MiSTing: Who Q? Where Q? [2/8]
Chris Mayfield
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>Marrissa's Personal Log
>STARDATE 48125.56
>
> Jay and I looked though the various candidates for Cheif
>Medical Officer.
Tom: Dr. Kevorkian...Dr. Giggles...Dr. Denton...Dr. Forrester...
> We found the perfect one. His picature told the
>story,
Crow: [Marrissa] Who cares about qualifications? He's _dreamy!!_
> his eyes were crossed and his tongue stuck out to one side.
>Leiutenant Jackson Johnson will fit right in.
All: [singing] Jackson Johnson Jingleheimer Schmitz! His name is my name
too!
>
> Captain Marrissa Picard stood in the transporter room with
>Shayna Sachs, a brown haired girl at the controls. "The Doctor is
Tom: In.
>ready to beam on board," Shayna said.
> "Beam him aboard, Shayna," Marrissa ordered.
> A thin blond-hared man in Medical Uniform materized.
Mike: Zuben Materized?
Crow: Sounds painful.
>"Permission to come aboard," Dr. Johnson asked.
Tom: [Marrissa] You didn't say "mother may I." Shayna, beam him into the
void.
Mike: Feeling a little dark today?
> "Granted," Marrissa said. "Shayna will take your stuff to your
>quarters, while we attend a staff meeting."
Crow: Wait a moment! That's child labor! This whole operation could be
shut down!
Mike: Wishful thinking.
> "Do I report to the Captain there?" Dr. Johnson asked as the
>exited the transporter room.
Tom: I wonder if Dr. Johnson is any relation to Big Johnson.
Crow: Yeah. He has a t-shirt that says, "Big Johnson Rectal
Thermometers; they're a huge pain in--"
Mike: That's quite enough, Crow.
> "You already have reported to the Captain," Marrissa said with
>a smile.
Mike: Then her smile spread into wild cackling laughter, then a howl of
the utterly damned.
Tom: Are _you_ feeling a little dark today?
> "Come again, Miss," the Doctor said puzzled.
> "I am the Captain,"
Tom: I am the Eggman. Goo goo g'joob.
> Marrissa said entering the turbolift with
>the doctor. "Bridge."
>
> Marrissa and Doctor Johnson entered the observation lounge
Crow: [Marrissa] Highballs! All around!
> to
>join the Kid's Crew Command Crew.
Tom: It's two! Two! Two crews in one!
> Marrissa sat down at the head of the
>table and Doctor Johnson took the seat to her left.
Mike: [Johnson] It's my chair now! You can't have it!
> "As we've had some changes in our crew since our last mission
>some seven months ago,"
Crow: Yeah, like 99% of the crew disappeared.
> Marrissa opened the meeting, "we will introduce
>ourselves. I'll start and then we will rotate to the right. Please
>give your name, rank, and position
Mike: And which Lawrence brother you think is the cutest.
> or positions. I'm Marrissa Amber
>Picard, field Captain, and Commanding Officer."
Crow: Joey!
> "I'm Jay Gordon, acting Leiutenant Commander, and First
>Officer," the 10 year old boy beside Marrissa said.
Tom: Matt!
> Then next to him a 10 year old with long black hair piped up,
>"I'm Clara Sutter, acting Leiutenant, Second Officer and Cheif
>Engineer."
Crow: Andy!
> Beside her a 7 year old boy spoke up, "Patterson Supra, acting
>Leiutenant, and Cheif of Security."
Mike: D.H!
Bots: Huh?
> Across from her was a red-headed teenager said, "Heather
>Cowhig, Conn Officer, Cadet."
Tom: Here at the Miracle Mile, we have the world's largest selection of
cadets, portlies, double knits...
Crow: Eddie, are you kidding?
> Beside her a Klingon spoke up, "Alexander, acting
Mike: Oh, I don't know about that.
> Leiutenant,
>Cheif of Operations."
> Then the Doctor spoke up, "Doctor Jackson Johnson, Cheif
>Medical Officer, full Leiutenant."
Mike: So there. Nyah.
> "Now that everyone knows who is what, lets get down to
>business," Marrissa said.
Tom: [Marrissa] Third quarter profits are down and I want to know why!
> "For the most part this mission will be
>easy.
Crow: Try not to die.
> With the exception of Security, Medical and myself.
Mike: And the rest of the sentence.
> We are
>assigned to mediate the dispute over the planet Sobnia. In addition we
>are to provide medical assistance to the people of Sobnia.
Tom: We're going to kiss Sobnia and make it all better.
> I
>personally will be medaite the dispute between the parties of Bresa,
>Troac, and Sobnia."
> "They must be really despurt," Dr. Johnson said.
Crow: YES!! Finally a glimmer of light amidst the impenetrable gloom!
> "The're despurt alright," Marrissa replied. "Jay will you
>update us on our personal problem."
All: [clear throats]
Mike: [Jay] I told you not to bring up our "personal problem" in public.
> "We will need about 30 more security officers and about a
>hundred medical personal according to Mr. Data's personal needs
>Annylist
Mike: [singing] Lovely Jenny Anylist...
> Program," Jay said. "We should be able to pull the personal
>from Nevolsia base."
Tom: You don't suppose a that base might have some personnel more
capable of running a starship than a bunch of kids, do you?
> "I don't think Mr Sonak has that many doctors and nurses
>available," Docto Johnson said.
Crow: No, they just happen to have an entire medical fleet available.
> "He does," Marrissa said. "They are waiting for the newly
>commissioned Galaxy class starship Independence and the Medical ship
>Nightengale. Which won't arrive for a week and a month respectively.
Crow: Doh! I should have guessed!
Tom: But if it won't arrive for a month, then what are they doing on
some backwater planet waiting around?
Mike: Just because it's the 24th century doesn't mean they're efficient.
>Now on to the disappearance of the regular adult members of this crew,
>Patterson."
Tom: [Patterson] All we found was "Croatoa" carved into a bulkhead.
> "Visual Logs indicate that the crew disappeared in individual
>flashes of light,"
Mike: Spontaneous combustion!
> the young boy responded. "The transfer of command
>was directly from Captain Jea-Luc Picard to Marrissa Picard. This
>incates lots of power was used."
Crow: Could you be a little more vague?
> "Explainations?" Marrissa asked. "Engineering?" Clara nodded
>negatively.
Mike: [nodding] Yes it's not.
> "Any possiblities?"
> "Possible," Clara suddenly spoke up. "Computer run a
>comparison
Crow: [computer] Diet Dr. Pepper _does_ taste more like regular Dr.
Pepper!
> of the flashes in visual logs on STARDATE 48125 with those
>produced by Q."
> "There is a 95.637% correlation," the computer responded.
Tom: It's close enough for significance.
> "Any other possiblities," Marrissa asked. When no one spoke up
>she continued, "Then we will move on to shift command assignments. As
>I will be busy this mission Alpha shift will be Jay's.
Mike: Jay's shift is the alpha and omega.
> Gamma shift
>will remain Clara's and Beta will be Alexander's. Your subs if you
>need them will be Patterson for Alpha, Shayna for Beta, and Heather for
>Gamma. Any Questions?
Crow: [despondently] Why? Why, God? Why why why?
> -- Then this meeting is over."
> The crew filed out onto the bridge, with the exception of
>Doctor Johnson and Patterson who when
Tom: Where, why, and how.
> to staff their departments.
>
> A hour later, Patterson entered the Bridge, "All new staff is
>on board," he said as he took up
Crow: Needlepoint.
Mike: [Patterson] Has anyone seen my dove cross-stitching?
> tactical.
> "Heather set a coarse for Bresa," Marrissa ordered. Suddenly a
>flash appeared in front of the veiwscreen. Q had arrived.
Crow: My man Q's in da house!
> "Wecome to
>the Enterprise Q,
Tom: [Q] No, no, no. _I_ come to the Enterprise.
> I take it you are responsable for the disappearance
>of the regular crew of this starship."
Mike: Remember, anything you say can and will be used against you in a
court of law.
> "Yes," Q replied.
> "Where are they?" Marrissa asked.
> "Defending a Medevil
Mike: No, no, no. Me Jane, _you_ Satan.
Crow: Can we do that joke twice?
> castle."
> "When will they be back?"
> "A week."
Tom: Give or take a year.
> "Thank you Q," Marrissa grinned. She got up and continued
>speaking while walking to the turbolift.
Crow: Yeah, but can she pat her head while rubbing her stomach?
> "Jay you have the bridge.
>I'll be in my quarters. See to Q's needs and I'll see you in the
>mourning."
Tom: I want you all dressed in black.
> "Come back here," Q said.
> "Why?" Marrissa asked as she enterd the turbolift. "You've
>told me all I need to know." the doors closed.
Mike: When did the doors learn how to talk?
> "She walked out on me, no one ever walked out on me before," Q
>said dejectedly.
Crow: Hey Q, you're an omnipotent being. You can wipe her completely out
of existence. Capish?
> "You've never had a girl walk out on you?" Jay said. "I'm ten
>years old
Mike: Not that that has any relevance to anything whatsoever, it's just
the truth.
> and Clara has already done that to me. For someone who knows
>everthing you sure are inexperienced."
Tom: [Q] Nonsense. I've met lots of preteen girls. I mean--
> "But you don't expect a Captain to walk out on a all-knowing
>all-powerful being," Q replied.
> "What do you exspect?"
Mike: A coherent plot?
Crow: A minimal amount of proofreading?
> Jay asked. "Marrissa to tremble at your
>feet, get in line. Let's see you've got Leiutenant Worf and the
>Cardassian and Romulan Empires
Tom: I'll trade you the Borg and two Spocks for them.
> ahead of you."
> "Popular girl," Q smiled. "I've gout
Mike: Try a warm salt bath. It does wonders.
> to get to know her
>better."
> "Now what do you need Q?"
> "Nothing really."
Tom: [Q] After all, I'm omnipotent.
> "Then if you don't mind leaving the bridge, I've got work to
>do."
Crow: Some of us happen to have _jobs._
> "I'll leave you to your work then. Why want to grow up so fast
>is beyond me, though."
Mike: Here we see the author's wistful desire to recapture his faded
youth, framed by a cynical rejoinder.
> Q vanished.
>
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> "Anymore items on the agenda, Number one," Captain Jean-Luc
>Picard asked.
Mike: Investigate the question mark shortage in this fanfic.
> "There is the matter of Captain Morris's search for officers
>and crew for the Independence," Commander Riker said.
Tom: She woke up one morning and they were all gone. She's looked all
over the quadrant for them.
> "Who has been approached?" Picard asked.
> "I turned down the first officer's position," Doctor Crusher
>said. "Why it was offered to me is beyond me."
> "I turned down that position as well," Data said. "However my
>assistant, Leiutenant Gordon has accepted the second officer's
>position."
> "I turned that position down," Worf said.
Mike: Don't any of these people have any ambition?
Crow: Star Trek: Generation X
> "I decided agaist the first officer's position myself," La
>Forge said.
> "I'm still thinking about the offer of first officer," Couselor
>Troi stated. All eyes turned toward her. "It's not something one can
>easily pass up."
Tom: Why not? Everyone else seemed to.
> Suddenly a flash filled the room. When it had subsided the
>room had changed. The walls and floor were stone. Maps covered the
>walls and the table was a scale model of a two-castle town and the
>surrounding countryside.
Mike: Q's whisked them away to a gaming convention!
> The uniforms of the command crew had changed as well. Captain
>Picard was wearing purple robes and a gold crown with a large ruby at
>the front. Riker sported black armour with a red loin emblazed on it.
Mike: I really, really, _really_ hope that was a typo.
Crow: It certainly fits Riker, though.
Tom: Plus it gives new meaning to the words "phallic symbol."
>Data and Troi were dressed as archers. La Forge was arrayed as a
>blacksmith.
Crow: That's _African-American_ smith.
> Worf sported chainmail and was holding his Klingon
>Bat'leth. Dr Crusher ha
Mike: She's no doctor. Don't make me laugh.
> apparently became Sister Beverly, judging from
>her habit.
> "What the hell," Picard exclaimed.
Crow: No. Not hell. Just a Ratliff story.
> "Q, it has to be Q," Riker said.
Mike: [singing] It had to be Q...
> A flash occured by the door and Q entered the room. "You
>called, Your Royal Highness," he said. Q was dressed like the Pope
>saying Easter Mass.
Crow: I'd say he was monomaniacal, but he's all powerful.
> "What are you up to this time Q?" Captain Picard asked.
Mike: [Q] I'm taking you to the Renfest! Huzzah!
> "Always to the point Jean-Luc," Q said. "The continuim has
>commissioned me to make a full report on humans,
Crow: [Q] My report on Humanity, by Q. Humanity has lots of people...
> before you destroy
>yourselves.
Tom: Humans: unsafe at any speed.
> In this encounter you will be, how do you humans put it,
>ah, killing
Tom: [Worf] Yea!
> two birds with one stone. I've increased the size of my
>samples and I see how well today's humans can defend themselves."
> "And how are you going to do that?" Picard asked.
> "Simplicity itself," Q replied, "you and 915 of you closest
>friends
Crow: Join this calling circle. Then, you save 20% on all your calls.
> will be defending this midevil castle town
Tom: It wasn't the best of towns, nor the worst. It was the Village of
the Darned.
> you see before you.
>You have been given the following jobs; Picard you are the King,
>Riker
Crow: Queen.
> Prince and Commander of the Town Garrisson; Data, Master Archer;
>Troi Master Hunter;
Mike: Eric, cavalier; Bobby, barbarian.
> Dr Crusher, the nun in charge of the hospital; Worf
>Master Swordsman; La Forge Master Weaponsmith.
Tom: Ratliff, Master Disaster.
> In additoin to the
>entire adult compliment of your ships the crews of the Brattain, Tian
>Nan Men, Hemingway
Mike: Stephen Ratliff was an author. Do not think that I was impressed
with this fact...
> and Miranda will assist you as the crews of sailing
>ships."
> "Tomarrow at dawn the enemy will attack," Q continued. "You
>will if you are sucessfull, defend this place until the seventh day
>dawns.
Crow: [Picard] Then what?
Mike: [Q] Um...I haven't thought that far yet.
> The rest of your crew awaits you in the castle courtyard. The
>Captains of the sailing ships are waiting for you at the harbor keep."
> "Who is in command of the Enterprise Q?" Picard asked. Q
>remained silent. "Who Q?"
Tom: Why Q? Why why why why why...
> "All right I didn't want to inform you yet but you insisted," Q
>replied.
Crow: If you treat him right, Q is really just a big softy.
> "Your daughter, Marrissa, is in command. In about an hour
>Admiral Okie
All: From Muskogee!
> will be appionting her Captain by field promotion.
Mike: In about an hour and five minutes he'll be wondering what the hell
was going through his mind when he did.
> She
>will mediate the Naklab dispute much better than you." With that Q
>departed.
Tom: Ladies and gentlemen; Q has left the space-time continuum.
> "Well it looks like we better get down to business," Captain
>Picard said. "We've got 3 gates to defend, North Bridge, West Bridge
>and South Gate. We will need experienced swordsmen to command at each
>gate."
Mike: [Picard] Riker, you train everyone this afternoon.
> "I suggest Lieutenants Worf, Barclay, and Dean," Commander
>Riker said.
Tom: We've been needing to weed out some of the more minor characters
for a couple of seasons now.
> "Agreed," Picard ordered. "WOrf you have South Gate. Chose 75
>people for each gate.
Crow: I call Dean! That means you get Barclay!
Tom: No fair! I had Barclay last time!
> Data, Troi orgainize archery units. Riker form
>a sortie group, but first breif the rest of the crew. La Forge find
>the weopons room and get them distrubed, then take a group of engineers
>on a tour of the wall
Mike: Here we see an example of middle ages mortaring. Note the use of
irregular flagstones...
> to see if anything can be improved. I'll be at
>the Harbor Keep breifing the starship captains Q mentioned."
>
> Captain Picard arrived at the Harbour Keep a small castle-like
>fort in gray marble over looking the gated harbour.
Tom: They fenced in the entire ocean.
> The journey
>thought town had been a pleasenat one. He had gone though small
>streets to the large harbour complex. On his way in Jean-Luc Picard
>noticed the ships.
Mike: Well, whaddaya know? There's some ships!
> They were two masted affairs with
>white sails. On the top of the first mast flew the seal of the United
>Federation of Planets on a white background,
Crow: Just above the Plague Carrier flag.
> the second, the Starfleet
>insigna in red and white on black. The ships were named Brattain,
>Hemingway, Miranda, and Tian Nan Men.
Tom: What's Tian Nan mean?
Mike: I think it's Chinese for "Twelve Angry."
> As Picard enterd the main room of the keep, he spoted
All: Ewww!
> four
>people dressed like Q had been we he had first appeared on the
>Enterprise over seven years ago.
Crow: Right about when we premiered on cable television.
Tom: Wow. What a long, strange trip it's been.
> The worked well on to two of them,
>but on the other two it was not so. In fact it was positively sloppy
>on the half vulcan captain of the Miranda, T'Gwen Washington.
Mike: I cannot tell a lie. It would be illogical.
> "Captain Picard what are you doing here?" Captain Phillip
>Andrews of the Brittain asked.
> "Yes-es, I thought you were mediating the Naklab dispute,"
>Captain Yuki Yoshida of the Tian Nan Men stated.
Tom: "Yes-es?" Is that a racial slur?
Crow: No, it's a racial lisp.
> "I was to, but Q desided that I needed I more challenging
>week," Picard replied.
Mike: The understatement: a vital element of humor.
Crow: If he was any droller he'd be _dead!_
> "So Q is behid this mess," Captain Victoria Ohlin of the
>Hemingway said. "I always wanted to meet that entity."
> "Q, all powerful, all knowing entity, and member of the Q
>continuemuim
Mike: Is that a Cage piece?
Tom: I think you're thinking of Roratorio.
Crow: Adams had Harmonium. Maybe that's it.
> at your service," Q said form behind Picard. All the
>Captains spun around to face him. He was sitting at a table labled
>meet John de Lance a.k.a Q, 10am to noon, B Dalton Booksellers.
Crow: ALL RIGHT!! WHO GAVE RATLIFF THE PIRANDELLO?!
Tom: Pirandello or "The Reluctant Sorcerer" or "The Purple Rose of
Cairo" or...
Mike: Ratliff breaks the fourth wall and the stupid meter at the same
time.
> Photos
>were spread out before him.
Mike: [Q] I've got a picture of Marina Sirtis that'll make you howl.
> "Always willing to meet a fan. I'll send
>this to your quarters on the Hemingway."
Tom: I'll put it in a clean, well-lighted place.
> He held up a photo of himself
>signed 'to my Darling Torrey, Love Q.' After everyone got a good look
>at it in vanished in a flash of light.
Crow: Q uses no camera tricks in his illusions.
> "You've wondered why I have chosen to include you in my latest
>study of the crew of the Enterprise," Q said. "You were chosen because
>I was ordered to expand the subjects of my study.
Mike: Your mission, should you choose to accept it...
> Your ships in
>paticular wer chosen due to your crews extensive sailing experiance.
>For instance Yuki here won the America's cup for his native Japan last
>year."
Crow: Actually, he won it from the New Zealanders when he bet that he
could drink more saki then they could.
> "So you have taken the crew of my ship and four of my fellow
>starship captains, to conduct research into human behavior," Captain
>T'Gwen Washington of the Miranda said.
Mike: Captain Exposition to the rescue!
Tom: Some of our slower readers may not have caught on by now. Why don't
you repeat the premise a few more times, Ratliff?
> "Are there not more logical
>oand more effective ways to conduct research?"
> "Yes, but none as fun."
[1...2...3...4...5...6...]
[Mike, Tom, and Crow are sitting around the desk. Mike is reading a book
and Crow and Tom are looking at a magazine. Suddenly, Tom asks:]
Tom: Uh, how old is Marrissa?
Crow: [together,without] Twelve.
Mike: [ looking up ] Seventeen.
[Everyone looks at each other.]
Crow: Look, she was like twelve in Enterprized.
Mike: Yeah, but she's aged at least three years since then. When did
"Disaster" air?
Crow: Do I have fanboy printed across my forehead?
Mike: Ok. So it was around...uh...season four or five. That was about...
one...two...four years ago. So now she's sixteen or so.
Crow: [rudely] That doesn't mean she _aged_ four years. I mean, look at
comics. The X-men should all be on social security, but they're all
still in their twenties and early thirties.
Mike: [aggravated] Oh yeah? Well what about A Royal Mess? That took
place after Generations. That means she had to be sixteen or over.
Crow: [nasty] Look, boy-o. We're not talking about A Royal Mess are we?
We're talking about Who Q? Where Q? She's twelve.
Mike: _You_ look, pinbeak. Obviously something is crossed in your
circuits, because if she was twelve when we first saw her, and
seventeen in A Royal Mess, she must be somewhere between them.
Crow: Pinbeak? I'm not the imbecile who thinks he can average fanfics
together, pink boy.
Mike: Nethead!
Crow: Dickweed!
[Crow and Mike launch themselves at each other. They fall to the floor
fighting while Tom continues to read his magazine not noticing the
struggle. After a little bit:]
Tom: Oh, hey, guys. I just remembered. At the beginning it said "But
then again a twelve and a half year old doesn't usually command a
diplomatic mission either." Guess that clears that up.
[Crow and Mike stand up. Crow is gnarled. Mike has a black eye and his
jumpsuit is torn.]
Mike: Shall we?
Crow: You first.
[Crow and Mike grab Tom and drag him down behind the desk. The lights
flash.]
Tom: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!
Crow: [behind desk] Ooh. I didn't know he bent like that.
[Commercials]
[Continued in part 3]
Alan Brandt
The following is my first Usenet Group MiSTing. Critiques are welcome.
Please be kind, thank you. Alan
[Standard Opening]
[Deep 13 - Dr. Forrester is at a table filling out little cards. Mrs. F
is slouched on the sofa, watching TV]
Dr. F: Mother, how many change-of-address cards do I have to fill out for
you? Isn't this almost the 21st Century? Can't we just push a button
and let everyone know you'll be living here for a while?
Mrs. F: Now, Clayton, you be kind to the post office. They've done more
than their share for the cause of darkness than any other
bureaucracy I know.
Dr. F: Yes, Mother.
Mrs. F: That's better. Now why don't you send your little lab rats up
there that Mensa post I found for you. It might cheer you up to
watch them squirm.
Dr F: Ah, yes! Hello, Mike the Mechanic. While Mother Forrester was
catching up with her Mensa Usenet group - she's a member, you know -
Me, I tried to join and would've too. I passed the test - I cheated
of course! But *somebody* snitched on me.
Mrs. F: Now, son. You know I had to report you. How could I feel part of
an elitist group that wants to rule the world if I didn't have some-
one to look down on?
Dr. F: _Be_that_as_it_may_, Mother found this little trifle on
"rec.org.mensa". Is it a philosophical argument on the basic
rights of human beings? No! Is it a diagram for a planned Utopian
society for the future? No! It's a story about a bathroom! Don't
think too hard, meat. You might sprain something.
[lights flashing]
All: We've got post sign!!!!
.....6.....5.....4.....3.....2....@....
> Uncle Al leads a quiet life, strolling along, pausing to pick up the
> occasional shiny stone, and throwing it as hard as he can at stupid
> people.
Crow: [in his big voice] "If Mensa ruled the world!"
> Join him as he relentlessly fights the forces of evil, darkness,
> and internal revenue.
Crow: Do we have a choice?
Tom: Nope!
> Alan "Uncle Al" Schwartz
> uncl...@ix.netcom.com ("zero" after "uncleal")
> http://vvv.com/adsint/freehand/uncleal/
Tom: Ooooooh! I'll be visiting *that* site real soon!
Crow: What's his other hand doing?
Mike: I don't think we want to know.
> "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" The Net!
Crow: "The Quiche is in the custody of the custodian?"
> THE BATHROOM DOOR FROM HELL
> (C)1989 Alan M. Schwartz
Mike: Oh, good. I *prefer* Schwartz's earlier works.
Tom: Okay, is it "Uncle Al and the Door" or "The Bathroom Door from Hell"?
Crow: Either way, it's hell for us.
> Dave was lying in the reclining chair. Semi-comatose and blissful
> with a stomach distended
Mike: Okay, okay! That's more than I ever wanted to know about this guy!
> by a final portion of hot apple pie topped
> with a generous scoop of French vanilla ice cream, he managed to
> twitch one eyelid as I posed the four questions:
Crow: Who the hell are you, how the hell did you get in here, why did you
eat my apple pie, and will you stop twitching your eyelid?!
> Dave, you are not locked in the bathroom, right""I am not locked in
> the bathroom, am I?""There is nobody else in the house, is there?""Who
> is locked in the bathroom?"
Mike: This guy has water closets on the brain.
> Earthquake, fire, tax reassessment, urban insurrection...
Crow: [Al] I love 'em all!
> the average
> California home dweller is well equipped mentally and emotionally to
> triumph against adversity.
Tom: ...unless his cell-phone stops working.
> Failing that, the average Californian has
Crow: Booze! (hiccup!)
> enough medium caliber firepower to defeat a Third World country or
Mike: Snoop Doggy Dog.
> stand against every petty grasping Welfare chiseler in East LA.
Crow: Is Rush Limbaugh in Mensa?
Mike: He wishes!
> Take
> away his bathroom and his world shatters.
Tom: Our friend Al is toilet-sensitive.
> Dave vaulted from the chair and blasted up the stairs in record time.
Crow: [Dave] I'm missing "Baywatch Nights"!
Mike [Al] Don't worry, I've got them all on tape.
> I was close behind, only briefly stopping to reconnoiter the cats'
> litter box in a worst case senario.
Crow: Is this another Mensa we don't know about?
Tom: If he really needs to go so bad, why doesn't he just use the Mens-a
Room?
Mike: Tommy, no.
> The bathroom door was
> irretrievably secured, and like James Bond handcuffed to a nuclear
> device in the depths of Fort Knox and watching the counter click
> toward zero, Dave and I had only a limited time to rescue ourselves
> before the inevitable devastation explosion.
Tom: Mike, what is he talking about?
Mike: I'd rather not say...
> Dave twisted the
> doorknob. I twisted the doorknob. We pounded on and kicked at the
> door with a 4/4 beat. Lesser beings might panic.
Crow: [Al] Dave and I wet 'em.
> Real men have
> screwdrivers.
Tom: [Al] *We* had Shirley Temples.
> It's disassembly time! Out came the two screws holding the cheap
> doorset. "Away traitorous hardware!" we laughed. The handles on both
> sides of the door fell away, revealing more cheap metal within a
> circular hole. The door held fast. We jimmied and poked at that
> foreign metal tongue. We manipulated it rationally. We wanged that
> sucker upside the head.
Crow: These folks are supposed to be mentally superior? HA!
> The door held fast. We pondered the true
> value of privacy and weighed it against the ponderous progress of
> dinner through our respective digestive tracts.
All: EWWWW!
> Smaller minds might pause at this moment,
Mike: [Al] ...but ours shut down completely.
> much like Jimmy Carter
> ordering the US Marines at the Iranian embassy to unload their weapons
> and then defend our people against the surging mob, wondering what
> would come next. Manly men know what will come next and skip to the
> inevitable.
Crow: [Al] ...complete and utter failure.
> We flipped a coin and Dave kicked the door in. Maturity
Tom: [Al] ...took a holiday.
> is taking personal responsibility for your actions, and trying to not
> look the other sucker straight in the eye when you do something really
> stupid. We measured the larger pieces and immediately drove off to
Crow: Hey! I thought they had to go real bad!
Mike: Well, Crow, they're in Mensa. It must be mind over bladder.
Tom: Doh!
> the hardware store for a cheap replacement door, stopping for only 90
> minutes to catch a quick snack and watch teenybopperoid larvae of the
> adult female human practice their male lures.
Crow: I think we just found out why Al and Dave hang around each other,
instead of *women*.
Tom: Yeah, as if any women would let 'em.
> We measured 80 by 23 7/8 inches, and the really cheap door pulled 80
> by 24, which seemed a lot more probable.
Tom: Is all this really necessary?
> What is an eighth inch
> between friends?
Crow: You should know, buddy!
Mike: Crow! No!
> The door was only $15. The coring drill bit, the
> spade drill bit, the adapter bit, the router, the lockset, the
Tom:[Al] ...dealer and the Devil and the dog as well.
> template, and other necessary stuff tripled that. When you have an
> appendectomy and the doc wakes you up to ask if you are willing to pay
> a bit more for sutures,
Mike: [Al] ....you know you shouldn't have gone to "Surgeries 'R' Us".
> you are not prone to argue.
>
> We drilled, we painted, we drilled some more, we routed, we fastened
> the hinges and the doorset and lugged the thing up to the second floor
> and stuck it in its hole and powerdrove six screws
Tom: I never thought home improvement could get me so hot!
Crow: "Roseanne" does it for me.
Tom and Mike: Huh?
> into the doorframe
> and... 80 by 23 7/8 inches was the hole, 80 by 24 was the door. Dave
> has a respectable command of obscene Spanish.
Tom: Dirty Pedro will do anything for him.
> When he ran down I
> added a fillip or two in Arabic and Chinese, and a major exposition in
> the mellifluous patois of Brooklyn, New York.
Mike: [Al] I can do that, you know. *I'm* in Mensa.
> I can't say the door
> fit any better afterward,
Crow: [Al] ...but Pedro was pleased.
> but we were much calmer, finding out later
> that two passersby fainted dead away and a flock of sparrows had
> spontaneously combusted in mid-air.
Mike: A flock of sparrows?
Tom: [singing]...and I ran, I ran so far awaaaay....
Crow: That's SEAGULLS, Tom.
Tom: Birds are birds, Crow.
Crow: HEY!
> A bathroom door that opens but not quite shuts is much better than a
> bathroom door that is anomalously locked shut forever,
Mike: My Grandma used to say that all the time.
> and if a cat
> wandering in while a human is perched grunting upon the pot does not
> seriously violate your cultural values you have it all.
Crow: Is this what Mensa thinks about all the time?
Mike: Yeah, and Rodin's original "The Thinker" wasn't sitting on a *rock*.
Tom: This gives "Think Tank" a whole new meaning.
Crow: Put a brick in it, Tom. It'll save water.
> Being immune
> to the seductive terpsichory of philosophical discourse
Mike: [Al] ...comes naturally to me.
> and not being
> at all tempted to use a cat when the roll of paper runs its course, we
> borrowed a wood plane and disappeared that extra eighth inch of wood.
> The bathroom door once again fully closes and opens on command -- the
> cats are relegated to their litterbox and we to ours.
Crow: [Al] Our litterbox requires two more bags of kitty litter than the
cats' does, but...
> All is well in
> suburbia.
Tom: Oh, that must mean Dave and Al live downtown.
C'mon we gotta go!
Crow: You mean *that's it*?
Mike: Ours is not to reason why, Crow.
Crow: Yeah, ours is but to flush and die! Ugh!
......@....2....3....4....5...6....
Tom: You know, fellas, even if Al Schwartz hadn't written about his full
bladder, I still would've known he was full of it.
Crow: Yeah. Boy, what a potty-mouth!
Mike: Well, guys, he's part of Mensa, one of the "elite". Who but they
know what lurkes in the minds of they?
Crow and Tom: Huh?
Mike: What I mean is that Al and Dave are working on a much higher level,
mentally, than we are. We are not capable, not to mention completely
unworthy, of fathoming what a disfunctional john door means for today's
urban society.
Tom: Oh, I see. So in reality, Al and Dave are consumed with important
socialogical and philosophical issues, not just running around stuffing
their faces, ogling prepubescent girls and breaking furniture scaring
the cats.
Mike: Exactly!
Crow: Well! I'm glad I'm not a genius.
Tom: HA! You don't have to worry about *that*, Crow.
Crow: HEY!
[lights flashing]
[Deep 13 - Dr. F is talking to a mailman.]
Dr. F: So how long will it take to get these change-of-address forms out?
MMan: [looking at cards] Well, let's see. "A&E", "The North Pole", "Hades",
Mensa. It shouldn't take too long, providing I don't decided to
just throw it all in a dumpster. I've got a bad back and these bags
can get awfully heavy, y'know.
Mrs. F: Oh, well Clayton can carry it for you, can't you, son?
Dr. F: Mother, I don't think that's such a...
Mrs. F: [hands bag to Dr. F] Nonsense. Now get going, you need to be back
in time to clean out the sublevels.
Dr. F: Yes, Mother.
Mrs. F: That's better. Until next time, boys...
[Mrs. F. pushes the button]
Alan Brandt
This is a repost of my first and only MiSTing. Please read and give me
your invaluable input. Thanks.
Crow: "The quiche is in the custody of the custodian?"