[MSTing] Facets of Want 1/1
Kris
[Opening Sequence]
[SOL, Mike, Crow and Tom are standing around on the bridge. Crow is
holding a compass and Tom is dressed in a Star Trek: TOS red shirt.]
MIKE: Hi, I'm Mike Nelson, and these are my friends Tom Servo and Crow
T. Robot, and today we're trying something a little different on the
Satellite.
CROW: We decided to give Gypsy a little break and take over some of the
ship's functions ourselves.
MIKE: So Tom, what are you going to be?
TOM: <Scottish accent> I'm the ship's engineer, cap'n!
MIKE: All right, you can go to engineering. <Tom exits stage left.> And
what are you, Crow?
CROW: I'm official navigator, Mike.
MIKE: Well, that's great, only, we're a satellite, so by definition
we stay in orbit.
CROW: No, see, Gypsy keeps us in orbit, so now that's up to me.
MIKE: Okay, I guess that'll work. So--
[The SOL suddenly rocks around like the Enterprise. Mike and Crow fall
onto the table.]
MIKE: What was that?!
CROW: Just a little problem Mike, I took a little short cut to make
better time.
MIKE: We're in orbit! We're going around in circles!
CROW: Well it seemed like a good idea at the time...
[The SOL shakes again.]
MIKE: Crow, let Gypsy do it! You'll tear the Satellite apart!
CROW: I'm just <The SOL shakes a little> Just a little asteroid
there, heh heh!
MIKE: That's it, stop navigating, Crow.
CROW: You want me to stop navigating? Fine, I'll stop!
[The SOL shakes around violently and suddenly the lights go out.]
MIKE: Engineering, what's wrong?
TOM: <In the Hexfield> <Scottish accent> I dinna know, cap'n! She's
wired like a Christmas tree!
MIKE: Get full power as soon as possible, Tom!
[SOL rocks]
MIKE: We'll be right back <He hits the commercial sign>.
[One commercial for a psychic friends network, two for Zima, and a
shameless plug for my fourth MSTing, Kill your Television, coming
soon to a MST3K newsgroup near you).]
[SOL]
MIKE: Hi, we're back. Crow has something to say.
CROW: <Enters the room> I'm sorry everyone.
MIKE: That's better, Crow. Tom, any word on the power?
TOM: <On Hexfield, still Scottish accent> I can have her done in a
week, cap'n!
MIKE: That's too long. How's a couple hours?
TOM: <Same> I think I can swing it.
MIKE: Good. Mike out.
[Hexfield closes. Mads light flashes.]
MIKE: Oh, Duncan and Connor are calling. <Hits the mads button.>
[D13. Frank is standing in the foreground, with Frank next to him.]
Dr. F.: Hello there, Mitchell. I suppose you've got a great invention for
me today, right?
[SOL; Tom and Crow are alongside Mike now]
MIKE: Well, we did sirs....
CROW: But we figure the Electric Pickle might not work as well without
electricity.
MIKE: Sorry.
[D13]
Dr. F.: Well, regardless of your technical difficulties, I've got a
nice hunk of evil for you today: This! <He holds up a pink microphone.>
[SOL]
TOM: Oh, Joel told me about those, they're Sing Along microphones!
[D13]
Dr. F.: But this is different. Karaoke machines are sound in principle, but
they don't provide a great opportunity for evil. Using basic Karaoke
technology, plus incredibly low power speakers, I have created the
ultimate humiliation device: The Sing Alone! Here Frank, try them on.
FRANK: Okay, Steve. <Frank holds the microphone and Dr. F. walks behind
him and puts a couple of earphones connected to the microphone in his ear.>
Dr. F.: Now just sing along to the music.
FRANK: Do we have any "Moody Blues"? I don't like Hammer!
Dr. F.: Just sing!
FRANK: <Frank sings loudly and terribly , with no music to be heard.>
Dr. F.: Yes, it's the ultimate humiliation device: the Sing _Alone_
microphone! Frank is dancing and signing like an idiot, just like
Karaoke night, but no one else can hear the music, allowing them
to mock and ridicule to their heart's content!
[SOL]
MIKE: I have to admit, that's evil.
CROW: Yeah, harsh.
[D13]
Dr. F.: You think you know harsh, boys? Try this on for size: A
Mulder - Scully Romance with no action, no plot, and enough
introspection to put Freud to sleep!
FRANK: <Still singing loudly>
Dr. F.: <Raises his voice> It's called <Frank drowns out Dr. F. He raises
his voice.> IT'S CALLED "FACETS OF WANT", AND IT'S COMING RIGHT UP!
<Dr. F. looks at Frank> SHUT UP ALREADY! < Dr. F. tears the headphones
off of Frank. Frank continues.>. But I just took your music!
FRANK: What music?
Dr. F.: <Groans> Just push the button.
FRANK: <Dances over to the button and tush-pushes it.>
[SOL]
ALL: We've got movie sign!
6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...
>Subject: NEW: Facets of Want (1/1) by Leigh Alexander
>From: redshoes*@ix.netcom.com (Katherine Fritz), Netcom
>Date: Sat, 09 Aug 1997 03:35:11 GMT
>
>I'm posting this at the author's request.
CROW: Mike, does that count as accessory to the crime?
MIKE: I think so.
> Please send
>feedback to Leigh Alexander at leh...@ozemail.com.au.
>
>----------------------
>
>OK to archive.
TOM: That's great, because I was just thinking, "Gee, I hope we
can save this sucker for posterity!"
>
>TITLE: Facets of Want
MIKE: Emotionally I want to kill the author, but mentally I just want to
smack him around.
>AUTHOR: Leigh Alexander (leh...@ozemail.com.au)
>RATING: PG
TOM: Parents, guide your children away from this fanfic!
>CATEGORY: V A
MIKE: Rated "Very Annoying" by the Usenet Post Rating Association.
>SPOILERS: None
>KEYWORDS: MSR
TOM: Not a Mulder - Scully Romance!
CROW: They're not all bad.
TOM: Oh, come on!
CROW: Bite me!
TOM: Come over here and--!
MIKE: Hush, you two.
>SUMMARY: Primal desires push Mulder and Scully together. But is it
>the right thing?
ALL: No!
>
>DEDICATION: This one's for Kim, who's going to laugh at the thought
>that an MSR's for her. <g>
CROW: And cry when she hears it's this one.
> I think this is my attempt at having my cake and eating it too. :)
>
>AUTHOR'S NOTE: This isn't your most straight-forward MSR,
TOM: Oh great, we get to watch them agonize for an hour.
> and I don't want you to think that I've abandoned the 'shipper-hood.
>I've just been persuaded to examine things from a slightly
>different angle... <g>
CROW: I'm getting a mental image of that grin. It looks like Dr.
Forrester's grin when he's about to send us the movie or hit TV's Frank.
> Oh, and this hasn't been edited, so forgive its roughness!
MIKE: When they apologize before the story, it's going to be a rough ride.
>
>DISCLAIMERS: Dana Scully and Fox Mulder belong to Chris Carter and Ten
>Thirteen Productions. I intend no copyright infringement in using them
>and am making no profit from this or any other of my stories.
TOM:<as the author> But don't think I haven't tried.
>
>-------------------------
>
>Facets of Want (1/1)
CROW: Only one part!
MIKE: Short and bitter.
>
>Leigh Alexander
>
>leh...@ozemail.com.au
>
>_________________________
>
>She stepped into the apartment, the rap of her heel echoing in the
>silence.
ALL: <Rapping noises>
>He was behind her. So close...
TOM: <as Scully> I already told you, I don't want any encyclopedias!
Stop following me!
>
>He closed the door and she felt the tension escalate like the force of
>a shooting geyser.
CROW: Would the author really go through with it? Scully could only hope
that she wouldn't.
>It wasn't possible, but it was happening. It was going to happen. Part
>of her had shut down while another part - the deepest, most inaccessible
>part -
MIKE: -Her lower intestine-
> was slowly leaking from her, encircling her with a cloying mist.
CROW: <as Scully> Sorry, that was me.
>How had she reached this point? She no longer knew.
TOM: She hadn't been sober for days.
>
>His fingers fell lightly on her shoulder and she remained still, unable
>to move.
TOM: <Documentary voice> The rare North American Mulder is capable of
paralyzing his prey in mere seconds.
>Thought deserted her.
MIKE: As it had the author, hours before.
>Her coat was gently peeled from her body and she lowered her lids and
>breathed deeply through her mouth.
TOM: She's yawning!
CROW: Pick up the pace, Mulder!
> The sleeves slid down her arms and
>the backs of his hands grazed the fine hairs that grew there. Ohhh.
TOM: In a moment of passion, Scully says "Oh."
> She had
>to keep her eyes closed;
MIKE: The thought of being with Chris Farley horrified her; she had to
pretend he was Mulder.
> she was in a world of purely sensual delights - a
>state so fragile that it would shatter around her the instant she allowed
>visual reality to enter. No, this was solely feelings, sensations,
>emotions and desire.
TOM: Even grammar abandoned Scully in this world of passion.
> All human sentiments. All necessary elements in any life.
CROW: Except for food and drink, but making out is difficult holding a
burger and Coke.
MIKE: Tell me about it.
BOTS: <Both stare at Mike, then look away>
> But
>until now, closed off and secreted away. Doused with words, arguments
>and logic.
CROW: That darn logic: Always getting in the way of a good story.
> She knew this was wrong. Not wrong in the normal sense - they were
>breaking no laws, no rules - neither defined nor unspoken - but wrong in
>the very core of her being.
TOM: Using three hyphens in a sentence just couldn't be right.
> Was she in love with him? She didn't know.
>She wasn't doing this for love.
MIKE: She was doing this to end the fanfic as quickly as possible.
> She was doing this because she knew it was
>there: that attraction, that spark which zapped between them all the
>time.
CROW: She was doing this for static electricity.
>And she needed to be sated just as much as he.
>
>She heard the soft crumple of fabric as the coat was tossed aside. The
>liberation had begun.
TOM: Yay, free the coats!
> The distinct texture of the flat of his fingernail
MIKE: He only has one fingernail?
>crept along her neck. She shivered, incapable of controlling the reflex.
>She knew it would bring a smile to his lips.
CROW: Mulder was a sucker for involuntary responses.
> Those lips that must have
>fascinated many a woman with their sensual curves. But not her;
CROW: <as Scully> Nope, I'm don't like his lips. Sorry, not me. I'm not
thinking about his lips, dum-da-da-dum....
> in her
>mind, those lips had always been the starting point of their debates,
>their conversations, his pleas, his jokes.
MIKE: His whining, his pathetic begging to borrow a five.
> Lips were the source of words.
>And words were the root of their problems.
CROW: <as Scully> He'd have a great personality if he didn't talk.
> So she didn't want to think
>about his lips.
TOM: She's doing a great job so far, huh?
> Not now. Not until they had fallen into the zone of pure
>pleasure, where thought had no place. Where everything was defined by
>touch alone.
TOM: The Twilight Zone.
>
>Her necklace skittered slightly as his hand brushed against it. The
>cross bounced lightly on her skin.
MIKE: The new fad for the twenty-first century: Rubber necklaces.
> She was more aware of its movement
>only because it shielded her mind from absorbing the other movement.
>Even as the gilded emblem settled back into place, his grasp had
>reached her far shoulder and she knew what was coming next.
TOM: Death was rapidly approaching.
> Both of
>her shoulders were soon covered with his hands, with one arm traversing
>her collarbone. With a gentle twist, he
CROW: Snapped her neck.
> turned her body so that she
>faced him. Eyes still closed. Breathing deeply. So deeply - it was
>as though she needed to suck in mouthfuls of air to keep herself
>upright, to focus her mind purely on the touches, the gestures. Anything
>but the thoughts.
TOM: How much you want to bet she'll start thinking again?
>
>Thoughts would send her plummenting back into Scully.
TOM: Told you so.
> Right now she
>didn't want Scully... couldn't *be* Scully. If she were to accept these
>events as Agent Scully the repurcussions would become too frightening.
MIKE: There might be a sequel!
>She would be daunted into fear, pushed back into that role not only by a
>badge and a gun, but more importantly, by the attitude.
TOM: She's still got her gun on her? Isn't that dangerous?
>
>Look at me, he pleaded without rancour. It wasn't said plaintively, nor
>arrogantly, nor demandingly. Just simply. No subtext, no games. Pure,
>simple and raw.
MIKE: In other words, dull surprise.
> One hand lifted from her shoulder and she suddenly feared
>that she would next feel it resting below her chin, pulling her head up.
>If that happened, she would snap.
CROW: Or rather, her neck would.
> The tenuous balance would be slit in a
>second. But it didn't happen.
MIKE: Nothing _ever_ happens in <dramatic pause> Facets of Want.
>
>Nothing happened for a few seconds. Until his lips were against her neck.
>Below her ear. Next to her hairline.
CROW: All at once. It was creepy.
> All the air that she'd been gulping
>in so desperately was exhaled in a long, hard breath.
ALL: <Burping sound>
> Her head lolled to
>the side, losing its ability to support itself as his sensitive touch
>poured through her veins.
TOM: Mulder must be venomous!
> Liquid arousal fed her vital organs; her blood
>was on fire.
>
>It wasn't until he'd pulled his mouth from her skin
ALL: <Suction release sound>
> that her eyes finally
>opened; slowly, as if she'd just awoken. Her head lifted, but she took
>her time in reaching his gaze.
CROW: <as Scully> If I pretend I don't see him, maybe he'll go away..
> Her mouth was open, her eyes questioning,
>as she finally looked at him.
>
>Which was a mistake.
>
>His face so familiar, brushed with an expression so primal and strange.
>Want displayed openly. Desire, lust and need painted across his visage.
TOM: Or was he just hungry?
>Giving weight to feelings that had elusively swum through her head. The
>reality that she had kept so far at bay now threatened entry.
MIKE: I'm reality! Let me in or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll
blow your inhibitions down!
>
>This couldn't be right. But it couldn't be wrong. He started caressing
>her again; threading a hand through her hair, stroking her arm.
CROW: And sowing that arm to her head at the same time.
> Her lids
>shut once more and she absorbed his warmth and gentleness. She felt
>herself drift back into her previous state of precarious ignorance.
>Lifting her own hand for the first time, she felt her way up his arm:
>his shoulder, his neck, his face. All passed under the tentative brush
>of her fingers. She slid her palm down his cheek
TOM: <as Mulder> Scully, <gag> get your hand out of my mouth!
> and behind the back of his
>neck. The subtle pressure was the signal for him to bend his face towards
>hers. Her lids snapped up
ALL: Snap!
> and her gaze locked on his.
MIKE: <as Scotty> Gaze locked an' ready, captain!
>
>It was with full awareness that she kissed him.
>
>If want could be separated into carefully delineated partitions of
>meaning, it would make it so much easier to define what it was that she
>was now feeling.
TOM: She wanted Mulder to leave her alone, but it was so much more than
that....
>But the facets of want were so casual with their edges
>that the physical and emotional blurred together like an abstract
>painting. How much was physical? How much was emotional?
CROW: How much was poor characterization?
> Right now she
>didn't know. She knew that they would regret this. In a day, in a month,
>in a year - it didn't matter when. But not just yet. Regret, shame,
>chagrin...
MIKE: <Singing> These are a few of my favorite things....
> that would all come later. For the moment, she allowed the
>heat that filled her to be her guide.
CROW: <as Yoda> Let the heat guide you, Scully.
>
>They moved without words to his bedroom. And afterwords they lay facing
>each other, legs curled, knees brushing together. Not talking, just
>looking.
TOM: <as Mulder> You've got something in your teeth there, Scully.
> They knew each other more completely now, but that just meant
>that they had more problems to overcome.
MIKE: But knowing is half the battle.
>
>Yet, sexually, they were resolved.
TOM: Just to be sure everyone understands exactly what happened.
>
>THE END.
>
> ****************************
>
>"...time has again been allocated to dreams, although stil in accordance
>with rules established years ago.
CROW: Apparently not the rules of spelling.
> For, if you do not place limits on your
>daydreaming or if you ever forget that these are games of fancy and
>fantasy,
MIKE: You will give all Dungeons and Dragons players a bad name.
> the dreams will absorb you, become your master, rather than the
>other way round. In fact, it is these very rules that give the dreams
>their power: for a prescribed period of time
TOM: Take this period of time and call me in the morning.
> , you can be whoever you
>want, doing whatever you please, because you know none of it is true,
>and in ten or twenty or thirty minutes
CROW: --Or hours--
> the pleasure will be over, and life
>will reclaim you once more. Of course, there's nothing preventing you
>from returning to a particularly appealing scene, tomorrow, next week,
>even next year, but
MIKE: Reality will drag you kicking and screaming back to the real world.
Have a nice day.
> by then you will have had ample time with
>battle-scarred reality, to keep the dreams in perspective..."
>
> - Andrea Goldsmith, "Modern Interiors"
CROW: Isn't that an interior design magazine?
>
>Keep dreaming everyone. I'll join you there. :)
TOM: Oh great, now I'm not going to be able to sleep!
>
>Leigh.
>
>PS I'm going overseas for awhile,
ALL: <Cheers>
> so forgive me if you write and I don't
>answer your mail as promptly as you'd expect. :)
CROW: Forgiven! Woo hoo!
>
>
>
>
>
1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
[SOL. The lights are still out. Mike and Crow are standing around
without Tom.]
MIKE: Tom, what's going on?
[The Hexfield opens.]
TOM: <Scottish accent> I'm trying to calibrate the warp power coils, but
the anti-matter refractors are obstructed! If we use the Bussard
Ramscoop we could--
CROW: We, uh, don't have Bussard Ramscoop.
MIKE: Come to think of it, we don't even have warp power coils. What's
really wrong?
TOM:<Same> Really, it's a problem with the warp coils!
MIKE: Come on honey, what's the problem?
TOM: <Normal voice> The warp, uh, I mean <Scottish accent> The warp
coils...
CROW: Cut the technobabble Tom, what's wrong?
TOM: <Normal Voice> The food bin shook open and there's a turkey sammich
in the engine, all right? Geez, you guys are no fun.
MIKE: What do you think, sirs?
[D13]
Dr. F.: I see you got your ship back online, Nelson. I'm glad you'll
still be in orbit for next week's experiment, it's just a harmless
little... RATLIFFE!
[SOL. Tom's on the bridge now.]
ALL: AHHH!
TOM: Steer us out of orbit!
MIKE: Sorry, we'd freeze or run into the sun or be compressed into
chunky salsa.
CROW: Either that or Ratliffe... It's a close one.
[D13]
FRANK: I had a dream where Mike got out of orbit... They got chased
around by your mom and a monkey and this pale guy who held his brain
in a plate, and Mike blew up planets and there was this trial...
Dr. F.: That's stupid, Frank, even for you. Just push the button.
FRANK: <Pushes the button.>
\ /
\ /
---*---
/ \
/ \
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations
are trademarks of and (c) 1994 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved.
This MSTing is not intended as an attack on Leigh Alexander, or her
painstaking minutes of research and writing.
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. Special
Thanks to my oft-overlooked left hand, without whose help the typing
would have gone a lot slower.