [falsetto] But then I ordered Tony Robbins' amazing tapes!...
> He sensed both empathy and deceit in her voice, both seemed to stand
> out so brazenly it confused him. He could not understand this woman and
> that made her dangerous.
TOM: I'll bet he voted for Pat Buchanan.
> "Believe me," He replied with exageration on those words, "You haven't
> been in my position." She looked up at him curiosly,
TOM: Hold it! Now *she's* looking up at *him*!
MIKE: He's right, no one's ever been in his position. Except maybe a few
contortionists.
CROW: And readers of the Kama Sutra.
> but he didn't feel like
> delving into his life story.
TOM: Too bad the writer doesn't share Ben's restraint.
> "So, how many motels do you have?" He asked, changing the subject.
TOM: Say, guys, I've just figured it out. Soap opera neuroses, domineering
female landlord! This here is *Melrose Place*- only done seriously!
ALL: AAAAAHHH!
> She paused, and decided not to push for information, "Oh, about 20 all
> together, I make enough money to support myself."
MIKE: [falsetto] Pretty soon I've have enough money to build one on Park Place.
TOM: If this woman owns 20 hotels, what is she doing shooting the breeze
with every yutz who rents a room?
CROW: Well, it's the off season, you know, and tonight's "Frasier" is a repeat.
> Ben tried to think of something to say, but he always found himself
> lacking in the words. When he did think of something to say, he seldom had
> the strength to say it. Small talk was not his strong point.
TOM: Er... what, pray tell, *IS* his strong point?
MIKE: His cheerful, outgoing nature?
CROW: His fascinating personality?
> The woman grew impatient and started for the main door.
> "Hey, wait, I don't even have your name." Ben pointed out rather
> awkwardly, breaking his silence.
MIKE: [falsetto] Exactly!
TOM: [Ben] But what will I yell out in my fevered dreams?
> His awkwardness put a slight smile on her face, maybe he wasn't such a
>problem after all.
CROW: [Bond villian] He is too weak to be a threat to us. Our operations
will continue as scheduled.
> "Sharon, Sharon Williams."
MIKE: [Sharon] My card.
TOM: [Ben] Hmm. "Generic unattainable love interest for hire"?
> "Mine's Ben Blakley, pleased to make your aquaintence." Ben suddenly
> felt very corny as the words dribbled out of his mouth.
CROW: And onto his bib.
> Sharon smiled again, and replied "I'll be in room 411 if you need me."
TOM: [falsetto] Like, if you feel like sharing another long, uncomfortable
silence.
CROW: 411? Heeey... she's the information operator!
MIKE: [Shatner] Tonight, on a... veryspecial... Rescue. 4. 1. 1.
> She opened the door and turned around, "And pick up a list of the rules
> at the office, read them over, you'll have to abide by them." With that she
> walked out and closed the door behind her.
MIKE: [Australian] Rule #1; NO POOFTERS!
> That last line revealed no deceit to Ben, only amiability and sterness
> at the same time. That combination did not strike him as odd.
TOM: Well, that's a good- huh?
> <Maybe she isn't so bad after all.>
MIKE: What are we doing inside everyone's head? Who's the narrator, Counselor
Troi?
BOTS: Fanboy! Faaaanboy!
> Ben had always had a sixth sense of sorts when it came to people. He
> could read peoples expressions with great accuracy.
TOM: But with Sharon he couldn't- he wasn't able to- but he...
MIKE: Tom, don't try to apply logic to this. You'll blow a fuse.
> It was a necessity when you had the upbringing he did.
CROW: It's rough, being raised by wolves.
TOM: [sings] Raaaaised by pedestrian woooolves...
MIKE: Oh, I knew there was going to be a Boingo reference in here somewhere.
> He was privatly tutored and had no peers untill he was in High School.
> During that period he tried to fit in the best he could, but always failed.
MIKE: Apparently, he didn't attend Concord Academy.
TOM: Tell the writers that was *really* self-indulgent.
> He had never developed any social skills because of this. He began to feel
> he was different from other people, but realized this was a rationalization.
MIKE: [singing] He's a loser, baby...
TOM: Does that mean we can kill him?
MIKE: No.
CROW: Aw, you're no fun.
> Oh what he would have given for ignorance of that fact. The saying
> "ignorance is bliss" really meant something to him at that moment.
TOM: How about the expression, "Get a life"?
CROW: Or "Bite me"?
> His mind had trouble reading Sharon though, and it scared him. He was
> naturally scared of what he did not understand,
CROW: Like electricity!
TOM: Yep. Definitely a Buchanan voter.
> and fear welled him deep
> within him. He was going to have to be careful around her.
MIKE: Geez, these two are paranoid! It's like "Love Story" written by John
LeCarre!
> Ben strolled over to the tiny bed that the room had came with, sat
> down, and buried his face in his hands. The moisture that appeared from his
> eyes slowly seeped inbetween his clenched fingers and formed little pockets
> of water.
CROW: Oh, you gonna cry, huh, baby? C'mon... 1, 2, 3, cry!
> <Why me?> He thought over and over again, <Why me? Why did I have to be
> given this existance?>
TOM: Ben! Trent Reznor called. He says you should lighten up!
CROW: And there's a message here from H.P. Lovecraft. He says you're scaring
his cats.
> This message was sent by one Robert Bennett Allen.
MIKE: There can only be one.
CROW: Good thing, too.
> Special thanks to the recipient, and the maker of the mail program.
MIKE: And especially to the Academy, and to God, and to my parents- come to
think of it, strike the parents.
TOM: D'oh!
> --------------------------------Robert B. Allen
> (future world famous author)
CROW: Don't quit your day job.
MIKE: Hey, if Howard Stern could make it...
[exeunt.]
6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... *
[Crow, Gypsy, Mike and Tom are at the SOL bridge. There is a banner on the
back wall reading 'AAA Meeting, 7:00 tonight.' Mike is wearing a black
turtleneck jumpsuit. Gypsy is at the podium.]
GYPSY: ...And I'd just like to say to all of you who had the courage to show
up here today, congratulations. You've taken the first step on that
rocky road we call recovery. We're all very proud of you.
[applause, cheering.]
GYPSY: Now, I know this will be a little awkward, but don't worry, you're among
friends. Could somebody please come up to the podium and share your
experiences with us?
[uncomfortable silence]
MIKE: Well... I dunno if I should, but...
[applause]
TOM: Go to it!
GYPSY: That's the way!
[Mike takes podium.]
MIKE: [uncertainly] Hello, my name is Robert-
BOTS: HI, ROBERT!
MIKE: - and... and... I *am* an angst-oholic.
[applause]
MIKE: I guess it all started with my parents... but then, you already knew
that, right? <nervous laughter> See, that's why I'm here. I just can't
stop telling people about my miserable childhood. I can't concentrate at
work, I can't carry on a relationship, I couldn't do much of anything,
really, except mope around and stare at the floor. I- I guess I should
have known better-
CROW: Don't blame yourself, Rob! It can happen to anyone!
MIKE: Thanks so much. You don't know how much that means to me. Well, after
that it's the same old story, I suppose; I hocked most of my furniture,
and I bought myself- I bought myself- a typewriter.
[sympathetic clamor from audience.]
MIKE: I couldn't stop, it- it was like a disease- I spent every waking moment
writing- I justified it all by thinking I could get it published someday-
I- what a fool I was! <breaks into uncontrollable sobbing>
GYPSY: There, there, Robert. But the important thing is, you're getting help
now.
TOM: We've all been there, Rob. What you have to do now is make sure you
*stay out of denial*. It's always tempting to slip back into fantasy...
CROW: ...but let's face it, Ben's story wouldn't even make a good episode of
Oprah, let alone a full length novel.
TOM: Not to mention the fact that your writing makes Robert James Waller look
competent.
GYPSY: Aren't you guys being a little hard on him?
CROW: It's our tough love.
MIKE: [still sobbing] No, they're right, I have no talent whatsoever. I don't
know what ever possessed me...
CROW: Probably the ghost of Kurt Cobain.
TOM: The good news is, Robert, this addiction can be dealt with. Not utterly
cured, mind you- it'll be an uphill battle every day, from the time you
wake up in the morning 'til you go to sleep at night. But it can be
done.
CROW: See that man over there? <points off camera> The one wearing the navy
blazer? That man, Robert, is Jay MacInerney.
MIKE: Re- really?
CROW: Really.
GYPSY: He was pretty far gone when he came here, but now, he's leading a
happy and productive life as a gardener in upstate New York.
TOM: And if he can do it... *you* can do it!
MIKE: Wow! So there is hope!...
[background lights dim. Mike, Tom and Crow continue talking, but their voices
fade into the background. Gypsy comes to the fore, and speaks to the camera.]
GYPSY: [speaking, uncertainly, from script]
Are you a writer?
Do you have a morbid fascination with the Doors or Morrissey?
Is Seattle's climate perfectly suited for your temperament?
Do you own an autographed, first-edition printing of J. O'Barr's "The
Crow"?
Do you attend Anne Rice conventions in full gothic attire?
Are you building a tunnel to join J.D. Salinger in his bunker?
And most importantly, do you prefer Woody Allen's serious films to his
comedies?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may be an agno-
astign- Mike, how do you pronounce that word?
MIKE: Angst-oholic.
GYPSY: An angst-oholic. But there is hope. Join Angst-ridden Authors
Anonymous, and we'll show you how to put some joy back into your bleak,
meaningless existence.
[lights come back up. Mads' light flashes.]
MIKE: <pressing button> What do you think, sir?
[D13]
DR.F: Oh, sure, that's easy enough for *you* all to say. *You've* never
experienced a serious loss, like *I* have. In fact, I've been thinking
that a little creative writing might be a good outlet for my grief...
[SOL]
MIKE: Sure! That might actually be the *perfect* way to
[Crow elbows Mike in stomach.]
MIKE: OOF!
CROW: Quiet, you twit! He might actually make us *read* it!
TOM: He can't, that's against the Geneva Convention.
CROW: I hope so. I'd sooner read Vogon poetry than anything by Dr. F....
[D13]
DR.F: You mock me! YOU MOCK MY PAIN!! Just you wait until I hit the New York
Times Best Sellers list! You wait until people like Oscar de la Renta
start inviting me to fancy dinner parties! I'll be rubbing noses with
Joyce Carol Oates, while *YOU* losers will be suffering through "Master
Ninja XXIV"! Then we'll see who laughs last! Now how to begin...
[Dr. F. settles down to computer and begins typing.]
DR.F: "It was... a dark... and stormy... night... I had... just... taken a..."
[looks over at viewscreen, sneers, and presses the button.]
vsssssssssshPOIT!
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MOST OF IT: Chris Ekman
ADDITIONAL JOKES BY: Ken Applebaum
PUBLIC OPINIONS UPHOLSTERER: Paul Murky, of Murky Research
STAFF COUNCELLOR: Kay Sera, who's now married to Frank Sera...
ADDITIONAL DIALOGUE: William Shakespeare
HOTEL BILL: Gilbert Harding
SPECIAL THANKS TO: The authors of the First Amendment
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are
trademarks of and (c) 1994 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks
held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred.
This MiSTing is *not* a personal attack on the author. It's all meant in
fun. Until, of course, someone pokes an eye out.
> <Why me?> He thought over and over again, <Why me? Why did I
> have to be given this existance?>