MiSTed: The Drake Raft Field Trip (8/8)

[Chris Mayfield]

[Continued from part 7]

>
>"C'mon man-- there's just this feeling I have.

Crow: That's just the chiggers.

> Like now-- these spirits
>don't hang around, and if ya hesitate and miss the tide, you'll be
>grounded for eternity, in Chapel Hill--

Mike: Whaddya know? Chapel Hill _is_ Hell.

> the next Chapel Hill. I mean
>dude -- now that grunge is dead, we get to be it.

Mike: In other words, they get to be dead.
Tom: I'm all for it.

> But if like you ride
>the high tide out over those treacherous rocks in the first few hundred
>yards, then the seven seas are yours-- we could get stranded in the
>shallow waters here, man.

Crow: [Cliff] Do you want to be the plankton of our generation, man?

> Let the generation-x-slackers inherit all
>that is slack , pot and College music, and all that empty crap-- the
>world's declining dude, but I'm not the world, yet--

Mike: Though his ego is rapidly approaching planetary size.

> so don't confuse
>me with it. I'm fifteen and I'm goin'." He got up. "Plus Drake wants us
>there for some reason-- he knew I'd be wearing that jack et. You in or
>out?"
>
>"I really am supposed to, you know, help, and stuff."

Tom: I have to, you know, split infinitives, and all.

>
>"Yeah, I know." He got up. "Like you've got to help the Feminine Napkin
>Holders open for Preppy Death, anyways-- where would they find another
>rhythm guitarist in this town-- th e next Greensboro?" Cliff laughed.

Tom: I don't get it.
Mike: It's a kind of conceptual humor.

>"But seriously-- like Christy had a dream about you-- cool stuff to
>check out. So I'll catch ya later this summer-- I'll look for you on
>the cover of Rolling Stone , naked. But Ahab's Ahab, dude."

Crow: And these guys are out-Heroding Herod.

> He said.
>"And I'm there--see ya." And he took off. I watched his blurred
>silhouette through the waterfall, jogging on down the trail.

Tom: Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the heads.

>
>So I headed on home, but halfway there I remembered my distortion pedal
>which was still at Cliff's, and there was no way I could play with out
>it,

Mike: Of course, he couldn't play _with_ it, either.

> so I had to double on back. On the way I swung a short cut through
>the Ghimghoul woods, so I had to go on by Ghimghoul Castle again. The
>clouds were breakin' some, with great huge

Crow: Tracts of land!

> silver linings glidin'
>'cross the sky, 'growin' bright as they passed 'neath the sun, and then
>fadin' back to gray. A tiny hole appeared for a second, and a shaft

All: Wocka-chicka! Wocka-chicka! Wocka-chicka! Wocka-chicka!

> of
>sunlight solid as a gold bar shot on through, but the hole closed up
>again, quick as it'd appeared. All the clouds and everything had that
>strange kind of deep sea green light to them,

Crow: Like the basement scenes in "Being from Another Planet."

> and it painted the stones
>in Ghimghoul's Castle a kind of greenish color. The castle was some
>type of underground society

Mike: [calling out] Hey! Are you the Underground?

> thing for the Carolina college kids, and
>Cliff and I had snuck in there once, 'cause we'd heard they had these
>sacrificial ceremonies and stuff,

Tom: Huh, huh, let's toke up and sacrifice some more brain cells, dude.

> but all it really turned out to be
>was about thirty guys with like six cases of beer watching a video tape
>of the Duke basketball game-- but the castle itself is pretty cool-- it
>actually looks like a castle,

Mike: Hence the moniker 'castle.'

> with the type of stone walls that are
>good for climbin'. Then I saw something.

Tom: [Strangelove] Mien Fuhrer--I can see!

> I saw this tiny flickering
>light-- two tiny flickerings of light behind one of the windows, like
>eyes, and I braced myself,

Crow: It's do-it-yourself orthodonture.

> ready to take the hell off! Then what
>happened is the l ights started moving-- moving on closer towards the
>window! It came close enough to the window that I could make out it was
>a skull with like these point lights in each socket, and as I took off,
>I realized it'd been wearing a jeans jacket, with a Nirvana patch-- my
>jeans jacket!

Tom: The supernatural is really goofy.

>
>I booked through the woods all the way back to Cliff's house, and I got
>sopping wet even though the rain'd stopped, 'cause

Crow: I wet myself.

> the leaves on all
>the bushes and brush'n stuff painted me 'til I was soaked. I'll admit I
>was totally freakin', 'cause like of course I believe in ghosts, even
>though I'd never seen one before. And like it'd been wearing my jacket!
>I yelled out for Cliff, upstairs and downstairs,

Mike: In my nightgown.

> in the garage and in
>his shed, but he wasn't anywhere around, so I just went downstairs to
>pick up my pedal, and there was a note there from Riff.
>
>Saw your pedal here and picked it up for the gig tonight. You suck

Crow: I agree.

>without distortion.
>
>--Riff.
>
>I ran the long way home, around the Ghimghoul woods, so I didn't have
>to see that stupid castle anymore.

Tom: Stupid old crummy castle. I hate you!

> I couldn't figure out what the hell
>Riff was doing in Cliff's basement, though, unless like he was stealing
>stuff, but he'd left a note,

Mike: I think it was an F.

> so most likely he wasn't swiping
>anything-- anything big, anyways. And all of a sudden this feeling hit
>me and I broke into a walk. One of those feelings that kind of hits you
>off guard,

Crow: And throws you on the ground and gives you a wedgie and a wet
willy.

> and it's strange and new, so like you have to take some time
>out to figure out what's up with it. I didn't feel so much like playin'
>the gig tonight-- and it wasn 't just because of what Cliff'd said,
>either. I liked Bloody Stonehard, at least their first album, even
>though they like ripped off Nirvana-- I like Lithium,

Mike: Well, he did say he was manic depressive.

> and Rape me is a
>cool song too, even though they're both the same song, kind of, like
>all their songs are,

Crow: Oh, they're Ace of Base.

> really, but still, there's something cool about
>them. I mean Cliff's right

Tom: Far right.

> and stuff, about a lot of it, but it wasn't
>like I was thinkin'

Mike: Heaven forbid I ever do that.

> what I was thinkin' just 'cause of what he said.
>No, it was somethin' in the air,

Crow: The monoxide?

> and I would've been feeling this way
>anyways-- like either it's raining or not, and eventually you'll know
>which one, no matter what anyone says, depending on whether or not you
>get wet when you walk outside.

Tom: Ladies and gentlemen; the least effective metaphor in history!

> The thing that sucked about the gig that
>night was that I could already picture it all perfectly, and whenever
>you can picture things perfectly before they happen, and they suck in
>the picture, then they almost always suck a bit more than what was in
>your head-- at least things like gigs.

Crow: Dear Mr. McGucken. Enclosed is a thesaurus. Please use this to
find a synonym for 'suck.'

> I mean it's always worse than
>what you imagine, and all I could imagine was all the regulars hangin'
>out

All: Norm!

> in the smoky room with the low rock-like ceilings and everything,
>spray painted brown and black with that insulation stuff poking through
>here and there,

Mike: Come to the Asbestos Pit for live music!

> and you could bet like the one chick with the purple
>hair would be there, and her friend who looked like Liz Phair who like
>always faked stage fright pretty good and sang at the open mike nights
>these songs about sex in the chapel,

Tom: [singing] I'm goin' to the chapel and I'm gonna get laid...

> who totally sucked-- and like that
>one kind of pretty pretty one, only she always murdered her face

Crow: To spite her nose. Or something like that.

> with
>black lipstick on her upper lip and red on her lower. You could bet
>they'd all be moshing

Mike: Moshing. That sound like something you do with backed up sewer
main.

> in the front row for the Feminine Napkin Holders.
>And the Moran brothers, and their whole crowd with all those spiked
>mohawks and nose rings and stuff,

Tom: I got my nose pierced.
Crow: I got my navel pierced.
Mike: I got my Franklin Pierced.

> who were always in the front row for
>the bands that had the chick bassists. They'd all be doing bongs out
>back in Steve's Cherokee before the show, sandpaperin' hole into their
>jeans, or something, and I'd get the same old lines from Melina, on how
>I'm missing out on the higher reality 'cause I never drop acid anymore,

Crow: [stoned] Higher reality? Get it? Huh, huh, huh.

>or anything. Actually I never did.
>
>I was freakin' about that ghost wearin' my jacket, when it hit me that
>it wasn't really my jacket! Cool, I was saved! I mean after Riff'd said
>it was his, I didn't really argue, so the underworld or whatever
>couldn't really pin the jacket on me.

Mike: Loopholes of the supernatural.

> But then I figured that ghosts
>were probably pretty spiritual, being spirits and stuff,

Tom: Our hero, ladies and gentlemen. Our hero.

> so they
>probably operated on lik e an abstract level where like the true owners
>were the true owners. But any lawyer from Divorce Court would pin the
>jacket on Riff,

Crow: Meanwhile, Timber gets the kids and the car on holidays.

> I knew, so that settled me some, but except then I saw
>that that would only be if they were my lawyer, and Riff would have one
>too batting for him, so to clear it up I said aloud, "It's not my
>jacket. It's Riff's Jacket."

Mike: [clutching head] Stop the Inanity!

>
>"We know dude-- Yo." I jumped forty feet in the air. When I landed
>there was Riff-- he'd snuck on up behind me. "Christ-- how's the valium
>dude?"

Tom: [Jesus] It's real boss.

>
>"Uh, no-- hey what's up." He wasn't wearin' my jeans jacket.
>
>"I got your distortion dude--" He tossed the pedal to me. "You were
>gonna forget it at Cliff's again."
>
>"Uh, yeah, I got your note. Were you just like at Ghimghoul's castle?"
>
>"No." He looked at me. "Why?"

Mike: Because.
Crow: Why?
Mike: Because.
Crow: Why?

>
>"Well what were you doing in Cliff's basement?"
>
>"What's it to ya? " He looked at me.
>
>"Just wonderin'."
>
>"Cliff's dad sold me Drake's guitar."

Tom: On his way to that wedding rehearsal.

> Riff was carrying a guitar case--
>I hadn't even noticed. "I was just pickin' it up-- is that OK with
>you?"
>
>"How much?"
>
>"Cut a deal;

Crow: I'll give you fifty dollars if you have two Q-tips in your purse.

> his dad's pretty cool-- he's a holy dude and stuff, so
>like money's no big deal, you know. I'll check you tonight. Look, if
>you change your mind about some liquid-- I'll have enough, so just ask.
>OK? Or stamps, or anything."

Mike: Hey, do you have that one with the upside down biplane?

>
>"Dude, I wouldn't shoot up, or anything tonight, if I was you."
>
>"Why-- undercovers?"
>
>"No, I just like saw something."
>
>"What's up?"

Mike: Tigerlily.

>
>"Like I don't know-- back at Ghimghoul's castle."
>
>"Christ Timber-- just say what you mean-- for a change; I've got this
>life to live, dude."
>
>"I saw death, and he was wearing your jeans jacket."

All: [laugh uproariously]
Crow: This is so pathetic.

>
>He stopped and gave me this look.

Tom: That certain come-hither look.

> "Yo Dude, that's pretty heavy-- you'd
>better come again with that one."
>
>"I saw death, and he was wearing your jeans jacket."

Mike: And I suppose Charon's waiting on his Harley outside.

>
>"What the f--- was Johnny doin' there?"
>
>Johnny was the baseplayer in Preppy Death--

Tom: First, second, or third?

> his nickname was death.
>
>"No, dude--" I explained. "Like it was this skeleton wearing your jeans
>jacket."
>
>"Look man, I didn't take your jacket, OK?"
>
>"I'm just warning ya to look out."

Mike: Instant karma's gonna get you.
Tom: Hey! Your karma ran over my dogma!

>
>"OK, Timber." He like laughed and looked at me, walkin' backwards. "OK,
>I'll do it for you, buddy. Yo." He saluted me with the devil sign, like
>tossed his hair,

Crow: [Timber] Fem.

> and turned and took off.
>
>I watched him turn the corner and headed on off to his dad's house, and
>I was relieved it was all settled about the jeans jacket. Like I'd
>tried to warn him, too, but he was being a dick.
>
>I drew the cool early evening air in through my nose,

Tom: Along with the cloroflorocarbons from the nearby chemical plant.

> and it had that
>fresh smell to it--

Crow: Mmm, fresh cow pies.

> you know, that one fresh springy smell that doesn't
>really smell like anything

Mike: Well I...huh?

> except for itself-- you know the kind I
>mean,

Tom: Uh, no.

> and if you don't, you're missing out,

Crow: Wow. Thank you Mr. Descriptive.

> so first chance you have,
>go out sometime right after an afternoon June thunderstorm, and breathe
>deep, and then you'll know what I mean. There was still a whole lot of
>daylight left, but the sun had crossed that point of no return,

Mike: The Chandrasekhar limit?

> there
>was no denyin'. It sent the creepy crawlies up my spine, along with
>this premonition feeling of the mystic dusk, and in my mind I pict ured
>the risin' moon over a wide opened field--

Tom: Oh, it's a Rousseau painting.

> I dunno, but I have a
>feelin' it's somethin' that only happens in Chapel Hill, and probably
>only if some girl had dreamed about you the night before.

Mike: The Interpretation of, Like, Dreams or Something by Elliot
McGucken.

> But this time
>something'd blown in with the storm,

Crow: And boy were its lips tired.

> or it was more like something'd
>blown out with the storm, is what it was, or had gotten washed away
>down the storm sewers with it, like colored chalk drawings on the
>street, 'cause intertwined along with the cool freshness,

All: Mentos!

> there had
>come along a hollowness to haunt the air, or something.

All: Or something.
Tom: Let's get out of here.

>
>-----------------------------------------------------------------------
> The links stop here-- BeaconWay Press
> Ahoy! Drop the crew a line!

[1...2...3...4...5...6...]

[All the bots are around with Mike holding a sheet of paper]

Mike: Well, now that that's over, I thought I might read my work. It's
called Mulligans Sleep.

overrun, past Drake and Elliot's, by overcommodius circulation of
spammination round our farcification of their incapacitiation of a work
in progress which brings us back to Love Satellite and Environs.

Tom: Hey, Mike. Shut up. Dr. F's calling.

Mike: Naturally. Whenever the bots want to do something, I'm loving and
supportive, but whenever Mike wants to do something... [sighs and hits
light]

[Deep 13]

Dr. F: You and your little Bloomsbury Group may have survived this
round Nelson, but there's always more where that came from. Until next
time, Tristram Shandy...

\ | /
\|/
---0---
/|\
/ | \

fwshhhh

Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters, situations, and
merchandise are copyright 1996 Best Brains, Inc. The Drake Raft Field
Trip is copyright of Elliot McGucken (though he can't seem to get anyone
to publish it). This MiSTing is not authorized, endorsed, or supported
by anyone. It is not intended as an attack on anyone's beliefs. This
article may be freely distributed as long as this notice remains intact.

MiSTed by Chris Mayfield, camf...@iastate.edu. Comments welcome.

>"I saw death, and he was wearing your jeans jacket."