MiSTed: Stolen Memories (3/29)
Rottweiler
TOM: Mike, why are there so many intelligent alien felines in sci-fi?
Is
there some kind of bizarre science behind this, or do people just
like
the idea of talking to cat-like aliens?
MIKE: Well, cats are in many ways the ultimate predator, and are more
alien
to us than dogs. When writers want to make a creature alien, yet
familar enough to be interesting, not too scary, or a glob of
green
slime; something readers can relate too, yet not totally
understand,
they pick cats. Especially if the species has to fill the always
popular niche of Roman-like conquerers.
CROW: The qualities of cats are their mystery, their aloofness, their
predatory and playful natures make them perfect little aliens.
TOM: Maybe it's because a lot of writers seem to be cat owners, and tend
to
dream up intelligence on the part of their pets that isn't really
there. Of course, I love cats... medium rare, in a light wine
sauce.
CROW: Yecch, that's disgusting!
MIKE: Yeah! A WINE sauce? Everyone knows that cats go well with A-1.
CROW: That's ri... HEY!
MIKE: SF writers also like cats because because they're such easy alien
concepts to come up with. "Oh, big anthropomorphic cats." It
lets
you get past the physical appearance and move on to more
entertaining
stuff.
TOM: But surely they're no easier a concept than canine aliens, and cat
and
dog ownership is roughly equal. Yet I can't think of any canine
aliens at all, whereas I can instantly come up with Kzinti and hani
for felines.
CROW: I can imagine a canine alien, but then he starts scrating his ears
with his hind foot and he just doesn't make a good alien anymore.
I
leave the room before he gets a toe caught in the trigger of his
laser. Not to mention other things dogs do...
TOM: Why does a canine alien have hind feet, while a feline alien
doesn't?
A cat's ears never itch?
CROW: The impression most people get from their pets is that dogs are
stupid, and cats are intelligent enough that it is unsafe to turn
your back on one.
TOM: I always thought the opposite. Cat proponents always point out how
friendly, trusting, and concerned dogs are about their owners as
signs
of low intelligence. I think it speaks ill of a culture where
friendliness, compassion and loyalty are believed to represent low
mental ability.
MIKE: But the basis for the extrapolation isn't usually PETS. Cherryh's
hani are lions; Niven's kzinti are tigers. Is a wolf or fox
inherently less intelligent than a lion or tiger?
CROW: Or bear? Oh my!
(TOM starts foaming at the mouth)
TOM: It's so unfair! Dogs have been our faithful servants since we were
hunter-gatherers, and how do we repay them? By ignoring them, in
favor of that bastard child of felis sylvestris libyca!
CROW: What about the Vargr?
TOM: They don't count. They're RPG-based. Anyway, What have those
little
beasts ever done to deserve the worship so many humans heap upon
them?
NOTHING! They act like they own everything! What an ego! Dogs
are
infinitely better companions! They understand human social
structure
and accept their place in it. Cats do no such thing! They are a
chaotic element in our society, and yet they are treated like gods!
(starts crying)
MIKE: Calm down, Servo. The people who write about cat-like aliens
aren't
doing so out of malice.
TOM: (sniffles) Are you sure?
MIKE: Yes, I'm sure.
TOM: Okay.
(MIKE grabs a tissue from a box behind the counter and starts wiping the
foam off of TOM)
CROW: I just thought of something; perhaps the reason humanoid cats are
such popular aliens is because humans find them attractive. A
felinoid would be sleek, furry, graceful...just look at all the
"cat-like" metaphors in our language.
TOM: But what about the male's spiky weiner, cat lover?
MIKE: A tomcat's penis isn't spiky. It's merely hairy, with the hairs
going the wrong way.
TOM: Oh.
CROW: Ha! Shows what YOU know, dog boy!
TOM: Why you...
(TOM lunges at CROW. What ensues is the most violent fight possible
when
neither participant has working arms.)
MIKE: (sighs) Why do so many of our discussions end up like this?
(Lights flash, sirens blare, movie sign pandemonium)
MIKE: We've got fanfic sign!
[Dog Bone]
[Door 6]
[Door 5]
[Door 4]
[Door 3]
[Door 2]
[Door 1]
[SOL Theater. Mike and the Bots enter and take their seats.]
> "I'm s..sss..sor..ry.. I d.did'nt kn..now th..th..there
> w..was any..o..one out h..here," he stammered turning a deep
> blood red, cursing his tangle tongue.
TOM: Which he had inherited from his ancestor, Porky Pig.
CROW: Isn't Tangle Tongue a Milton Bradley game?
> He sighed inwardly.
MIKE: He's inflating his throat-sacs.
> His father was dead
TOM: So he was happy about that, anyway.
> right, he'd
> *never* be a diplomat, if he wasn't tripping over his
> tongue,
CROW: Gene Simmons IS Julian Bashir in _Phantom of the Promenade_.
> he was only opening his mouth to exchange which foot
> he was sticking in it.
TOM: Sounds like even though he's not diplomat material, he WOULD make a
good sideshow attraction.
> Nine times out of ten, it was both
> feet.
CROW: Must be small feet if he can fit two of them in there.
MIKE: Maybe the Federation practices footbinding at age one.
> "How could you?"
TOM: Besides from the "OCCUPADIO" sign, of course.
> She responded watching his blush rush
> up from his collar to his hair line fascinated.
CROW: And the story suddenly becomes beatnik poetry.
> Felistian skin was covered by fur, blushing was
> something one did that was never seen by another.
MIKE: Except your fleas.
> She
> wondered why the Human had so little fur on his face when
> his father had so much.
TOM: His father is a member of ZZ Top?
> That thought lead her to wondering
> what colour the fur on the rest of his endearingly gawky
> body was.
CROW: Here's a possibility: the same color as the "fur" on top of his
head.
> Assuming he had any fur on his body.
MIKE: You know, any other furry author would have had Alis twitch and
flick
her tail about twenty times by now.
> A furless
> manling was a fascinating concept to her, it was one she
> decided to investigate.
TOM: I guess PETA's anti-fur ad campaigns must have failed.
> Later, of course.
CROW: First, there was the Junior Jumble to attend to.
> Her lips twitched again as that thought lead to other
> concepts to be explored, like the one about anatomical
> differences between Terran and Felistian males.
TOM: Humans lacked that pesky explosive navel, for example.
> Her mother
> had hinted that there were definitely differences and if
> she'd only take the time to investigate she'd discover those
> differences were extremely pleasing ones.
MIKE: And yet, MY mom always tried to avoid that subject at all costs.
CROW: Is it too early to feel like I need a shower?
MIKE: Probably. But keep the Lever 2000 on standby, just in case.
> The leer that had
> been on her mother's face at the time told Alis exactly what
> *that* meant.
CROW: It meant mom was being a dirty old woman. Again.
TOM: It looks like we're in for some Rishkatha here.
MIKE: Borgia family values.
> Julian's blush deepened by about ten shades as he
> noticed her gaze had drifted down to his groin.
TOM: Just a typical night of batch-watching for Alis.
> He felt an
> ache there that was becoming increasingly familiar-he felt
> it every time he was around the Princessa.
CROW: We've secretly replaced Julian with Oscar. Let's see if anyone
notices.
> He wished he had
> a table, chair or conveniently placed large potted plant to
> hide behind.
MIKE: A call quickly went out to the director of _Austin Powers_. He'd
be
able to help.
> He knew what would happen next and he didn't
> want it to happen while she staring directly at the last
> place he wanted her to be staring at.
TOM: (singing) I enjoy being a prude...
> Extremely embarrassed and desperate to escape further
> embarrassment he tried to make use of a technique his father
> had taught him for moments like this.
CROW: Picturing Richard Simmons naked.
> He pictured the
> ugliest girl he'd ever seen standing before him making kissy
> face.
MIKE: Making kissy face? Is that what the kids are calling it these
days?
> Then he followed that up by imagining himself being
> stranded naked on an iceberg during a blizzard.
CROW: I guess Sisko must be the only person left who just thinks of
baseball in that situation.
> That was definitely the wrong idea, the next thing that
> filtered through his hyper hormone influenced brain was an
> image of the Princessa naked on the iceberg with him.
TOM: Then he imagined the Titanic hitting the iceberg.
MIKE: Then he imagined that his heart would go on.
> Her
> hands moving over his body, her soft lips on his
CROW: Cats have lips?
> as her
> hands stroked his...
CROW: His what? His bassoon? His slinky? His pool cue? We need an
object here, people!
> He banished the fantasy, shivering all over and barely
> repressed a groan as he felt the natural response to such
> fantasies take place.
MIKE: Shame, guilt, and withdrawal?
> Then he found cause to send silent
> thanks skyward to what ever God was listening.
TOM: Actually, it was Phil, Prince of Insufficient Light, who helped
Julian
out on this one.
> Her gaze had
> strayed back to his face.
CROW: (Alis) Here, Gaze! Here, Gaze! Sooeee!
> His gratitude to the Gods however, was to be short
> lived.
MIKE: Alis told him she liked him as a friend.
> "Mother always said
CROW: (singing) There'd be days like this. There'd be days like this,
my
mama said.
MIKE and TOM: Mama said, mama said.
> Terrans make better breeding
> partners than Felistian males - which is why she arranged to
> lure one here in the first place. To supply me with one so
> that I can do my duty to the clans and create an heir to
> follow me, should I fail my life test," she announced.
CROW: Hey, I think I see a vortex from _Sliders_! Oh wait, that's just
a
gaping plot hole.
> Julian's brain was so fogged with desire and
> embarrassment that the sheer fear that statement should have
> engendered didn't occur for at least five seconds.
MIKE: Julian's from the shallow end of the gene pool.
TOM: While we're waiting for Julian's neurons to kick in, why not go to
the
kitchen and fix yourself a snack?
> Within
> the next tenth of a second later it sank in
TOM: And we're back. Hope you enjoyed the break.
> and his fight
> or flight reflex kicked in as all his father's warnings
> about Felistian women and their sexual activities raced
> through his mind.
CROW: Go Mind Racer, go!
> His hands started scrabbling for the door
> handles behind him.
MIKE: Typical behavior for a sixteen year-old male faced with an
attractive
girl who wants to breed.
> A scowl appeared on Alis' face as she saw the Terran
> scrabble for the handles and start to turn away from her.
TOM: H-A-N-D-L-E-S, on a double word score. Twenty points.
> "That would not be wise.
CROW: Whereas you're a regular King Solomon, Miss "Let's freak Julian
out
by providing exposition".
> If anyone but I had caught you
> here, in this section of the palace, you would be in
> extremely deep shit right now, manling," she snapped,
> irritated with herself for being ticked off by his reaction.
MIKE: Ooh, been reading up on Earthly... uh, I mean Terran slang, Alis?
TOM: (Alis) And if thou wert to attempteth coppething a feel, thou
wouldst
be so boned!
> After all, she *Did Not* want to breed.
CROW: She'd rather be... a LUMBERJACK!
> Her first
> experience with males had been truly terrifying.
MIKE: But she survived Tailhook and went on to appear in this story.
> Even now, a
> year later, she couldn't stand to be in the dark without
> losing her mind with fear that the experience would be
> repeated.
TOM: Shouldn't the authors have sprung this news on us once they make us
care about Alis?
> Julian's frantic attempts to open the door and bolt
> ended in a moment as he realised the truth of her words.
CROW: (Julian) She's right! Diet Dr. Pepper really DOES taste more like
regular Dr. Pepper!
> He
> wasn't supposed to enter this part of the palace.
MIKE: The balconies are restricted areas?
> The
> Matriarch had personally told him to his face that he was
> forbidden access to it, under threat of death or worse if he
> should ignore the notice.
TOM: So, let's recap. She lures Terran males to the planet for breeding
purposes, and thinks they're going to perform better under threat
of
death?
> He turned back to face the Princessa and wished he
> hadn't, her face was thunderous.
CROW: Thunder... thunder... Thundercats HO!
> "I'm dead," was all he could think.
MIKE: A _Ghost_ crossover? Noooooo!!!
> Alis' nose twitched as his fear scent peaked.
TOM: His fear scent has more ups and downs than the New York Stock
Exchange.
> With an
> effort she rearranged her features into a smile, meant to
> calm him as she considered what caused it to peak.
CROW: (Alis) Threats of death frighten these people. How odd. I must
make
a note of that.
> "Don't fret my pet."
MIKE: (Steve Urkel) I'll have this camera fixed before you can say
cheese.
Heh, heh, heh. (snort, snort)
(TOM makes crashing sounds)
MIKE: (Urkel) Did I do that?
> "I'm not a pet!"
ALL: I am a free man!
> He said, clearly, his stutter
> vanquished by the flash of temper brought about by her
> words.
TOM: (Julian) How dare you say that PCs are better than Macs!
> "Oh, yes you are.
CROW: (Alis) In fact, you're a pet dog. So I'm going to hiss and
scratch
you now. No hard feelings, 'kay?
> Only a pet would walk free and
> clothed without a collar in a living den."
MIKE: Ladies and gentlemen, meet Alis, female chauvinist pig.
TOM: The part of Alis will be played by Patricia Ireland.
> "I'm not one of your Men,
CROW: (singing) Not one of your twisted friends.
> I'm a Terran male."
CROW: (singing) I'm the one you couldn't love.
> "I know," she said calmly.
MIKE: (Alis) Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.
> "Terran males are not the brainless pets your men are.
CROW: Say, the Felistians have a Matriarch, right?
TOM: Yep. I bet they have someone called "Talker to Critters" too who
knows a Wuis Lu, too.
MIKE: And they wander around the galaxy looking for timefreeze boxes
that
the Enslavers left.
> We have brains in our heads and we know how to use them,
> just like you do."
CROW: (Alis) Then why can't you take yourself to a barber?
MIKE: (Julian) I'm working on that.
> "Ah, the Manling has claws," she said amused and
> delighted with this show of fire in his veins on his part.
TOM: I'd rather not hear about the veins on his part, thank you.
> Julian blinked away at that, he didn't understand the
> reference.
CROW: Hey, we explained the really obscure ones in the back of the ACEG.
(MIKE whispers something to CROW)
CROW: Oops. Sorry.
> "It's an old Felistian saying, to show fire is to show
> ones fangs, or claws.
MIKE: (Alis) To show fire is to have Moxie. To have Moxie is to show
fire.
Are you getting it yet?
> And since male kits are declawed at
> birth, it's even rarer to hear someone say it about a
> manling," she informed him calmly.
TOM: (Alis) Unfortunately, declawing renders them incapable of hunting,
so
we females have to kill all the food. Despite being
sapient,
we're pretty stupid.
> "Oh," was all Julian could think to say.
CROW: Just think, some day this guy will be a doctor.
> He was hovering between fear and total confusion.
MIKE: You've just described every day of high school for me.
> This
> girl could switch between moods at the drop of a hat.
CROW: Sombrero dances always cheered her up.
MIKE: Uh, Jules, ALL women are like that.
> He
> didn't know what to make of it.
TOM: But he made a mental note to hang on to his hat.
> "You are like a kitlet - eager to leave the littery and
> explore the big wide den to be found outside. That I can
> understand.
CROW: (Alis) But I can't understand why you listen to Melissa Etheridge
albums.
> But - Be warned Manling, Curiosity killed the
> kitlet."
MIKE: But it hired Johnny Cochran as its lawyer and got an acquittal.
> "We say, Killed the Cat"
TOM: Or the catlet.
> "It is the same thing.
CROW: (Alis) My race is too lazy to come up with original expressions.
MIKE: Well, of course they are. They're cats!
> This in not a safe place for an
> intelligent Manling to be in.
TOM: (Alis) Which is why we brought you here.
> Stay in the Den,
CROW: Yep, stay in the den, pop a couple towskis, turn on the
Dolphins-Chiefs game, and kick back.
> do not wander
> outside the areas that you've been assured are safe zones
> for you to be in." she warned.
MIKE: (Alis) Avoid school zones, war zones, erogenous zones, and the
highway to the danger zone.
> A chill ran up Julian's spine.
TOM: As if he'd just bitten into a York Peppermint Patty.
> While his father's
> warnings had virtually gone in one ear and out the other,
CROW: A cliche so delightful, the authors used it twice.
> this was something completely different.
TOM: And now for something completely different... Julian catching a
clue.
> The Princessa was a
> native,
MIKE: And Julian was one of those damn tourists who appeared every
summer.
> she had first hand knowledge of the dangers the
> planet held for him.
CROW: She knew that Hanson had fled to this planet after being banished
from Earth.
> Her warning carried far more weight
> than his father's had and Julian took it to heart.
TOM: So his own father's words mean less to him than those of some
cat-like
person he has a mild case of the hots for?
> He
> silently vowed to never again wander outside the safety
> zone,
MIKE: And into the Neutral Zone.
> if only he got out of this mess alive.
CROW: (singing) In the year 2525, will Julian get out of this mess
alive?
> "I j..just w..wanted to f..find sss..some th..thing to
> do.
TOM: (Julian) Life is so much better when there's some little something
to
do.
> I'm ss..so bored.
MIKE: Geez, he's talking like a cartoon snake.
CROW: Maybe a race of Riki-tiki-tavis will show up later.
> There's nothing to do in the safety
> zones."
TOM: I think what he's trying to say is (singing) give me land,
lots of land,
under starry skies
above,
ALL: (singing) Don't fence me in.
> Alis doubted it, guests of his calibre
CROW: That'd be a dum-dum, right?
> were always
> installed in the west branch,
MIKE: Where they became a stickling point in the ongoing
Felistian-Palestian Negotiations.
> fitted out with state of the
> art gyms, exercise areas, music rooms etcetera...
TOM: (King of Siam) Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
> "Being bored is better than being dead manling," she
> responded coldly.
CROW: Though anyone still reading at this point will probably disagree.
> Julian's blood ran cold,
MIKE: So he turned up the thermostat.
> he was certain now that she
> was going to kill him.
CROW: Come on, she's just dressed up as an executioner for Halloween.
Don't be so paranoid!
> She was toying with him, the way a
> cat plays with a mouse.
TOM: (singing) The Itchy and Scratchy show!
> He was sure of it.
MIKE: Of course, he was also sure that Bigfoot was secretly controlling
the
US government.
> He wanted to run
> back to his room.
CROW: Because he knows it's Prince Spaghetti night.
> To run to his father and hide behind him.
TOM: Our hero, ladies and gentlemen.
> Anything but be alone with this extremely dangerous girl.
MIKE: I think one of the authors is projecting just a wee bit.
> Then she flashed him a gigawatt smile that lit up her
> face,
TOM: (singing) Love... will keep us together...
> made his heart stop and the ache in his groin, that
> had faded, return with a vengeance.
CROW: Shouldn't Julian run when a carnivore bares its teeth at him?
> "But when you're bored out of your gourd danger doesn't
> matter.
MIKE: Alis speaks in rhyme all the time.
> You'll do anything for excitement.
TOM: You'll walk through New York wearing a suit made of $100 bills.
> I know the
> feeling oh sooo well right now."
> Julian's heart restarted
CROW: It's a good thing that Alis had those defibrillation paddles with
her.
> and started pitter patting at
> high speed.
MIKE: Julian is so easily led, he's an insult to teenage boys
everywhere.
> "I'm bored silly myself, everyone seems to be too busy
> to give me any of their time,
TOM: Well get some time of your own and stop bumming theirs!
CROW: (Alis) No one's willing to peel grapes and feed them to me. My
life
is miserable.
> and there's nothing to do.
MIKE: Well, you could sit and watch the tube...
CROW: But nothing's on.
TOM: Call him pathetic, call him what you will.
> I
> can't even waste time by cleaning my suite, there are
> servants who do it for me."
TOM: She's basically Cinderella in reverse. She WANTS to clean, but no
one
will let her.
> "Then we're both in the same boat," Julian interjected.
CROW: The Lusitania, to be exact.
> "It would seem so," she said agreeably, then flashed
> him another gigawatt smile.
MIKE: She should put those smiles to some productive use, like powering
calculators.
(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. Crow and Mike are in the middle of a heated argument.]
CROW: I'm telling you, Mike - Edith Wharton could take Willa Cather in a
fight. End of story. Just accept it.
MIKE: You're crazy, Crow! Willa would mop the floor with Edith Wharton!
I
mean, the woman was built like George Foreman!
CROW: Size isn't everything. Never underestimate the importance of good
breeding.
(TOM enters, wearing a sport coat, sunglasses, and a beret. His outfit
and manner fairly scream "artistic pretension".)
TOM: Cease this infernal literary debate, for I bring you tidings of
earth-shattering import!
CROW: (unimpressed) Let me guess - you found another broccoli that looks
like Leo Sayer's head.
TOM: I happen to have completed an important artistic endeavor.
MIKE: Another crank letter to "Penthouse Forum", eh?
TOM: As a matter of fact, what I have done is to take the situation
comedy
to a bold new level. Thanks to _Stolen Memories_, the idea of
romance
between man and beast is no longer taboo. It is in that spirit
that I
have created _Chad & Mittens_, the story of a stuffy,
set-in-his-ways
attorney who marries a free-spirited housecat. Although the
program's
boldness will be lost on you peasants, I will now show you a clip
from
the pilot episode. Roll it, Cambot.
(We see a clip from the show on the "Stony" TV set, which is set up on
the
counter)
[The title _Chad & Mittens_ is written in marker on a piece of
posterboard
which is briefly held up in front of the camera and then removed. After
that, we see that a crudely-painted "apartment" backdrop has been placed
in
the background of the still-recognizable SOL bridge. GYPSY is behind
the
counter with fake cat ears and whiskers glued to her face. She is
playing
the role of Mittens.]
GYPSY: Meow, meow, meow!
(Canned laughter on the soundtrack. Then TOM enters, dressed in a suit
and
tie and wearing a hat. He is playing Chad. We hear some canned
applause
as he walks onto the set.)
TOM: Hi honey, I'm home! Boy, what a tough day I had at the office! I
couldn't wait to come home and have you start licking my face!
GYPSY: Meow, meow, meow!
TOM: You said it, honey! Now, how 'bout coming over here and rubbing up
against me?
(GYPSY starts rubbing herself against TOM's shoulder)
TOM: That's the stuff. Can you cough up a hairball for your big daddy?
You know that always gets me so...
[SOL bridge. MIKE has seen enough. He turns the TV off.]
TOM: Hey! What's the big idea?
MIKE: C'mon, Tom. This is making me physically ill.
CROW: I thought _The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer_ was the all-time
low
in sitcom tastelessness, but this one sinks even lower!
MIKE: It's "Must Gouge Eyes Out To Avoid Seeing TV".
(CROW and MIKE exit in disgust. TOM calls after them.)
TOM: Good riddance, hypocrites! You're disgusted by the idea of erotic
love between a man and a housecat just because it's new and
unfamiliar
to you! Anything that's different must be wrong! Well, I'll tell
you
something! You can take your bigotry and your preconceived notions
and you can go ahead and stick them where... Oh, to hell with this.
I'll just try to sell the show to the WB. They'll buy ANYTHING.
(The yellow light flashes. TOM looks around.)
TOM: Uh, Mike? Crow? C'mon guys, you know I can't hit the buttons. Oh
well, I'm pretty sure it activates on its own if I don't do
anything.
[Planet Bumper]