MiSTed: Stolen Memories (27/29)
Rottweiler
MIKE: Remember, Tom, don't ever reprogram Magic Voice again.
TOM: Humpf.
> *******************************************
CROW: Forty-three Perth, Australias.
> When Alis arrived at the camp site it was to find
> the hut ringed with a fence that was half rock,
MIKE: Half nougat.
> half vine
> entwined poles and more the adequate for keeping out the
> beasts that roamed this place.
TOM: Lawyers?
> She smiled, wondering what other surprises Julian
> had for her beyond the fence, after all, Julian had, had
> almost 2 months alone to get creative.
CROW: That's right, all you need to become an artist is time.
> The smile
> disappeared from her face as she heard Julian scream, it
> was the sort of scream one hears an animal in agony make.
MIKE: That's not Julian, it's Yoko Ono!
TOM: No, it's Alanis Morissette!
> Alis didn't know where the gate was, and she didn't
> have to the time to waste looking for it either, not that
> she needed it. She went up and over the wall,
CROW: Right into West Berlin.
> pulling her
> bow from it's clip as she went over, landing in a crouch,
> to come up running, loading the bow as she did so.
MIKE: She's officially Stallone-ing at this point.
> *Charge in like a wilderbeast, and you will die like
> one, kitling*
CROW: Thanks for the advice, Field Marshall Montgomery.
> Alis stopped short,
TOM: (Frank Costanza) You're stopping short? That's MY move!
> the goddess was right,
CROW: Well, omniscient deities usually are.
> it was
> time to use her hunting skills, if she wanted to catch a
> prey more dangerous than a wilderbeast.
MIKE: I'd hardly call Estelle Getty "more dangerous than a wilderbeast".
> It was more than
> likely whoever was torturing her screaming lover was
> armed, and ready to kill.
CROW: Of course, she's probably busy, and rather easy to take by
surprise,
but why do something obvious?
> *Exactly, kitling*
TOM: Hey, the story has started riffing itself.
> So, she would have take it by surprise. Quietly she
> stripped her boots from her feet,
MIKE: She's no longer a puss in boots.
> her armour following.
CROW: Alis, this is no time for gratuitous nudity!
> Keeping only one arm and her torso armoured, to reduce
> the noise she'd make, Alis crept through the entry tunnel
> on hands and knee's with all the stealth she was capable
> off.
TOM: (singing) Bum ba bum ba bum. Inspector Gadget...
> She rose up in the hut, gorge and bow rising when
> she saw why Julian was screaming.
MIKE: He'd just heard the news that _Star Trek: Deep Space 9_ had been
cancelled.
> He'd been lashed, naked, to the clothes rack
CROW: NO WIRE HANGERS!
> (not
> that she knew it's purpose) covered in bruises, claw and
> bite marks, and was being whipped.
TOM: By Devo.
> Already his back was
> covered with over a dozen welts that oozed blood.
MIKE: Geez, hasn't he been hurt enough already? Next thing you know,
he'll
be castrated with a butter knife, dragged through the streets like
Mussolini, thrown on broken glass in the path of a Chinese
Emperor's
funeral procession, run over by a Shriner, sat on by John Goodman,
forced to watch every episode of _Full House_, beaten with a
sledgehammer, and fed to a pack of wolves.
> She saw red,
CROW: Red waved back, then resumed eating an ice cream sandwich.
> but, she was not ready to shoot someone
> in the back, she was not ready to give this sadist a
> quick death.
TOM: Mike, help me out with the moral here.
MIKE: Okay.
TOM: Sadists deserve to die, right?
MIKE: According to Alis.
TOM: And all pure-blooded Felistians are sadists, right?
MIKE: All the ones in this story, at least.
TOM: So, that means genocide against the Felistians is a moral
obligation.
MIKE: It sure looks that way.
> *Two wrongs don't make a right, kitling.*
CROW: But two rights make a left. Thank you.
> *<To hell with you.>*
TOM: See? The story is doing all the work for us!
> *Can one who demands the end to the torture of
> others be taken seriously if she engages in the very act
> she is (?).
MIKE: MAD LIBS SIGN!
CROW: Against?
TOM: Condemning?
MIKE: Saying isn't very nice?
> You're not a hypocrite, kitling, don't become
> one now.*
CROW: Rudyard Kitling?
> Alis growled.
TOM: So much for stealth.
> *she spun*
MIKE: (Alis) Youdamnit, I know she spun around! I'm not freaking blind!
> Alis recognised her, and
> *she* recognised Alis,
CROW: For God's sake, Red, give the villain a name!
> her hand flew to her hip where her
> bow was clipped.
TOM: And boy were its arms tired! Thanks folks, We'll be here all
week...
READING THIS STUPID STORY!!!
> "You!" She cried.
MIKE: (Tim Curry) I'm afraid so, Janet, but isn't it NICE?
CROW: So, we meet again for the first time for the last time.
> Alis' finger twitched on the trigger of her bow, as
> *she* brought up her bow, Alis fired.
(ALL hum the William Tell Overture)
> The bolt took her
> in the chest, piercing her heart,
TOM: The death of Ponce de Leon.
> the bow fell from her
> hand to fall to the floor, she staggered back a step,
> looking positively amazed, then dropped dead.
MIKE: Now THAT'S what I call a dead de Sade.
CROW: She's not dead. She's resting. The Norwegian de Sade prefers
kippin' on 'er back. Beautiful plumage, eh?
> *Happy, I killed her in self defence - as your laws
> require, only killing another sentient in self defence is
> excused.*
MIKE: (Jimbo) IT'S COMING RIGHT FOR US!
TOM: (falsetto) No, no. You may only kill if you are thinning their
numbers. I am an environmentalist deity.
CROW: Happy?
> *I would have preferred it if you took her alive and
> let your mother execute her as an example to others,
ALL: WHAT?!?
CROW: So it's more moral to execute people as an example and a way to
control the population through fear. Oookay...
> but...I am happy, you gave her a clean death - in self
> defence, instead of a long and painful one such as she
> intended to give your consort.*
TOM: (Alis) Up yours, Clementia.
> Alis growled again.
MIKE: (Roy Orbison) Mercy! Grrrrrowwwrrrr...
> At that moment in time, she
> hated the goddess for denying her the vengeance she
> wished for.
CROW: Join the club, kid.
TOM: That's "kitling".
> But what's done is done, *she* was dead now
> and there was Julian to think off.
MIKE: She and Julian are going to have a think-off?
TOM: Oh yeah. They're gonna show THAT battle royale on Pay-per-View.
CROW: And the winner will go on to face a lobotomized sheep for the
championship.
>
> Alis hooked her bow in her belt, and moved to the
> table where her knife lay to snatch it up and move to
> the rack, cutting Julian down, he passed out before she
> was through.
MIKE: I've just had an epiphany. Now I realize that this fanfic is the
exact opposite of one of those old pulp stories where a Flank
Punchbeef-type man rescues a helpless woman.
> Alis carried him to the double bed, ready to lay him
> down on it, then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw
> the evidence that he'd been rapped on that bed.
CROW: LL Cool J was brought in for questioning.
> She
> turned and carried him to the couch that she in time
> realised was the litter she'd made when she was still
> thinking about taking him with her to the temple.
TOM: (exasperated) You mean to tell me that Alis had the power to stop
Part
Seven from happening and SHE DIDN'T USE IT?!?
> She moved through the hut, collecting bowls and
> water, shucking her pack,
MIKE: Aw, shucks.
> fetching the medical supplies
> to tend to Julian's wounds as best she could. He hadn't
> regained consciousness by the times his wounds had been
> tended to and dressed.
CROW: Like father, like daughter. Think about it, won't you?
> Alis rooted around the hut to find the clothes he
> had made tossed in a pile in a corner,
TOM: (Felix) Oscar, Oscar, Oscar...
> she fetched the
> pants and long sleeved tunic to dress him in before
> leaving him to descend to the pantry to start packing
> food supplies.
MIKE: Funions, Vienna Sausages, Clamato...
> She couldn't, wouldn't
CROW: Shouldn't have had a Boost.
> stay here one more day, and
> seeing all the work Julian had put into making the hut a
> home made her cry.
TOM: (Alis) It's just so ugly!
> She returned the hut to
MIKE: Sender.
> pack what she could into her
> back pack, collecting plates,
CROW: (Alis) Screw Julian! My new Franklin Mint catalouge has arrived!
> bowls and cups, along with
> the fresh clothing Julian had made.
TOM: Geez, her backpack must have a tesseract inside!
> She found a snake
> skin cape,
MIKE: Remember in the '50s, when every kid had to have a snake skin
cape?
> and primitive back pack made of hide and snake
> skin that was four times the size of her, and transferred
> everything from her pack into it.
CROW: But since the damn thing was four times her size, she couldn't
budge
it!
> Further searching brought the sacks she had made to
> light
TOM: Matter/energy conversion is easy in the 24th century.
> and these she stuffed full of fruit and meat.
MIKE: And cooked them at 400 degrees for 30 minutes.
> Then
> she found another skin that had been turned into a water
> skin and left Julian to go to the river and fill it.
CROW: Then she scratched herself. Then she thought she saw a quarter
laying on the ground. Then she just kinda stood there, looking at
stuff.
> When Alis returned to the hut, she placed the water
> with the other supplies, then pulled her bow from her
> sisters corpse.
MIKE: So de Sade was holding Alis' bow, but Alis could still shoot her.
> Alis stripped the corpse, before dragging
> it out of the hut and into the wilderness
TOM: (singing) Last dance with Mary Jane...
> where she
> dumped it, refusing to give that animal a decent
> cremation.
CROW: Despite being a species of bipedal cats with non-sapient males,
the
Felistians manage to be remarkably human in psychology.
> "Let the beasts feed on your carcass, and the worms
> feast on what they leave behind," She hissed at the
> corpse before leaving.
MIKE: Alis IS Cobra Commander!
TOM: Forget about what all the major religions preach. If your enemy
dies,
you must desecrate the body.
> She returned to the hut, to fetch all the supplies,
> and then looked around the hut, studying it, really
> seeing for the first time all the hard work that Julian
> had put into making this hut, a home.
CROW: He'd put in shag carpeting and installed a TV antenna.
> At first she'd been
> thinking only of removing Julian, then torching the
> place.
MIKE: But then she remembered that was Janet Reno's job.
> Now, she knew she couldn't do that, such an act
> would mean destroying everything Julian had worked so
> hard to create.
TOM: Everything he had learned from watching _Interior Motives_.
> So she pulled the hide from the wall and
> rubbed her message to Julian off.
CROW: Muddah, faddah, kindly disregard this letter.
> With a little searching
> she found needles and thonging then sat by Julian's
> bedside to begin stitching a message into the hide.
MIKE: "Here I sit, broken hearted. Paid my dime and only..."
>
> When Alis carried Julian out of the hut, and beyond
> the perimeter, to lay him to rest there, she returned to
> find the gate, and lashed the message stitched in hide to
> it.
TOM: It read "BLESS THIS MESS".
> As she looked back at it, one last time,
CROW: She turned into a pillar of salt.
> the mark of
> the Goddess appeared on the hide forming a border around
> her message.
TOM: YUCK! The Goddess has been marking her territory!
> 'Let all who need shelter - be they Male or Female,
> take it here, and those who do should leave it in the
> same shape they find it in, so those who follow can seek
> shelter here.'
MIKE: (Tom Bodet) I'm the Goddess, and we'll leave a light on for ya.
TOM: So, the Goddess is a Boy Scout?
> *Go in peace, daughter, nothing shall interfere with
> you in my garden from this point on.*
CROW: (singing) In the Garden of Eden...
> Alis' head came up, 'daughter - not kitling'
>
> *You are not a child any longer.*
TOM: (falsetto) It's time to stop wearing that bib.
> *********************************************
> END OF "STOLEN MEMORIES" - PART EIGHT
> *************************************
>
> The story "Stolen Memories" is a multi-part story that
> runs concurrently with "The Hunted".
>
> _____________________________________
>
> Standard disclaimers apply. Characters copyrighted
> by Paramount. Alis, Alistair and Felistians are
> copyrighted to Mission Ops Productions. Reprinting
> this story in whole or in part is denied without
> the permission of Mission Ops Productions first -
> except in cases of review.
> Copyright @ 1995 Mission Ops Productions.
> Send your comments to: hen...@zip.com.au
> ____________________________________________________
(TOM hovers onto MIKE's lap. MIKE picks TOM up and ALL leave the
theater.)
[Door 1]
[Door 2]
[Door 3]
[Door 4]
[Door 5]
[Door 6]
[Dog Bone]
[SOL Bridge. MIKE is behind the counter, doing those stupid "breathing"
exercises they teach in acting classes. CROW is in the foreground, in
front of the counter, wearing a beret and monocle. He holds a
megaphone.]
CROW: All right! Places! Places, everybody! Felistian Chow
commercial,
Take One. (He ducks off-screen) And... ACTION!
(MIKE addresses us in a tone dripping with false warmth and artificial
sincerity)
MIKE: They say the ancient Egyptians worshipped the cat as a deity. I
guess I've taken that idea to its logical extreme. I went and
MARRIED one! Come on in here, sweetie.
(Someone tosses a stuffed cat onto the counter. From off-screen, CROW
throws his voice to make it seem as if the cat is talking.)
"CAT": Hi, honey! I hope you don't mind, but I clawed up that new
leather
sofa you just bought.
MIKE: (chuckles amiably) As you can see, Snowball here is no ordinary
cat.
She's a Felistian... and Felistians have some special needs. That
includes choosing the right food. When your cat is capable of
abstract thought, a saucer of milk and a dead mouse is just not
going
to cut it.
(MIKE reaches under the counter and pulls out a bag of cat food)
MIKE: That's why there's Felistian Chow, the cat food that looks like
people food!
(MIKE reaches inside the bag and pulls out a plateful of food)
"CAT": Mmmmmm! Pheasant under glass! My favorite!
MIKE: Of course, it's really just processed herring that's been very
cleverly disguised. But Snowball doesn't need to know that. What
your Felistian doesn't know won't hurt her. (to the cat) Now you
just enjoy that pheasant, sweetheart.
"CAT": Oh, I will.
MIKE: Don't forget, Felistian Chow is the only Felistian food
recommended
in the First Mother's uncorrupted laws!
(TOM pops up out of the counter, as he did in _MST3K: The Movie_)
TOM: Felistian Chow - it brings out the frisky in your spouse!
[Planet Bumper]
> Throughout the next day, she worked collecting
> fruit, game, and vines for Julian's construction. He
> worked throughout the day, constructing his fence.