MSTed: Stephen Ratliff's "All The King's Horses" (5/5)

[Mighty Jack]

[SOL]

[Mike, Crow and Tom are all dressed smartly in black suits and black ties.
They are standing in their usual places.]

MIKE: Hi folks. Well, we *were* all set to have ourselves a good time
right about now, a little bright and cheerful moment to help get us
through the rest of the fanfic. We had a mariachi band lined up,
there was going to be singing, dancing and laughter... but then we
had to sit through one of the most unrelentingly depressing chapters
that Ratliff ever wrote, and now we just can't get in the mood to
celebrate.

TOM SERVO [glumly]: Thanks a *lot*, Ratliff.

MIKE: So, at the last minute and at great expense, we decided to set up
our own little memorial service so we can work through our own
feelings about the deaths of Robert and Rene Picard. And that's why
we've all dressed up like Men in Black without the sunglasses and
dimmed the lights.

CROW: Uh, Mike? The lights have been this dim for *years* now.

MIKE: Oh yeah. That's right.

CROW [muttering]: Speaking of dim...

MIKE: Anyway, we've got a couple of urns for Rene and Robert and some ashes
that we're going to pretend are theirs and we're going to use them
for a little symbolic burial in space. [Mike reaches under the
control panel and brings out two urns labeled "Rene Picard" and
"Robert Picard". He puts them on the control panel.] Tom, would you
like to say a few words before we commit them to the depths of space?

TOM SERVO: Sure would, Mike. Rene, Robert, the news of your deaths stirred
up such intense feelings of apathy and indifference in me that
I just wanted to come and pay my last respects. And I want you
both to know that, even though you're serving about as much
purpose in Ratliff's fanfic now as you did when you were alive,
at least you can take comfort in the fact that you died so
that a spoiled twelve-year old girl could hog the spotlight
one more time.

MIKE: Wait a minute... didn't they die so that Patrick Stewart could have a
dramatic, tear-jerking moment on the big screen?

TOM SERVO: Not according to *this* story.

MIKE: Ah. Crow, any words for the dearly departed?

CROW: Well, I'm not good at speeches, but I think it's cool that Rene will
get to be in space for a while, just like he always wanted. At least
until some alien comes around and uses him for target practice or
until he burns up in a star. And speaking of burning up, I thought
it was really considerate of them to get themselves cremated in their
own house before the funeral. Saves the relatives the trouble, you
know?

MIKE: Crow, remind me to ban you from my funeral, okay? Anyway, I guess
it's time to send them to their final resting place, or floating
place, or whatever. [Mike picks up the urns, then opens the airlock
and places them inside.] Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, yea though
I walk through the valley of the shadow, and all that.

CROW: Hold on, Mike! Don't flush them yet! We've got some more urns to
go out with them!

MIKE: Huh?

CROW: See, Servo and I figured that as long as we were saying goodbye to
Rene and Robert, we should take a minute to pay tribute to some of
the *other* casualties of Marrissa's rise to power. After all, anyone
who stands in Marrissa's way is pretty much a friend of ours!

TOM SERVO: And if we don't honor their memories, who will?

MIKE: Hm. Good point. Okay, so who else are we sending off?

CROW: Well, if you open that box under the control panel, that's where
we put the rest of them. We've got Marrissa's mom and dad...
[Mike holds their urns up to the camera before putting them in
the airlock.] Admiral William T. Riker... [Mike holds his urn
up and puts it in the airlock] Then you've got all the nameless
Romulans, Cardassians and Trakce that Marrissa casually slaughtered
in one battle or another. [Mike transfers many urns from behind the
control panel to the airlock as Crow talks.] Just because we don't
know their names that doesn't make them any less worthy of a decent
burial, right?

MIKE: I guess not. Oh wait, there's one more urn... [Mike brings out an
urn and holds it up to his face.] Ah, Ensign Throwaway. We'll miss
you least of all. [Mike throws the urn away over his shoulder.]
So where'd you get all the ashes, anyway?

TOM SERVO: Oh, it wasn't hard. After we burned your comic book collection,
we had more than enough.

MIKE: Oh, well that sounds like... HEY!!!

[The Mads light starts blinking.]

CROW: Hold that thought, Mike! The Mads are calling....

[Castle Forrester]

[Pearl is standing in the foreground, wearing a black dress with matching
black hat and veil, looking obviously distressed. Observer is in the
background, sitting at a computer.]

PEARL: Hi guys. I know it's my job to bring you misery and all, but this
time I wish I wasn't the bearer of bad news. We just found out
that... that... [Pearl breaks down and starts crying] You tell
them, Observer, I can't...

OBSERVER: [uncomfortably] Um, well Mike, Pearl tells me that you and your
little AIs are quite familiar with Stephen Ratliff, and now I'm
afraid that it's my sad duty to inform you that he is dead.
Pearl was searching Yahoo for some information about him when
she discovered this obituary in Roanoke's local newspaper. As
you can see, she's very shook up over the news, as I'm sure you
are too.

According to the obituary and the local news article that's
linked to it, Stephen was struck by a car that was speeding
through an intersection with a four-way stop. The driver was
a twelve-year old girl whose father apparently was the
commissioner of the Virginia DMV. When asked why he had a
license issued to his underaged daughter, the commissioner said
that she was so good at her NASCAR Racing video game at home
and she scored so high on the DMV's written test that it seemed
like the right thing to do. After he was dismissed from his
position, his daughter was charged with driving with an invalid
license, reckless driving, vehicular manslaughter, failure to
obey a stop sign and exceeding 80 miles per hour with an
unrefined engine.

PEARL [sobbing]: Oh, cruel fate! Such a promising young writer, cut down
in the prime of his life! Why, God, why did this have
to happen to him? What am I going to do now that he's
gone? [She starts to cry again, then she looks up into the
camera] If you guys need a few minutes to deal with this
awful news, I'll understand. Guys?

[SOL]

[The control room is now brightly lit, and Mike, Crow, Tom and Gypsy are
all dancing and cheering with wild abandon while confetti flies through
the air and a mariachi band plays in the background. Meanwhile, the
commercial sign light is blinking.]

CROW: [yelling above the noise] What's that, Pearl?! Didn't quite catch
that last part! Give us a few minutes, okay?! I'll talk to you
after commercial sign!

[Crow hits the commercial sign button with his beak, and the revelry
continues through the transition to...]

[Commercials.]

[Inside the theater]

[Mike and the bots enter.]

TOM SERVO: Mike... we just did a deeply disrespectful thing, didn't we?
MIKE: Yeah. But somehow, just maybe, I think he would have understood.

[They sit down.]

>Author's Note:
> I'd love some feedback.

CROW: That's what we're here for! You're welcome.

> In this section there are referances to
>2 storys and one author here on ASC. See if you can find all three and
>I'll recomend them. -- Stephen

MIKE: And if *Ratliff* recommends them, you just *know* they've gotta
be good!

>
>Chapter Eight

TOM SERVO: Clean the plate.

>The Belmont
>
> Marrissa put on the jockey's uniform on in the hastily assembled
>ladies locker room.

MIKE: And most of the girls in there *looked* hastily assembled, if you
know what I mean.
CROW: Oh joy, more behind the scenes looks at the thrill-a-minute world
of horse racing. What's next, a golf documentary?

> Even though Isabelle had become the first active
>female jockey in years last fall, Belmont hadn't returned the locker
>room from it's storage duties until Isabelle won the Derby.

MIKE: Because in four hundred years there'd only been *one* female jockey
ever.
TOM SERVO: Sad, really. Even in the 24th century, women are still
marginalized.

> Marrissa
>was quite nervous, she had not really expected Mike to let her ride Lady
>Stargazer, the Derby and Preakness winner. It was quite ridiculous.

CROW: Very good, Steve. You've admitted the problem. That's the first
step.

> A
>girl not even a teenager, riding a horse that had a chance at winning
>the triple crown.

MIKE: She's going to phaser "I was beaten by a girl who's not even a
teenager" into the losing horse's flank, I just know it.

> A girl who had never raced in a real race, riding a
>horse that was favored to win the race, or at least had been until Mike
>had announced the jockey change.

TOM SERVO: Obviously the bookies don't know who's writing this story.

> "Relax, Marrissa," Isabelle said, placing an arm around her
>fellow female jockey. "It's only a race."

CROW [as Isabelle]: It's only a once in a lifetime opportunity that'll
cost us thousands if you blow it. No pressure.

> "Only the last race in the triple crown, and I'm riding a horse
>who could win it," Marrissa said,

MIKE [as announcer]: For those of you who just joined our story...

> putting her helmet over her hair,
>which had been tightly braided up. "I'm afraid I'll drop right off the
>horse."
> "The only dropping you have to worry about

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: ... is the stuff you'll be shovelling out of the
stables for the next three months if you don't
bring home the trophy.

> is the dead weight
>you're going to have to carry to your horse," Isabelle smiled. "I've
>seen you working with Lady. You're good.

CROW: Again with the Marrissa worship! Hasn't Ratliff beaten this dead
horse enough?
TOM SERVO: *You* should be beaten for that one, Crow.

> You have a rapport with that
>horse, but then again Lady never liked male jockeys, except for maybe
>Rene,

MIKE: What does it say about Rene when everybody from horses to hotel
clerks mistakes him for a girl?

> and he had to work with her awhile."
> "Dead weight?" Marrissa questioned.

TOM SERVO: You know, like Deanna Troi, or Lore, or the entire cast of
Voyager.

> "What is added to your horse to make all the horses carry the
>same weight," Isabelle explained.

CROW: Or your fiction, to pad it out to more than one part.

> "You weight how much?"
> "101 pounds," Marrissa said.
[singing]: ... of fun, she's my honey bun...

CROW: ... the hell?!
MIKE: Tom, are you fooling around with Cambot again?
TOM SERVO: That wasn't me, Mike! I swear!
MIKE [yelling]: Gypsy? We're getting some weird output from Cambot...
can you track it down?
GYPSY [offscreen, distant]: Will do!

> "I'm a 115 with what Doctor Crusher insisted I put in the past
>couple weeks," Isabelle said.

MIKE [as Isabelle]: She wanted me to eat marbles. I don't know, she's
the doctor....

> "112 is my ideal. Fillies carry 121
>pounds; colts, 126. That means you will carry twenty-two pounds of dead
>weight and I'll carry eleven. I hope you can carry that much."

TOM SERVO: Well, yeah, that might be a strain if she had to carry it
with two fingers while hopping and wearing concrete pants.

> "How far?" Marrissa asked.
> "Just from the weight room to the paddock," Isabelle said.

CROW [as Isabelle]: That's where all our pad shipments arrive.

> "Now
>we better hurry if we want to beat the boys to the weight room.

MIKE [as Isabelle]: I want to go lift before the gym gets too crowded.

> You
>don't want to go though what I did at the Star Fleet Stakes."

CROW [as Isabelle]: Boy, I felt like such a square peg there! [normal
voice, embarrassed] Heh, 'cause it was at the *Stakes*, and...
I'll just shut up now.

> "You won that race, didn't you?" Marrissa inquired as the exited
>the locker room.

MIKE: Nice to see that the girls can share their locker room with any
definite articles that need it.

> "Yes, and I could have charged half of the jockeys with sexual
>harassment," Isabelle replied.

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: But some of the offers they shouted at me sounded
too good to pass up!

> "Rene and I were the last two jockeys to
>arrive, and we suffered several insults. Finally Rene had enough.

MIKE [as Isabelle]: He broke down and cried.

> He
>walked over to the Klingon jockey and asked him if he could barrow his
>d'k tahg.

CROW: His...
MIKE: [clamping his fist over Crow's mouth] No.
TOM SERVO: "Barrow"?

> When Korrath replied, 'Why don't you have you're own
>knife?' He responded,

CROW [as Rene]: I lost it at Nicole Simpson's house. Along with one of
my gloves.

> that he did, but his trainer wouldn't let him
>keep it around the horses. In any case, the p'lahk in the Calumet Farm
>jersey had dishonored his," and Isabelle tripped over the word,
>"par-ma-ki,

MIKE [singing]: Par-ma-ka, life goes on... AH! La la, how the
life goes on...

> what ever that means, and he though a cut jersey would be
>appropriate."

CROW: All those cattle mutilations blamed on aliens... and all along it
was the jockeys!

> "The word means mate, or beloved," Marrissa explained,

TOM SERVO [as Marrissa]: Or insurance claims adjustor. It's a weird
language.

> then at
>Isabelle's inquiring look, she continued. "I've got a Klingon friend,
>Alexander Rozhenko.

MIKE [as Marrissa]: I'm not a traitor just because I know something about
one of the eighteen billion other species out there!
CROW: I'm just wondering when Alexander "Studmuffin" Rozhenko had cause to
make Marrissa aware of that particular word....

> He'll be up in the box with the rest of the
>Enterprise command crew. So what did Rene do?"

TOM SERVO: Told a long, boring and pointless anecdote?

> "Well, while he was talking with Korrath, the jockey from
>Calumet Farm left for his horse," Isabelle said. "Korrath thought it
>was a shame.

CROW: A Low Down Dirty Shame.

> Rene suggested that instead of the blue stripes on his
>uniform, the Calumet rider would prefer yellow.

MIKE: Aw, no, if we're getting more colored ribbon stuff out of Steverino,
I have to go get a beer.
TOM SERVO: Hold on, Isabelle's story might end someday.

> I thought the whole
>thing was ridiculous."

CROW: Hey Isabelle, we agree!
MIKE: What? What was ridiculous? What?
TOM SERVO: I don't think there's any way to tell.

> The two arrived at the weight room to discover that one jockey
>had arrived before them. It was the Klingon jockey, who rode Code of
>Honor. "Greetings, honorable warriors," Korrath said.

MIKE [as Korrath]: And you too, Isabelle and Marrissa.

> "My condolences
>on your recent loss, Lady Isabelle.

TOM SERVO [as Korrath]: So where is the last place you saw your skate keys?

> I hope Rene son of Robert is now in
>Sto-Vo-Kor racing his enemies until they tire under the pace he sets.

MIKE: So in the Klingon afterworld they race horses for all eternity?
CROW: I hope Ratliff's soul goes there... see how *he* likes being
subjected to horse racing for eons!

>He was a most honorable opponent."
> "Thank you, Korrath," Isabelle said, surprised at the sediments
>expressed by the Klingon rider.

ALL: [burst out laughing]
CROW: I always thought he had a heart of stone!
MIKE: He just let his feelings pile up year after year.
TOM SERVO: Thank you, Ratliff, for making us laugh about geology... again.

> Then Korrath turned to Marrissa and said, "You are the
>Arbitrator's heir, Marrissa, daughter of Captain Picard?" Marrissa
>nodded. "A most honorable line.

TOM SERVO [as Korrath]: I've used it many times to get hot Klingon babes
to talk to me.

> Give your enemies no quarter, and may
>you always be victorious ... preferable not against me of coarse."

MIKE: Boy, that's rough.

> "Q'pla, to you as well, Korrath, son of Lomec, of the house of
>Garon," Marrissa replied. "Shall we get this weighing out of the way?

CROW: I'm waiting for the weighing to get out of the way.
TOM SERVO: Didn't Walt Kelly write that first?

>I'd like to get to my horse as soon as I can."
> "Eager to go into battle, Lieutenant?" Korrath asked,

MIKE [as Marrissa]: Uh, no, I just came here to race my horse, thank you.
TOM SERVO: So we finally get a Klingon doing a genuinely non-stereotypical
thing, and it turns out to be just that dull warrior cliche all
over again.

> as
>Marrissa ascended the scales to be weighed.

CROW [as Marrissa]: I've gained 5 pounds! No more onion dip for me!

> "No, afraid if I wait too long, I won't have the nerve to do
>it," Marrissa responded, then she laughed. "Here I am, having fought in
>battles, commanded starships, and I'm afraid of a horse race."

MIKE: Well, horses *are* more ill-tempered than Cardassians, I'll grant
that.

> "There is no shame in feeling fear," Korrath replied.

CROW [as Korrath]: But there *is* shame in wetting your pants.

> "Rather,
>it is not feeling fear that worries me. For if I do not feel fear, then
>there is no challenge in life.

TOM SERVO: Lovely. Now it's an afterschool special.

> For a Klingon, a life with out challenge
>is one without honor, such a life is not worth while."

CROW [softly]: And now... Deep Thoughts, by Korrath son of Lomec.

> "True, son of Lomec," Marrissa said, getting down from the scale
>and picking up her weights.

MIKE: See, it's just like any other Starfleet operation. Hurry up and
weight.

> "I shall see you on the track. Q'pla."

TOM SERVO: Roughly translated, that means "Use your vowels sparingly".

> Marrissa sat on Lady Stargazer as they loaded her into gate
>seven which closed behind her locking her in with her horse.

CROW: I don't suppose there's any chance the horse'll suddenly go into
a claustrophobic frenzy and end up trampling Marrissa to death?
TOM SERVO: Personally, I'd be more worried about the horse being trapped
in there with Marrissa.

> Isabelle
>on Warp Speed was two gates closer to the post. To her inside was We'll
>Always Have Paris,

MIKE [incredulously]: What?!
TOM SERVO: Oh, now he's just opening his episode guide at random.

> ridden by a Betaziod named Fryr Draken.

CROW: Cousin to Friar Tuck.

> There was no
>one on her outside, as a result of disaster caused by Kirk's Bane in the
>Preakness which had end the careers of five horses and killed two
>including Kirk's Bane.

MIKE: His warp core lost containment and wiped out half the state.

> The gates opened and Marrissa urged Lady Stargazer forward...

ALL [chanting]: Throw her! *Throw* her! THROW HER!!!

>
> Up in the stands, the crew of the Enterprise had gathered.

MIKE: ... wondering what they were doing at some damn fool horse race
when the Borg were invading again.

>Captain Jean-Luc Picard eagerly pointed at the gates, looking for his
>daughter and her horse to emerge.

CROW: Yes, a father should always be there for his daughter's coming-out.
MIKE & TOM: [groans]

> Doctor Crusher was at his side, the
>engagement ring he had given her glistening in the sun.

TOM SERVO [as Crusher, glumly]: Well, cubic zirconium still looks pretty
when the sun hits it, I guess.

> Commander Riker
>stood with Data La Forge and Worf, going over the odds.

MIKE [as Riker]: Odds I'll score with Lisa in Astrophysics?
CROW [as Data]: Eight to one against, sir.
MIKE [as Riker]: Alice in Food Prep?
CROW [as Data]: Sixteen to one against, sir.
MIKE [as Riker]: Samantha in Botany?
CROW [as Data]: Ah, you're favored to win there, sir. Two to one odds.
MIKE [as Riker]: Goooood... now about that handicap. I don't think I can
grow more greasy, unappealing hair anywhere else on my
body....

> Troi stood back
>from it all, wondering at how much of a turn around recent times had
>been.

CROW: Remembering the days when adults actually had a say in running
things...

> Captain Picard had been distraught over his brothers and nephew's
>deaths.

TOM SERVO: Then he had a big fudge sundae and got over it.

> Then the barrier between the Captain and the Doctor broke down.

MIKE: After only 57 episodes in which they both beat around the subject.

>Now the two were acting like love birds, which really annoyed Worf.
>Deanna smiled as the bell rang and the race began.

CROW: Because she knew which horse was scheduled to take a dive.

> The announcer yelled out, "And they're off.

TOM SERVO [singing]: The green light flashes, the flags go up. Churning
and burning, they yearn for the cup....

> Warp Speed leads
>out of the gate, with Quarterdeck breed on his inside. Lady Stargazer
>comes in from the outside.

MIKE [as mother]: You wipe your feet, young Lady, and don't track mud all
over my clean floor!

> Code of Honor is next, with Romulan Dawn not
>far behind.

CROW: But it's noon on Romulus!
TOM SERVO [singing]: They deftly maneuver, and muscle for rank....

> Orphan trails the field.

MIKE [as announcer]: ... with Annie and Dondi just behind.

> As they head into the turn, Warp
>Speed remains in the lead, but Quarterdeck

CROW [as announcer]: ... spins out, crashes into a wall and catches fire!
Let's hope the driver can pull himself out of there!

> has dropped to third, Code of
>Honor racing along side him.

MIKE: It's so typical in this day and age to see Honor falling by the
wayside....

> We'll always have Paris has moved into
>fifth. Down the back stretch, Warp Speed and Lady Stargazer have pulled
>a length on the field.

CROW [as announcer]: And now Lady Stargazer pulls into the pit stop, where
the crew quickly replaces her legs and fills her with
methanol and coolant!

> A battle is shaping up between Code of Honor and
>Quarterdeck, they're neck and neck all the way down the stretch.

MIKE [as announcer]: But enough about horse racing. Let's find out how
the Yankees are doing!

> Orphan
>is now fighting with Paris for fifth, with Romulan Dawn fading fast.

TOM SERVO: Hey, do you suppose the presence of "Orphan" is a subtle
literary counterpoint to Marrissa's presence?
MIKE: No. No, I don't think so.

>Into the final turn, Lady takes first from Warp, who takes it back
>again.

CROW: Take, take, take... doesn't anybody *give* anymore?

> Code of Honor takes third firmly from Quarterdeck as Quarterdeck
>breed stumbles, but recovers.

TOM SERVO: ... in a twelve-step progam.

> Down the stretch they come, Lady leads
>Warp, and now Warp Lady,

MIKE [as announcer]: Whoa! They've had a sudden transporter accident and
merged into one!
CROW: Gotta admit, though, that would be a *perfect* name for Marrissa's
horse.

> they are neck and neck as they come to the
>line. It's Lady Stargazer by a head over Warp Speed. And here comes
>the rest of the field lead by Code of Honor. We'll always have Paris
>takes fourth, followed by Orphan and Quarterdeck breed. Romulan Dawn
>has collapsed on the back stretch."

MIKE: And the crowd goes wild.
CROW & TOM [flatly]: Yay.

> "Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, shall we go congratulate Marrissa?"
>Jean-Luc Picard suggested to his crew, smiling.
> "I don't see why not," Doctor Crusher said.

TOM SERVO: Great, she can't lose in a science fiction story, and now
she can't lose in a sports story. What next, she becomes
master of the Western story?
MIKE: Just be glad Steverino never wrote a romance.

> As Marrissa walked her horse to cool Lady Stargazer off before
>heading to the winner's circle,

CROW [as mechanic]: You need to get some good grade coolant in that
thing, and check the radiator, it'll probably be
overheating... oh, and the oil needs topping off, too.

> she approached Isabelle, who was doing
>the same with Warp Speed. "Isabelle, would you accompany me to the
>winner's circle?" she asked.

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: She asked me! She asked me!

> "That's not done," Isabelle dismissed.
> "Why not?" Marrissa said drawing up along side.

MIKE [as Isabelle]: Because it's completely raw on the inside! You want
us all to get food poisoning?

> "You won the race," Isabelle said. "You deserve the glory."

CROW [as Isabelle]: *You're* the one Stephen has the weird fixation on.

> "Normally, I'd agree, but Lady just won the Triple Crown,"
>Marrissa stated.

MIKE: You know, I've seen more pride and excitement from people who've
gotten a free coupon for 35 cents off a box of generic cereal
than *anybody* at this race is showing.

> "You rode her though the first two of the races you
>have to win. You deserve the trophy."

TOM SERVO: Let us now pause to reflect upon the logic of what we have
just heard.
[Tom, Crow and Mike bow their heads in silent meditation.]
TOM SERVO: Any thoughts?
MIKE: I can hear my synapses just snapping, one by one, like brittle
rubber bands...
TOM SERVO: Good answer.

> "You know I don't think about that, a horse has never won the
>Triple Crown with more than one jockey riding her," Isabelle mused.

CROW: Probably because most saddles only seat one person.

>"Alright, on one condition, you get me out of the winner's circle
>without having to run the press gauntlet."

MIKE: Yeah, boy, the way the press acts you'd think there was a story
here or something.

> "My communicator is under the uniform, and Clara is taking a
>shift at Space Dock Transporter Control," Marrissa informed, as the two
>rode toward the winner's circle.

TOM SERVO: And Starfleet just *loves* its multi-zillion dollar investment
being used so that the Captain's daughter's friend doesn't
endure thirty seconds of discomfort.
CROW: Once again, high tech triumphs over the fourth estate! Let's give
Treknology a great big hand!

>
> "As Governor of the State of New York, it gives me great
>pleasure to

MIKE [as Pataki]: ... bring back the death penalty, slash the state
university's funding and try to squeeze gas tax money
out of the Indian reservations.

> award Lady Stargazer of Stargazer Stables and her jockeys,
>Isabelle Boucher and Marrissa Picard, this trophy for winning the
>Belmont Stakes and the Triple Crown," a tall man proclaimed, drawing out
>the moment way too long in Marrissa's opinion.

CROW: But that's Ratliff for you.

> "The whole state of New
>York is proud to host this race every year and will remember this year's
>contest between stable mates with great fondness."

TOM SERVO: Well, the fifteen people in the whole state who care about
this stuff are proud, anyway.

> At last the presentation was over, Marrissa embraced her father,
>and his command crew formed around her and the two horses.

MIKE: Yes, he's finally rebuilding his staff around a competent crew!

> This made
>the press

TOM SERVO: ... gag and retch.

> take a step back to take some pictures, as the trainer,
>Michael White grabbed Lady Stargazer's leads, and Alexander, Warp Speed.
>Then Marrissa tapped the communicator attached to her bra strap through
>her clothes

CROW: Why? Why do these stories always take me someplace I *never*
wanted to go?!

> and ordered,

MIKE [as Marrissa]: Pizza, one large. No anchovies.

> "Lieutenant Picard to Space Dock Transporter
>Control, ready to beam up."

TOM SERVO [as Transporter Control]: That's nice. So what?

>
>Epilogue

CROW: Epi-Lady. Epicenter. Epidermis.

>Return to Normal

MIKE: Uh, Steve, you left the quotes off that last word.

>
> Clara watched as the two horses, and the former Enterprise staff
>materialized on her pad.

CROW: She had trouble telling them apart.

> The eleven year old Ensign had volunteered for
>the shift at the Space Dock.

TOM SERVO: Before she could be drafted at age twelve.

> She really didn't expect to get an
>assignment, or even duty time.

CROW: She *definitely* didn't expect to have to clean up after large
animals.
MIKE [as Clara]: Transporter room to maintenance, bring a shovel and a
couple of buckets.

> Duty time would help her when her father
>got an assignment.

TOM SERVO: In what possible interpretation of the word "help"?

> She wanted to be of some use on the next starship
>she was on.

CROW: Instead of screwing everything up *again*.

> So when Marrissa suggested that she enquire about
>substituting during the Belmont, she'd jumped at the chance. True she
>did miss the race, but she was sure that she'd be hearing about it from
>Marrissa for years to come.

MIKE: Marrissa's Glory Story Number 2038, she would come to call it.
TOM SERVO: I'm surprised she isn't lovingly cradling a phaser at the
thought.

> Her relief had just arrived, so Clara yielded the controls after
>setting the location and joined the group on the pad. Captain Jean-Luc
>Picard ordered, "Beam us down, Chief."

CROW [as Perry White]: Don't call me Chief!
MIKE: Now *that's* a cameo appearance.

> They materialized in the dark Stargazer Stables court yard.

TOM SERVO: Where no reporter would *ever* think to look for them.

> Two
>young boys came out of the darkness.

CROW [as young boy]: Oh no, it's the boss! Quick, pull your pants up!

> "Jean, Francis, take Warp and Lady
>to their stalls," the trainer ordered. "I want them both rubbed

MIKE [as gangster]: ... out.

> down
>and fed. I don't want to see you at the party until that's done."
> "Yes, Mike," Jean replied.
> "We won't let you down sir," Francis said.

CROW [as Francis]: By the way, I've been thinking of changing my name
to Frances. What do you think?

> "Don't call me sir," Mike replied. "You sound like damn
>Cadets."
> As they walked down the darkened lane to the Picard Vineyard,
>Clara and Alexander moved to Marrissa's side. "Who is that, Marrissa?"
>Clara inquired.

MIKE [as Marrissa]: Oh, just another adult I manipulated into doing my
bidding. Their names all start to blend together
after a while.

> "Where did you father find him?" Alexander asked.
> "He's the trainer at the stables," Marrissa replied. "He
>basically runs the stables. I don't know where Dad found him."
> "I believe I can answer that," Captain Picard said, appearing
>from behind them.

ALL: YAAAHHH!!!
TOM SERVO: Don't *do* that!

> "Mikey was my first Chief Engineer. When he retired,
>I and some other members of the crew set him up as horse trainer, a job
>he had always said he was more suited for.

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: We found out how deluded he was when he started
picking big, musclebound goons to be his jockeys.

> Clara, you might want to ask
>him about his time on the Stargazer. He doesn't get many young
>Engineers close to France."

CROW [as Jean-Luc]: *If* you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge.

> Then he retreated back to rejoin the slower
>moving adults.

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: Okay, now when they fall into the pit, we pretend
we couldn't see or hear them. Remember that! That's
our alibi.

>
> Marie Picard greeted them at the door to the Picard Vineyard
>house. "Welcome back," she said.

CROW [as Marie, cheerily]: Even without Robert emotionally crushing me,
my life is still miserable!

> "A buffet has been set up in the
>dining room, and you'll find the wine in the library.

TOM SERVO [as Marie]: And if you want any books to read, try the wine
cellar.

> I put Theresa to
>sleep on the third floor,

MIKE [as Marie]: Such a shame, she was so young, but at least she
didn't suffer.

> so as long as you don't get too rowdy, we
>shouldn't have trouble."

CROW: Yeah, no noise could carry through an entire floor of an
aged, wooden house.

> "I promise you, Marie, we won't get loud until morning,"
>Jean-Luc Picard remarked.

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: That's when I put a lamp shade over my bulb-shaped
head and become the heart and soul of the evening!

> "You better not," Marie responded.
> "Mrs. Picard," Isabelle interrupted.
> "What is it Isabelle?" Marie asked.
> "May I have a word with you, alone?" Isabelle asked.

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: Pssst... midnight, we're making a break from this
one-captain town while he's sleeping it off...
spread the word!

> As Marie drew Isabelle to the kitchen, Jean-Luc remarked to
>Doctor Crusher, "I wonder what that was about?"
> "Nothing you need to worry about, Jean-Luc," the Doctor replied.

MIKE [as Crusher]: It's just another predictable subplot.

>"Just don't give Isabelle any wine."
> "Beverly, in France, there is only one reason to refuse wine..."
>Jean-Luc began.

CROW: Death.
TOM SERVO: And even then, not always.

> Then his eyes widened as he realized, "You don't mean
>that Rene got. . ."
> "Just so," Beverly confirmed.

TOM SERVO: See if you can find the Rudyard Kipling references in this
section.
MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: You mean she and Rene...
CROW [as Crusher]: Yup.
MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: And they didn't use...
CROW [as Crusher]: Nope.
MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: And now she's going to have his...
CROW [as Crusher]: Uh-huh.
MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: Dammit, doctor, you know I hate it when you won't
let me finish a...
CROW: [as Crusher]: Too bad.

> "You mean that you let her ride, knowing," Jean-Luc said.
> "There was no real danger, Jean-Luc," Beverly said.

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: Am I ever going to get to complete a...
CROW [as Crusher]: Not while I'm around.

> "Not at
>this . . ."
> Conversation was suddenly interrupted as the door burst open to
>reveal Phillippe Boucher.

TOM SERVO: Oh good, now the *really* unpleasant people have arrived!
MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: Philippe! What did I tell you about knocking first?

> Isabelle's father had looked better, to put
>it mildly.

CROW: Like that one time he actually washed.

> He staggered into the room, his hair and clothes a mess. He
>reeked of alcohol.

TOM SERVO: In other words, he looked like Scotty on a good day.

> "Where is my daughter?" he slurred.

MIKE: Line taken from every "serious" drama made in the last seven years.

> "Isabelle is talking to Marie in the kitchen," the Captain said.

CROW [as Jean-Luc]: They're consulting with Dinah.

>"But you are in no condition to go anywhere."
> "Got to find out who dishonored her," Mr. Boucher said. "Can't
>have two bad children, Louise would have never stood for it."

TOM SERVO: We'd have a reaction if we had a hint who Louise is.

> He lunged
>for the kitchen, only to find himself sprawled over a coffee table.

TOM SERVO: [imitates goofy sitcom pratfall music]
CROW: Wah wah wah WAAAAAAHHHHHHH...
MIKE: And that's why the French love their wine... it brings out the
Jerry Lewis in everybody!

> "Nobody dishonored Isabelle," Mike said as Mr. Boucher forced
>himself to stand. "She just got honored for winning the Triple Crown."

TOM SERVO: So apparently Mike wasn't the brightest engineer Picard
ever had.

> "Not that way," Mr. Boucher said, as pulled a pamphlet out of
>his back pocket.

MIKE: My God... RUN! HE'S DRUNK AND HE'S PACKING LITERATURE!!!

> It was titled dealing with the early stages of
>pregnancy.

CROW [as Philippe]: Who's the bastard that let my daughter take a
sex ed class?! I'll *kill* him!

> "Mr. Boucher, she was engaged to Rene before he died," Marrissa
>put in, approaching the drunken father, but she was restrained from
>getting too close by Commander Riker's arm.

TOM SERVO [as Riker]: Stay back, Marrissa... *I'll* handle this. I've
dealt with this situation a *MILLION* times.

> "I never heard of such a thing," Mr. Boucher replied. "You
>lie."

MIKE [as Philippe]: Somebody would have *told* me if Rene died!

> At that, Isabelle appeared in the Kitchen doorway. She stared
>at her father, who could bearly stand. Her eyes looked up at the
>ceiling and then she spoke up, softy yet loud,

CROW [as Isabelle]: Why, oh why was I born a Kennedy?

> "She does not, father."
> "Isabelle," he exclaimed turning to face her. He took a few
>trembling steps towards her.

TOM SERVO: Joe Don Baker, in a role that won't surprise you.

> "Tell me it's not true. Tell me that that
>boy didn't dishonor my daughter."

MIKE [as Isabelle]: Dad... you've seen Rosemary's Baby, right?

> "Rene was every bit a gentlemen," Isabelle said.

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: He had his butler do it rather than do the
work himself.

> "But I am
>bearing his child, and we were engaged."

CROW [as news anchor]: This bulletin just in... premarital sex depicted
in a Ratliff story! Yes, folks, you heard it here
first.

> "Why didn't you tell me?" Mr. Boucher asked.
> "Because, I was afraid of your reaction," Isabelle said.

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: And by the way, I'm *so* glad my fears were
unfounded.

> "Rene
>wanted to announce our engagement right away, but I insisted we wait
>until at least after the Belmont. I was afraid you'd forbid it, force
>me to stay away from him."

CROW: Oh, come on Isabelle! You've heard of sneaking out the window,
haven't you?

> "You're right, I forbid it," Mr. Boucher said.

ALL: [burst out laughing]
MIKE: Oh, *that's* gonna do a lot of good.
CROW [as Philippe]: You are *not* going to hang around that Rene boy's
grim spectre, young lady!
TOM SERVO [as Philippe]: If I find you consorting with the undead, you
are *so* grounded!

> "I don't want
>you around the Picards or the Stables. I can see I was wrong to let you
>work there.

CROW [as Philippe]: From now on, you're going to be in a respectable
profession... T-shirt sales!

> You'll come home with me right now and you will not be
>having that perverted Picard's baby."

MIKE [as Philippe]: When I get you home, you've got an appointment with a
straightened-out coat hanger, missy!
TOM SERVO: I'd just like to extend a general poll to everyone out there in
viewing land. With a "Yes" or "No" ballot, we'd just like to
know if this is the first time you've heard of monogamous,
heterosexual intercourse referred to as "perverted". Don't
delay, get your vote in today!

> "No," Isabelle said, still softly.

CROW [as Isabelle]: Papa, don't preach! I'm *keeping* my baby!
MIKE: If she gets any softer, she's going to fold in on herself.

> "What did you say, Isabelle Delunca Boucher?" Mr. Boucher said,
>his voice tinged with drunken anger.

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: I said: "What part of 'No' don't you understand?"
CROW: This scene was brought to you by Ratliff's Booze Council... need
help dealing with a sensitive family matter? Try booze!

> "No," Isabelle said, getting louder. "I will not let you ruin
>my life.

MIKE [as Isabelle]: I'm going to ruin it *myself*!

> I've managed to salvage it after Rene's death. Sometimes only
>the fact that I'm carrying his child or the duties at the stable have
>made feel alive again.

CROW: I bet ten years from now it turns out that this kid's really just
a Ferengi trick to get back at the Picard family....
MIKE: Stop free associating with bad episodes, Crow. It makes my skin
start to itch.

> I will not let you ruin that. And the Picards
>have every right to see me.

TOM SERVO [as Isabelle]: Look at it this way, Dad... the Picards are
God-on-Earth in this town! If I play my cards
right, this kid could be hailed as the next
Messiah!

> I am not leaving, Father. There is nothing
>you can do to stop that."

CROW [as Philippe]: What if I said "please"?

> Isabelle stood in the doorway staring at her father, and the
>room descended into silence.

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: Well. Um. Did anybody see the new Babylon Five ep...
oh, no, I guess you wouldn't have at that.

> Then Mr. Boucher broke the silence,
>"Isabelle you're coming with me if I have to carry you."

TOM SERVO [as Philippe]: Don't make me get out the duct tape and the
duffel bag, young lady!

> "Not in the shape you're in, Father," Isabelle replied.

CROW [as Isabelle]: Come back when you're a rhombus.

> She
>turned and walked into the dining room. Her father attempted to follow,
>but Worf blocked him.

TOM SERVO [as Worf]: Sorry sir. We cannot allow you to go charging around
here like a bull in a china shop babbling about honor.
That's *my* job.

> Mr. Boucher looked up at the towering Klingon and involuntarily

CROW: ... wet himself.

>gulped. "I believe the young lady wants to be alone," Worf said. Mr.
>Boucher trembled.

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: Let him go, Mr. Worf. The Prime Directive forbids us
to interfere.

> "I believe you are right, Worf," Jean-Luc Picard remarked.

CROW: Boy, you can see why he's the leader.

> "Why
>don't you and Data help Mr. Boucher home."

TOM SERVO [as Jean-Luc]: I believe Philippe needs a rest... in Ward E.

> "As you wish, Captain," Worf replied, hoping that Mr. Boucher
>would put up a fight.

MIKE: Worf really liked beating up on guys too drunk to fight back.

>
> Marrissa found Isabelle sitting in the corner of the Dining
>Room. Isabelle's eyes were red, as if she'd been crying, and she was
>curled up in a dining room chair. "Are you coming back to the party?"
>Marrissa asked.

TOM SERVO [as Marrissa]: Hey... is something wrong?
CROW: They've really got to rethink their entertainment options for the
next party. Inviting the town drunk just fell totally flat.

> "Is my father gone?" Isabelle asked, placing her feet back on
>the floor, but not making a move to leave the room.
> "Yes,

MIKE [as Marrissa]: We put him on a transport ship to Romulan space.

> Commanders Worf and Data took him home," Marrissa said.
>"Hopefully he'll make more sense in the morning."

CROW [as Marrissa]: We'll wake him up at half past midnight and taunt him
to check.

> "I doubt it," Isabelle smiled, standing up. "He may have
>announced his decision while he was drunk, but he'll stand by it when
>he's sober. Dad's remarkable stubuarnant."

MIKE: Dad's remarkable wha-?
TOM SERVO: Steve, you've outdone yourself. There's no word that's even
*close* to sounding like "stubuarnant".

> "I think it's a trait of all parents, especially fathers,"
>Marrissa replied.

CROW [as Marrissa]: Of course, *my* dad's just putty in my hands, but
there's always an exception, right?

> "Are you ready to come back now?"

MIKE [as Marrissa]: Come on, don't get so down over a little family spat!
Let's party hardy!

> "Just let me get some of that strange red fruit juice," Isabelle
>said, walking over to the table. "I forgot what Mrs. Picard said it
>was, but it has no alcohol."

TOM SERVO [as Marrissa]: Oh, blood of my enemies, my favorite drink!
I'll get you a glass.

> "It's strawberry juice, my favorite," Marrissa replied.

ALL: [applause]
MIKE: Yes, the strawberry juice has another cameo!
TOM SERVO: It *is* our favorite character in these stories.

> The two
>girls walked back towards the living room to rejoin the party.
>
> Captain Picard surveyed the room.

CROW [as Jean-Luc]: One point five degree declination over a length of
four point one seven meters... on the cross direction
a point seven four degree inclination over a length
of three point zero five meters...

> Commander Riker and Counselor
>Troi were talking in one corner of the room.

MIKE [as Troi]: No, I don't want to go upstairs and see your etchings.

> Beverly, Marie, and young
>Isabelle were standing by the kitchen door, probably talking about
>babies.

TOM SERVO: Seeing as how they're a bunch of women and all.

> Marrissa, Clara, and Alexander were sitting on the sofa next to
>the fireplace.

CROW: Isabelle's father was passed out in the corner, sucking in his
own vomit.

> Jean-Luc smiled, knowing his daughter, she was probably
>discussing some sort of tactics, either that or some sort of show she'd
>found in her recent discovery of Japanese Animation.

MIKE: AAAH! HURT! HURT! HURT! HURT! HURT! HURT!
CROW: Okay, who would win... Enterprise D or the Samurai Pizza Cats?

> Geordi LaForge was
>chatting with Mikey White, telling about the problems each had had as
>Chief Engineer on a starship.

MIKE [as La Forge]: So you never got any, either?

> Worf and Data appeared at the doorway, having taken Isabelle's
>father home. Data approached the Captain. "Captain, Commander Worf and
>I delivered Mr. Boucher home," he said.

TOM SERVO [as Data]: We stuffed him in a mailbox and stuck a postage
stamp over his mouth. Was that wrong?

> "Father Francis met us on the
>way over. He said that he would take care of Mr. Boucher."

MIKE [as Data]: Sorry, sir, I meant to say "she".
TOM SERVO [as Data]: When we left, Father Frances was slamming Boucher's
head with a car door over and over again.
CROW [as Data] Oh, and she wanted us to mention that the excommunication
proceedings start tomorrow. Enjoy the salt in your wounds,
kid!

> "Understood, Data," Jean-Luc Picard said, then he turned to the
>room at large. He tapped on his wine glass, producing a loud chime,
>about a G above middle C.

TOM SERVO: It's a good thing he told us the precise tone. Just calling
it a "chime" would make it too vague for the average reader.

> "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an
>announcement."

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: I'm pregnant.

> The room quieted and everyone turned to face the Captain. "On
>my way to our box at the Belmont, I ran into Admiral Necheyev,"

TOM SERVO [as Jean-Luc]: Because there just happened to be nothing better
in the whole universe for her to be doing.
MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: Fortunately, no one was injured.

> he
>began, smiling. "She informed me that Star Fleet intends to

CROW [as Jean-Luc]: ... use the reflection of light off my head to test
their equipment.

> commission
>a new Enterprise." He paused a moment for that to sink in. "They
>intend to ask me to command her again, and I'd like all of my crew to
>join me.

TOM SERVO [as Jean-Luc]: Except for "Butterfingers" Riker... I'd like this
one to *not* be blown up, thank you.

> The official announcement and orders are due to arrive
>tomorrow."

MIKE [as Jean-Luc]: But Marrissa's spies intercepted them yesterday.

> "That's wonderful, Jean-Luc," the Doctor replied.
> "What class of ship do we get?" La Forge inquired.

CROW: One with all the explosive stuff taken out.

> "She'll be a Sovereign Class, the second off the line," Jean-Luc
>Picard said, then he turned to the Counselor with a twinkle in his eye.

TOM SERVO [as Santa Claus]: Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good
night!

>"And Counselor, I'm not letting you drive it until you can fly it better
>than my daughter."

MIKE: Um... was that supposed to be a punch line?
CROW: I think it was an Old Trek ending, or Love Boat ending, or
something. I can almost hear the laughter of the crew as
the scene fades away...
ALL: [sigh contentedly]

>
>The End.

MIKE [dramatically]: Or... *is* it?
CROW: How about, it's THE END!!!!!!!
TOM SERVO: Too many exclamation points.
CROW: For the last Ratliff story?! Not even close!

>
> --
> Stephen Ratliff CS Major, Radford University.

TOM SERVO: Guys... moment of silence for the dearly departed?
[Everyone bows their heads for a moment.]

> srat...@runet.edu Radford, Virginia 24142-7496

MIKE: Och, Stephen, don't you know not to give out your Social Security
Number over the Internet? And he even misspelled *that*!

> rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author

CROW: You think he ever noticed the connection between "target" and
"author"?

> http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/
> FAQ Maintainer for alt.startrek.creative FAQs/

MIKE: How much you want to bet that sometime in the past year he
misspelled FAQ?

> Index Maintainer as well index/
> http://aviary.share.net/~alara/
>
> "We better get use to living in the here and now"
> - Captain Racheal Garrett, ST:TNG "Yesterday's Enterprise

TOM SERVO: We'd better get used to *leaving* here and now... 'cause I'm
not sticking around!

[Everyone stands up.]

CROW: Hey Mike... were there any kings in "All The King's Horses"?
MIKE: Hmm... now that you mention it, I don't think there were.
CROW: FALSE ADVERTISING! Get my lawyer on the phone! *I'LL SUE*!!!

[Everyone leaves the theater.]

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

[Mike, Tom and Crow are standing in their usual places.]

MIKE: Well, folks, because we feel bad about the way we reacted to the
news of Stephen Ratliff's tragic death... and because one of us is
afraid of Ratliff's spirit coming back from the grave to haunt us...

CROW: Hey, you've seen Tales From The Crypt, right? It could happen!

MIKE: Anyhoo, we've put together a little musical tribute to Ratliff and
the body of... um, literature that he left behind. Hopefully this
will not only soothe our guilty consciences, but also help Ratliff's
departed soul to rest a little easier, wherever it may be. All
ready, guys? Okay, Cambot, give us our note. [A piano note is
played, and Mike and the bots hum along with it.] A-one... A-two...

[Suddenly the main doors in the background are forced open by a large,
dirty and dishevelled man (who looks suspiciously like Kevin Murphy)
who makes loud noises as he strains with the effort. As he staggers
into the room and the doors shut quickly behind him, we see that he is
wearing a T-shirt that says "Ratliff Rules" and carrying an almost empty
whiskey bottle. He staggers forward and almost falls, but he catches
himself on the control panel as Mike dodges out of the way.]

MIKE: Uh... can we help you with something? Are you lost?

DRUNK: Got to find out who did it! Must punish the ones responsible!

MIKE: For...?

[The big drunk guy pulls himself unsteadily to his feet, and looks at Mike
confusedly.]

DRUNK: Can't let Stephen Ratliff's killers run around loose! The people
of alt.startrek.creative would never stand for it! He must be
*avenged*!

MIKE: Ah, okay. Maybe you hadn't heard, but Ratliff was killed by a
fourteen year old girl who sped through a...

DRUNK: [interrupting] Oh, how stupid do you think I am?! [Crow opens his
mouth to speak, but Mike reaches back and forces it shut with one
hand. Without looking.] That's just what they *want* us to think!
Let me tell you something... that story might have fooled everybody
else, but any *true* follower of Ratliff's stories knows that
twelve year old girls just aren't that stupid! And that means
Ratliff's *real* killers are still out there!

MIKE: Hmm... hey, now that you mention it, there *was* a grassy knoll
near the accident scene.... [Crow and Tom start giggling.]

DRUNK: [angrily] Oh, you think you're funny, huh?! [The big drunk
starts poking Mike in the chest and starts generally getting in
Mike's face.] Let me tell you something, smart guy... I keep my
ear to the ground and I hear a lotta rumors! You know what I've
been hearing lately?! I hear there's some guys up on a satellite
who hated Ratliff's guts for *years* and would have *gladly* offed
him if they got the chance! [The big drunk starts yelling in Mike's
face, and Mike looks more intimidated every second.] I hear their
leader's a goofy lookin' guy in a jumpsuit, and he's got a bunch of
robots made out of toys and Tupperware to keep him company! I hear
they sit around sayin' all kinds of nasty stuff about Ratliff,
makin' threats and talkin' about how much better off they'd be if he
were *dead*! [The big drunk's face is now touching Mike's, and Mike
leans back as his aggressor presses forward.] I hear one of 'em
even tried to fake Ratliff's death for his own personal gain a while
back! See what I'm getting at here?! Don't got any wisecracks
*now*, huh, smart guy? Now you listen close and gimme a straight
answer before I pound your face in! [The big drunk grabs Mike's
jumpsuit and starts shaking him as he screams right in his face.]
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHERE I CAN FIND THESE GUYS?!?

[pause]

MIKE: [totally scared] Uh... no, no idea at all. Never heard of 'em.
Crow, you know anybody like that?

CROW: Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry.

MIKE: How about you, Servo?

[Tom shakes his head no.]

[pause]

DRUNK: Oh. Okay. [He releases Mike, straightens up unsteadily, then
picks up his whiskey bottle.] I'm gonna get going now. Sorry to
bother you. But if you ever see those guys, you tell 'em that
when I find 'em, they're *dead*!

MIKE: I'll pass that message right along, sir. You take care now. [The
big drunk staggers away to stage right.] Whew. Did anyone else
see my life flash in front of their eyes? Now what were we doing
before... oh yeah, the song! Maybe we can actually start it without
being threatened with great bodily harm this time... ready guys?
A-one... A-two...

The Kid's Crew Song
(sung to the tune of "The Kid's Song", by Moxy Fruvous)

ALL: We took the young 'uns from Trek
All the minors from Trek
Thought they needed major roles, and so we said "What the heck?"
We teamed them up and turned the older people's brains into goo...
It's a Ratliff show especially for you!

[Mike puts a cardboard sign around Tom's neck that reads "Jay Gordon".]

TOM SERVO [as Jay]: When we got trapped inside that elevator
The experience was quite a motivator!
Now we all work for Marrissa
(Boy, I'd really like to kiss her)
I just can't understand why anyone would hate her.

MIKE & CROW: Is there something you like?
TOM SERVO [as Jay, spoken]: Being second banana!
MIKE & CROW: Is there something you loathe?
TOM SERVO [as Jay, spoken]: Those darn dirty Romulans!
MIKE & CROW: Would you like to run the ship?
TOM SERVO [as Jay, spoken]: I can't be in command, I'm a kid!
MIKE & CROW: But what if you could be both?
TOM SERVO [as Jay, spoken]: Hey, that would be super-neat!

MIKE & CROW: Well, we'll try and see what we can do...
TOM SERVO: Let's change the Star Trek world!
MIKE & CROW: And get you in the Kid's Crew...

[Mike puts a cardboard sign around his neck that reads "Richard Boucher".]

MIKE [as Richard]: I fought Marrissa, and she practically destroyed me
When she threw me in the pond it sure annoyed me!
But when I found out that you
Could tell Starfleet what to do
I just had to see if maybe you'd employ me...

CROW & TOM: Is there something you like?
MIKE [as Richard, spoken]: Pushing people around!
CROW & TOM: Do you think you're fit to lead?
MIKE [as Richard, spoken]: Sure, just like my dad!
CROW & TOM: What's your Kobayashi?
MIKE [as Richard, spoken]: Best in my class at the Citadel!
CROW & TOM: You're exactly what we need!
MIKE [as Richard, spoken]: Great! When do I start?

CROW & TOM: So we'll try and see what we can do...
MIKE: Let's change the Star Trek world!
CROW & TOM: And get you in the Kid's Crew...

[Mike puts a cardboard sign around Crow's neck that reads "Marrissa Amber
Flores Picard".]

CROW [as Marrissa]: I do many things you might consider crimes.
You may think they fit no reasons and no rimes,
But I always come in first
So my ego's fit to burst!
Jay Gordon says I look like LeAnn Rimes.
(Three rimes!)

MIKE & TOM: Is there something you like?
CROW [as Marrissa, spoken]: Being in command!
MIKE & TOM: Is there something you endorse?
CROW [as Marrissa, spoken]: Strawberry pizza!
MIKE & TOM: Do you kinda miss your parents?
CROW [as Marrissa, spoken]: Well, not so you'd notice...
MIKE & TOM: Can you ride a mean horse?
CROW [as Marrissa, spoken]: Hi ho, Lady Stargazer! AWAY!!!

MIKE & TOM: Well, we'll try and see what we can do...
CROW: Let's change the Star Trek world!
MIKE & TOM: And get you in the Kid's Crew...

ALL: Now the kids have held court
And we're glad to report
That from now on you'll take orders from the young and the short!
In fact, adults should only speak up as a final resort
When there's a grown-up problem through which one must sort.
Trust us, military living is a sport!
If you need us we'll be backyard in our new treefort.

[The Mads light turns on.]

MIKE: What do you think, sirs? And madam?

[Mike hits the Mads light.]

[Castle Forrester]

[Pearl is standing behind a young man with glasses who bears a suspicious
resemblance to Paul Chaplin. She has her hands on his shoulders and is
smiling widely. Bobo and Observer are standing on either side of her.]

PEARL: Oh, how very nice of you to ask! Well, I *think* there's a budding
young writer here who's just *dying* to meet you! Stephen, say
hello to the nice test subjects up there....

RATLIFF [waving his hand and sounding shy]: Hi.

[Disclaimer: This Ratliff is a work of fiction, and is not intended to ]
[ accurately simulate the behavior of any actual Ratliffs, ]
[ living or dead. ]

[SOL]

[Mike, Tom and Crow are in total shock.]

MIKE: Wait a minute! How could he be... no. You *couldn't*.
TOM SERVO: You *wouldn't*!
CROW: You *DIDN'T*!

[Castle Forrester]

PEARL: Could, would and did, fellas! [Pearl puts an arm around Bobo's
shoulders] You see, it turns out that Chewbacca over here has
been collecting mosquitoes trapped in amber for *years*. And
guess whose blood just happened to be in one of those little
buggers?

BOBO: You never know when one of those bits of amber will come in handy,
I always say!

PEARL: Exactly. [Pearl puts her other arm around Observer's shoulders.]
So after Brain Guy over here extracted the DNA and grew a clone,
we hooked it up to an apparatus connected to a lightning rod...
Dr. von Frankenstein just down the road always lets us borrow stuff
like that, he's such a nice man. After that, we flew the body out
to the Genesis planet for burial. [Pearl takes her arms off Bobo
and Observer and puts her hands back on Ratliff's shoulders.] And
three days later, lo, the stone was rolled away, and just *look* who
came out! [Pearl gives Ratliff a little hug from behind.]

[SOL]

[Mike, Tom and Crow are standing with their mouths dangling open as Gypsy
enters from the left.]

GYPSY: Oh, Mike, I tracked down the source of that anomaly with Cambot.
There was a transmission from Castle Forrester, and... [Gypsy turns
to see what the others are looking at, and pauses.] Oh my.

[Castle Forrester]

RATLIFF: Oh yeah, that was me. Sorry about that. I just wasn't sure if
you guys were going to catch the South Pacific reference or not.

PEARL: Now Stephen, I've got a nice little wing of the castle all set
aside for you... there's an Internet-ready Pentium II with a T1
connection, a big-screen TV with a VCR, and a complete collection
of every Star Trek episode and movie that's ever been made! Would
you like to stay here and live with us?

RATLIFF: Oh boy, *would* I! Thanks, Aunt Pearl!

PEARL: [looking Ratliff in the eyes] No, Stephen... thank *you*. [They
hug as tears well up in Pearl's eyes.] And no one's *ever* taking
you away from me again....

[Camera slowly fades away to the ending credits.]

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My thanks go out to:

MY CO-WRITERS, who sent in great lines and waited patiently for me to
slowly assemble a group MSTing from them.

STEPHEN RATLIFF, who took a slightly more active role in helping someone
to give his work the MSTing treatment this time around.

MICHAEL NEYLON, who helped give us the reader feedback we all crave with
his web site MSTing ratings and the MSTing awards.

THE SCI-FI CHANNEL, who kept MST3K on the air for another season.

MOXY FRUVOUS, who wrote a song that fit the Ratliff genre so well that
the final six lines only needed a few word changes to suit
my purposes (the rest of it needed slightly more radical
alteration).

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

> I thought the whole
>thing was ridiculous."