[MiSTied] MST Adventures 102 (I'm LONG with a short!)
Austin George Loomis
dreadlocks and shades, and his jumpsuit is topped off by a denim vest.]
MIKE: Yo! What it is? This be Vanilla Mike, rappin' atcha, and here's my
posse. MC Kleer.
[Tom Servo in shades and a backwards ball-cap.]
MIKE: DJ Byrd Brane.
[Crow in gold chains and leather jacket, ensconced behind a turntable.]
MIKE: And Mizz Jip.
[Gypsy in a caftan.]
MIKE: We gonna blow the doors off the pigs --
[Comm lights flash.]
MIKE: Chill a mo. We got Daryl Gates and Stacey Koon callin' in.
[D13. Forrester has Frank on a treadmill; Frank is running after a
donut, and looks like he's been chasing it for a week.]
DR.F: Good evening, Robert van Winkle. It's time for the next inciting
exstallment of Mystery Science Theatre Adventures. But first, to
warm you up -- a little gem my spies found on alt.discordia . It
was posted from anon.penet.fi, but I think you'll recognize who
it's by soon enough. -- PUSH THE BUTTON, FRANK!
[Frank pushes the button, conveniently located nearby, and the treadmill
stops. His own velocity carries him face-first into the donut and over
the treadmill's top to slam into the wall.]
[SoL. Lights flash.]
MIKE: Yo! We got Scandahoovia sign!
[G,2,3,4,5,6...]
>From an5...@anon.penet.fi Thu Aug 25 09:45:05 CDT 1994
[The guys are entering the theatre.]
>Article: 6215 of alt.discordia
TOM: Hail Eris. Let there be Slack.
>Message-ID: <121303Z...@anon.penet.fi>
MIKE [sings]: o/~ Finland, Finland, Finland...Finland has it all. o/~
>Path: illuminati.io.com!
TOM [Marvin Martian voice]: How lovely.
>uunet!cs.utexas.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!
>+ news.funet.fi!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi
>Newsgroups: alt.discordia,alt.illuminati,alt.conspiracy,bit.listserv.
>+ fnord-l,alt.drugs,alt.psychoactives,alt.magick,alt.politics.
>+ libertarian
CROW: The Ancient Illuminated Seers of Bavaria, a Discordian cabal,
conspired to slip fnords and drugs into the food of libertarian
magicians, making them actively psycho.
TOM: That's very good.
CROW: Thanks. I had a good teacher.
>From: an5...@anon.penet.fi
>X-Anonymously-To: alt.discordia,alt.illuminati,alt.conspiracy,bit.listserv.
>+ fnord-l,alt.drugs,alt.psychoactives,alt.magick,alt.
>+ politics.libertarian
>Organization: Anonymous contact service
CROW: The Sacred Pool of the St.Mark Baths.
>Reply-To: an5...@anon.penet.fi
>Date: Wed, 23 Feb 1994 12:03:11 UTC
>Subject: THE CIA KILLED ROBERT ANTON WILSON
MIKE: Oooh...spookee...
>Lines: 41
CROW [too-perfect Dr.F voice]: Ah, Deep Thought. So close and yet so not.
>Xref: illuminati.io.com alt.discordia:6215 alt.illuminati:1689 alt.
>+ conspiracy:45010 bit.listserv.fnord-l:5143 alt.drugs:75188
>+ alt.psychoactives:5086 alt.magick:21171 alt.politics.libertarian:26095
>
>
>On February 21, 1994, noted science-fiction author and libertarian
>activist Robert Anton Wilson was found dead in his
CROW: Bathroom!
>home, apparently
>of a heart attack (see the Los Angeles Times, Feb. 22). His
>death had come unexpectedly, and there had been no signs of ill health
>beforehand.
>
MIKE: Why do I have the feeling I know what's coming next?
TOM: Probably because you read the subject line.
> Wilson did not die of natural causes. He was assassinated.
MIKE: By...
CROW: Drum-roll please...
TOM: Rented-a-tented-a-tent...
>Earlier on that day, Wilson was injected with a time-delay poison
>based on shellfish toxin,
CROW: The Argentine Death Oyster. It may not be blowfish, but what a way
to go!
>by an agent of the CIA's special
>SUPER-SECRET BLACK OPERATIONS SQUAD,
MIKE: I'm sorry, that's "SUPER-SECRET AFRICAN-AMERICAN OPERATIONS SQUAD"
to you.
TOM: The style _is_ starting to look familiar.
>using a special microscopic
>needle made of a plastic which
CROW: Phillips Petroleum developed to help replace the environment!
>dissolves in the body without a
>trace. Wilson's body had been immediately taken and cremated and
>the usuial step of an autopsy had been bypassed, ON ORDERS FROM
>ABOVE.
>
TOM [voice of God]: THIS IS THE ALMIGHTY. DO NOT AUTOPSY ROBERT ANTON
WILSON. I WANT TO BE ABLE TO RAISE HIM INCORRUPTIBLE. WITH ALL
THE DRUGS HE DID, THAT NEEDN'T BE MADE ANY HARDER THAN NECESSARY.
> It is clear why the power$ that be wanted Wilson dead.
MIKE: Yep. Definitely looking familiar.
>Wilson was a dangerous element;
TOM [starts to hum the "Danger to Myself and Others" song]
>the governments can only govern
>if the majority does not question the system
CROW: Who's pullin' _your_ strings?
>(whoever currently
>"rules" does not matter). The troublesome minority can be
TOM: Taken out and shot.
>dealt
>with discreetly, by means of EXECUTIVE ACTION (assassination),
CROW: This is McElwaine, isn't it?
TOM: Yes! He _can_ be taught!
>which is what happened with Wilson.
MIKE: Wilson was taught? Taught what?
CROW: How to mess with people's heads.
>Wilson gained too wide an
>audience, and his anti-statist, anti-government, pro-drug
>views were becoming too accepted. He had to be killed.
MIKE: I had to hit him quick -- he was beginning to make sense.
>Earlier the same agencies (the CIA, NRO,
MIKE: New Real Oddities?
TOM: Next Revolutionary Orifice?
CROW: Nudist Rioters' Office?
>DEA and CFR/TLC/Bilderberg
TOM: CFR, Trilats, Bilderbergers -- he's got everyone, just like a good
little Clear.
CROW: Don't forget the Psychiatric Abortionist Axis!
>BOLSHEVIK SHADOW GOVERNMENT) had LSD/mind-expansion advocate Dr.
>Timothy Leary "neutralised" by injecting him with a neurotoxin
>which DESTROYS THE MIND, and ARTIFICIALLY INDUCES A STATE
>SIMILAR TO SENILITY.
TOM: OW! If my arms worked, I'd cover my ears!
CROW: Y'know, Leary's done enough drugs over the years to fry his
_own_ brain quite nicely without the Gummint's help.
MIKE: Quit thinking, you'll screw up his rhythm.
>This form of chemical lobotomy has been used on
>dissidents for some time and has served the power$-that-be well.
CROW: Oh yes. _Much_ better than the old icepick-under-the-eyelids
routine.
>They have the means to induce psychosic, suicidal/homicidal
>tendencies,
TOM [sings]: I got suicidal tendencies/but I can't kill myself...
>paranoia, religious fervor and madness in
>dissidents by chemical means (MK-ULTRA and other CLA$$IFIED
>PROJECT$).
>
>Dissemination of this information is encouraged. MAKE 30 COPIES.
TOM: Un-AUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION and DISSEMINATION of this IMPORTANT
INFORMATION is ENCOURAGED!
>-------------------------------------------------------------------------
>To find out more about the anon service, send mail to he...@anon.penet.fi.
CROW: Shall we go?
MIKE: Yeahh -- I think we've done about all the riffs we can on the anon
auto-.sig.
>Due to the double-blind, any mail replies to this message will be anonymized,
>and an anonymous id will be allocated automatically. You have been warned.
>Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to ad...@anon.penet.fi.
>
[SoL. Mike is reading a printout of the Net.Legends FAQ.]
MIKE: "The nice thing about McElwaine was that they acted...for every loon
in the local galactic cluster."
CROW: Well, that _and_ providing plenty for the Mads to send us.
TOM: You call that _nice?_ You need a time-out.
[Commercial sign.]
MIKE: We'll be right back.
CROW: Gumball-head!
TOM: Racket-top!
[The Bud Light guy is beaten to the limo by a blond Euroteen who gives him
the Mentos Finger as the limo drives away.]
[SoL. Crow and Tom in the time-out cubicle.]
MIKE: Say you're sorry, guys.
CROW & TOM [to each other]: You're _sorry!_
MIKE: No, say "I'm sorry!"
CROW & TOM [to Mike]: You're sorry!
MIKE: I give up. [to hexview] What do you think, sirs?
[D13. Dr.F is eating the donut, which is wrapped around Frank's nose.]
DR.F [looks up]: I think you will know fear, and you will know pain, and
then you will DIE! Let the Mystery Science Theatre Adventure
commence! -- PUSH THE BUTTON, FRANK!
[Frank pushes the button with his nose, in the process bonking Dr.F's
head against the console.]
[SoL. Lights flash.]
MIKE: We've got self-reference sign!
>
>From days...@max.tiac.net Sun Jul 24 16:29:29 1994
[They enter the theatre.]
>Received: from max.tiac.net by whale.st.usm.edu (AIX 3.2/UCB 5.64/4.03)
> id AA18203; Sun, 24 Jul 1994 16:29:28 -0500
TOM: And the Mads sat on it for a month? WHY?
CROW: To make us squirm.
>Received: (from dayscott@localhost) by max.tiac.net (8.6.8/8.6.6.Beta9) id
>+ RAA29958; Sun, 24 Jul 1994 17:27:36 -0400
>Date: Sun, 24 Jul 1994 17:27:36 -0400
>From: "Days' Cottages" <days...@max.tiac.net>
>Message-Id: <1994072421...@max.tiac.net>
>To: ral...@uclink2.berkeley.edu, SCH...@delphi.com, maj...@mail.auburn.edu,
> kne...@noao.edu, alo...@whale.st.usm.edu, gibb...@wfu.edu,
> jla...@ecst.csuchico.edu, Kevin_...@qmail.radonc.mcw.edu,
> df...@iia.org, ada...@byu.edu, bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov,
> Psyko...@aol.com, mcmi...@astro.psu.edu,
> xr...@farside.gsfc.nasa.gov, no...@iastate.edu, LUCK...@delphi.com
>Status: RO
>
TOM [sings]: They make you believe it's the status-ro...
MIKE: Status Ro? I thought she went off to join the Maquis.
>Mystery Science Theater Adventures Number 102 Reel 1.........
>"Wheel In The Sky"
>
TOM [sings]: "...keeps on turnin'..."
>
>In the not too distant future, December of '95
MIKE: Y'know, that's _not_ too distant, is it?
TOM: No, but it may turn out to be too specific.
>Dr. Forrester saw no reason to keep Joel and Mike alive
>His experiments complete at last
>Severed ties with the Satellite real fast
CROW: Say goodbye to the Umbilicus!
>It drifted off to an unknown place
>The Satellite of Love was lost in space.....
>
MIKE: So which of you guys is Penny?
CROW: I recline to answer, on the ground.
TOM: Danger, danger! Warning, warning!
>Joel and Mike were frozen, for over 300 years
>The Satellite drifted all the way to the edge of the final frontier
MIKE: And through the Gamma Quadrant wormhole.
CROW: Right -- into Dominion space, like it said in 101.
>Now keep in mind the S.O.L. was about to meet its end
TOM: Where is your end, and where the hole in the ground?
>So a ship crew rescued Joel and Mike, along with their robot friends....
>
>ROBOT ROLL CALL
>Cambot....Gypsy....Tom Servo....Crooow!
>
>Now in a refitted S.O.L., they tour the Milky Way
>And think to yourself, "It's just a file", and let the story go where it may
>
>On MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER ADVENTURES!!
>
MIKE: Are these stories supposed to be true?
TOM: The PRINCIPIA says all things are true, even false things.
>(shot of the hall...the 7 doors close...Joel, Mike, and the bots are playing
> poker. The monitor (used as a TV) is also on)
>
CROW [as Picard]: The game is five-card stud, nothing wild...and the sky's
the limit.
TOM: I think the Jack of Spades just winked at me.
>JOEL (to Servo): OK I'll see your 50 and raise 100
>
>CROW: And I'll raise you another 50
>
>MIKE: Betting is just too easy when you don't use money!
>
MIKE: Just ask the crew of the Enterprise.
>(shot of the small burnt-out circuits being used for chips)
>
>MIKE: ...but I think Gypsy and I will drop anyway...too much against us
>
CROW: All right -- drop and give me twenty!
>TOM: And I bet all I have....read `em and weep!
>
>(Tom shows a royal flush)
>
CROW: How'd you do that? Your arms don't work?
TOM: Well, neither do Stephen Hawking's, but he still showed his cards to
Data!
>CROW: AH! Tom wins....AGAIN!!
>
>TOM: It's easy when your face can't make expressions...I have the best poker
> face in the entire domain!
>
>TV ANNOUNCER: And now it's time for the hottest game show on Tantalus III...
>
>TV CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!!
>
>CROW: Hey, my favorite show's on!
>
TOM: Yeah, you _would_ like a show like that!
CROW: Oh bite me. It's fun!
>JOEL: Isn't that that show where players have to throw up if they answer a
> question wrong?
>
CROW: Of course, there's such a thing as going too far...
>TOM: Yes!!! Vomit! Bile! Little stringy things!! Not much worse than TV
> back in the 1990s!
>
MIKE: Yeah, after Limbaugh got his own TV show, the tube went to hell in a
handbag.
>(15 minutes into the show...everyone is watching)
>
TOM: The whole galaxy is watching! The whole galaxy is watching!
>TV HOST: And who won the Phlegm Wars of '66?
>
>TV PLAYER: The Blaargisians?
>
>TV HOST: NOOOO!! The correct answer was the Spitwadics! Now let's spin the
> wheel to see how you will LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!
>
>(Wheel spins and lands on area marked "Madonna's Armpit")
>
TOM: Y'know, she _did_ start shaving when her career took off.
CROW: As long as the pictures are there, _I'm_ not gonna let her forget 'em.
>TV PLAYER: No! Please no!
>
>(Picture of Madonna's armpit comes to a screen and
MIKE: says howdy.
>player vomits)
>
>CROW: Oh man! I feel really sorry for him!
>
>TOM: Nobody should have to take THAT kind of torture!!
>
>TV HOST (to player 2): You win!!! You win the grand prize of 500,000 plutons!
> And you get to come back tomorrow when another chal-
> lenger tries to make you....
>
CROW: All together now...
>TV CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!!!
>
>TV ANNOUNCER: If you would like to be a contestant on LOSE YOUR LUNCH, just
TOM: send 1-800-666-3747 to the post office box not eligible to VISA or
MasterCard owners. Allow $23.93 for delivery, CODs void with your
complimentary gift.
> call communication code 77226394756 and ask for Gert.
>
>(Mike gets on the vis-a-phone)
>
CROW: The vis-a-phone collapses under his weight. He falls and breaks
his neck.
>JOEL: Mike, what are you doing?
>
CROW: Just lying here bleeding slowly after the phone fell out from
under me.
>MIKE: I'm going to be a contestant! Did you see what the winner gets??
> Imagine what we could do with 500,000 plutons!
>
MIKE: Not a word, Crow -- not-a-word.
CROW: What? I wasn't going to say anything!
>JOEL: You don't even know what a pluton is!
>
>MIKE: Come on, Joel! It's gotta be what they use for money around there!
> Besides, what have I got to lose....except my lunch, that is.
>
TOM: Spoken like a Mike Nelson who didn't read the preview for this
episode.
MIKE: Hey, _I_ didn't read the preview for this one...or did I?
CROW: We'll tell you on the break.
>(phone is answered on the other end)
>
>MIKE: Can I speak with Gert please?.....Yes.....Hello, Gert?.....I'd like to
> be a contestant......Lose Your Lunch.....Your Lunch......LUNCH!....Yes
> .....Mike Nelson.....well I have no address I'm in a spaceship.....the
> Satellite Of Love.....18673684772.....Yes?.....Thank you.
>
>(Mike hangs up)
>
>
>Scene II: The Television Network
>
>GERT: We have another contestant, boss!
>
CROW [as boss]: Please -- call me "Steve".
>BOSS: Good. When will he be arriving?
>
TOM: In the scene after this one, probably.
>GERT: 3 days. His name suggests he's a human!!
>
MIKE [Ferengi voice]: A hu-mon? This will be rich pickings!
>BOSS: A human?? Well! It seems that Dandee may have his favorite food after
> all.
>
MIKE: Did I miss something?
TOM: The preview.
>(A stagehand drags Player One (the loser) into the office)
>
>STAGEHAND: What should I do with him, boss?
>
TOM: Disembowel him with a rusty grapefruit spoon!
>BOSS: Throw him to Dandee....I won't have Dandee losing HIS lunch! HA HA HA!
>
CROW: It's the Chirping Hellbeast!
>(The stagehand throws him behind a door and locks it. Numerous chomping sounds
> are heard behind the door
MIKE: but not out in front of it where the cameras are.
CROW: No grammar or spelling flames, remember?
MIKE: Except where they change the whole meaning.
CROW: Like saying "AHHH!" instead of "AAAH!" for screaming?
MIKE: I think we've gotten all the mileage we can out of that.
>followed by a loud...)
>
>DANDEE: (B U R P)
>
>GERT: Gruesome!
>
>BOSS: Well you know it IS the law here....anyone who loses on a game show has
> to die!! Ups the stakes a bit, don't it? HA HA HA HA HA!!
>
[SoL. Mike is re-reading the printout of MST Adventures 101.]
MIKE: Y'know, you're right! It _does_ have a warning in here! "...the
winners win big and the losers lose their lunch -- and their lives!"
CROW: Too bad _that_ Mike hasn't read these already.
TOM: That would be impossible. No ficton can ever contain itself.
CROW: Tell it to Anne Rice.
TOM: Well...yeah, but they're published as fiction.
CROW: My point exactly. How do you _know_ these stories won't happen?
TOM: Well, now that we've read them, we'd have some kind of warning!
[Commercial sign.]
MIKE: We'll be right back.
CROW: What if we forgot? It's been three-hundred-some years, after all!
TOM: Yeah, but we were asleep for...
[Penn Jillette announces the first American showing of the DOCTOR WHO 30th
anniversary visit to EastEnders.]
[Crow and Tom are back in the time-out box.]
MIKE: Think parallel universes, guys.
TOM: That's what I've been _doing!_
MIKE: Different versions of the same characters!
CROW: You mean like the Earth-1 and Earth-2 Superman?
TOM: Or is it more like the Superman comics and LOIS AND CLARK?
MIKE: A little of both really. -- Tom, you mentioned fictons. Well,
every ficton thinks it's the real world.
CROW: Like, there's a world where Best Brains is a real company making
these shows on Earth, and not just a duckblind for the Mads?
MIKE [nods]: Nice and close to home. And they probably think _they're_
the real world. But all it is, is another reality level.
TOM: That's very nice, but -- are these stories our real future?
[Lights flash.]
MIKE: Hold that thought.
>
>Scene III : Satellite Of Love
>
>(Mike is studying up on the history of Tantalus III)
>
>MIKE: And it says here that a mercenary group called the Burks tried to over-
> throw Queen Damox in the Spam takeover of 2215.
>
CROW: Sometime around Spam Jake Day.
>TOM: Man, these books read like one of Crow's science-fiction screenplays!
>
[Tom starts to open his beak, then shuts it again.]
>CROW: I heard that!
>
TOM: What? I didn't say anything!
CROW: I think he's talking to the Tom in the story.
>JOEL: I still don't know how you expect to learn all of this in 3 days!
>
>MIKE: Well, I'll learn all I can and hope to get lucky! Besides, the ques-
> tions are very general in content.
>
TOM: Who are you?
CROW: And who are you...working for?
>JOEL: Maybe it would be better if you studied somewhere quiet and relaxing.
> Say, the bubble room?
>
>TOM: Yeah, there you can study in peace and quiet while we cause a ruckus over
> here!
>
MIKE: P-A-R-T-Why? Because I _gotta!_
>MIKE: Well, OK
>
>(Mike enters the hall and sits down between doors 4 and 3...the bubble room...
> soap bubbles fill the room while Mike relaxes with his books)
>
TOM: Hope the bubbles don't burst _on_ the books.
>(Joel and the bots notice Cambot keeps staring toward their destination)
>
>JOEL: He just keeps staring at that place...I wonder why.
>
CROW: He's read the preview.
TOM: He's read Scene II.
>
>Scene IV: 3 days later
>
MIKE: Time passes slowly on a weekend.
TOM: A fly crawls up the wall.
CROW: One of those iridescent flies of fall.
MIKE: Time passes slowly on a weekend.
>(Crow is quizzing Mike)
>
>CROW: And who was the captain of the Haratical Fleet in '36?
>
>MIKE: Blowdigger....Captain Jondo Blowdigger.
>
>CROW (flipping pages in one of the books): And the current President of the
> Splaranatical nation? Hmmmmm?
>
>MIKE: That's easy, Marafa Gallopodophillo
>
>CROW: I think he's ready!
>
>MIKE: Ready as I'll ever be! It's just too bad that they don't allow any
> outsiders in the audience! I was hoping you could be there to watch me
> win 500,000 plutons!
>
MIKE: Or, alternatively, watch me die horribly as I get messily devoured.
>JOEL: That's OK....we'll be watching you here.
>
CROW [as Joel]: Can I have your stereo?
>MIKE: Well, time to go.....Porting 1
>
>(Gypsy fires up the new transporter and Mike ports to the TV studio on Tan-
> talus III)
>
>GYPSY (staring towards planet): Good Luck!
>
TOM [as Gypsy]: You'll need it.
[SoL.]
MIKE: Does it matter whether this is really going to happen? This story
is almost good!
TOM: You mean like Ratliff is almost good? Or that Dutch guy?
CROW: Hey you on the ground! Why send us something this close to
worthwhile? Are you going to bring us down soon?
[D13. Dr.F is having the donut icing licked off his face by Frank, but
suddenly shoves him away.]
DR.F: That'll be enough, Frank. I don't want to have to replace your
tongue with a live garden slug again. [to hexview] As a matter of
fact, no. I simply want you gentlemen to get in training for the
movie -- the theatrical one.
[SoL.]
MIKE: I suppose that's _one_ answer.
[Commercial-sign lights.]
MIKE: We'll be right back.
[Zay you're out hunting wabbitz. (Zima commerzial with Looney Tunez)]
[SoL.]
MIKE: I do have one question about this story. What _is_ Dandee anyway?
TOM: Kids come running to the great taste of Dandee!
CROW: Tantalus-III makes the best damn Dandees in the quadrant, and
nothin's gonna change that!
MIKE: Never mind. I'll probably find out soon enough anyway.
>
>Scene V: The TV Studio
>
>(Mike appears in the office of the boss)
>
MIKE: Nice office, boss. Say, what's behind that big door?
CROW [evil]: You'll find out soon enough, Mister Nelson...soon enough.
>BOSS: Welcome, Mr. Nelson! We are glad you could make it to the show! We
> just have a few things to tell you before you start.
TOM: YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! HAH!
> Number 1: The images we present if you miss a question may be too much
> for most to bear. If you feel like you want to vomit, just do so!
> Number 2: If you vomit, you can clean it up during the commercial
> breaks! Remember, the name of the game is LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!
> Got it?
>
MIKE: No, actually, I'm stupid as a stump. Could you repeat that again?
>MIKE: Yes sir!
>
>(Mike goes onto the stage and sits behind Podium 2)
>
CROW: Hey wait! I thought the returning champion was player two!
>STAGEHAND: And on 5...4...3...2...1...go
>
CROW: Six, five, four, three, two...
TOM [whispers]: Pizza.
>TV ANNOUNCER: And now it's time for the hottest game show on Tantalus III....
>
MIKE: A-one and a-two and-a...
>TV CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!!!
>
>TV ANNOUNCER: And here is your host, Bendar Tarkelleso!!
>
>(Crowd cheers)
>
>HOST: Hello and welcome to "Lose Your Lunch", the game of our planet's history
> where the losers lose not only the game, but also their lunch! Kav, who
> is our first contestant??
>
MIKE [sings]: My name is Mud...
CROW: He's player one, but he's behind podium two.
TOM: Do you get the feeling this guy's been vaccinated against clues?
MIKE: Be nice.
>ANNOUNCER: He's a human from a starship known as the Satellite Of Love, Mr.
> Mike Nelson!!!
>
>HOST: And our champion?
>
>ANNOUNCER: He's a Tantalan...
>
>(Mike is nervous)
>
MIKE [as Mike]: I'm not sure, but I think I'm toast.
>ANNOUNCER: ...who won numerous awards for his knowledge of history...
>
>(Mike is worried)
>
MIKE [as Mike]: Yup. I'm toast.
>ANNOUNCER: ...Mr. Hentad Jopewkias
>
>(Crowd cheers!!)
>
>HOST: OK, here are the rules.
CROW: Oh, _now_ you tell us the rules. Real smooth, dickweed!
>I will give you questions. If you get it
> right, you get 10 points. If you get it wrong or do not answer, you
> are shown a very disgusting picture. If you can stand it, you get 5
> points. If not, you will....
>
TOM [as Mr. Rogers]: Can you say "Lose your lunch"?
>CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!
>
TOM [as Mr. Rogers]: I knew you could.
>HOST: OK....first question to Mike. IN what year were the Splarkeds of
> Hinter built?
>
>MIKE: 2166
>
>HOST: That's correct for 10 points!! OK, Hentad. How did the Malarkans drive
> out the Dizeqezoids in 2235?
>
TOM: By brandishing rusty grapefruit spoons in a threatening manner!
>HENTAD: They doused them with chocolate.
>
>HOST: Correct for 10 points!! Mike, Why were the Palendids sad last year?
>
TOM: Because they finally saw what Comedy Central's fall '94 season did to
MiSTydom!
>MIKE: Because they had no food.
>
>HOST: WRONG!! The correct answer was "because their cable was out"! Now
> let's spin the wheel to see how you can LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!
>
>(Wheel spins and lands on "Spoiled Cottage Cheese")
>
>TOM (watching from the Satellite):
TOM [sings]: Take a page from the red book and keep them in your sights.
Red alert...Red alert...
>It's too vile! I can't look!
>
>(While Mike vomits at the sight of the slide, back aboard the Satellite, Cambot
> is shaking almost violently)
>
CROW: Oh, _real_ smooth transition, Dayscott.
>JOEL: What is it, Cambot?
>
TOM: BEEP plot point BEEP plot point BEEP plot point.
>(Cambot projects a book of Tantalan law turned to one of the pages)
>
>JOEL: It says here that losing a Tantalan game show is punishable by death!!
>
MIKE [sings]: I'm a loser, baby...So why don't ya kill me?
>(The TV shows the score as Mike-50 and Hentad-700)
>
MIKE: Damn, that was quick!
>GYPSY: THEY'RE GOING TO KILL MIKE!!!
>
>(Joel gets on the vis-a-phone to the TV studio)
>
>JOEL: Yes, can I speak to Mike Nelson while there is a commercial?.....Thanks.
>
>(back at the studio)
>
>STAGEHAND: Mr. Nelson, communication coming in for you.
>
>MIKE: Thanks.
>
CROW: Don't mention it. The condemned always gets one last phone call.
>(Mike takes the phone)
>
>MIKE: Hello.....Oh Hi Joel.............What??....Yeah right!.....You mean...
> ...oh shit!....
TOM [as Timon]: Pumbaa! Not in front of the kid!
>um...um....(gulp)....OK.
> (to Stagehand) Sorry, gotta go, been nice knowing you...
>
CROW [as Mike]: Hold the door for me, would ya? I don't want it to take
liberties with me on the way out.
>STAGEHAND: You must finish the game!
>
>MIKE: But you see I have....
>
MIKE: Only one Nathan Hale to risk for my Satellite.
>STAGEHAND: You MUST finish or forfeit, which would mean you lose!
>
>(Mike gulps)
>
MIKE: I gulp. The other guy slurpees.
>MIKE: OK....I'll finish.
>
>STAGEHAND: On 5...4...3...2...1...go
>
TOM: Pizza pizza bo bizza.
>HOST: Welcome back to the game. Hentad is ahead with an astounding 700
> points while Mike has 50. Now all questions are double. This next
> question goes to Mike. Who holds the world record for the longest
> Kentasgop jump?
>
>MIKE: Uh....Genyd Daswejug?
>
>HOST: WRONG!! the correct answer is Federyt Lazegedt! Now let's spin the
> wheel to see how you will LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!
>
>(Wheel spins and stops on "Naked Roseanne Arnold". Mike vomits)
>
MIKE: OH! Now _that_ was cruel and unusual!
>(Many questions later..)
>
>HOST: And at the end of Round 2 the score is Hentad-2200, Mike-55. Mike, it
> took a lot of willpower to keep from vomiting at the sight of 20th
> century Earth singing star Lyle Lovett!
MIKE: Not really. I just thought of how sorry I felt for Julia, waking up
to that every morning...
> When we come back, the final question! Players, set your wagers for
> this category.....THE SPAM TAKEOVER.
>
CROW: Say, wasn't there a plot point established about the Spam Takeover
back when Mike was studying?
MIKE: Plot Convenience Theatre saves the hero's bacon again. -- Not that
I'm complaining, mind you.
>(Mike wages 55 and Hentad wages 2200. Goes to commercial)
>
TOM [as Mike]: Might as well bet the farm. Freedom's just another word
for nothing left to lose.
CROW: The commercial pits Mentos against Zima two falls out of three.
TOM: No one will be seated during the famous Twerp Argument!
>HENTAD: Nelson, you haven't got a chance! I know almost everything about the
> Spam Takeover! You're Dandee fodder!
>
>MIKE: What?
>
MIKE: Dandee! The horrible beast that eats the losers!
>HENTAD: Dandee, the grockel that lives here....
MIKE: A grockel, hmm? Thanks, Hentad, I was wondering what he was!
CROW [as Hentad]: No trouble at all! You're about to die anyway...
unless, of course, _I_ suddenly die of a horrible plot twist...
>he always gets hungry after a
> show! Did you actually think your death would be painless????
>
MIKE [as Mike]: Well, I _had_ sort of _hoped_...
>(back on the Satellite...)
>
>JOEL: Gypsy, can you port him out of there?
>
MIKE: And now, just to maintain suspense, Plot INconvenience Theatre.
>GYPSY: No! There's too much TV interference.
>
>CROW: Is there anything TV DOESN'T interfere with?
>
>TOM: Hey guys, the commercial's over!!!
>
CROW: And Mentos wins by a nose!
>(back at the studio)
>
>HOST: OK..you made your wagers and I see you both bet it all. Well, here is
> your question.....What was the name of the Queen who was almost over-
> thrown? You have 30 seconds.
>
MIKE: Yep. Plot Convenience Theatre. [mimes writing] Queen...what was that
name again?
CROW [as Mike]: Damox.
>(cheesy tick-tock music plays. Hentad now looks worried)
>
TOM: HAH! Mister Spam Takeover Expert!
CROW: Well, he _did_ say he knows _almost_ everything about it!
>(Time runs out)
>
>HOST: OK...The answer is....QUEEN DAMOX! Let's see how you two fared. Mike
> has...."Damox"! Correct! You now have 110 points.
> Hentad has......NOTHING!! Your score has dropped to zero and MIKE
> NELSON IS OUR NEW CHAMPION!
>
MIKE: This is like a really cheesy sitcom!
>(Mike is speechless)
>
>HOST: Mr. Nelson??? Mr. Nelson!!!
>
TOM: Ground control to Major Mike!
>(Mike comes out of it)
>
>HOST: What do you have to say now that you are our champion?
>
TOM [as Mike]: I'm just happy to be alive. -- Been nice knowin' ya,
Hentad. (Not.)
>MIKE: It's.....very nice.
>
>HOST: And you get to come back tomorrow! You are now 500,000 plutons richer!
>
MIKE: Are you out of your cotton-pickin' mind?!
>MIKE: Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not. I got lucky this
> time and I'm not about to try this again. Just let me clean up my
> vomit and port out of here. I can't wait to spend my money!
>
>HOST: You heard the man!
> (to audience) Good night!
>
CROW: Goodnight, Gracie.
TOM: Goodnight, Babs.
MIKE: Goodnight moon and the red balloon.
>(off the air)
>
>STAGEHAND: Come on, Hentad....you have a dinner date with Dandee!
>
TOM: Wasn't that a movie with Wallace Shawn?
>(Stagehand drags Hentad off the stage kicking and screaming. Sound of a door
> opening and locking. Sound of much chomping ending with a...)
>
>DANDEE: (B U R P)
>
>HOST: Who are we going to fill the vacant space with?
>
TOM: Mindless idiots, I'll be bound.
>MIKE: Just simply find two more suck-- players for the game! I'm gone!
>
>HOST: Wait, Mr. Nelson, before you leave, there is a little matter of tax that
> should be addressed. Let's see....
CROW: Tax joke! Tax joke!
TOM: Talk about cheap humor!
> 25% for county tax
> another 5% for game show tax
> 20% of what's left for playability tax
> 15% off the original amount for planet tax
> 30% off of that for exercise tax
>
TOM [does some quick mental arithmetic]: So already, we're at 95% off.
>(Host lists more taxes)
>
MIKE: What makes taxes so funny, anyway?
CROW: I'm sorry -- that'll be a nickel Question Tax.
>HOST: And that leaves you with exactly 34 plutons and 12 credits....enjoy!
MIKE [as Host]: Don't spend it all in one place!
> (to Audience) I need two players for a chance at 500,000 plutons!
>
>(Mike ports back to the ship)
>
>JOEL: So all that and you didn't even win MOST of the money! I guess there is
> a lesson to be learned here.
>
MIKE: It's Life Lesson time. This _is_ a sitcom.
>CROW: Yeah..only we don't know what it is.
>
TOM: In the immortal words of Calvin, "Live and don't learn, that's us."
>TOM: Look on the bright side, Mike. At least you're not dead. Almost....
> very close....but you are not dead!
>
MIKE [as Mike]: It makes my web-toes tingle.
>MIKE (sarcastic): Well thanks a lot! (to Gypsy) Take us as far away from this
> place as possible....PLEASE!
>
TOM [as Mike as Picard]: Engage.
>(The Satellite Of Love travels away from Tantalus III)
>
>(back on the planet..)
>
>HOST (to empty audience): Anyone??? Please??? We're talking 500,000 plu-
> tons here!! Hello???
>
[Tom and Crow makes noises of crickets chirping and frogs croaking]
>
>T H E E N D
>
>
>PREVIEWS OF COMING ATTRACTIONS...
>
>#103 -- The Dark Half
> After a sleep of almost 380 years, Crow's evil twin brother Timmy
> returns to cause more havoc aboard the Satellite Of Love!!
>
CROW: The Twin-Screw Universal Controller...it's not just for breakfast
anymore.
>#104 -- Deep Space 13
> The Satellite crew comes across the descendants of Dr. Forrester and
> TV's Frank in a remote space station located in the toughest part of
> the galaxy.
>
TOM: Tonight on STAR TREK: THE MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATRE GENERATION.
>
>****************************************************************************************
MIKE: Once again, ASCII art of a centipede.
TOM: Y'now, under HappyNet rules, that line would lead to 88 shurikens in the
face for dayscott.
>* From: gu09...@icsun.sunnet.ithaca.edu / kda...@ithaca.edu *
>*
> *
CROW: I'm sorry, I can't read any more of this post. That line scrolled
off the side of the screen and landed on Cambot, and now Mike's got
to go put him back together.
>* Mortimer Gomez Addams (Always look on the bright side of DEATH!!)
> *
MIKE: Dirty pool, old man. Never again!
>* *
>* Mystery Science Theater Adventures is a work of fan-fiction not
>intended *
>* for profit, but only for fun reading.
CROW: Or merciless dissection with a dull knife.
>Any similarity to real persons,
> *
>* living or dead, is unintentional.
MIKE: Oh yeah? What'm I? Chopped liver?
> * * *
>* Characters from Mystery Science Theater 3000 created by Joel Hodgson
>and *
>* Michael J. Nelson. Copyright 1988, 1990, 1993 Best Brains Productions
MIKE: Oh, thanks for reminding me. My name's on the paperwork and I never
see a penny of it.
[[He leaves the theatre. The bots follow.]
> * * *
>* All other characters created by Kevin M. Days -- Copyright 1994
> * * *
>* Mystery Science Theater Adventures -- "Wheel In The Sky" -- C 1994
> *
>****************************************************************************************
[SoL.]
CROW: So, is all that real or not?
TOM: First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
CROW: And what does _that_ mean, Servo Roshi?
TOM: I hae no idea, but it _sounds_ profound as heck, doesn't it?
MIKE: What do you think, sirs?
[D13. Dr.F has Frank strung up by the thumbs and is beating him about
the head and shoulders with a carrot.]
DR.F [rolls his eyes]: PUSH THE -- oh right.
[Walks over and pushes the button.]
\ | / MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATRE 3000 and its related characters
\|/ and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1994 Best
---o--- Brains Inc. All rights reserved.
/|\
/ | \ Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for
INFO-POOBAH: entertainment purposes only; no infringement on the
jul...@aol.com original copyrights or trademarks held by Best
WRITER: Austin Brains Inc. is intended or should be inferred.
George Loomis
(alo...@whale.st.usm.edu,70415...@compuserve.com,ze...@io.com)
And now...it's past my lunchtime.