MiSTied: Shadow Stalker
Erik Howard Larson
That story (a part of an exciting, cliff-hanging serial no doubt) sort
of reminded me of Plan 9 From Outer Space (that was it, wasn't it). Where
it goes from DAY to NIGHT at the drop of a hat. Or was that another
piece of fine Fifties film-making?
Anyway, nice job. Can't wait for the next Part Four. Or was it Five.
Or maybe Part II mk. 3...
-Erik Larson
-------------------------------------------------------
All the opinions expressed herein are my own and have
nothing to do with the University of Illinois.
That goes for the stuff above the hyphens, too.
NEW from Rawnko--It's TOKA-MATE! Your Personal Fusion Reactor-Fits in any
tackle box.
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David Hines
Good MiSTification, man, thanks a lot.
David Hines
dzh...@midway.uchicago.edu
Dan Thompson
OK, everybody--this is my first MiSTing on the Net, so I want lots o' feedback.
Tell me what you like and hate. Please send all comments to
da...@austin.ibm.com.
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[ <SOL> Crow and Tomservo are on the bridge when Mike comes running in with a
large box. ]
MIKE: Hey guys! You'll never believe what I found! It's a--
[ The light begins blinking. ]
CROW: Hey, Mike--Dennis and Bill are calling.
MIKE: But I'm finally--oh, let 'em watch. [ Hits the button. ]
[ <DEEP 13> Dr. Forrester and TV's Frank are standing in front of a
large-screen TV with a lime green shoe box labeled "Mento-Matic" attached to
the side. ]
DR. F: I hope you didn't get your hopes up for this week's invention exchange,
Surface Dweller, because you're going to lose.
MIKE: I don't care, because I'm finally FREE! I just found this!
[ He turns the box around so everyone can see the word "Hamdingers" printed on
the side. Crow gasps. ]
DR.F: Yes, whatever. Just get ready for this. Show 'em, Frank.
[ Frank turns on the television. The news is on. ]
DR. F: Our invention is based on the idea that there is simply too much useful
programming on TV. What people really need is garish commercials, and
more of them.
[ Peter Jennings is cut off in mid-sentence and replaced by a Fabio wannabe
sliding through a car, popping a Mentos in his mouth. ]
DR. F: You see, the Mento-Matic monitors Comedy Central all the time, no
matter what channel you're watching. Any time a commercial appears on
CC, the Mento-Matic immediately changes channels so you can watch it.
No more of that sticky "good" stuff.
[ Mike ignores him, ripping open the box and dumping out the contents. A pile
of tiny sandwiches, each individually wrapped in plastic, comes out. ]
MIKE: Oh, no--these really *are* Hamdingers. Eeww, they're all sticky and--
yikes! They still haven't reached their expiration date, even after
all these years. . . .
[ He holds one up by the corner, as if holding a dead rat. ]
DR. F: [ Stares at Mike for a while. ] Right. If that's your escape plan,
Flyboy, then go for it. Your experiment this week is a particularly
ugly piece of fluff from the monsters and magic genre. It's called
"Shadow Stalker," and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Send in the darkness
and evil, Frank.
[ Frank pushes the button. On board the SOL, lights start flashing and
everything shakes. A small hole next to the "movie sign" light opens up and
starts spitting cotton balls. ]
MIKE: Oh, no! We've got fluff sign!
6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
> S h a d o w S t a l k e r
MIKE: Is that a shadow that stalks or someone that stalks shadows?
TOM: I though stalking was illegal.
> **
> P a r t - O n e
>
> by Keith Smith
>
>
> A dark, massive citadel looms over the horizon line.
TOM: It's just floating there?
CROW: Why doesn't it fall?
> Evil
> dwells within. These are the times of Shadow Stalker. A dark and
> evil time.....
MIKE: Why do I feel like I'm watching a Met Life commercial?
> With a massive crash of metal against wood the drawbridge
> comes crashing down to the ground.
MIKE: So the drawbridge is metal and the ground is wood?
TOM: No, the drawbridge is wood and the ground is metal.
MIKE: Oh . . . Huh?
> With a rattle the main gates come
> open.
TOM: [ deep voice ] With a preposition I start each sentence.
> Out
TOM: See?
> tramps a large company of hill and frost giants. Leading the
> column is a hill giant clad in chain mail with six dire wolves
ALL: [ singing ] Don't murder me! I beg of you don't murder me. . . .
> running around his feet. A long oaken club bound in bands of mithral rests
> upon his shoulders as he strides across the drawbridge. Around his
> neck is a band of mithral.
> In the deepest, darkest shadows at the base of the citadel a
> dark rip starts developing in the very substance of the shadows.
CROW: Gee, it sure is dark in this story.
> A
> tall, black robed figure exits the rip. He looks at the troops
> marching out from the citadel. He then examines the fortress itself. A
> white flag flutters highest in the wind upon the tallest tower.
MIKE: Giving up already? The story's just starting!
> It is
> white with a spray of silver frost on its surface. Lower down is a
> flag of brown with a symbol of a dark rock.
CROW: But it wasn't a rock; it was--Rock Lobster!
> He then chants a few mystic words and cups his hands together.
> A ball of shadowy blackness appears in his hand.
TOM: Wait a minute. This black-robed guy's in a dark rip in the deepest
darkest shadows under a dark citadel during a dark time, and we're
supposed to be able to SEE a ball of shadowy blackness? Give me a
break! We're blind already!
> He throws it towards
> the gate. It sails slowly through the air. It reaches the gate.
CROW: [ psycho voice ] It puts the lotion on its skin.
> The
> globe billows forth to grow. It instantly destroys the poisonous
> contents of the moat. A vast scintillating silver-black to grey oval
> totally blocks the gate.
> The shadowy figure is gone, thru the rift in shadow. . . .
MIKE: Who was that masked man?
TOM: You could see him well enough to know he had a mask? Anyway, it must
have been Darkman.
> S h a d o w S t a l k e r
> **
> P a r t - T w o
>
>
> Deep in the depths of the Citadel. A group meets in quiet.
> "Deathnight and Grandmaster have you found out who hasss
> blocked are gateway so thoughly," hissed Bloodclaw, his pale undead
> shimmering the moonlight.
CROW: His pale undead *what*?
MIKE: Face? Hands? Lips?
TOM: Earlobes? Appendix? Tongue?
CROW: Hinder?
> "I've found no clue, Bloodclaw," whispers Deathnight, quietly.
> "I have discovered something thru my resources," Grandmaster
> states unemotioniously.
> "Welll, what did you find!," snarles Bloodclaw.
CROW: [ in little-old-lady voice ] Well, if you take those little Vienna
sausages, and you boil them in beer for about half an hour, they come
out so tender and good, and--
MIKE: Crow, don't even joke about Vienna sausages. [ shudders ]
> "This unknown being made his escape via the shadow plane,
> that's all we were able to discover. All divination methods have
> failed utterly to find one clue about this shadow being, that's all we
> were able to find out."
TOM: So, that's all he found, huh?
CROW: Yep, pretty much.
> "This isn't good enough!, the GrandLord won't be pleased with
> you. You must find and exterminate this pest to us!, NOW!."
MIKE: Will you please stop putting commas everywhere?
TOM: Mike, I've got a feeling that punctuation isn't this guy's strong suit.
CROW: *Writing* isn't this guy's strong suit.
> Bloodclaw
> pulsed with red light . . .
MIKE: Oh shoot--the cops! Run! Hide the keg!
> S h a d o w S t a l k e r
> **
> P a r t - T w o (2)
CROW: Hey! No fair! We already did Part Two!
MIKE: No, see, this is "Part-Two (2)."
TOM: What? Part Two the Second? Part Two squared? Part Two also?
CROW: Let's just hope Part Two is better than Part Two was.
> The clear, merry, bubbling of the brook soothed the nerves of
> the beautiful, silver-white creature. She slowly lowered her neck to
> the brook, gently sipping water from the crystal clear stream. Her
> ears flicked up to better catch a soft sound she could faintly
> hear....no further sound was made over the sounds of the forest.
CROW: Is it just me, or is anybody else having a hard time picturing
this . . . animal-creature . . . thing.
TOM: It's the light all of a sudden. Give your eyes a couple of sentences
to adjust to it.
> Her
> neck reached down for another drink. The water, gently soothing the
> parchness of her throat. She shifted her four hooves to become more
> "I have you now, pretty unicorn!" A hand to a 26 foot tall
> giant points at her.
MIKE: To become more what? Cheesy?
CROW: Ah, I can see now! It's a unicorn. You were right, Servo.
> A bolt of crackling negative energy pulses to
> strike the unicorn in the side. Her pure white coat fades to grey as
> the bolt saps at her life energies. She can barely move herself, the
> drain is to much. A cruel face leers down at her.
> "Before you die, I want you to know that Maelstrom is your
> undoing!", laughter belows across the confines of the clearing. A
> lightning bolt cracks forth to finish the unicorn off.
TOM: Yep, that oughta do it.
> "A storm giant....?", she saids to herself. "Why?"
MIKE: Why not?
CROW: Why this scene? Why so many Part Twos?
TOM: Why do we keep running into characters we've never seen before?
MIKE: Why won't Pirscilla leave? Will Peggy realize that Mary loves John?
And what about Roger?
> She dies on the cool forest floor.
CROW: Hey, dude, this forest floor is really cool! Whoo!
> S h a d o w S t a l k e r
> **
> P a r t - T h r e e
TOM: Well, at least we finally got out of Part Two.
CROW: I wonder how many Part Threes there will be.
> A massive maelstrom, of silvery black, swirls through the
> plane of shadow. That place where negative and positive energies meet,
> to form - shadow, neither light nor dark but somewhere in between. A
> black cloaked figure seemingly strides through mid-air, if shadow can
> be known to have such.
MIKE: If shadows can be known to have what? Air? I think I can buy that.
> His pace is swift and sure as he moves through
> the stuff of shadow. He pauses, he looks at his surroundings. Nothing
> moves in the eternal twilight. His black eyes stare with intense
> concentration.
> Pulling forth a wand of black adamantite tipped with a milky
> white gem,
MIKE: Oh, how lame. It's just a giant Q-Tip.
> he barks a command.
TOM: Roll over! Play dead!
CROW: Fetch! Heel! Sick 'em!
> The gem begins to pulsate, slowly, with
> grey light. The dark-robed figure holds the wand before him and begins
> to trace a large oval with it.
MIKE: Oh, yuck! Now he's using it to swab out a giant ear!
CROW: Eewww. . . .
> Glowing, whit light follows it's path
> through the air. He scribes runes upon the edges of the oval.
> White-silver light rushes in to fill the oval. The surface of the
> glowing outline shimmers and turns totally clear revealing the world
> he had taken leave of. . .
MIKE: His senses.
> In the dark of the night, when the power of darkness is
> greatest, a force of evil gathers. The stillness of this black is
> broken by the quiet hissing of dragon's wings.
TOM: OK, OK, enough with the darkness and evil already! We get the point!
> The first to arrive, a red dragon, swifebony running through
> it's core.
ALL: Huh? What?
> He crosses his arms, cover in red dragon mail,
MIKE: Yeah, well, that's not too surprising, him *being* a red dragon and
all. . . .
> and waits
> for his fellows to arrive. . .
MIKE: [ as the dragon ] Those fellows of mine, always running late.
> rider. The GrandLord Redscar dismounts from his mount, Firefang.
TOM: Huh? What?
CROW: That's nice. You ever think of finishing one sentence, THEN starting
another? Or starting one *before* you finish it?
> He
> crosses over the graves of fallen to stand at the head of an unholy
> altar; glistening purple with veins of deepest b
TOM: Blue? Butter?
MIKE: Brie? Bass? Buns?
> S h a d o w S t a l k e r
> **
> P a r t - F o u r
MIKE: Hey--there was only one Part Three!
CROW: Yeah! I want my money back!
> In the dark of the night, when the power of darkness is
> greatest, a force of evil gathers. The stillness of this ebon night is
> broken by the quiet hissing of a dragon's wings.
TOM: Is anyone else getting a feeling of deja vu, here?
> Arriving on the night's wind a great wyrm, red dragon, swiftly
> glides to the ground. GrandLord Redscar dismounts from his massive
> mount, Firefang. He crosses over the graves of the fallen to stand at
> the head of an unholy altar; glistening ribbons of purple with veins
> of deep black
ALL: Oh, black.
TOM: No big surprise, when you think about it.
> running through the core.
> He crosses his arms, covered in red dragon mail. Bloodly red
> light seeps from his form, as his cambion face leers at night sky. He
> raises his palms as he summons his fellows.
MIKE: Hey, fellows! Why don't you come over here?
CROW: Yeah, fellows! We could have hamburger sammiches and french fried
potatoes! And do fun things, 'cause we're fellows!
> A pillar of black light, oozes forth from his palms, visible
> only to evil. To those of evil the light seems to pulse out a summons,
> only to a select few. They are here. They are here. . .
ALL: Eat at Joe's . . . Eat at Joe's . . . Eat at Joe's. . . .
> S h a d o w S t a l k e r
> **
> P a r t - F o u r
CROW: Thank God! There for a minute, I thought we were only going to get
one Part Four.
TOM: Yeah, that was a real close one, there. Sheesh.
> One bright morning,
ALL: Yaay! Daylight!
> inside an inn's room, in a fairly normal town...
CROW: In an average house, with an average wife.
TOM: And you may ask yourself, "Why did he write this?"
> "I heard plenty of noise from the dogs outside last night Kila, were
> you up to your usual naughtyness?," he said while staring at the grey furred
> lynx standing in front of him. "You know that your rompings a night get
> us in trouble with the locals. It would be good if we left town for a while,
> besides, there's no work here and I'm getting a little bored, what do you
> think?"
> He knows people usually look strangely at him, as it isn't an
> everyday event that somebody with a lynx walks into town, "talking" with it.
MIKE: No sense being coy about it; he really is talking.
CROW: It's sad, really. Extended light deprivation has finally driven him
starkers.
> Or for that matter that a cat should be chasing away dogs instead of the other
> way around.
> Taaka gathers all his stuff, hangs his faithful longsword on his belt,
TOM: . . . tosses his traitorous longsword on the floor . . .
> then ever so carefully hangs his ten daggers around his waist. He then dons
> his cloak atop his leather armor; he wears a cloak over himself to obsure the
> fact that he is carrying ten daggers. Why look for trouble.
MIKE: Why not? It's a free country.
TOM: [ monotone ] Why use a question mark.
CROW: [ monotone ] Yeah, who really cares.
> Taaka takes a little gold neckchain with a ring on it and puts it
> around his neck.
> "This little thing has saved me plenty of times, hasen't it Kila?," he
> murmurs while he finishes puttingng everything in his backpack. Taaka then
> walks down stairs.
TOM: [ sarcastic voice ] Ooh, the subtlety. Notice the clever way he lets
us know there's something special about the ring without bothering to
ACTUALLY TELL US WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!
MIKE: Hey, take it easy, Servo.
TOM: [ sobbing ] Oh, Mike, I just can't take it anymore. So many scenes
and characters and none of it has anything to do with anything else
and the darkness--THE DARKNESS! [ sobs some more ]
MIKE: Come on, Honey, pull yourself together. It's light in this scene, at
least. Enjoy it while you can.
TOM: Oh, I'll try. But the light better hold out. . . .
> "Two breakfasts," he tells the bartender.
CROW: Whoa! Starting *early* today, aren't you?
> "Dat cat ain't gonna to eat on the table, it ain't allowed"
CROW: No, he's going to drink. Now hurry up with those martinis.
> "You better allow it, or I'll have to let her prance into your
> kitchen and let her help herself, free of charge."
> The bartender looks at Kila, who has a certain malicious grin on her
> face, did she really understand what he was saying?
> "I'd better bring two rations right now, did you see what she did to
> the dogs last night?"
> Taaka left two silver coins on the table, pulled his cloak over his
> head and went out to his horse.
> "C'mon Kila, jump! That's it"
MIKE: [ as horse ] My name's Trigger, not Kila. And I don't jump, either.
> His horse had already grown accustomed to the cat riding behind the
> boy, in fact, he had fashioned a leather mat
TOM: Say, that's pretty creative, for a horse. How'd he stitch it with no
fingers or anything?
> where she could hold on tight
> without hurting the horse; it's a rather strange sight and he knows that
> people stare at him alot when he's around, but it only makes him smile to
> himself.
MIKE: Secure in the knowledge that he's better than them.
> Already out of town,
TOM: Wow! That was fast--this horse is *really* impressive.
CROW: Yeah, he made it that fast by jumping.
> Taaka is peacefully riding down a lonely
> road when a little boy comes running up to him.
> "Sir!, Sir! Help us!"
ALL: A plot point! Hooray!
> "What the...", Taaka turns his horse around and sees the little boy,
> about eight years old, running toward him.
> "What's wrong?", he asks.
MIKE: [ as boy ] It's just that you keep putting commas in these really
weird places.
> "Four bad men are in my house, and my father is very hurt, my mom
> pulled him into the cellar so they wouldn't hurt him any more. You have to
> help us."
> Taaka dismounts his horse and gives it to the boy.
CROW: Whoa! Suddenly we're in a NAMBLA pamphlet!
MIKE: The horse, Crow. He gives the *horse* to the boy.
CROW: Oh.
> "Here, keep the horse with you, don't follow me, because it is very
> dangerous and I don't want you to get into trouble too."
MIKE: And remember: there's nothing a comma can't do.
> He then walked over
> to a small span of trees, abnormally dark and dense for such a little area.
TOM: No! Arrgh!
> Kila stalked silently behind him at a safe distance to watch for ambushes.
> "Hmm.. It's quite dark, I wonder, it look good for an ambush..," he
CROW: This is a good place for a Stick-Up!
TOM: This whole *thing* is a good place for a Stick-Up.
> barely finished saying that when suddenly.
MIKE: . . . the sentence ended.
> "Argh!! My eyes! HEEELPP!! Take this beast away from me!,"
MIKE: [ as victim ] And this comma, too!
> as Kila
> appeared from behind a tree with blood on her claws and teeth.
> "It cost him dearly to follow the boy, didn't it?," he said with a
> smile on his face, "Thanks Kila"
TOM: Now let's move on to the next bit without even bothering to look at
this guy or find out why he wanted to attack me.
> "Look, I can see the house, I suppose thet the other's are inside,
CROW: The other's *what*?
> I
> think we should go around the house, or charge inside, or...,"
MIKE: . . . put another comma where it doesn't belong, or . . .
> a women's voice
TOM: "*A* women?" Doesn't "women" kind of imply that there's more than one?
> suddenly sends a shout into the air.
> "No time to think, run Kila!"
MIKE: Now why would some disembodied women's voices shout that?
> Running as fast as he could, he bashes the door clean off the hinges,
> longsword in one hand, dagger in the other.
CROW: Avon calling!
> "I was waiting for you, you fool!," a voice said from beside the
> entrance, when suddenly Kila jumped out of nowhere on to the attacker's head,
MIKE: Wait--he's attacking the house, right? So the cat jumped on to her
owner's head?
> tearing into the man's neck and eyes with her claws and teeth.
> "One down, now it's your turn," he said
MIKE: Wow, this guy's pretty cool about having his neck and eyes ripped
apart.
> as he turned to the man with
> the woman, when he saw the other
TOM: Excuse me, but could you possible be a little more vague here?
> on unseathing his sword; the sound of a blade
> through the air made his legs instinctively retract,
CROW: Not to mention his bladder.
> lowering his head enough
> to free himself from the hit. He lifted his blade up and plunged it deep into
> his assailant, at the same time as he got up and
MIKE: I'd think it'd be pretty hard to plunge a blade into somebody while
you were trying to stand up, but then, that's just me.
> with a flick of his left
> wrist sent the dagger deep into the third one's forehead, quieting him
> forever.
TOM: Hai-keeba!
> None remained alive,
MIKE: You mean he killed himself, the little boy, *and* the parents with
that one shot?
> that was quite normal when he had a job to do,
> for when his instincts took over his body in combat it was too late for the
> opponents to get away, maybe someday even too late for him to get away from
> his own instincts.
ALL: Or this story.
> He went to the man, obiously the boy's father, and lifted him with
> ease, placing him upon the bed.
> It's going to take awhile for him to recover, but he is strong, give
> him plenty of rest, and maybe by tomorrow he'll be able to sit, although he'll
> hurt all over," he said to the man's wife.
> "WHat is that?," she said looking at Kila.
MIKE: It's a capital H. I know it doesn't really belong there, but I was
in a quirky mood.
> "*She* is Kila, she's my companion,
CROW: My friend and lover.
MIKE: Crow!
> she isn't normally violent,
> neither am I, but sometimes strong measures are called for. I'll help you
> clean up, let me take this garbage out," he said. Referring to the bandits
> bodies.
TOM: [ in a tired monotone ] Oh. How cold. Gosh, he's tough.
> It was now well into the afternoon.
MIKE: Time flies when you're kicking ass. . . .
> "Thank you for the meal, 'twas delicious, it's been some time
> since I've eaten in a real home."
> "You're welcome to stay for a few day if you want to," the boy's mom
> told Taaka.
> "Yes! Please stay!," said the little boy.
> Taaka got down so as to be the same height as the boy and said,
> "Sorry, I can't, I have to go to the next town to look for a job, besides,
> Kila here would get restless in a few days if she doesn't get any dogs to
> chase around," he said smiling.
> "Will you come back later then?"
> "Maybe, some day we'll meet again, ok?"
> "Ok.. But when I'm older you'll have to teach me to use swords and
> things like you do, promise?"
TOM: You bet I will, you little loud-mouthed. . . .
> "Ok, I promise..," he said as he took the boys arm and saluted him as
> rangers and scouts do, by grabbing their forearms.
> Then he got up and went outside to his horse.
> "It's your job to take care of your mother until your father's well,
> ok? "
> "Ok," said the boy as he waved good-bye to Taaka.
>
> After several hours of riding Taaka
CROW: Someone's *riding* him?
MIKE: No, I think he just ran out of commas earlier, and now he doesn't have
any left to use when he needs them.
> came to were the next town was
> suppossed to be. Instead of the town, there was merely a small clump of trees,
> black with silver leaves. With a deeper blackness within the center of the
> trees.
> "What do you think Kila?,"
TOM: I think were in for more gratuitous darkness.
> but she was busy looking at the
> surroundings, into the trees; it was already dark and in the tiny forest they
> were going to cross there was a even darker spot,
TOM: Anybody surprised?
CROW: Not me.
MIKE: Me neither.
> straight in front of them,
> and in the process of paying too close of attension to their immediate
> surroundings
CROW: . . . and the sudden lack of light . . .
> they didn't notice that they had ridden straight into the ebon
> oval.
> Suddenly, everything was different. . .
TOM: You mean there was some normal lighting for once?
> Deep into the gateway they were sucked.
CROW: Hey--that word doesn't belong there!
MIKE: What word?
CROW: "Were."
> Images for many worlds
> and places flashed before their eyes as they came closer to the end
TOM: [ hopefully ] The end? Could it be?
> of
> their trip. With a trail of shimmering radience they exited the other
> end of the gateway and found themselves within an empty moat and above
> rose the Citadel. And in front of it's main gate was the same
> shimmering black oval that they had passed though.
> "Where are we Kila?," Taaka asks his cat.
ALL: OUTTA HERE!
1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .
[ <SOL> Mike and Crow are on the bridge, shielding their eyes and squinting. ]
CROW: Owie! Normal light hurts my eyes now.
MIKE: I know what you mean. It's gonna take me a while to recover from that.
[ looks around ] Hey--where's Tom?
[ Tom Servo hover-zooms in wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. ]
TOM: [ singing ] Do de do doo . . . Oh, hi, guys! You know, I think I
finally got used to the dark. Anyway, these shades are *so*cool*.
MIKE: [ looking up ] What do you think, Sirs?
[ <Deep 13> Frank, wearing clothes from JC Penny's, is in front of the TV,
sitting on a pile of Mentos and Secret deoderant sticks, babbling. ]
FRANK: 1-800-collect! Sprint! Call everybody! Right now!
DR. F: Excuse me, Nelson, but Frank's taken a lethal dose of Comedy Central
advertising. He's finally snapped.
[ Frank yells incoherently for a moment, then begins munching sticks of Secret
and rubbing Mentos under his armpits. ]
FRANK: [ starting to cry ] I want to buy more! I must consume!
DR. F: It looks like I'll be busy cleaning up until next week, Nelson, so
you've got some time to get ready for that invention exchange you owe
me. [ glances at Frank ] Guess I'll have to do things myself for a
while. [ He pushes the button. ]
*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
DISCLAIMER:
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and all related characters and images
are the property of Best Brains, Inc. This was an unauthorized MiSTing, and was
meant in the spirit of fun. No personal offense was intended to the author, the
creators of the characters, or the reader. Complaints regarding this posting
should be addressed to one of your friends who complains that they don't get
enough mail. This disclaimer was stolen from Harlan Feilicher, author of the
great MiSTing of "Mother+Daughters."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
> "This isn't good enough!, the GrandLord won't be pleased with
> you. You must find and exterminate this pest to us!, NOW!."
--
Big Dan -- da...@austin.ibm.com +----+
| O | O
"This is the song borrowed for the chase scene; +-----+ #- |===== \/#\
This is the song, Rocky and Ken, +/\--------+ #
He tried to kill him with a forklift . . ." \/ \/ / \