MiSTed: "A Very Screwed Up Story" - part 2, but who's counting?
mwa...@uoft02.utoledo.edu
non-fanfic stuff now...
-Michael
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
<Opening. SOL. Mike is flanked by Tom and Crow>
MIKE: Hello, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. On my right is Crow T.
Robot--
CROW: Hiya!
MIKE: -- and on my left is Tom Servo.
TOM: Whassup!
MIKE: We've been working hard on our newest invention, which, we're hoping,
will convince the Mads to bring us back down to Earth.
<Mads' light flashes>
MIKE: Ah, right on time. <pushes button> Hey, Dr. Forrester. Hey, Frank.
<Deep 13>
DR. F: Well, Nelsaroonie, I've been hearing rumors that you boys have come up
with a great new invention. Show me.
FRANK: Me too, me too!
DR. F: Shut up, Frank.
<SOL>
MIKE: <Sets a small box with colored lights 'n' stuff all over it on the
table in front of him.> Our invention for today is called the
Power-o-Matic. It'll revolutionize everyday life as we know it. Over
to you, Servo. And be polite.
TOM: You got it, Mike. Well, sirs, how many times have you heard about the
problems with fossil fuels, the problems with nuclear power, the
problems with solar power, and on and on and on? Well, with this
little baby, those problems are over!
CROW: That's right! This machine contains a completely renewable,
non-polluting power source that can supply the energy needs of a
mid-sized house for weeks on end! Mike, tell 'em how it works.
MIKE: Okay, Crow. Well, sirs, as you can see--
GYPSY: <Enters> Hello, what's going-- <Runs into table. The Power-o-Matic
falls to the floor with a canned shattering-glass sound>
MIKE, TOM & CROW: GYPSY!!!
GYPSY: Oooooohhh!
MIKE: Well, sirs, uh, never mind, I guess.
<Deep 13>
DR. F: Oooo, tough luck, Edison. You just might have won your way back down
here with that one, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. Anyway, no
time for our invention today. We have a fanfic for you, and it might
get pretty long. Frank, tell 'em what they've won!
FRANK: Okay, Steve. Today's fanfic is part two of "A Very Screwed Up Story",
from alt.startrek.creative. It's about--
DR. F: Part two? What happened to part one?
FRANK: <cringes> I, uh, that was one of the files I, um, accidentally
deleted.
DR. F: Accidentally deleted? Frank, *how* *many* files did you "accidentally
delete"?
FRANK: Fourteen.
DR. F: Whew. Well, that's not *too* bad.
FRANK: Thousand.
DR. F: WHAT??? You deleted FOURTEEN THOUSAND of my files??? Oooo, I'm going
to have fun dealing with you, Frank. <Turns back to the camera,
blissfully calm.> Well, enjoy this one, boobies. I'm sure you'll
figure out what's going on. Now, Frank, SEND THEM THE POST!!!
FRANK: <Whimpers and pushes the button>
ALL: Aaaaaahhh!!! We've got fanfic sign!!!
<6.....5.....4.....3.....2.....1>
> From: m14...@lehtori.cc.tut.fi (M{kel{ Jari)
> Subject:A Very Screwed Up Story-part two
MIKE: At last! Truth in Advertising!
> Date: 25 Apr 1994 15:01:49 +0300
> Message-ID:<2pgbfd$d...@lehtori.cc.tut.fi>
> And here is the long-awaited sequel to the very screwed up story. :)
TOM: Long-awaited? I don't think so.
> It is every bit as confusing as the first part and doesn't answer many if
> any of the questions, that the first part left open. Hope someone enjoys it.
MIKE: Well, with a caveat like that...
TOM: I'm definitely planning *not* to enjoy it.
MIKE: Now, Tom, it might not be that bad.
>
> ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
> Anomalous Universe - part two
>
> "So, how does it look like, chief?"
MIKE: I'm sorry. I was wrong.
> The big redheaded engineering specialist looked grimly at LaForge. "It
> doesn't look good at all, sir.
TOM: We're in a bad fanfic, and I can't get us out. Plus, the food
replicators don't work, Lieutenant Worf has been running around in a
dress, and Commander Riker's face is all lumpy under that beard.
> The nacelles can't be repaired before we get to
> the Spacedock and with only our impulse-engines operative, we won't reach any
> starbase in a couple of months. We could try warpdrive, but it would probably
> just rip the ship apart."
CROW (As LaForge): And that's bad, right?
> LaForge straightened up and sighed heavily.
ALL: <sigh heavily>
> This was one hell of a
> mess. Ship was practically a wreck
MIKE: As was fanfic.
TOM: Follow the continuing adventures of the missing "The"!
> and they were quite deep in virtually
> unexplored space.
TOM: As opposed to "really" unexplored space.
CROW: So were they all sitting around with those cool helmets on their heads?
> If anyone got in their minds to attack the Enterprise, they
> would be a sitting duck.
MIKE: Hey, guys, let's go attack the Enterprise!
ALL: YAAAAYYY!!!
> He pressed his commpadge.
TOM: The commbadge said, "Quit it".
> "LaForge to Riker."
> "Go ahead, Geordi."
TOM (LaForge): You mean it, sir?
CROW (Riker): Yes, Geordi, go ahead.
TOM (LaForge): Really? Are you sure?
CROW (Riker): YES! TALK, ALREADY!
> "We are going to have to take her home on impulse only. I am sorry,
> sir."
CROW (Riker): That's okay, Geordi, it wasn't your fault. *I* was the one who
got her drunk.
> There was a little silence and then acting Captain Riker
MIKE: Or, if you prefer, *badly* acting Captain Riker...
> said: "All
> right. But don't give up yet. I want you to explore all possible solutions to
> this problem."
> "Aye, sir."
> "Riker out."
TOM (LaForge): So, goodbye?
CROW (Riker): Yes, goodbye, Geordi, stop talking now.
TOM (LaForge): Do you mean now as in right now, or now as in when you just
said "Riker out"?
CROW (Riker): SHUT UP!!!
>
> The bridge was silent.
ALL: TOO silent!
> There was not much that could have been done
> from there and it was on minimum crew. Riker sat in the commanding officers
> chair, his chin buried in
MIKE: A large pork pie.
> his hand. Data was running multiple tests on the
> ships computer and sensor systems.
>
TOM: My, that was a quiet scene.
> Dr.Crusher looked up from the motionless form of Lieutenant Worf.
> "I can't imagine how he can still be alive,"
MIKE (falsetto): Oh, wait, let me think... There! I did it!
> she said to the nurse who
> was accompanying her in the examination. "With the injuries he had sustained
> and all that blood he had lost, he should have been dead long ago. It's just
> as if he was clinging to life somehow."
CROW: Ya *think*?
TOM: Follow the continuing adventures of Dr. Beverly Clueless!
> "I know sir. Maybe he doesn't want to die," the nurse said,
TOM: ... And her sidekick "Nurse"!
MIKE: Now, I *know* about the Star Trek convention whereby subordinates call
their ranking officers "sir", regardless of whether the officer is a
woman, which is not to say I am against that, but it still sounds
weird.
CROW: There, there, Mike.
> pulling
> the cover back on the Klingon.
MIKE: Who, being one of the main characters, was named Worf.
> "Maybe...," Beverly said, letting her voice trail off.
MIKE (falsetto): ... I can see the Alps before I die!
> It was not easy
> to see him like this. She hadn't realized before how much she respected Worf,
> and his way of life, very powerful and so tied to honor. And there he was now,
> laying on a sickbed, looking as helpless as a child.
CROW: ...And she realized now that she loved him passionately and wanted to--
MIKE: Uh-uh, Crow.
> She turned her attention to Deanna, who was laying on a biobed on the
> other side of the room. She had withdrawn into a katatonic state,
ALL: YAAAAAYYY!!!
> and there
> was nothing much that they could do for her, except to be there with her.
TOM: Oh, gimme a bucket.
> Beverly only hoped that Deanna would eventually be able to open up again.
TOM: Well, with these handy 24th century surgical implements, that could
happen anytime!
MIKE: That's pretty sick, Tom.
> Until she or Worf would become concsious again, there was no way of telling
> what had happened to the two of them.
CROW: Heh, heh, heh.
> Where had they been during the time the
> computer had not been able to detect their presence?
TOM: New Jersey?
MIKE: Shopping for hats?
CROW: In the hall closet?
> Who or what had attacked
> Worf?
TOM: Probably the author of this fanfic.
CROW (Worf): Aagh! I've been fanficked!
MIKE: Is that really how you spell that, Crow?
CROW: I think so.
> All these question would remain to be unanswered until one of them would
> be able to talk.
TOM: Which, thanks to the tranquilizers Doc Crusher had been feeding
directly into their veins, was not likely to happen soon.
> She didn't even want to think about Jean-Luc and his condition.
MIKE: Baldness?
> After
> his leg had been healed, he had been released to his own quarters, because the
> room on the sickbay was desperately needed for patients, who were near death
> or otherwise badly injured.
TOM: Looks like Usenet had another comma sale.
> She was glad that she had her hands full of
CROW: <opens mouth>
MIKE: Ixnay, Crow.
> work,
> so that she didn't have to think about him.
>
> "Commander."
> "What is it Mr. Data?" Riker lifted his gaze from the floor and looked
> at the form of LtCmdr Data, sitting in
TOM: A smoking, sputtering pile of his own rusted innards.
MIKE: Are you feeling okay, Tom?
TOM: Sure, why?
> the chair in front of the Ops console.
> "I was able to get the long range sensor to work for aproximately
> one-point-seven-three seconds and I believe I have some disturbing news."
MIKE (Data): We are not actually in space, sir. In fact, we are on a set at
some movie lot, and there are people with cameras right over there.
> Riker stood up and walked up to the androids side. "What kind of news?"
CROW: Uh... *bad* news, maybe?
> Data turned his head to look at him. "Sir, there are two Cardassian
> war cruisers coming towards our position."
> Riker took a deep breath. Everyone on the bridge stopped. Cardassians.
MIKE: Sentences. Shattering. Into small pieces.
> The peace treaty with them had never been very stable and there had been
> numerous minor conflicts over the years.
TOM: Mom! He's lookin' at me!
CROW: You shut up, ya little snot!
> But what was most disturbing, was
MIKE: Riker's discovery that there was *hair* growing on his *face*!
ALL: Aaaaahhh!!!
> the
> fact that according to the interplanetary spacetravelling laws, the Enterprise
> could be
CROW: Bought by the Ferengi and turned into "Mr. Bog's Ship-o-Luuuve"!
> determined to be a derelict, and thus property of the finder. They
> might have to give the Enterprise to the Cardassians. Or to distroy it. And
> Riker didn't like either of the options.
TOM: Huh? We're either missing an important piece of plot, or that just
makes no sense at all! And the word "destroy" is even misspelled!
MIKE: Hush, child.
CROW: Ooooo! That was eerie, Nelson!
> "How long before they reach us?"
MIKE: Well, they'll be here in about ten secon-- no, no, make that more like
seven sec-- no, make that three-- oh, darn, they're here.
> "If our position stays unchanged, they will rendezvous with us in two
> hours and fifteen minutes."
TOM: Uh... do you think, then, that you might want to CHANGE COURSE?!?
> "Helm, calculate a course away from the war cruisers and engage the
> impulse engines at maximum available thrust."
TOM: There!
> "Course plotted and laid in, sir. Engaging thrusters."
CROW: Ooo, they're using the mighty thrusters!
MIKE: Bow before the power of the mighty thrusters!
> "Geordi?"
> "Yes, Commander," came the answer via the intraship communication
> network.
TOM: As opposed to those little tubes that they used to talk into.
> "There are two Cardassian war cruisers closing in on us. We could use
> a miracle now."
MIKE: Suddenly, Data jumped out of his seat and began pulling silk scarves
from everybody's ears!
CROW (Riker): No, no, not *that* kind of miracle!
> "Aye, sir. I'll do my best."
> "Wouldn't expect anything more from anybody. Riker out."
TOM: Silk vests are in!
MIKE: Oh, don't start *that* again, Tom.
> "All right everybody," he then said in a loud voice, addressing
TOM: Noone in particular.
> everybody on the bridge. "Let's not abandon our hope yet. We have never given
> up and we sure as hell are not going to do it now." Then he turned back to
> Data.
CROW (Riker): Now, Data, where's the escape pods?
> "Data, you have the bridge, I'll go look at the Captain."
CROW (Riker): And point and laugh some.
> Data nodded but did not assume the commanding officers chair. He was
> too busy trying to get the vital systems of the ship back on line.
> Riker walked into the turbolift and ordered it to take him to the
> officers' deck. Shortly the doors opened again and he stepped out into the
> corridor. He stopped for a second behind the door to the Captains quarters.
> Not sure if he wanted to see his Captain as he was now.
MIKE: About those sentence fragments.
> The man he had learnt
> to respect,
<Crow and Tom whisper back and forth>
TOM: Yes, it is!
CROW: I'm telling you, Servo, it's not!
MIKE: What's up guys? I'm trying to read the fanfic.
TOM: I say that should read "*learned* to respect", and Crow says that
there's no such word as "learned", and that "learnt" is correct.
CROW: There isn't! It is! Uh, right, Mike?
MIKE: Actually, "learned" is correct, Crow.
CROW: Oh. Never mind.
> the man who had always been courageous and an endless well of
> inspiration, now completely withdrawn to himself.
MIKE: Aargh! There's sentence fragments all over the floor!
> Taking a deep breath, he stepped towards the door, and it swooshed
> open, revealing a dimly lit room, air filled with thin,
CROW: ...Wispy clouds of marijuana smoke...
> beautiful sound of a
> flute.
MIKE: Aargh!
> He was playing the tune he had learnt
CROW: <whispers to Tom>
TOM: NO! I'm not listening, I'm not listening, I'm not listening...
> long time ago, in another life,
> on another planet.
MIKE: ... In a different era...
TOM: ... In another place...
CROW: ... In a silk dress...
Riker stepped in and stopped in the middle of the room,
> looking at his Captain.
CROW (Riker): Hey, I can see myself!
> Picard was sitting on a sofa, playing the flute with his eyes closed,
> living in the memories. Tears were slowly sliding down his chin
TOM: From the tear ducts he'd had installed there...
> and for a few
> times the playing stopped for a moment, as he wiped some of tears away.
ALL: <wipe their chins, or whatever comes closest>
> He
> didn't seem to be aware of Riker's presence.
TOM: He's probably just ignoring Riker out of contempt.
> Riker took a step a closer and spoke in a quiet, soothing voice.
> "Captain?"
> The playing stopped again, this time because Picard opened his eyes
> and turned his head to look at the Commander.
MIKE (Picard): Mommy? Is that you, Mommy?
> For a second, Riker thought that
> he didn't recognize him.
TOM: Who didn't recognize who? Riker didn't recognize Picard, or Picard
didn't recognize Riker? Or maybe Riker didn't recognize himself?
CROW: I don't know.
ALL: Third base!
> His face was a dull mask that resembled
CROW: Freddie Kreuger!
> the man he
> had known only distantly.
TOM: Does that mean Riker had only known Picard distantly, or Picard only
distantly resembled how he had previously looked? Aagh!
> Then his face lit up and signs of recognition were
> clearly visible in his eyes. "Is it you?"
CROW (Riker): <turns to look behind him> Who, me?
> "Yes Captain. It's me."
> "Will?"
> "How are you, Jean-Luc?"
> "Is it really you?"
TOM: Oh, come *on*! This is that riff we already did with Geordi! The
*fanfic* is riffing *itself*!
> Riker smiled warmly and sat down beside his Captain. "Yes, Jean-Luc,
> it is me."
ALL: <clear throats>
MIKE: I don't even want to *know* where this is headed.
> The Captain was smiling now too and he lifted his hand to show the
> flute to Riker. "I've been playing. I think I'm getting quite good at it."
> "I heard you, Jean-Luc. You were really good."
TOM: Apparently Picard had just used his healing ability to fix a grim
vigilante's broken back.
CROW: That's a pretty obscure reference, Servo.
> Riker thought about the
> two Cardassian war cruisers. Should he tell about them to the Captain? He had
> once been brutally tortured by a Cardassian, and knowing that there were more
> of them coming for them now, might be too much of a shock to him now.
TOM: Exposition-man strikes again!
> He
> decided not to tell, before consulting with the doctor.
> "Would you like to hear some more?"
> "Of course, Jean-Luc. Go ahead."
> Picard lifted the flute back to his lips
TOM: ...Unfortunately poking himself in the eye first...
> and started the tune from the
> start.
CROW: Hey... it's "Helter Skelter"!
> Soon he was back in his memories again. Thinking about the wife he had
> had in that other life, the children, his beautiful daughter and all the
> friends he had had in that life.
TOM: Do you think we could get any more gratuitous uses of the phrase "in
that life" in this life?
> After a while, Riker leaned to him and whispered:
MIKE (whispering loudly): Bewaaare the Iiides of Maaarch...
> "I have to go now.
> But I will be back later." Picard just nodded his head and kept on playing.
> Riker stood up and left the room, returning to the bridge.
MIKE: Come on, guys, let's get out of here for a minute.
<1.....2.....3.....4.....5.....6>
MIKE: Okay, my electromechanical friends, let's go over what we know so far.
Tom?
TOM: Um... let's see... Apparently, the Enterprise has been severely
damaged, and they're heading back to Federation space under impulse
power, even though this will take forever from where they are now.
MIKE: Very good! Now, Crow, do you have anything to add?
CROW: I sure do. It looks like Worf and Troi are both out cold in sickbay,
probably after some of that rough Klingon love, and--
MIKE: No speculation, counselor, just the facts.
CROW: Okay. Anyway, it looks like Picard's gone autistic, too. All he wants
to do is sit in his quarters and play his little flute.
MIKE: Well, I think we're all caught up with this plot now, even though we're
missing part one of the story. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
TOM: You know, Nelson, this fanfic really isn't all that painful. It's
pretty irritating, yes, but it's also been pretty boring so far. It's
nowhere near as bad as the Evil that is Ratliff!
CROW: Tom! Shut up! He can hear you!
TOM: Oh, no!
MIKE: Oh, come on, boys, now you're just being silly.
<Hexfield sign lights up>
TOM & CROW: Aaaaahhh!!!
MIKE: Oh, right. Like you expect me to believe-- <hits Hexfield button>
--that Ratliff can hear us making fun of--
<Viewscreen opens up, revealing Stephen Ratliff>
RATLIFF: Yes I can hear how you always talking abot me! I dont appreceate it,
either. Do you think it's easy to write these Star trek stories all the
time. It's not. And if you dont leave me alone i'll sendyou hundreds of
copies of "Enterprised" and "A Gul's Revenge" just so you can figure
out what real good writing is. You are all jus t jealus of me anyway,
and I--
MIKE & 'BOTS: AAAAAHHHH!!! RUUUUUN!!!
<6.....5.....4.....3.....2.....1>
TOM: Whew. That was close. *Now* do you believe us, Nelson?
MIKE: Well, I have to admit, it looks like you were right. Hopefully, in the
future, ol' Stephen will be too busy writing to pay attention to us.
CROW: And that would be a *good* thing?
TOM: I just hope he's not out there when we're done...
>
> Slowly Picard came aware of someone else in the room with him. But
> hadn't Will just left? Who could it be that was now sitting on sofa with him?
MIKE: Could it be... SATAN?
> He stopped playing and looked at his side, seeing a middle-aged looking man,
TOM: Is that anything like a looking-glass?
MIKE: Hyphens! Getcher hyphens here!
> dressed in red uniform of a Starfleet Captain. He didn't recognize the man at
> first, but when he did, the recognition struck him hard.
MIKE (Picard): Ow!
> "What are you doing here?"
> "Mon Capitain, I came here to save you, of course."
TOM: This is what you call your subtle advancement of plot.
CROW: The glaciers moved faster than this plot.
> "We are not in any trouble. Go away."
MIKE (Picard): LA LA LA, I can't hear you!
> Picard closed his eyes and
> started to play again, but Q leaned against him and said in a low voice:
ALL: <clear throats>
TOM: This is an awfully suggestive fanfic, isn't it?
> "Oh,
> mon Capitain,
ALL: <clear throats some more>
> au contraire,
CROW: Mon frere,
> you are in big trouble. I bet he didn't tell you
> about the two Cardassian war cruisers."
> Picard stiffened.
MIKE: Well, there you go, Q, you've killed him!
> He couldn't breath.
TOM: Probably couldn't breathe, either.
> The memories of the pain he had
> suffered in that room with the Cardassian, were very vivid and he winced
> weakly. For a long time he struggled for his breath, and when he finally was
> able to speak, he got out only one word:
MIKE: "Whiskey"?
TOM: "Chamberpot"?
CROW: "Hackey-sack"?
> "Cardassians."
ALL: Oh.
> "Indeed, my dear Captain. And they are going to take your ship and
> everybody on it will be taken to the mining colonies. And you will be taken
> back to that room. And he will ask you how many lights you can see. And
> eventually, you will tell him that there is only three lights.
MIKE: WHY can't these people learn to match plural nouns with plural verb
forms? My high school English teacher must be spinning in her grave!
CROW: Oh, is she dead, Nelson?
MIKE: I dunno.
> But then he
> will say that you are lying. And he will use that device again."
CROW: Q's speech seems to have gotten much more terse since we saw him last.
> Picard twitched as
TOM: Fourteen thousand volts of electricity coursed through his body! Ha ha!
> the memories came to him again and the flute fell
> from his hand and it appeared to take an eternity before it hit the floor.
CROW: Oh, that's lame. They're just using a strobe light!
> "But you can stop it now."
> Picard turned his head to look at Q. "How?"
TOM (Q): Why, you're an omnipotent, interdimensional being, of course! Oh,
wait... sorry, that's me.
> "Just come with me," Q said, standing up and extending his arm towards
> Picard. "Come. I will show you the way."
MIKE: This is getting just a bit messianic, I think.
> Picard got up and allowed Q to lead him across the room, to a glowing
> light that had appeared into the doorway.
>
> He found himself walking in the light, all around him everything was
> completely white, and he looked to his side and was relieved to see that Q was
> there with him.
MIKE: I'm not sure, but I think that was a run-on sentence, it was just a
little stilted and awkward and I'm getting hungry.
> "Where are we going?"
> Q raised his finger to his lips.
CROW: Unfortunately missing his lips and hitting a nostril.
ALL: Eeeeeewww!!!
> "You will see soon. Just follow me."
> And Picard did as he was told, followed Q in the white glow, unable to
> sense anything alse than the presence of the god-like creature that was
> leading him.
MIKE: Good grief! Is this author sticking these sentences together with
*glue*?
TOM: First you complain about sentence fragments, then you complain about
run-on sentences. WHERE DOES IT END?
CROW: Quite the McElwaine, aren't we, Servo?
> But then, slowly he started to become aware of something ahead
> of them.
CROW: The ice cream truck?
MIKE: The information desk?
CROW: A clue?
TOM: It's all these things, and more!
> Something was crying
TOM: It's probably all of the poor people who've read this fanfic.
> there and as they drew closer, he recognized it
> to be a small child. A Cardassian child.
MIKE: A small Cardassian child.
TOM: A small, ugly Cardassian child.
CROW: A small, ugly Cardassian child with a big wart on its face.
> They stopped in front of the infant, who stopped crying.
MIKE: Oh, a *trained* small Cardassian child.
> "It's his
> child, Jean-Luc. The child of the man who tortured you."
> Picard glanced at Q and kneeled down to have a closer look at the
> child.
MIKE (Picard): Yup, that's a Cardassian child, all right!
> The Cardassian features were clear, but unlike grown up Cardassians,
> this one was still innocent, unaware of the evils of the world. Not yet
> thinking about hurting anyone, not thinking about conquering other worlds,
> not thinking about war.
TOM: Now wait just a minute. Is this author suggesting that when these
Cardassians grow up, they automaticaly become evil and warlike? Sounds
a bit racist, to me.
MIKE: Don't worry about it, Tom. It's a fanfic.
> This infant was thinking about things every infant
> thinks.
CROW: ... Like filling its diaper and putting things in its mouth.
> It didn't want anything else than comfortness, warmth, and love.
TOM: Hey, Mike, is "comfortness" a word?
MIKE: That depends.
> "You could kill it."
MIKE: Magic voice?
TOM: I didn't know Magic Voice was homicidal.
> Picard stood up again and looked at Q, then turning his gaze back at
> the small infant. "Kill it? Why?"
> "It's his child."
> "It is not a crime to be born to be a child of a madman."
TOM: Hello? Dept. of Redundancy Dept.?
> "It is a Cardassian."
> "Not a crime either."
> "I will get your ship to safety, if you kill it."
> "No."
CROW: Geez, Picard's just like a spoiled brat.
> "Allright," Q said, starting to walk again.
MIKE: It's a miracle! He can walk again!
ALL: Yaaaaayyy!
> "Where are you going now?" Picard asked, wanting to follow him, but at
> the same time, not wanting to leave the child alone again.
> "Don't worry about the child, Jean-Luc. Just follow me."
> Reluctantly, Picard walked around the infant, leaving it behind
> himself.
TOM: If he'd walked around the baby backwards, would the baby then be in
front of him?
> When he turned to look back over his shoulder a few seconds later,
> the child had already vanished into the glow. Q looked at him, smiling
> slightly, then he gestured forwards. "Look, Jean-Luc. There's someone laying
> on the ground there. Anyone you know?"
MIKE (Picard): Uh, no, actually. Anybody *you* know?
TOM: Ooo, I bet this is the beat-up Jew who gets rescued by the Samaritan!
> Picard looked at the form and walked cautiously closer. It was his
> torturer.
CROW: No, wait, sorry, it's only his barber.
> "Why is he here? What has happened to him?" he asked from Q.
> "He was attacked by a bunch of low-lifes.
TOM: Ha ha! It's the twenty-fourth century, and the best an all-powerful,
all-knowing being can come up with is "low-lifes"?
> Robbed him, mugged him and
> left him to die.
MIKE: They also stole all the equipment for making complete sentences!
> They thought they had injured him fatally, but he is a strong
> man.
CROW: He works at the circus.
> He will recover." Q had moved to the other side of the body of the
> unconscious Cardassian. He was holding something in his hand and was offering
> it to Picard.
TOM (Q): Cigarette?
MIKE (Picard): Yes, I know.
> "You can end what they left unfinished." The object in his hand was a
> knife. Its thirteen inches long blade
MIKE (Australian accent): Now *there's* a knife!
> was glimmering in the bright light that
> was surrounding them. Picard moved his hand to take the weapon, but stopped.
> "Why should I kill him?"
> "He would kill you if your parts were changed."
ALL: Eeeeeewww!
TOM: I don't think I want to see Picard with one of those funky Cardassian
necks.
> "Not enough reason."
MIKE: Not enough grammar, either.
> Q looked at him, switching his hold of the weapon and bringing his
> hands together, the weapon now pointing towards the Cardassian.
> "You won't kill him," Picard said.
> "Watch me," replied Q and
CROW: Danced a happy little jig, whirled in circles, got dizzy and fell down,
giggling like a schoolgirl.
> flung the blade down. Picard jumped and
> knocked him over, sending the knife flying away and leaving the Cardassian
> unharmed.
>
> In a flash of bright light he suddenly found himself back in his
> quarters.
TOM: It was all a dream!
MIKE: ... You were there, and you were there, and...
> "Picard to Commander Riker."
> There was a puzzled silence as Riker looked at the others on the
> bridge with him.
CROW (Riker): Okay, now just *who* is this Picard guy again?
> "Riker here," he then answered.
> "What is our current status?"
> "Captain - I - "
CROW (Riker): - Have no idea what you're talking about. In fact, I'm just
coasting along in this job, and I have no clue what I'm doing. I'm so
embarrassed.
> "Never mind, number one.
MIKE (Picard): You ignorant fool.
> I'll be there shortly."
TOM: Haw, haw! That's a joke, see? *Picard* is going to be there
*shortly*! How *else* is he going to be there?
MIKE: You don't have any room to talk there, Tom.
> He walked out of his
> quarters and took a turbolift to the bridge. He stepped in and everybody
> turned to look at him.
CROW: He suddenly realized he was wearing his pajamas.
> There were four Cardassians on the bridge with
> Starfleet officers.
TOM: They all exchanged "high-five's" and got down to business.
> Riker rose from the commanding officers chair. "What is our status?"
> Picard asked.
> "The ship is still in need of massive repairs, but we are having help
> from our Cardassian friends. They have promised to provide us with an escort
> and tow us to the nearest Federation Starbase. Are you allright, Captain."
MIKE (Picard): What are you talking about? I'm BALD! And why is everyone
looking at me like that?!? There's NOTHING WRONG WITH-- Oh, er, uh,
yes, I'm fine, Number One. And how are you?
> "Yes, number one. I'm fine now. I think you should pay a visit to the
> sickbay. There's someone who might need you there."
MIKE (Picard): And, frankly, we don't need you here.
> "Aye sir." Riker nodded shortly to the Cardassians
CROW: ... Causing his head to fall off and roll around on the floor.
> and left the bridge.
>
> "Deanna?"
> "Will!" She sprang up from the bed and jumped to embrace him. Then she
> started to cry.
> "What is it, Deanna?"
TOM (falsetto): Just hormones, I'll be okay.
> "Worf."
> "That's allright, Deanna. I understand."
CROW: Heh, heh. I *bet* you do, beard-boy.
> They were silent for a long
> time.
MIKE: Seasons changed. Civilizations rose and fell. Congress balanced the
budget.
> "Can you talk about it?"
> Deanna nodded weakly. "I'll try."
> Riker waited patiently.
TOM: Of course! How *else* is he going to wait when he's in Sickbay?
CROW: That one was pretty bad, Servo.
> "He brought me to my quarters and was just about to leave, when we
> were suddenly somewhere else..."
MIKE: That make sense to you, Servo?
TOM: Oh, perfectly. how about you, Crow?
CROW: Clear as crystal.
> Short sobs interrupted Deanna and Riker
TOM: Absently kicked them away from her.
> held
> her tenderly against him, comforting her. "Someone tried to take me, but Worf
> wouldn't allow it. I have never sensed such hatred. Worf fought long, but was
> overcome by the attackers. Somehow he managed to destroy them all, though. At
> the last second, I suddenly felt only fear and terror from them and then I
> felt an explosion and when I became conscious again, I was in my quarters...
> and Worf was laying on the floor...and I couldn't...I just cried...and I tried
> to escape to the other room, but there was no comfort...."
MIKE: Now is the time for all bad fanfics to lose any semblance of sense they
might have previously had.
> Riker soothed her and waited until she stopped weeping. Then he took
> her to the biobed and put her down on it. "Sleep now," he said and Deanna
> closed her eyes, soon falling asleep.
CROW: Wow! Talk about following orders!
> Riker looked at her for a while and then left to see his other friend
> on the sickbay.
TOM: What, he's got *two* friends?
> "How is he?" he asked from Beverly.
> "Stable. I can't understand how he has survived those injuries,
MIKE (falsetto): Oh, wait, let me think again... There! I did it! I think
I'm getting better at this.
> but he
> will make it, Will. He will live."
> "Is he awake?"
TOM: Wait. He's right there in Sickbay, and they can't just look over at
the bed?
> "No, I don't dare to wake him up.
CROW: I *double* dare you.
> We will just have to wait until he
> is recovered enough to wake on his own."
> Riker walked over to the motionless body of Lieutenant Worf. He was
> covered by a sheet up to
TOM: The top of his head. He was dead!
> his neck and was breathing peacefully, looking very
> vulnerable.
MIKE: I find this part hard to believe.
> Riker could only hope that the shock of returning to life wouldn't
> be too much for the Klingon, who had already accepted his own death.
TOM: Yeah. Wha... huh?
> "Will. He doesn't want to die. That's why he is still with us."
MIKE: So the fact that he's being cared for by high-tech twenty-fourth
century doctors has nothing to do with it?
> Riker turned away, touched her
CROW: On her smooth bu--
MIKE: Crow, you're headed for a time out.
CROW: Sorry.
> elbow and sighed heavily. "I just hope
> he knows what he wants. It would have been an honorable death."
> "I'm sure he does."
> With that, Riker left the sickbay and returned to the bridge.
>
> The starbase 163 hung proudly in space. The wrecked form of the USS
> Enterprise was besides it.
> "They are going to take her off active duty, Will."
MIKE (Picard): The ship, too.
> "I know, sir. I just recieved a promotion."
> "I know Will. I arrenged it."
> "I know that too."
TOM: Hah! The fanfic is self-riffing again!
> Riker stood up, looking down at Picard, who was
CROW: Stone-drunk on the floor.
> sitting behind his desk.
> "Take could care of her. The newest jewel of the Starfleet."
MIKE: "Take could care of her"? Huh?
> "I will, Admiral. I will make her name famous."
TOM: I will also learn to speak fluidly and naturally.
> "Have a good voyage, Will." They looked at each other, remembering the
> adventures they had shared together.
ALL: <clear throats>
MIKE: I think we're almost done, guys.
> It was time to say goodbye.
ALL: <sniffling sounds>
> "We will see again, Admiral.
CROW: What, is Starfleet poking all their eyes out, or something?
MIKE: Uh, I think the author meant "meet again" Crow.
CROW: It's still stupid.
> You are welcome to visit us any time."
> "One day I may make use of that invitation, Will.
MIKE (Picard): But only when I run out of money or need to hide from the cops.
> Until then." He
> stood up now too and they shook hands. Then Riker nodded,
CROW: D'oh! There goes his head again!
> turned around and
> left. The new Captain of the new starship, both boldly going to the stars.
MIKE: And boldy fragmenting sentences that no fanfic author has fragmented
before.
> The USS Endeavour was a ship worthy of her Captain.
>
> -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
> There. All questions, comments,
MIKE: Spitwads,
TOM: Pellet guns,
CROW: Projectile vomiting,
> other things should be directed
TOM: By Sandy Frank!
> to the author.
> Jari Makela m14...@cc.tut.fi
>
>
>
>
MIKE: Come on, guys. We're out of here.
<1.....2.....3.....4.....5.....6>
TOM: <looking warily about> I think he's gone, guys.
ALL: Whew!
MIKE: So. Did any of the plot become clearer to you after that half of the
fanfic?
<'Bots begin nodding their heads>
TOM: Ah... no.
CROW: Nope. Not a bit.
MIKE: Good. Me neither. Oh, look, Johnson & Johnson are calling. <hits
button> What do you think, sirs?
<Deep 13.>
DR. F: Well, we managed to retrieve most of the files Frank deleted. It won't
happen again. <Frank shakes his head somberly> Now, I just want to
make sure you realize that we won't be leaving out any bad fanfic parts
in the future. ESPECIALLY if they're by that master schlock-meister,
Ratliff!
<SOL>
TOM: Uh... actually, I think Ratliff's pretty good. Don't you think so,
guys?
CROW: What? Have you flip--
TOM: I said, don't you think Ratliff's pretty *good*, guys?
CROW: Oooohhh... Yes, I do, in fact. Superb. Nelson?
MIKE: Yup. Me too. One of the best fanfic authors on the net.
<Deep 13>
DR. F: What? Aren't we talking about *Stephen* Ratliff? Why, he's the worst!
He can't write his way out of a shallow bucket! He--
<lights flash>
FRANK: Uhh... I think you'd better look at this, Steve. <begins frantically
punching buttons and typing on keyboards>
DR. F: What? Our memory core's being filled with copies of "Enterprized"?
And "A Gul's Revenge"? And what's this "Cadet Cruise" thing?
FRANK: Oh, this is bad! They're crowding out all of our essential files!
DR. F: That shouldn't be possible! Aaagh!
<There's a knock at the door>
DR. F: Get the door, Frank! I'll try to save our files to disk!
<Frank opens the door. Stephen Ratliff enters>
RATLIFF: I've had it with you poeple talking bad about me. Lets see how you
like ten millon copies of my great stories so you can learn what real
ficction is like and then maybe you'll stopp saying how bad I am.
Everybodfy says I am a bad writter but I'm better than they would be.
DR. F: Oh, great. *Now* what do we do? Push the button, Frank, I'll try to
figure this out!
<Frank pushes button>
RATLIFF: Hey is that some kind of electroad?
<ZZZZZZZDT!!!>
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOW BEFORE THE MIGHTY DISCLAIMER!!!
The characters and situations related to Mystery Science Theater 3000 and found
in this here post are the properties of Best Brains, Inc., and their use was
not meant to cause any trouble.
This post is meant purely as entertainment, and is not meant as a personal
attack on Jari Makela, the fanfic's author, or on Stephen Ratliff.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> "So, how does it look like, chief?"
> The big redheaded engineering specialist looked grimly at LaForge. "It
> doesn't look good at all, sir..."
--
Michael R. Warner mwa...@uoft02.utoledo.edu
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"All that I cherish, what I hold/Precious to me is not gold/Treasures of
the heart cannot be bought, cannot be sold..." --Frozen Ghost