MSTed: "UFOs of Southern California"
Lynsa/MrHenry
[SOL: Tom Servo "hovers" before a computer terminal]
TOM: Computer, open Eudora.
[Crow and Gypsy enter]
CROW: Hey, Servo, whatcha doin'?
TOM: Just checking the ol' mailbox on my new AV Mac! See, it's got voice
recognition, so I don't have to use my hands! Or what the Other
Guy _gave_ me for hands, anyway. This way, I _tell_ the computer what I
want, and it just does it.
GYPSY: Oh, cool, just like Star Trek.
CROW [in Picard voice]: "Tea, Earl Grey, hot!"
TOM: Yeah, except without Majel Barrett.
[Crow peers over Tom's shoulder at the screen]
CROW: So, tell it to do something.
TOM: [clears throat] Computer, open file "Enterprized."
[They wait. Nothing happens.]
GYPSY: How come the little woman with the glasses is shrugging like that?
TOM: Yes, well, they haven't worked out all the...hrmm! Computer! Open file
"Enterprized!"
CROW: [shaking his head] Tom,Tom,Tommy, when are you ever going to give up
this childish obsession with graphical interfaces?
TOM: Oh, fine, and I suppose you're going to tell me those brochures for the
Presario just got sent to you in the mail by accident, huh?
[In comes Mike.]
MIKE: Hey, guys, what's up?
CROW: Oh, Tom's just making excuses for Apple's half-baked development team.
TOM: Well, it works when there aren't any _mouth breathers_ around to screw
up the recognition software.
CROW: Hey!
[Mike notices the signal button flashing.]
MIKE: Cool it, you guys. Harry and Son are calling.
[Deep 13: Frank is packing camping gear; Dr. F has a big map spread out on a table. ]
DR. F: Well, my little early-adopters, having trouble with your new toy, hmm?
FRANK: Say, Dr. Forrester, do you want me to pack your Newton?
DR. F: Quiet, Frank. It's time for some USEnet posts, Nelson. We'll
dispense with the invention exchange and get right to the pain.
[SOL]
MIKE: Oh, like it could get any worse than Alexander Abian.
TOM: Yeah, we pulled through those pretty easy!
CROW: Yeah, you're really losing your evil touch, Forrester!
[Deep 13]
DR. F [bristling]: Just for that, I'll dispense with the collection of
whole-wheat vegan crockpot meals from rec.food.recipes I _was_ going to
send you, and give you something that's even harder to swallow: More
UFOlogy from our unpronounceable friend, John _-_Winston!
FRANK: A 3-parter too!
[Dr. F looks over Frank's shoulder; Frank is fiddling with the Newton case]
DR. F: No, no, Frank, here, first you put the pen in the holster and then
you put the cover on it--just give it to me. [reaches over and pushes
button absent-mindedly]
[SOL]
TOM: Oh, good going, Crow, now we've gotta sit through another close encounter with Winston!
CROW: Hey! It's not my fault!
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
ALL: Oh no! We've got _-_ sign!!!
6...5...4...3...2...1...
>From: John_-_...@cup.portal.com
>Newsgroups:talk.religion.newage,sci.skeptic,alt.paranormal
Subject: UFOs Of SouthernCalif.
>Message-ID: <101...@cup.portal.com> >Date: Tue, 18 Jan 94 13:24:41
PST
>Organization: The Portal System (TM)
>References:<1993Nov4....@main.morris.org> <95...@cup.portal.com>
<<95...@cup.portal.com> <CG5zC...@world.std.com> <96...@cup.portal.com>
Lines: 58
>Xref: news.teleport.com talk.religion.newage:21372 sci.skeptic:56231
alt.paranormal:8837
>Subjects: UFOs In Southern Calif.
CROW: Unidentified Flying Oranges?
TOM: Unbelievably Fragile Overpasses?
CROW: Uninteresting Fallacious Oddballs?
MIKE: We get the idea, guys. Knock it off.
>On a planet very near and dear to us
ALL: In a galaxy far far away...
>there was a person called Earl
>Gambrel. Let us speak of him freely for is not his grave with us unto this day?
TOM: If you prick him, does he not bleed?
CROW: Not if he's dead, he doesn't.
>I first contacted Earl through the mail by answering an ad
CROW: Oh, mama.
>that he had placed into a magazine stating that if you send your color
photograph to him he would heal you. I'll spare you the details of how
this worked but he related to me one of his experiences.
MIKE: No, please, spare us the experiences while you're at it.
>It seems that Earl in the past had been sleeping in his camper truck just
outside the town of Barstow, Calif., about 7 miles on your left down
close to the railroad and when he awoke he was about 60 miles away up
near the Clipper Mountains, and Bonanz a Springs (this is near Cadiz,
Calif).
CROW: Just about this time, Boss Hawg 'n' Sheriff Lobo come around, and them
Duke boys was in trouble agin!
>When he got out of his truck he found that his truck had been transported
and put down in a very rocky place.
MIKE: At the bottom of the ocean.
>There were no tire tracks (not even the tracks of his own truck) in the
area. To get out of the area he had to roll some large rocks out of the
way.
TOM: Why do you seek Earl Gambrel here?
CROW: Yeah, is not his grave with us unto this day?
>After that time he communicated with
>the space people and they told him that they had transported him to that spot.
MIKE <as alien>: We _were_ thinking of just putting your hand in warm water,
but Z'ronk had this really kooky idea...
>Earl told me a lot of things and I made several trips into that same area
searching for several things.
TOM [singing]: As I was going to Saint Ing's, I met a man with several things...
CROW: "Saint Ing's?"
TOM: Yeah, patron saint of UFOlogy.
>It is about 500 miles down to this area, from the San Francisco Bay Area
where I live. On one trip I brought a friend of mine, we'll call Jerry
(but that is not his real name)
MIKE: Hey, didn't I meet that guy down in Deep 13?
TOM: What, snappy dresser, big googly eyes, looks like a mole?
MIKE: Yeah!
CROW: Naw, that's Gerry.
TOM: Shh! That's his _real_ name!
>and a few more people into the area with me. We were well equipped with a
couple of vehicles, one of which was a 4 wheel drive Jeep Station Wagon,
motorcycles, CB radios and various and asundry other items.
TOM: So this was asundry drive to the country, eh? heh-heh...
>On this trip we were looking for the entrance to an underground city. We
didn't find it,
MIKE: But we did find Kathy Ireland's glasses!
>the rest of the group had left me, at my request and had gone on back to
the little cabin that had been made by placing about 24 used doors
together to make the outside of the cabin.
TOM: I can see the ad now: "A-door-able cabin, fixer-upper's dream,
well-traveled neighbors, close to underground city..."
>I quess someone had found a lot of used doors and had used them to make
the cabin.
CROW: Too bad they didn't use one of those doors to make a "g" while they
were at it.
TOM: Maybe they could remodel that "_-_".
>I had been walking for sometime and was on my way back down the mountain
in the dark, without a flashlight when I made the request to God or
anybody else that might be listening,
MIKE [falsetto]: Hey God, it's me, Margaret.
>to send me a little bit of light because I had been walking into some
cactus type bushes that would cut you if you tried to walk up against
them.
CROW [in gruff voice]: How would you like it if people walked into _you_?
>I was also walking down a dry creek bed and ever so often there was a
small drop off and in the dark a person would fall for a very short
distance.
MIKE: Who those persons were I'll never know.
>No sooner had my request gone out, did a light did appeared to be coming
from the rear as I walked down the dry creek.
TOM: Oh, he found a cheap motel!
MIKE [in Tom Bodett voice]: And we'll keep the light on for ya.
>I couldn't see it when I turned around and looked at it but I did appear
to see in out of the corner of my eye.
MIKE: And that's when I realized I had been magically transported into the
NBC Mystery Movie!
TOM: Uh, Mike, we don't talk about that.
MIKE: Why?
CROW: It's a long story. Never mind. Just don't bring it up again.
>I then stared thinking that I most have X-ray vision because I could see
in the dark even better than one could see with a full moon.
MIKE: I thought Ray Milland was "The Man with the X-Ray Eyes."
CROW: Well, you never _do_ see John Winston and Ray Milland in the same
place at the same time.
TOM: Uh, guys, Ray Milland's dead. Is not his grave with us unto this day?
CROW: Oh, yeah.
>This was definitely the wrong thing to do because they turned the light
off. I then started to falling down the small waterfalls (only about 1
foot tall) and walking into the cutter bushes. I then asked for the light
to come back and they did turn it b ack on. It appears that it was
shinning through me legs
MIKE: Ar! Me peg leg,that is, me hearties! Ar!
CROW: "Shinning?"
TOM: "The Shinning," starring John Winston, a terrifying tale of cutter
bushes in the night! [in Nicholson voice] HEERE'S JOHNNY!
>and I could see its shadow in front of me. I found out later that the
moon didn't come up till about 3 hours later, so it was not the moon that
was making this light.
CROW: No, it was Lloyd.
>Part 1.
>John Winston.
MIKE: Brackets, Miss, brackets.
1...2...3...4...5...6
[SOL]
CROW: Well, at least that one was brief!
MIKE: Yeah, but keep in mind they've got two more stored up for us. What
does this guy take to get these hallucinations?
TOM: Yeah, and does he share?
[Deep 13: All the camping gear is packed, except the Newton. Frank is idly
playing with it.]
DR. F: _I'll_ share--horrors unimagined by the average newsreader, that
is! You got off easy this time, you _think_, but when we get back
from our little camping trip, you'll get yours, and your little
bots too, when we send up parts two and three!
FRANK: Okay, Steve, I've sketched out the map to that adorable cabin in
the ad--I guess we turn right at the railroad, up near the Clipper
Mountains.
DR. F: Lemme see that. [grabs Newton] Hmm, look at this, Frank. Do you see
what I see?
FRANK: Wow! That map--it spells out _-_!
[Frank and Dr. F exchange awe-filled looks, then look out at us. Frank
pushes the button]
PWOOSH!
FRANK: Oh, see, it's just a flaw in the handwriting recognition software.
See? I wrote in #=#.
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Characters, situations, etc, belong to Best Brains
etc, no intent to infringe on copyrights or personally attack the original
author of the post, etc.
Lynsa
John_-_Winston:
"Let us speak of him freely for is not his grave with us unto this day?"
--
lyns...@teleport.com: "Then she would let her fingers uncurl one by one, and
he would watch like a hypnotized hen, so that there was almost a balloon
about his head, funny-paper style, with the words in it, 'Her tiny hand is
like a flower, like an unfolding lily bud.' It was ghastly." -- MFK Fischer