MSTed: Way of Harmony 1/3
Lynsa
greying hair and a nose piercing]
Lynsa here, your friendly host for the Mystery Usenet Theater Hour. Today
we have a charming MSTing of a fanfic that really shows what fanficking's
about--the Star Trek: DeepSpace 9 drama, "Way of Harmony," MSTed by a
wonderful fellow, DynaYellow, who originally sent it to me because he
couldn't post such a long piece from AOL. Unfortunately for my newsreader,
it's still "way" too long, heh-heh...so I've had to break it into chunks.
And so, let's settle back, shall we, for the Mystery Usenet Theater Hour
presentation of "Way of Harmony"....
______________________
(On the SOL. Mike enters wearing a Wisconsin U. shirt, and carrying a
beer stein)
MIKE: Hi everybody, my nameąs Mike Nelson, and today Iąm trying to
help Tom Servo and Crow learn more of what itąs like to be human
by staging a simulation of college here. You know it was really kind
of fun dragging this stuff out...
(Tom comes flying down from the ceiling and lands with a thud)
MIKE: The Hell!? Tom, are you all right?
(Mike picks Tom up. He is wearing a shirt with the Greek letters Beta
Omicron Theata on it. His dome is dented, and he has a mini-beer
stein taped to his hands)
TOM: (woozy) Yeah, I think so... whenąs the Jell-O wrestling?
CROW: (from ceiling) Dude! You didnąt kick far enough!
MIKE: Guys, how many times have I told you, we have to get a pool
before you can do pool jumping!
(Crow falls from the ceiling as well. Commercial sign lights.)
MIKE: Weąll be right back.
(Mentos ahoy!)
MIKE: So you guys started your own fraternity, huh?
CROW: Yeah, and BOT is only open to *our* kind of people!
TOM: Yeah, and you canąt come to our party unless your in the frat!
CROW: Yeah, and donąt let us catch you hanginą around our women!
MIKE: What women?
(Gypsy enters with a large blonde wig)
MIKE: Whoąs the new girl?
GYPSY: Dee Zee Woo!
(flashing lights)
MIKE: Oh, jeez, the Vice-Presidents of Alumni Affairs are calling...
(Deep 13.)
DR. F: Ah, Rah Rah! Nelson... Well, Iąm in a good mood today, Frank
and I just got the entire Greek Council taken off suspension...
(SOL)
MIKE: You guys are soooo evil...
(Deep 13)
DR. F: Oh, bite my Alpha Omicron, Flounder, and get on with the
invention exchange.
(SOL)
MIKE: Well, sirs, our invention exchange is the Residence Life
Preserver. It helps you stay alive, while still enjoy all the zany antics
of college life.
(Crow enters wearing the Life Preserver, which looks like a normal
life preserver with a cup holder for storing brewskis. Thereąs a Igloo
cool attached to the back.)
MIKE: Say youąre at a typical party, and as usual, you get drunk and
fall out a second-story window! The Residence Life Preserver
automatically inflates to protect your head and other vital areas.
(the jacket does so)
TOM: And, as an additional feature, once youąre on the ground, a
micro-computer built into the device, activates a homing beacon,
rushing the paramedics directly to you. A miniature umbrella is also
installed to deflect the urine your fraternity brothers will... er...
anyway...
MIKE: What do you think sirs?
(Deep 13)
DR. F.: Very good, Nelson! Iąm sure weąll be able to make a handsome
profit off that!
FRANK: Can I get my letters on it?
DR. F.: Oh, shut up and get the invention, Frank.
(Frank does so)
DR. F.: As you know, Mike, sports departments around the world
depend on the athletic skills of its members in order to rake in the
mega-bucks for their department and school. But those darn
academics over in the humanities insist on making them pass courses
in order to stay in sports. In an effort to help these brave souls in
their struggle to bring in funds to a faceless institution, Iąve
developed łAthletic Cliff Notes.˛
(Frank pulls out several huge notebooks)
FRANK: Yeah, why bother to read a book and memorize long words
like łsymbolism,˛ when Athletic Cliff Notes can tell you whatąs going
on in one, easy-to-copy sentence! Like this one: łMoby Dick is about a
whale, I think.˛
DR. F.: Or łSister Carrie:˛ łItąs about a woman, I think.˛
FRANK: Or łThe Catcher in the Rye:˛ łItąs about a guy who doesnąt get
laid, I think.˛
DR. F.: Guarenteed to get you an łA˛ in any course weighted for
atheletes.
FRANK: Or business adminstration majors.
DR. F.: Your experiment today is 100% healthy. It contains no fat,
sodium, sugar, or apostrophes. Itąs a fanfic for Deep Space Nine called
łWay of Harmony.˛
(SoL)
ALL: MOVIE SIGN!!!!
6...5...4...3...2...1...
>Subject: DS9: The Way Of Harmony(1/3)
TOM: New Way of Harmony with only one-third the calories!
CROW: Containst the ipecac: DS9
MIKE: Hey... I like Deep Space Nine.
CROW: Well, thatąs *your* neurosis, Nelson.
>From: cr...@applelink.apple.com (Cream)
CROW: Cream? Disco, no!!!
TOM: No!!!
MIKE: No, no. Cream wasnąt a disco band, it was that song by the guy
who used to be Prince.
TOM: So itąs a Prince album?
CROW: No!!!
>Date: Tue, 5 Apr 1994 15:16:46 GMT
>Message-ID: <cream-
050494100933@macdyn6_226.pb.wes.mot.com>
>This story takes place shortly before the episode, "The Nagus."
>Please send comments to cr...@applelink.apple.com.
TOM: (chuckles evilly)
>STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE
CROW: (announcer voice) DS9, All the technobabble of The Next
Generation, with none of the characterization!
MIKE: Hey!
>THE WAY OF HARMONY
MIKE: Oh, *please* donąt let this be a 60ąs retrospective...
TOM: Peace, love, and Tricorders...
> Cold and dark, but oh, so much fun.
TOM: The Republican party wants you!
> Here it is- my hideout.
CROW: I have my magazines Śną stuff up here -- itąs really cool. I donąt
let anybody up here whoąs not in the club.
> Oh, wow, cool... I- ouch...
> Watch it.
TOM: Whatąs goin on?
MIKE: I donąt know...
> Howd you find a way in here? This whole deck has been sealed off
>since the Cardassians left.
TOM: Whoąs talking? Is this somone talking?
CROW: Is this dialogue or narration?
> Ah, but remember Ive been here since way before that. I had the
>access ducts and vents figured out through the whole station. I used
>to come down here when it was a communications relay room. My
>uncle would pay me to eavesdrop sometimes.
CROW: Oh, itąs a DS9/Nixon crossover.
> Give me a hand down. When my father saw how badly the
>Cardassians wrecked these lower decks he decided they werent
>worth repairing, and just sealed them off.
TOM: So they lost their security deposit.
> He overlooked one way in. As long as he doesnt know about it, its
>our secret. Swear to keep it?
MIKE: Iąve got it! Itąs the Tasterąs Choice saga...
> Swear.
CROW: YOU SORRY SON-OF-A-
> Okay! Im glad youre here. Ive been needing some help.
> Help doing what?
> Smashing things!
TOM: ...the Hell?
> Nog picks up a loose circuit module box and
>heaves it past Jake. Optical chips shatter satisfyingly as it hits the
>wall and pour in bits out of the box.
> Jake giggles, picks up a heavy piece of duranium-composite
>concrete, and drops it on a sophisticated-looking flat panel display
>laying on the floor, exploding it merrily and crushing the casing.
MIKE: Star Trek: The Beavis and Butt-head Generation...
> An hour later. Boys at play.
TOM: A novel by George Will.
> TIE fighters at two oclock!
CROW: What??
TOM: (giggles furiously)
MIKE: Jeez... Itąs the Death Star Kidsą Crew
(frivolity stops)
TOM: (slowly, and with menace) Donąt *even* joke about that, Nelson!
MIKE: (hanging his head) Sorry.
>Hard about!
TOM: The Mouse!
> Jake is sitting at the remains of a control station,
>wearing tattered gloves and belt from a Cardassian uniform, shoving
>a joystick back and forth.
CROW: You know, itąs almost *too* easy.
MIKE: Iąm proud of you.
> RRRROOOWWWR! Just missed! One stealth drone will take care of
>them all. Nog sits beside him, similarly dressed, the cracked casing
>of a disruptor jammed in his belt.
> Drone away!
TOM: I *donąt* think the story needs any encouragement.
> Multiple targets locked on.
> One got through-- what now, Commander?
> Arm proton torpedoes...
TOM: (whisper) Photon.
> Too late! Incoming! He grabs a long metal bar and swings it near
>Jakes head, bashing in
TOM: Oh please please please!
> the display panel
TOM: Damn.
>in front of him and showering him with
CROW: Shame.
> glassine shards.
MIKE: Glassine, for all your cleaning needs.
> Abandon ship! Man the escape pods! He kicks Nogs stool
ALL: Eeeeeeew!
> out from
>under him, and both fall to the floor laughing.
> Jakes arm hits a floor level panel,
MIKE: Shattering his elbow, and sending him into shock.
TOM: Dare to dream.
> which pops open and disgorges a
>canteloupe-sized silver metal device, whirring and blinking.
> Hey! Whats this?
MIKE: Itąs the Vince Lombardi award!
> Its still got power!
CROW: (a la łSnap˛) I got the power!
>Ive never been able to find anything down here that still had any
>juice. Cardassian batteries are so cheap. No resale value.
> I wonder what it does? The device is made up of several
>independently rotating sections, which Jake twists on their axis.
TOM: Itąs a Rubikąs Dalek!
CROW: Think itąll exterminate this fanfic?
MIKE: Wishful thinking.
> Hmm... state-of-the-art Cardassian technology.
TOM: Iąm well-versed in Cardassian technology, even though I have
no idea what this is...
>I cant wait to bring it to school and show it. And then, the black
>market!
> We should try to understand how it works first.
> Dont break it! Stop fooling with it! What if its a weapon?
CROW: Oh, donąt be -- zzrt!-- AAAAAAAAAA!
>Well just make up something to tell people it does. Thats why its so
>great hanging out with you. You can come up with something so
>confusing that theyll never figure it out
TOM: That Santa Claus was kidnapped by Martians.
> until we have cash in hand.
> We should bring it to my Dad. Its pretty... With a tiny flash of
>light, Jake blits out of existence.
ALL: YES!!
> The device drops to the floor, still
>blinking and whirring.
CROW: Cąmon, pick it up! Pick it up! What are you, chicken?
TOM: (clucking sounds)
> Jake! Jake!
> Suddenly its nothing but cold and dark again.
MIKE: Like my soul...
TOM: Ooo...
>Nog grabs the device like an enemy. He becomes aware of the
>lonely weight of the space and silence around him, and begins to
>cry.
ALL: One, two, three, CRY!! One, two, three, CRY!!
[commercial sign]
--
lyns...@teleport.com:
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