MiSTed - Roland Warner's "Hostage" (3/4)
Bill Livingston
TOM: Green 7.
MIKE: Red 7.
TOM: Red 0.
MIKE: Red 2.
TOM: Red Skip. Blue Skip. Blue Reverse. Wild Draw 4.
MIKE: D'OH!
TOM: Hah! And now a Yellow -
MIKE: Wait, you didn't say Uno!
TOM: D'OH!
[Crow wanders in. He has a wire running from his temple to a small device
he's holding that looks like a PalmPilot]
CROW: Hey, guys.
TOM: Crow.
MIKE: Hi, Crow.
CROW: Who?
TOM: Huh?
CROW: I'm sorry, you were talking to -
MIKE: You. You, Crow. We said "Hi" to you.
CROW: I know you said "Hi" to Crow. But my name's not Crow.
TOM: Uh-oh. Here we go.
MIKE: You, uh, you say you're not Crow?
CROW: I'm afraid not. My name is Jebediah Oliver Pennypacker. But wait -
[he "types" on the small panel] Jebediah Oliver Pennypacker is
no more. Say hello to Pierre Armand DeVallgard.
TOM: Oh, c'mon, Crow, we know it's you!
CROW: I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with this "Crow" person. I'm plain,
simple Pierre DeVallgard. Or am I? [more typing] Well, whaddaya
know. Apparently, I'm actually Leonid Pavlovitch Valinkov.
MIKE: So is there a reason you're changing your identity every few minutes?
TOM: Other than simple insanity, that is?
CROW: Look, guys, I'd like to help you help this "Crow" person with his
little problem, but speaking as [types] plain, simple Fao Chung-Wan,
I'm not in a position to. Sorry.
MIKE: Look, just changing a name on a head chip won't -
TOM: Oh, wait... *I* know what this is about. Crow, you're just upset that
there's a lameoid bad guy in this story whose last name is "Crow",
aren't you?
CROW: [laughs nervously] Upset? Why should I - I mean, why should this
poor, pathetic wretch named Crow be upset about that?!? I mean,
just because my - *HIS*! His name has been usurped and attached to
a common crook for a cheap laugh?!?!? And - and - and a totally
pathetic, bottom of the barrel, no-good loser crook at, at,
thaaAAAAAAAAUUUGHHHHH!!!!! [breaks down sobbing]
MIKE: [comforting Crow] Oh, c'mon, cowboy - you gotta learn to take these
things in stride. Look, I didn't get all upset when we saw [basso]
DOCTOR TED NELSON [regular] did I? Servo didn't get all huffy when
he found out Sheriff Geronimo's first name was "Tom" did he?
TOM: WHAT?!?!?!?
MIKE: You didn't know?
TOM: No! No one said anything to me!
MIKE: Huh. Well - anyway, Crow, think about all the famous and successful
Crows there are - Counting Crows, The Black Crows, Russell Crowe,
Cameron Crowe...
CROW: You're right Mike - I'm going to stop running from my heritage.
[types] World, say hello to - *Sheryl Crow*! [singing] If it
makes you happy...
TOM: [sighs] *Good One*, Nelson! And incidentally, thanks ever so much
for sticking my self-esteem in the crapper - *Ted*!
[Light flash]
ALL: AND WE GOT VIRUS SIGN!!!!!!!!!!!!
CROW: [singing] All I wanna do, is have some fun...
[Chaos, doors, etc.]
[6] {5} (4) <3> |2| O
[All enter]
TOM: So do we call you "Sheryl" now, or...
CROW: Huh? Oh - nah. I'm done with that.
MIKE: Our little talk finally sunk in, huh?
CROW: Nope, I just realized my last name's not even "Crow" - it's "Robot".
MIKE & TOM: D'OH!!!
>The captain flipped one switch and then another.
>
MIKE: Soon, two switches had been flipped!
>"Ladies and gentlemen, we are preparing for landing. Please strap in, you
>might feel a jolt."
>
MIKE: [captain] Or you might feel yourself being thrown into the bulkhead
at incredible speeds. One of the two.
>Dean sat in a seat beside the pilot and looked out the windshield.
CROW: And around the desiccated corpse of Harley Turner.
> A panel
>began rising and a purple ray hit the nose of the rocket and began pulling
>it into a room just the right size for the rocket. The panel began closing.
>When it stopped, the rocket shook and the room the rocket was in began to
>oxygenize. The floor below the rocket gave way
TOM: And it fell to the ground and everyone died. The end.
MIKE: You're just making it harder on yourself, y'know.
> and the purple ray pulled
>the rocket into the Martian Oxygenated area. It was pulled in beside a
>unloading dock and the passengers began unloading.
>
TOM: [Airplane] I'm telling you, there's just no stopping in a red zone!
>Dean left the rocket and waited in the baggage claim for his suitcase. As
>he picked up the suitcase, a man tapped Dean on the shoulder.
>
MIKE: Remember - gentle pressure.
>"Mr. Hyde, I'm the head of this Spaceport.
TOM: [Pernell Roberts] My job. My way.
> I'd like to personally thank you
>for saving Mr. Junet's life and the rest of the passengers.
CROW: [Spaceport guy] I'd offer you money, but I wouldn't want to make you
feel crass and used. You understand.
TOM: Wait, who's "Mr. Junet"?
MIKE: The guy whose life the terrorist just saved.
TOM: Um, okay.
> I just have one
>question, how did you know that there was a, er, four terrorists on board?"
>
>"I only knew of one terrorist, Harley Turner. I had a strange dream about a
>bandit on the train.
MIKE: Somewhere, Agent Dale Cooper is smiling.
> I did basically the same thing I did in the dream in
>real life.
TOM: He took off his clothes and ran naked through the produce section
at Krogers?
> The first guy to come in wasn't Harley but Jackson Crow. Harley
>came in next,
MIKE: Then the Marlboro Man.
> then the next two. I'm still trying to get the figures on the
>odds for something like that happening to one ship."
>
CROW: I think it has something to do with hell freezing over.
>"I don't know, but I sure do appreciate what you did up there. By the way,
>you look familiar. I think I saw you on television or somewhere."
>
TOM: Yeah! Hey, you're that John Stamos guy, aintcha?
>"I get that alot. They say I look like someone named 'Hunter'.
CROW: Fred Dryer, in the role of a lifetime.
> I'm still
>trying to figure out how."
>
TOM: ["Hyde"] 'Cuz I'm notm y'know! Him, that is! Hunter! Heh!
>"Well, they say that for every person, there is a twin somewhere.
MIKE: Especially if your name's Mary-Kate or Ashley Olson.
> I've got
>to get back to take care of some business, good bye." The man smiled and
>turned around a corner.
>
TOM: [Spaceport guy] And remember, cash rewards cheapen us all! Bye!
>Dean turned and walked down the staircase. He made a quick stop by the
>Spaceport restaurant and purchased a large burger and some strawberry
>flavored Martian Rocks,
CROW: I hear if you eat strawberry Martian rocks and then drink Moon
Sprit, your stomach will explode. Really.
> which he finished on his way to the exit. Outside,
>he saw several police cruisers waiting for him.
>
TOM: For me?!? Aw, you guys shouldn't have!
>"HUNTER, COME OUT NOW OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO SHOOT YOU!"
>
MIKE: [police] OF COURSE TO SHOOT YOU, YOU'D HAVE TO COME OUT FIRST!
SO FORGET THAT PART! I WAS THINKING OF SOMETHING ELSE! SORRY!
>Dean ran behind a large post
TOM: Probably a binary.
> as the repetitive laser began shooting. He
>looked at his feet and saw a sewer cover a foot from his feet.
CROW: Nonono, now is *not* the time to worry about your scrap metal
collection!
> He struggled
>to pull the cover off, attached his suitcase to his belt, and jumped down
>the hole. He landed in a rush of water, heading towards an opening.
MIKE: Suddenly, Harrison Ford speeds by, with Tommy Lee Jones hot on his
trail.
> Past
>the opening, he could hear a rush of water. The water speeded Dean up and
>over the edge. Past the end, he found a giant box, filling up with water.
>
CROW: He's stumbled across the Martian Budweiser brewery!
>This must be the Martian Sewage Container. He thought.
TOM: *There's* a brilliant deduction! Where did he think the sewer was
leading, SeaWorld Mars?!?
>
>He reached down to his belt and quickly jiggled a gold switch.
TOM: [singing] Nananananana - gettin' jiggly wid it!
MIKE: Actually, if I understood anything about this whole Pokemon craze,
this would be a perfect spot for a Jigglypuff riff.
CROW: How fortunate for you that you're clueless, then.
MIKE: Yeah, it's really a - hey!
> Two boxes,
>one on the right and left sides of his belt, opened up and two rockets
>pulled out. The rockets began firing and slowed Dean's plummet to the
>sewage below.
>
TOM: And the rockets ignited the flammable gasses and the guy blew up.
The end.
CROW: Keep dreamin'.
>He aimed the rockets back into the sewer tunnels and back through the sewer
>opening he came through.
>
CROW: It's POO-GAS MAN!!!!!
>Outside, the police were preparing to descend into the sewer when Dean flew
>through the opening.
CROW: [Ace Ventura] Do NOT go in there!!! Woooooooooooo!!!!
> He crashed through the windows and up, about 10 feet
>from the glass-like frame support of the oxygenated dome. He then glided
>down to a stop near the small town of Harlow.
MIKE: Mars needs blonde bombshells!
> Dean walked up Fifth Avenue
>and stopped at a housing machine and purchased a house for 450 in Harlow.
TOM: Huh. Good job everyone in Harlow wears rockets.
>He entered his newly purchased house and set up the black egg with the
>virus inside it. He watched holovision for the remainder of the day and
>slept.
>
MIKE: Sounds like a day at my Uncle Ralph's place.
>For the next three days, he would place two more black eggs Earlington,
>Jupiter; Monroe, North Carolina, Earth without any problem from the
>Intergalactic police.
>
CROW: Who were all too busy telling people not to panic to actually take
time to try and find him.
>He established his base of operation on Earth in a small town of Monroe,
>North Carolina, close to the egg for a strategic purposes.
TOM: He was worried the egg would go bad and stink up the place.
> He had changed
>his name three times from Earl Smith to Henry Collinger, and now, it was
>Brian Hardy.
CROW: Straight from Ward E.
> He had also added four more names to the memory bank in the
>computer, Frank Underwood,
MIKE: Hey, I love his deviled ham.
> Brent Summers,
CROW: He's gonna hide out on the set of "Match Game".
> Gabriel Hart,
TOM: [Lionel Stander] He's quite a guy. And dis is Mrs.H.
> and Andrew Cook.
ALL: Bo-ring!
>
>He was ready.
>
TOM: To end the story. So he did. The end.
> * * *
>
> The Operation
MIKE: The goofy game for dopey terrorists.
>
>Two days after Hunter had set up his base in Monroe, Lloyd Hienrich waited
>by the scanner hoping to hear anything more about Hunter.
CROW: [sigh] He's just so *dreamy*!!!
> Nothing came up
>but more homicides, rapes, and several other crimes and disputes between
>people.
TOM: Nothing for him to worry his pretty little law-enforcement head about.
> Lloyd had a small grasp about what Hunter had been planning to do.
CROW: Which, ironically, puts him one step ahead of the reader.
>He had been with him at the Venusian Caverns where he had gathered the
>virus and saw the other vials inside the suitcase he was carrying. Lloyd
>had deduced that he would use the virus for a hostage situation.
TOM: Well, sure, what else - huh?
MIKE: That was a Mannix-sized leap of logic.
> If it were
>a small one, he would have done it after the Venusian Caves and he wouldn't
>have been spotted in any of those places. He suspected that it would be a
>very big one since it had been quite a while and had been spotted on
>several planets.
TOM: He probably plans on holding all of Larry King's ex-wives hostage.
> The only thing left was that he planned to use those
>viruses on several planets. Maybe he was planning to test out the
>Inter-Galactic Treaty's effectiveness.
>
MIKE: [sniffs] You smell what I smell, guys?
TOM: Mmmmm, the fragrant flavor of red herring!
>Over the scanner, Hunter's voice came on.
>
>"Lloyd Hienrich, if your listening answer right now."
>
CROW: [Hunter] If you're not, then, uh, then don't, I guess.
>Lloyd pressed the trace button and picked up the mike.
>
>"Yes, Hunter?"
>
>"Give me your holophone number so I can call you on your phone."
>
MIKE: Boy, I hate it when someone's too lazy to just look in the directory!
>"What do you want Hunter?"
>
>"Give me your holophone number or I will be forced to do something
>terrible."
>
TOM: [Hunter] I'll call you collect and put David Arquette on!
CROW: [Lloyd] NOOOOOOO!!!!! YOU FIEND!!!!
>"555-4986."
>
MIKE: Wait a minute! That's the Movieline phone number! What gives?
>"Okay."
>
>Lloyd heard a click on the other end and checked the trace. The trace
>brought nothing up in the whereabouts of Hunter.
TOM: NBC had canceled it, and the Superstation wasn't showing any reruns.
> Two minutes later, Lloyd's
>holophone rang. He walked over to the square box with a round circle on top
>and pressed the red button.
MIKE: And chose Bruce Villanch to block.
> Static appeared over the black circle but the
>voice came loud and clear.
>
>"Yes?" Lloyd asked.
>
>"Lloyd, how's the head?"
>
CROW: Just because they're mortal enemies is no reason they can't enjoy
a little chit-chat from time to time.
>"Much better, what do you want Hunter?"
>
>"Six billion pieces."
>
>"Or what?"
>
MIKE: [Hunter] Or more!
>"For every hour that you don't give me the pieces, I will set off one black
>egg full of my own virus on one planet.
TOM: How are we supposed to take a panty-hose virus seriously?
CROW: Nothing beats a great pair of DEATHS!!!!
> In about an hour, you will find a
>package at the station. Inside the package are the remains of one of the
>victims of it. The package will be safe to open, it is virus free but this
>will be a warning."
>
CROW: Just say "no" to viruses!
MIKE: Stop the madness!
>"We can't get four billion pieces. It's an impossible amount."
>
MIKE: [Hunter] But I wanted six billion pieces.
TOM: [Lloyd] Oh. Well, that's different. No problem, then.
>"That hasn't stopped you people before. After you get the box, you will
>comply."
>
MIKE: Ha! You didn't say "Simon Says" so I don't have to! Nyah!
>The static image disappeared. For the whole hour, Lloyd answered calls from
>the head police chief, Galactic President, and the head of the FBI.
CROW: Hunter must have written his number on the bathroom wall.
> At the
>stroke of five, there came a knock at the police station door.
TOM: I see the cops are still operating out of that one-room efficiency
station.
> Lloyd opened
>the door but no one was there. Down around his feet there was a box. He
>opened the box and found chunks of rat skin and a pool of blood in a
>plastic bag.
CROW: [Lloyd] So *that's* where I left my lunch.
> No bone were left in the bag. Lloyd turned his head away from
>the box in disgust from the sight and the stench the box emitted.
>
MIKE: Must be an Adam Sandler movie in there.
>The Holophone rang.
>
>Lloyd pressed the button. "Yes?"
>
>"Did you get the package?"
>
>"Yes I did. Interesting piece of work you got there. How long did it take?"
>
TOM: [Hunter] Well, I mailed it Tuesday, so let's see - three days.
>"Only a minute."
>
>"Damn! That's fast."
>
MIKE: Sure beats overnight delivery!
>"Started gathering the pieces."
>
>"I'll see what I can do."
>
CROW: [Lloyd] I'll try, but they're kinda squishy.
>"You've got till tomorrow at noon. Any later and I'll set the virus off one
>planet at a time." The static cut off.
>
>Lloyd dialed up the president.
>
MIKE: But he was busy trying to get his wife a senate seat so's to keep
her off his back.
>"Hello?" The gray haired, slim figured person said over the viewer.
>
TOM: Well, it's obviously not Slick.
MIKE: Unless he's joined Metabalife.
>"Mr. President, I've just received another phone call from Hunter. He's got
>a virus that kills within a minute. Melts away the bones and internal
>organs
CROW: Leaving you with that slim, girlish figure you've always dreamed of!
> and the skin tears into pieces. I need those pieces by tomorrow at
>noon.
TOM: [Prez] But I don't *have* any extra pieces of skin!
> Any time after that, he'll set off the virus on the population."
>
MIKE: [Prez] Well, find out who voted for me and start inoculating them.
>"I've gotten 1 billion together already from the new Mars Union. Another
>billion will becoming in later tonight.
TOM: They started gathering a ransom before they even knew there was a
problem? Boy, that's efficient.
CROW: This guy ran under the slogan "I'll never negotiate with terrorists -
I'll just cave at the first sign of trouble!"
> I don't know about tomorrow. We
>have got to find him soon or else he'll put the whole galaxy in debt."
>
MIKE: That's what you get for believing his "6.9% APR" sales pitch!
>"Well, Mr. President, I'm working on a plan. I have no idea what I'll do
>but I'm working on one.
CROW: If you don't know what you're going to do, does it really count as
a plan?
MIKE: [George Peppard] I love it when a plan is vaguely insinuated.
> Back in the Venusian Caverns, I thought I had him
>but he got the best of me. I was lucky that my shield didn't bust or else
>I'd be dead instantly."
>
TOM: Yeah, then we'd probably have someone smarter and more careful running
this investigation, and we *couldn't* have *that*!
>The second holophone rang. Lloyd ran over to it and pressed the button.
>
>"Hello, FBI."
>
CROW: Huh? Okay, wait! Is Lloyd a cop, a CIA guy, or an FBI agent?!?
TOM: Maybe he's just holding down several jobs at once
MIKE: Yeah, the future's probably kind of expensive.
>"FBI, I've found this black egg within a house at 561 Thirtieth Street,
>Monroe, North Carolina, Earth. Can you please come down and identify what
>it is please?"
>
CROW: It's a black egg. You just said so yourself!
>"I'll be down there in two hours."
>
>"Okay. Bye."
>
>"Mr. President, did you get that?"
>
TOM: [Prez] Of course you're more than just an intern to me, sweetcheeks!
Now let me see those lacy lit- Huh?!? Wha?!?
>"Yeah, you go down there and check it out."
>
>"Sure thing, I'll get back to you after I come back."
>
>"Bye."
>
>Lloyd left the FBI building and drove not too far down the road, making a
>few turns until he hit 74
MIKE: Kinda old for an FBI agent, isn't he?
> and drove the rest of the way. When he reached
>the address, before he even reached the driveway, he could see the black
>egg in the building.
CROW: The egg came to him in a vision.
TOM: In this story? I'd believe it.
> He entered the house and examined the egg but could
>see no other feature than the blackness of it.
>
TOM: And the egg-ness of it, as well.
>A blond, tall, bright-eyed lady entered the room.
>
CROW: Hudson Leick! Yowza!
>"This is the egg?" Lloyd asked.
>
MIKE: [woman] No, it's the tetrahedron. *Of course* it's the egg, you
big knob!
>"Well, it ain't changed any, now has it?"
>
>"When did you find it?"
>
>"I work for Monday Realty.
MIKE: A division of TGI Fridays.
> We've started this new program where we go
>around and check on new customers. Mr. Collinger purchased the place and
>left this egg sitting here."
>
TOM: [woman] It was in the middle of great big giant nest.
>Lloyd picked up the egg, which was surprisingly light and managed to fit it
>through the doorway with the help of the lady. He tossed the egg in the
>back of his truck and drove back to the FBI building.
>
CROW: So is Hunter the eggman and Lloyd the Walrus, or vice-versa?
>He brought the egg in and gave it to the specialists who worked in the
>building.
MIKE: Soon, the tantalizing scent of omelets filled the hallways.
> Lloyd sent out five agents to ask questions through the
>neighborhood. The holophone rang again and Lloyd answered it.
>
>"Hello Mr. Heinrich, I'm just checking up and see how your doing with my
>pieces?"
>
CROW: That's rather a personal question, isn't it?
>"Let me see." Lloyd dialed up the president on the second phone.
>
>"Hello?"
>
>"How're we doing with the money, Mr. President?"
>
TOM: [Prez] It's all hidden in Swiss and Caribbean accounts, just like
we planned!
>"2.5 billion pieces. Hunter on the other line?"
>
>"Yeah, he . . ."
>
>"Put him on my line." Interrupted the president.
>
>"Yes sir." Lloyd pressed the green and blue buttons at the same time.
>
MIKE: Blue and green together? Tacky.
>"Hunter?" asked the president.
>
>"Hello, Mr. President. What do you want? I've already told you all you need
>to do."
>
TOM: [President] Actually, I was hoping you could see your way clear to
make a small contribution to my re-election campaign.
>"We need more time to get your pieces. Give us until tomorrow night."
>
>"All right, tomorrow afternoon, five o'clock. Drop it off at the corner of
>Laurel and Grady Streets.
CROW: Look for a thin guy in a bowler hat standing next to Whitman Mayo.
> Nobody had better be around there. It's a
>completely clear spot so that no one can hide."
>
MIKE: [British] Unless they've learned how not to be seen.
>"I guess I can do that."
>
>"You'd better." The static disappeared.
>
>"Mr. President, we've found a egg.
TOM: It says "Yey for Easter".
> I think it might be one of his bombs.
>The specialists here are examining the egg at this very moment. I'll call
>you once we know exactly what it is."
>
>"Very well. Anything else?"
>
CROW: [Lloyd] Well, I got this parking ticket the other day, and I was
hoping you could see your way clear to, y'know...
>"Any other money coming in?"
>
>"Five million from both houses of the Galactic Congress. Not sure about the
>new states. Hopefully New Russian States will donate at least three million
>pieces.
MIKE: Mainly, pieces of the Mir.
> The Jupitarian Western States are giving two million. Our computer
>is still broken and we can't create any more pieces until next Monday in
>the least.
TOM: Okay, wait! I call foul!
MIKE: What?
TOM: I know governments aren't the most efficient organizations, but
wouldn't they have, oh, say, a *back-up server* for their money-
creating hard drive?!?
CROW: They did. But Hadley downloaded an infected file off the internet.
[pause]
ALL: *Hadley!*
> The hard drive we have. You have a suitcase anywhere?"
>
>"Hang on." Lloyd searched through the closet and found a airtight silver
>suitcase.
>
CROW: He forgot it was the one that had all his "special" toys in it.
MIKE: Thanks for trying to make me violently ill, Crow.
CROW: Oh, anytime, Mike.
>He walked across the carpet to the phone and held the suitcase to the
>viewer.
>
>"Right here."
>
TOM: Of course, it's all full of viruses and stuff.
>"That's good enough. Russia just confirmed that they will donate two
>million and Saturn confirmed one billion.
CROW: Russia - the international equivalent of the guy who orders lobster
at dinner, then demands you split the check up evenly.
> I've just received word that
>there is a pilot who will fly the rocket to gather all this money
CROW: Too bad Western Union went out of business.
TOM: [singing] Everybody needs some pieces sometime...
> so all we
>need to worry about it getting a tracking device within the suitcase and
>getting the money together. I've got to get this paperwork finished. I'll
>call you back when we get anymore money."
MIKE: Lovely. The Galaxy's in danger, and he's still working on his
declaration to celebrate National Scrod Week!
> The president's image
>disappeared. Lloyd dialed Louis Davidson, the one-armed multi-billionaire
CROW: And David Jannsen's arch-nemesis!
>and owner of the entire VR market.
>
MIKE: Ladies and gentlemen, a legitimate one-armed bandit.
>"Hello?"
>
>"Louis, it's Lloyd. We're having a major problem here."
>
>"What's wrong?"
>
CROW: [Lloyd] Our whole plotline. It's just too contrived.
>"You remember Hunter?"
>
MIKE: [Louis] Sure. I used to watch it all the time. Man, that Stephanie
Kramer was a real fox!
>"Yeah. The guy who took my arm while I was protecting the president."
>
TOM: And he *still* won't give it back, that dirty bum!
>"That's him. He's placed the galaxy hostage and demanding six billion
>pieces.
CROW: On what basis does an overgrown egg and a few scraps of squirrel fur
equal galactic doom?
> We have 4 billion so far. I was hoping that you could donate some
>money."
>
MIKE: Let's see, donate money to save the galaxy, let me see here, hmmm,
hmmm, hmmm, ah! [pause] No.
>"What's he using to do this?"
>
>"A combination of several viruses. There's no name for it."
>
CROW: Except "Cheap Plot Device", but that's a little obvious.
>"I'll donate two billion and clear up the ransom."
>
MIKE: After all these years, Mel Gibson, Rene Russo and Ving Rhames have
it expunged from their record.
>"Thanks." Lloyd relaxed. "Can you put those pieces on a hard drive with a
>small transmitter so that it's an essential part of the hard drive by
>tomorrow afternoon?"
>
>"Sure thing, you can get the money tonight around eight o'clock."
>
TOM: Knock twice, pause, then twice more. Ask for "Bruno".
>Lloyd checked his watch. 8:00. Hunter called five hours ago. Three hours
>after he found the bomb. Louis lived in Charlotte, Lloyd's FBI headquarters
>is in Monroe, the right amount of time.
MIKE: So one day, the center of the all-powerful galactic government will
be - North Carolina?!?
CROW: Boy, wait till this Hunter guy runs up against Sheriff Andy Taylor!
>
>"Thanks Louis, call me when you finish with the hard drive. Bye."
>
>Davidson's image disappeared.
>
>Lloyd started up the holophone again and dialed the president.
>
TOM: [Prez] No, you don't get all our nuclear codes until *after* the
money's in my off-shore acc- huh? Oh, hi!
>"Yes?"
>
>"Mr. President, any more confirmations on money?"
>
CROW: Let's go to the toteboard and see!
>"No, not at the moment."
>
>"Remember Louis Davidson?"
>
>"Yeah, how can't I? He saved my life at Sacremento when I was the U.S.
>president. Why?"
>
MIKE: [Lloyd] We don't know why, either, since your Gallup numbers were
around 30%. Oh, wait, you mean...
>"He just gave us two billion dollars and a hard drive with a transmittor as
>the essential part of the hard drive."
>
TOM: Which would be good if they still actually used dollars.
CROW: [Lloyd] He also mentioned something about renaming South Dakota
"Louisland", but I'm sure that's not important.
>"Good job, Lloyd," the president said cheerfully. "I see a big promotion
>for you in the future."
>
CROW: Call the Psychic Presidents' Hotline today!
>"Mr. Heinrich?" Margaret Hatcher, one of the FBI's specialists, ran up to
>Lloyd.
>
MIKE: From Prime Minister to FBI gopher. Sad how the mighty have fallen.
>"Please, call me Lloyd."
>
TOM: [Lloyd] Hey, baby, after we save the galaxy, let's go back to your
place and let me find out why they call you "Iron Maggie"!
>"Lloyd, here's the data sheet on the egg you gave us."
>
>"Thanks." Lloyd took the sheet and read it.
>
>"Well, what does it say?"
>
MIKE: [Lloyd] They scrambled it, and it was delicious.
>"The egg I gave them was a bomb full of a virus. Hunter really wasn't
>kidding. They've defused the bomb but after testing it on lab animals,
CROW: ...they were slapped with a multi-trillion piece lawsuit by PETA.
>found out that the virus hit's the blood system and causes the bone marrow
>to rapidly create more and more blood cells until the body can't hold it
>any more.
MIKE: Sounds like a frat boy kegger type of virus.
> Blood pours out of the body's orifices, and when it becomes
>completly full,
TOM: You wet 'em.
> the body explodes.
CROW: So, the bomb turns people into living blackheads?
TOM: Something Mike should be quite familiar with.
MIKE: Hey!
> They've appropriately named this, The
>Bomb Strain.
CROW: Word! This virus is Da Bomb! I'm givin' it props!
> They have sent a sample to the CDC in the former state of
>Georgia
CROW: It's The State Formerly Known As Georgia.
MIKE: Atlanta, Unpronounceable Symbol.
> and a sample to Washington, D.C."
>
>"I'll have to be there when we test it. Call me when you have that hard
>drive ready."
>
>"Sure thing." The president's imaged fizzled away.
>
CROW: New Alka-Seltzer vision!
>Lloyd began to think.
TOM: It's about time!
> If he saw Hunter on Jupiter, probably with the last
>virus he needed, the next sighting was on Saturn.
MIKE: A different kind of terrorist. A different kind of car.
> He never heard anything
>else about Hunter on the news but, if he wanted the money placed in Monroe,
CROW: Then he needed to see the Kennedys.
>the same place he was, Hunter must be up to an idea. Either that, or he was
>aimlessly thinking.
TOM: Which seems to be the norm around here...
> Lloyd pondered the thought until 8:00 when a knock came
>at the door. He still couldn't think of any possible solution. Lloyd opened
>the door and picked up a small foot high and wide box.
>
MIKE: [British] Darling, it's the Virus of the Month Club. They say
we've won the M-4 Motorway.
>Lloyd opened the box and a white circular inch high hard drive sitting in
>it. He sat down at his computer and wired the hard drive to it.
>
TOM: Via the SCSI interface in his forehead.
MIKE: Uh, that was the other guy, I think.
TOM: Who can tell?!?
CROW: Yeah, I lost track of who was who halfway through the second page.
MIKE: Yeah, but you always do that.
CROW: Oh sure, bring that up!
>The computer started up and brought him to a screen telling him that there
>was 2 billion pieces in the bank and asked to transfer pieces. Lloyd shut
>off the computer. The hard drive was working.
>
CROW: So he started downloading dirty pictures of Seven of Nine.
>He dialed up the president on the holophone.
>
TOM: [Prez] Yeah, I know the other land deal went belly up, but this one
is a sure-fire can't lose proposi- Lloyd! Hi there!
>"Yes?"
>
>"Mr. President, I have the hard drive here with the two bill' Hunter wants.
>It has the tracking device installed in it as I asked Louis to do. I'm just
>waiting for the rest of the pieces to come in."
>
MIKE: [Lloyd] Right now, it looks like the puzzle's gonna be Big Ben.
>"All right, you can get the rest of the pieces tomorrow afternoon around 5
>o'clock. Tell Louis I said hi and thanks."
>
TOM: [Prez] I'd do it myself, but I got a very important humanitarian trip
to the Riviera I gotta plan for.
>"Bye, Mr. President."
>
>"Bye." The image disappeared.
>
>Lloyd went into the next room and slept until 12:07 that night when Hunter
>called again.
>
TOM: Strangely, though, the clock read "10:13".
CROW: [Mulder] Forget it - *this*, I don't want to believe.
MIKE: I'd love to fight this particular future.
>"Hello?" Lloyd asked sleepily.
>
>"Well, have you got the pieces yet?" The static image asked.
>
>"Don't you sleep?"
>
TOM: If not, you really should SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!
>"That's not an answer, I'm asking you, do you have my money?"
>
>"Yes, no, dammit,
CROW: Higher! Lower! PASS!! PASS!!
> can't you just wait?"
>
>"Remember, tonight, 8:00, don't forget."
>
TOM: Every time he calls, he slips his deadline a little.
CROW: Sign him up with "Friends and Family", and the galaxy's safe!
>"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
>
MIKE: The life of everyone in the galaxy is in this guy's hands - yeah,
I feel real secure.
>"Hey, Lloyd, how's the head?"
>
TOM: Hunter - the polite, considerate terrorist.
>" I dunno, it's ok. Go to sleep."
>
>"I rarely sleep.
MIKE: And by "rarely" he means "nearly constantly".
> Good night." The static disappeared.
>
>Lloyd tried for the next two hours to sleep but the sandman had run out of
>sand for him.
CROW: Oh, this is a Vertigo Comic! That explains everything!
> Finally, he fell asleep at two in the morning.
>
MIKE: And oh, how I envy him.
TOM: Hey, we gotta hurry - it's time for practice.
CROW: Let's go, then.
[All leave]
O |2| <3> (4) {5} [6]
[SOL - Bridge]
TOM: Okay, what's the most important thing to remember?
MIKE: Never panic.
CROW: Right. Under no circumstances is panicking allowed.
TOM: Exactly. Panicking is *verboten*!
MIKE: Right.
CROW: Good.
TOM: Fine.
[Pause]
CROW: Anyone panicking yet?
MIKE: Ummmmm, nope, not me.
TOM: Me either, pal! I'm 110% unpanicked!
CROW: Same here.
MIKE: Way to go! Keep up the good work, guys!
[Pause. Gypsy enters]
GYPSY: What's going on?
MIKE: We're practicing not panicking.
GYPSY: Oh?
CROW: Yep. We're definitely not panicking at all.
GYPSY: Oh, okay. [pause] Is it working?
TOM: You bet! I've never felt so not panicked!
GYPSY: Oh. Well, good, then. [looks down] Oooooh, a spider.
TOM: HUH?!?!?! Spspspspspspspider?!?!?
MIKE: It could be poisonous!!!!
CROW: What're we gonna do, guys? I mean, it looks vicious!
TOM: Look, just, just stay clam! I mean calm!
MIKE: Th-th-that's right. We have to remember, above all else, that we
*must* *not* *pan- GYAAAAH!!!! IT MOVED!!!!
CROW: OH DEAR SWEET HEAVENS ABOVE, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!!!!!!!
M&TB: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!!!!!!!!
[Gypsy continues looking down as Mike, Crow & Tom, fearing for their lives,
flee in terror]
GYPSY: Oh, wait, I was wrong, it's just a dust bunny. Sorry about that,
fe- Fellas? Guys? Hello? [looks around] Huh. I guess they
wanted to not panic somewhere else for a while. [lights flash].
So, ummmmmm - we'll be back.
[Meatball]
ADS: Hair Metal Ballads - Songs too lame for the 80's!
Only $8.00 a Trade!
I am Sci-Fi, you old poop! - Katherine Hepburn
(continued)
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