MiSTed - "The Aph(f)rodisians" & "Who Mourns for Hazzard?" 1/2
Bill Livingston
[0... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6]
[Satellite of Love - Mike & Crow are talking with strangely familiar
accents]
MIKE: Oh, but he was just driven by desperation, y'know?
CROW: Yah, but he had to be a basically flawed person to begin with to even
*have* the idea, y'see!
MIKE: No, but see - no, but see - the funny-lookin' guy and the big stupid
guy were just plain nuts, and - [notices Cambot] Oh, well, hey there!
Mike Nelsongaard here on the ol' Satellite of Love, y'know? We're just
discussin' who was the worser bad guy in "Fargo".
CROW: Yah! We kinda snuck it up here on a download while the folks down
dere in Deep 13 weren't lookin', y'know? An' we watched it dere, what?
MIKE: Bout a couple dozen times, y'think?
CROW: Yah, you betcha! So, den ennyway, I says dat Jerry, he's lots worse'n
dose two -
[Servo enters with a pair of goggles around his "neck"]
SERVO: [Regular voice, no accent] Hey fellas.
MIKE: Hey, Tommy, what's with the voice an' stuff, hah?
SERVO: Huh? Oh, I purged it.
CROW: Oh geez! Cripes, how'd ya do it?
SERVO: I used the VR goggles to watch 6 straight hours of "The Dukes of Haz-
zard" compressed into 30 seconds - the overblown southern accents and the
overblown northern accents just canceled each other out.
MIKE: Oh, gosh, just pass somea' dat dere over here den, yah?
CROW: Yah, sure. [Lights flash] Oh gosh, oh geez, ya better hurry, cuz Norm
and Marge're callin', you betcha!
[Deep 13 - Forrester is drinking a truly impressive cup of coffee - it's
actually a washtub with a hand, stenciled "Property of Deep 13 Perk"]
DR.F: Greetings, Scandawhichians! I had thought that for today's experiment,
we'd try something a little different - a nice, informal chat session,
in a trendy pseudo-Manhattan coffee house setting. You know, a little
witty banter, a little watered-down sexual innuendo, some cappuccino
(sips blissfully) - and an occasional tune by mother.
[Pearl comes in, wearing a long blonde wig and carrying a guitar]
MRS.F: And I had my "Stinky Cat Song" all ready!
DR.F: Yes, well, it's, uh, our loss that we won't hear it. Because it's
come to our attention that there's been a little unauthorized down-
loading of a certain Coen Brothers film! You flunkies wouldn't know
anything about that, *would you*?!?
[SOL]
MIKE: [Removing goggles] Oh, uh, gosh no, Dr. Forrester, we haven't heard a
thing about anything like that.
SERVO: Nope, nothing like that going on here, heh heh heh!
CROW: [Still in Fargo mode] Yah, cripes, 'ere's no shenanigans 'er goins-
on like that hereabouts, y'know?
SERVO: CROW!!
CROW: Oh! Ah, no, but see -
[D13]
DR.F: I thought so! You've contaminated the experiment! So, I'm afraid no
kaffeklatsch ambiance today, Bart Fargo! In order to undo the damage
your little foray into film excellence has caused, I'm going to have
to hit you with a little double whammy - not one, but *two* Star Trek
fanfics. First up, a Next Generation tale of wacky, madcap aliens,
their physiology, and a certain Betazoid's love life. Bet no one told
you life was gonna be *this* way, hmm? Have a cup of java, gentlemen -
with extra pain, muahahahahah!!!
MRS.F: [offscreen] Clayton!! That darn monkey's loose again, and he's
flinging his excreta all over the place!
DR.F: Mother, I told you - Marcel only gets the decaf latte! (sips from his
big coffee cup again)
[SOL - everyone's voice is back to normal now]
MIKE: No, I don't think a lot count'll do any good at this point!
[Lights Flash]
ALL: YAAHH!! WE GOT TREK-FIC SIGN!!!!
[6... 5... 4... 3... 2... o]
SERVO: We just fled the interview
MIKE: Okay, one thing before we start: I call no shouts of "Fan Boy!" for
the duration
CROW: Wuss!
>From: Gvwm...@netcom.com
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
ALL: [sigh deeply]
>Subject: TNG: the afrodisians
CROW: Oh, great! This is either gonna be something racially motivated, or
else it's supposed to be something semi-adult, in which case, the author
can't even spell his own title right!
SERVO: Yeah, and either way, we lose!
>Date: Thu, 08 Aug 1996 20:12:16 GMT
MIKE: Gee, Ma - Trek!
>Organization: Netcom
ALL: [groan loudly]
>Lines: 96
>Message-ID: <4udhfv$bag
MIKE: Something's in the bag
CROW: Mommy? Mommy?
> @sjx-ixn2.ix.netcom.com>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: bal-md1-05.ix.netcom.com
>X-NETCOM-Date: Thu Aug 08 1:08:31 PM PDT 1996
>X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.0.82
MIKE: Forte Free Agent: The Bronx
>Status: N
>
>The characters are from paramount. the story is mine
>and can be distributed as needed.
>G Moore
SERVO: I need more fan fiction! I *need* it!
MIKE: Read two Picard/Crusher romances, drink plenty of liquids and get
lots of bed rest
>The Afrodisians
>
>Wesley punched up the coordinates for the newest
>mission on Aphrodisia.
CROW: Yeah, I called it - this guy *can't* spell his own title!
MIKE: I'd like it on the record that I really, really never wanted to hear
"Wesley" and any variation on "aphrodisiac" in the same sentence!
> The ship was going at warp 4.
>The ambassador beamed aboard about 2 hours later.
SERVO: Two of the most exciting hours in the history of StarFleet!
CROW: Remember, kids, the narrative process is here to use, not abuse
>It was accompanied by 2 bodygaurds,
SERVO: [Raul Julia] Itt, old man!!
> humanoid in form, yet
>with exotic colors not visible to the naked eye.
MIKE: So they were invisible?
SERVO: No, their colors just weren't visible to the naked eye.
MIKE: Oh, well that's different, then.
> They
>seemed similar in color to oil on water had they been
>noticed from their spacesuit.
SERVO: Their spacesuit was the color of oil while they were on water?
CROW: Or does that mean if you look at them from inside their invisible
spacesuit, they look like oily water?
SERVO: This is like trying to read Unix
> Data was to escort them
MIKE: For 150 bucks an hour
>to their quarters where they would stay for the majority
>of the trip.
CROW: They brought a couple of three-liter Diet Rites and a cooler full
of munchies with them
MIKE: They must've heard about the price of StarFleet commissary food
> Data's information on the Afrodisians was
>that they were essentially beings
SERVO: Boy that old android logic circuit just cuts right to the core of
these conundrums!
> composed of many
>interdependant cells
CROW: They're the aliens from "Interdependance Day"
MIKE: [Jeff Goldblum] Time's Up!
> that transmitted chemical information
>instead of genetic information.
SERVO: Wait, wait, isn't that what cells do anyway?
MIKE: Ummm...
SERVO: I mean, isn't genetic code simply stored internally while...
MIKE: Dammit, Servo, I'm a temp, not a doctor!
CROW: Wrong generation
> Their method of reproduction
>was asexual.
SERVO: Thus, no fun at all, and scarcely worth mentioning
> Their cells were at least 100 times
>larger than human beings,
CROW: Their cells are 600 feet high?
> but still invisible to the naked
>eye.
CROW: It's the attack of the Invisible 600-foot Cells!
MIKE: Coming soon, from the mind of Roger Corman!
> 'Engage' Jean Luc said, as soon as they were aboard.
>He then took the turbolift down to their quarters
SERVO: [Picard] As captain, I can get engaged to whomever I wish. Isn't
that right, turbolift, dear?
CROW: This must've been a shock to Dr. Crusher
>to speak with them in his diplomatic form.
SERVO: Jean-Luc Picard: Man of a thousand forms.
MIKE: Darn changelings are everywhere these days!
> He ordered a tea
>from the replicator and sat down. Geordi, the ship's engineer
>accompanied them.
CROW: On the coronet
> 'This is the first contact I, as an
>ambassador, has had with your species', it formally said.
SERVO: [ambassador] I has had contacts with other species, though
>'We would like in exchange for certain knowledge of your
> nanobots.
MIKE: Sammy Sosa and a plate of French Fries
> We have heard much information that it may be
> useful in repairing our bodies when they are infected
> with viruses'.
CROW: That sentence just DARES you to parse it!
> 'We have heard that your planet
>survived a Borg attack. How was this done?' Geordi questioned.
SERVO: [ambassador] We all hid behind the sofa until they went away
>'Our bodies are composed of many intricate cells that effectively
>rerouted against the borgs implants. In effect, their implants just
>fell off of our bodies.
ALL: E-E-E-W-W-W-W-WWW!
> Here is some of the history of the borg
>and what we have learned from them.'
MIKE: [Picard] Hmm, a 3.4 GPA. Not bad, not bad, although I see you
scored poorly in Implants 101.
> It placed the data tablet
>on the table.
CROW: [Ambassador] Take two tablets and call us in the morning
> 'I'm sure that you are tired. We can continue this
>discussion later' the captain said. He shook the ambassadors hand.
SERVO: But the ambassador's cells rerouted, and his hand fell off.
>Troi, on the bridge, suddenly fell to the floor, panting.
ALL: Pant-pant-pant! Rrowf! Huhuhuhuh! Bowowowowwow!
>'Medical emergency!', Riker called. Most of the crew noticed this
>panting was quite erotic in nature.
CROW: [Troi] I'd *love* to sense your emotions! Call 1-900-BETAZED and
let me experience *you*!
> Riker, jealous,
SERVO: Tscha - he's jealous of them hearing her?
MIKE: Will has some control issues to work through
> carried her to
>sickbay directly.
CROW: Did not pass go, did not collect 200 bars of gold-press latinum
> Beverly examined her. 'I can't understand it,
>she appears to having an orgasm that isn't subsiding'.
[All start laughing]
CROW: THIS is it?!? We've gone from exploring the mysteries of space and
time, interstellar war, and seeking out new civilizations to THIS?!?
> 'Her betazoid
>brain parts seem to be directly stimulating her amygdala,
MIKE: Hey, I once went out with an Amy G. Dala
SERVO: Did you stimulate her?
MIKE: I tried to, but she slapped me with her Betazoid brain parts
>the sexual part at least'.
CROW: Oh, at least
> 'This brainscan shows that the two are
>directly joined as if the neural pathways were suddenly.....'
MIKE: Susan!
SERVO: Seymour!
CROW: Salad!
>'Oh my God! Oh my God!' Troi screamed over and over again.
SERVO: Why, she's a super freak!
CROW: I'll have what she's having.
>I'm going to give her a sedative' Beverly said. Troi slumped over.
MIKE: They pulled her power pack!
CROW: [Dr. Smith] Quiet, you twittering tin-plated tadpole! Oh, the
pain - the pain!
>'That sedative appears to be working fine,
MIKE: A couple of episodes of "Coach", and she's out like a light
> but if I'm correct,
>it will wear off very quickly considering that her mind is
>almost being rerouted directly into her stimulatory centers.'
>Beverly conducted some experiments.
MIKE: [Beverly] ...so if I put the egg on top of the milk bottle right
away, it gets sucked down inside!
CROW: Seems appropriate, considering...
MIKE: Hey, now!
> She assumed that maybe Troi
>was reacting to some chemical substance, as she was the ship's
>psychiatrist and in charge of the medicines.
SERVO: I thought the ship's *doctor* was in charge of the medicines.
CROW: They just let Troi sense when you're sick, then she rushes in
with a hypospray full of ProzacŠ
> No such luck.
SERVO: Yeah, tell us about it!
>Data walked in the door, and acted concerned about the patient.
MIKE: [Data] I do not really care about her, I just want to practice
looking like I do.
> 'Oh,
>she's having the time of her life', Beverly sarcastaclly chuckled,
SERVO: Oh, now *that's* cold.
CROW: Doctor Misanthrope is on the job!
>trying to mix humor with the first 'good' sexual disease.
CROW: No, I'm sorry, I just can't get the term "good sexual disease"
to scan at all
> Data said,
>'What about her empath abilities?'. Beverly then shot up.
MIKE: Boy, Bev really reacts poorly under pressure!
CROW: Maybe that's why Troi's in charge of the medicine.
> Suppose
>her brain such a large dose of sexual excitement
CROW: Noun, good; object, excellent; verb, - VERB ON THE SET, PLEASE!
> and it couldn't
>shut it off because it was so addictive? The amount needed
>would be astronomical. It would have to be......
SERVO: Astronomical. We heard you the first time.
>She quickly picked up the comm. She asked the captain to send up the
>ambassador for a physical.
CROW: Well, sure, I can see how because Troi's sex drive just went into
overdrive, they'd want to give the ambassador a phys - the hey?!?
> As she waited, she noticed that Troi
>was in the throes of passion.
SERVO: So let's leave her right out here in the open part of sickbay so
everyone can enjoy the most embarrassing moments of her life.
> The ambassador entered.
MIKE: Not a word, guys!
> Beverly did
>a simple tricorder scan of his body.
MIKE: [Ambassador] You only want to scan me for my body - you care nothing
for me as an Aphrodisian. Or even an Afrodisian.
> His body has assimilated some
>of the captains dead skin into his genetic code.
ALL: E-E-E-W-W-W-W-WWW!
> It was reproduction
>similiar to that of bacteria.
SERVO: Yeah, the Andromeda Strain, maybe!
MIKE: Oh, at least this is a break from their usual fuzzy physics
SERVO: Well, their blurry biology isn't any easier to take!
> She asked the ambassador to move away
>and then close.
MIKE: Dancing! Dancing will save Troi! And one and two and...
> During the motion away, Troi had a very slight drop
>in neural activity. She then called a meeting and filled in the
>details .
CROW: Not bad for someone experiencing a slight drop in neural activity.
> 'Apparently, the ambassadors cells receive
>genetic information from contact with organic materials.
MIKE: Ah, so if they sit on a wooden chair, they'll turn into trees
CROW: Hold my leather jacket, ambassador, I'm craving a steak!
> This contact
>can be considered sexual contact,
MIKE: Which explains why the guy rolled over and went to sleep after he
shook Picard's hand
> and in it's large numbers of
>cells overwhelmed Troi's betazoid abilities.
SERVO: But - but he was - and Picard, *not* Troi - and how did -
I mean, what - and the deal wit da - HOIL!!
MIKE: This story must have been written in a half an hour at 4:00 in
the morning on a bet!
> It now
>directly stimulates her amygdala. Since the cells themselves are
>individual yet interconnected, all have the same function at once
>without directly involving the overall organism.
CROW: So just how did all these foreign cells just suddenly start
appearing inside Troi's head?
MIKE: I guess they just rerouted through her skull.
CROW: But if the Borg stuff didn't stick to them, why are they
sticking to her Betazoid brain parts and stuff?
MIKE: Maybe her skull's thicker than metal, how should I know?!?
> I would like some
>more information about their race's medical technologies.'
SERVO: O-o-o-o-oh, I just bet you would!
> 'All
>we have at the moment is this information you gave us.' Geordi said.
>'Since it is one of our first contacts
MIKE: Now playing in theaters everywhere!
> with your race, we would
CROW: Just as soon forget the whole thing
SERVO: Give us the babe & we'll all pretend none of this ever happened
>object to providing biological information about our species.
CROW: Sort of like he forgot to mention that Picard was giving him an
accidental hand job!
MIKE: Crow!! That's not - well, I guess it's true, but still...
CROW: Just tellin' it the way it is, Mikey!
> Most
>of the warfare on our planet in our past has been on biological
>grounds. ' 'Understood' the captain said.
SERVO: Which is more than *we* can say!
>Later in sickbay. 'Do you think it's possible?' Beverly said.
MIKE: Nope, sorry, you'll never act in anything ever again
CROW: She was in "Hunt for Red October"
SERVO: Yeah, but she got tossed along with Baldwin #1 & replaced with
Anne Archer
MIKE: Too bad - she could've been First Lady by now
>'I'm an android, anything's possible' Data said,
CROW: Apparently including contractions, at this point!
> trying to
>act human. They had been working for a few hours on designing a
SERVO: Fall collection that would take the Paris runways by storm!
>drug that would stop the empathic abilities of Troi. Troi had been
>hooked up to a life machine,
CROW: That goes "Ping"
> and was being intravenously fed, because
>of her condition
MIKE: Deanna Troi: Too freaky to eat lunch!
SERVO: [singing] I'm too sexy for dessert, too sexy for dessert, so sexy
it hurts!
> and inability to comprehend much of what was going
>on around her.
MIKE: One of the few things we have in common with the Counselor.
> A hiss was heard
CROW: From the readers, more than likely
> two hours later as the hypospray
>was applied to the counselors neck.
MIKE: Two more spine-tingling hours in the StarFleet era!
> She started to calm down.
>'I'm the doctor now.
SERVO: I'm the doc! I'M THE DOC!!
> Take this as often as your get excited,
CROW: Or just think of Riker, that'll snap you out of it
> until
>the ambassador and his colleagues leave the ship' Beverly said.
MIKE: And get those Antonio Banderas posters off your wall!
>
>The end
SERVO: Wha - that's IT!?!?
MIKE: Stories that end like that'll give you whiplash!
CROW: Yeah, we want more!
SERVO: Do you realize what you just said?
CROW: Just tha - Oh, no! Just shoot me now.
SERVO: Nah, wait'll you get home.
MIKE: Let's just go.
[0... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6]
[SOL - Crow, Tom, & Gypsy are dressed in TNG-era uniforms. Crow is sporting
a rather cheesy looking beard, while Tom has Klingon-Style ridges drawn on
his dome.]
CROW: She's mine, you Klingon goofball! I saw her first!
SERVO: Wha - you have besmirched my honor, you coward! I demand satisfac-
tion!
CROW: Demand all you want, Michelin-head, you can't have her!
SERVO: C'mon, you, take the coatrack outta yer shirt and let's wrassle!
[Mike walks in]
MIKE: Crow?!? Servo?!? What the blue blazes are you guys doing?
GYPSY: Sir! Sir! I sense great tension between these two!
MIKE: Thanks for the newsflash, Gyps! What's going on here, anywho?
CROW: This sorry excuse for a Klingon stole Counselor Gypsy's heart, & I'm
here to reclaim it!
SERVO: You are not worthy of her, you baggy-eyed, pot-bellied, skirt-chasing
geekoid!
MIKE: C'mon now, you two're not really fighting for Gypsy's sake, are you?
[Long Pause]
CROW: Well-l-l-l, no
SERVO: Not really
GYPSY: Oh, I like that!
CROW: We're just tryin' to figure out why half the Next Generation fanfics
out there seem to feature Deanna in sexually explicit or compromising
scenes.
MIKE: I thought you guys weren't supposed to think about things like that.
SERVO: Mike, Mike, Mike, our emotion chips are flooding our positronic nets
with extraordinary sensory input.
MIKE: Well, if you're asking...
CROW: No, but go ahead anyway - we could use the laughs.
MIKE: Hmph! Just think of it this way: one, Marina Sirtis isn't exactly a
slouch in the looks department.
CROW: Oh, yeah, baby!
MIKE: Two: There was something of a shortage of female regulars aboard
Picard's Enterprise.
SERVO: True enough.
MIKE: Three: A large number of these stories are written by guys between
15 and 30 years old.
CROW: Wow, that's a lot of stray hormones floating around loose!
MIKE: And there's one other thing to consider, too.
GYPSY: Yeah, that while Gates McFadden and Michelle Forbes and the others
at least got to wear StarFleet Uniforms, Marina Sirtis was forced to
wear that low-cut jumpsuit that was two sizes too small for five years
before they gave her some small modicum of dignity!
MIKE: By George, I think she's got it! [Lights Flash]
SERVO: Uh-oh, it's Commander Eddington and Admiral Nechayev.
[continued]
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bi...@Traveller.COM http://www.hsv.tis.net/~bill
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