MiSTed: Seize 1/1
Susan Katz
MiSTed: "Seize"
Fanfic by Trillian, MiSTing by Whovian
[Opening credits]
[1...2...3...4...5...6]
[S.O.L. Interior. Tom is alone. Crow enters, dragging a sack.]
CROW: He's still asleep, and I found the suction dart gun and related parts!
TOM: Oh boy! Oh boy!
CROW: [laughing] He'll never suspect a thing.
[Commercial sign lights up]
TOM: I've always wanted to say this... We'll be right back!
[After seeing Leonardo DiCaprio's face at least three times...]
TOM: It's done! The no-arms suction dart weapon is complete!
CROW: He'll never suspect a thing!
TOM: You already said that.
CROW: But it's so true!
[Mike yawns from somewhere in the depths of the Satellite. At roughly the same
moment, the Deep 13 light begins flashing.]
TOM: Oh no!
CROW: Quick, hide it!
[Mike walks in just as Tom and Crow finish hiding the sack.]
MIKE: [looking at the D13 light] Hey, the Doublemint Gum twins are calling
and you guys didn't wake me!
TOM: Sorry...
MIKE: It's okay.
[Mike initiates contact with the mads.]
[Deep 13]
DR. F: Well, it certainly took you long enough.
[S.O.L.]
TOM: Sorry, we were... working.
[Deep 13]
DR. F: On another of your feeble inventions, no doubt. Well, while you were
innocently wasting time, I was creating the ultimate new innovation in
stealth weaponry -- the invisible hand grenade! Frank, bring me the
invisible hand grenade!
FRANK: [after some delay] I can't find it.
DR. F: [sputtering] Can't... find it? Oh well, I'll punish you later. Now,
Mike and irritating friends, it's time for you to suffer! Today's
experiment is a short but sour X-Files tale entitled, inappropriately
enough, Seize! All right, go suffer now!
[S.O.L.]
[Lights and buzzing fill the room]
MIKE: [yawning] Ahhhh... We've got... fanfic sign...
[6...5...4...3...2...1]
>From: trill...@aol.com (TrillianEE)
TOM: [singing obnoxiously] TrillianEEEEE! TrillianEEEEE!
MIKE: Aack! I'm awake! I'm awake!
>Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
>Subject: NEW: Seize (1/1) by Trillian
CROW: Coming soon -- Grab!
>Date: 25 Feb 1998 23:20:33 GMT
>Lines: 95
MIKE: You know, I thought Bill Gates had the exclusive rights to that
number...
>Message-ID: <19980225232...@ladder03.news.aol.com>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder03.news.aol.com
>X-Admin: ne...@aol.com
MIKE: Where will the sinister X-Admin strike next?
>Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
>
>"Seize" (1/1)
>by Trillian (Trill...@aol.com)
TOM: [singing in a higher pitch] TrillianeeeEEEEEEEEE!
MIKE: That really hurts. Stop it now.
TOM: [annoyed] Okay, fine.
>
>Classification: SA
CROW: SA... That means this is about strange animals, right?
TOM: No, no, I think it means super action!
MIKE: You guys are being too optimistic. I think it means "Stay Away."
>Rating: PG-13 (angst)
CROW: Ooh boy! I love angst, especially when it's really graphic!
TOM: You would.
>Spoilers: none
>Archive: Anywhere, as long as it's complete and my name and email are still
>attached to it.
>Notes: Alternate universe. Gethsemane never happened.
TOM: Yeah! To hell with Gethsemane!
CROW: What's Gethsemane?
TOM: I'm not sure, but I don't like the sound of it.
>Thanks to the Primal Screamers, a great group of friends and impromptu
>betareaders :)
MIKE: They may be loud, but they're my friends, and I love them.
>This is a bit of a change from my typical writing style--as always, feedback is
>welcomed and encouraged! Send it on to Trill...@aol.com.
TOM: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
MIKE: I told you to stop that.
TOM: I'm not singing; it's feedback, get it?
MIKE: Just because it's a bad pun doesn't mean it's okay.
>
>
>------------------
>
>Noon. A fountain surrounded by people clad in
MIKE: Clown suits!
TOM: Bird costumes!
CROW: Leather!
> business suits, hurriedly trying
>to fit nourishment, conversation, and the occasional cigarette into a too-short
>lunch break.
CROW: The trick is getting the cigarette into the break without lighting the
nourishment and conversation on fire.
> Overhead, a blanket of clouds stretches to every horizon.
MIKE: If the horizons don't learn to share, they're going to rip that
blanket!
>
>Blended perfectly into the crowd is a tall man, sitting alone.
TOM: I don't understand... He's blending into the crowd by sitting by
himself?
> Waiting.
MIKE: ...for the ultimate potato chip!
> In
>the twenty years since he supposedly shot himself,
CROW: Which, in retrospect, might have been a good idea...
> he has grown somewhat
>thinner, somewhat greyer. Visibly, he has not aged terribly much.
TOM: He's all grey and shrivelled up, but he hasn't aged much visibly.
>
>But should you walk by this man, a passing glance would reveal hazel eyes that
>have suffered a thousand lifetimes of torture.
MIKE: I think I know how he feels.
> Perhaps you would notice that
>his eyes have darkened, that the flecks of brown and gold have grown
>razor-sharp.
CROW: [as old man] Ahh! Flecks of sharp metal...in eyes... Must...get...
them...out!
> If you looked closer, you might notice the subtle darting back
>and forth as he searches for something, anything, to ease the torment.
TOM: A peanut butter sandwich?
CROW: No, I personally think he wants a camel.
MIKE: A camel?
CROW: First thing that came to mind.
>
>But no one glances over. No one notices that this breathing shell of a man
>houses a rare and shattered brilliance;
TOM: Not a single soul understands that this man's head is a broken light
bulb.
> that inside the trappings of bone and
>blood, behind his eyes, he waits.
CROW: [as old man] If I could just get past these eyeballs, I could get
home and wash off all this bone and blood.
>
>Until a woman with vivid auburn hair surrounding a lined and weary face begins
>to walk across the square.
MIKE: This story has taken a rather geometric turn.
> She, too, looks commonplace from afar. Upon closer
>inspection, she appears more like a
MIKE: Rodent!
TOM: Klingon!
CROW: Store window display!
> statue than a person, hardened and chiseled
>in a perfect embodiment of loss.
TOM: Her failure to win the Yahtzee tournament of her youth still haunts her.
> Her steel eyes dart about until she stands
>before him.
CROW: [as woman] Steel is stronger than gold! I win!
>
>Grieving blue meets the shards of hazel and locks until both are too
>overwhelmed with saltwater to see clearly.
TOM: Their mystical eye beams transported them into the ocean? I'm
confused again.
> Then, slowly, in perfect harmony,
CROW: They sing "Puberty Love!"
>their tears overflow.
>
>Still, no one notices.
MIKE: ...for they are experts at the art of camouflage!
> This is a reunion that would bring the very gods to
>their knees.
CROW: But, of course, that would require the gods to *have* knees.
> Around them, people continue rushing about their business,
>unaware that the silence surrounding the pair is screaming and singing at once.
TOM: I'm ready to leave. The silence is screaming and singing? This is
just too much...
MIKE: Hang in there, buddy, this can't go on too much longer...
>
>The already-cloudy sky darkens, muting the colors of the people rushing by.
CROW: I guess the sky got mad when the colors started singing along with
the silence.
>The wind quickens. A few shiver.
TOM: [upset] A few what?
MIKE: [soothingly] Calm down, we'll all be okay soon...
>
>But he only stands to meet her gaze. All disappears save two pairs of eyes and
>the endless grey.
TOM: [screaming almost incoherently] Those eyes! Those horrible, horrible
eyes!
> No words can be spoken,
CROW: ...since the meeting is taking place at a mime convention...
> but none need be.
>
>In the blue, he searches.
MIKE: Finding nothing there, he moves on to the mauve.
> He finds pain so intertwined with love that they
>have become in her a single emotion. He tries to go deeper,
CROW: ...but his shovel breaks.
> to find
>forgiveness.
TOM: [angry now] Not from me! NEVER!
>
>In the gold, she drowns in his overwhelming regret.
MIKE: Alas, we never knew her name.
> Even after two decades,
>the rawness of it slices through her
TOM: ...SKULL! Get the brain! GET THE BRAIN!
MIKE: Whoa, it's not *that* bad, calm down.
> soul, and she shudders with sympathy. But
>she does not break contact.
TOM: [crying now] The only thing broken is my spirit.
MIKE: It's okay, it's okay.
>
>And for this, she is rewarded by an equally overwhelming love that swallows
>her, twisting her about helplessly as she
CROW: ...slides rapidly into its stomach, her skin burning from its
digestive fluids!
> searches for an understanding.
>
>Time has ceased to matter.
MIKE: I don't know about that...
>
>Five minutes have passed.
MIKE: Surely it's been longer...
>
>Five hundred years have passed.
MIKE: That's more like it.
>
>Four eyes blink as one.
CROW: [taunting] Loser's wearing glasses! Loser's wearing glasses!
>
>A shot rings out,
TOM: ...a woman screams!
> and the impact tosses him to the stones at her feet.
CROW: The stones, thoroughly sick of having people tossed at them, throw
the body several feet into the air.
> A thin
>red line crawls like a snake from under him.
TOM: Kill it before it gets away!
>
>She falls to her knees, unable to breathe.
CROW: Suddenly, she remembers, and pulls her fingers out of her nose.
> A crowd begins to gather. His eyes
>desperately struggle open for a final look.
TOM: The last thing he sees is a tall man dressed in a banana suit.
>
>In it, his absolution is granted.
CROW: In the banana suit?
>
>In it, her questions are answered.
TOM: What about our questions?
>
>Her face softens as their eyes close in unison.
>
>The clouds break,
MIKE: I warned the horizons about being selfish...
CROW: What?
MIKE: They ripped the blanket...
CROW: Oh... Okay... I'll take your word for it.
> and a glaring sun illuminates the square.
>
>
>
>-------------------------------------
>Thoughts? Comments? Criticisms? Send 'em over to Trill...@aol.com
MIKE: Sometimes, silence is a virtue.
>
>Trill...@aol.com
>The Primal Screamers: http://members.aol.com/chinaptrns/Screamers.html
[1...2...3...4...5...6]
[S.O.L. Interior, Mike is talking over the sounds of furniture being moved
and robots complaining]
MIKE: Since that story left us asking a lot of questions, my little buddies
are setting up a play which I hope will shed some light on the story's
content.
[The scraping and complaining stops.]
MIKE: Well, sounds like they're ready, so I'll just get out of the way.
[Mike walks off, revealing a small, Crow-sized bench, occupied by Crow.
Gypsy, wearing a red wig, walks up to Crow.]
GYPSY: Crow! Crow! Where have you been?
[Gypsy and Crow stare intently at each other for several seconds. Suddenly,
a suction dart flies seemingly from nowhere, hitting Crow.]
TOM: [from out of shot] Ha-ha!
CROW: Ow! Hey!
[Crow falls off the bench.]
GYPSY: Oh no!
[Gypsy looks down at Crow for a rather long time.]
GYPSY: Oh, I forgive you now.
[Crow gets up.]
CROW: Okay, we're done!
[Mike and Tom walk in.]
MIKE: Well, that was very good and all, but I don't understand the story any
better... And, come to think of it, I don't even understand how Servo
managed to fire a dart gun.
TOM: I'll never tell!
MIKE: Well, anyway, the fanfic is over, and that's what matters.
TOM: I guess so. But why was it called Seize? Why did the silence scream?
Why? Why? Why?
CROW: It's an X-File. It doesn't have to make sense.
MIKE: Good point, Crow. Anyway, I think it's about time we got some rest.
[Everyone leaves. Cut to Deep 13.]
FRANK: [calling] Here hand grenade, hand grenade, hand grenade. Ah-ha!
DR. F: Did you find it, Frank?
FRANK: Well, I've found the pin.
DR. F: The pin? Just the pin?
FRANK: Yep... [wrinkles brow] Uh-oh!
[A huge explosion occurs. After a bit of groaning on the part of Frank and
Dr. Forrester, a soot-covered hand falls upon the infamous button.]
\ | /
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[Closing credits]
Disclaimer #1:
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are
trademarks of and copyrighted by Best Brains, Inc. 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.
Disclaimer #2:
This parody is not intended as a personal attack on Trillian, whoever Trillian
may be, or anyone else for that matter. If you anyone was somehow offended by
this MiSTing, then I apologize, as it was not my intent. Try laughing a little
more often, it can be fun.
> Around them, people continue rushing about their business,
>unaware that the silence surrounding the pair is screaming and singing at once.