MSTed: Play Ball
Señor Kirneh
This is my second MSTing. The first one, "Hate Me, My Friend", got rave
reviews (actually a guy told me he'd sprained his ankle while skiing,
but I figure that's close enough), so I decided to do another one. Unlike
the first fanfic I used, this one is absolutely PG - if you discount two
mentions of the word 'fuck' - one in this disclaimer, and one in the middle
of the fanfic. It's a Deep 13-episode, for those of you who care.
When you're finished reading this, I'd be happy to get your comments on
the MSTing at "kir...@hem.passagen.se", and I'm sure that Jungle Kitty
would like feedback on the actual fanfic at "jki...@accesscom.com".
Exercize your right to flame us! I would particularly like your opinion
about
the host segments, as they're the first host segments I've ever written.
Enough pre-amble, on with the show.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
<SOL>
[We open on the normal scene, but everything is different. Homelier.
Domestic. Feminine. More... pink. Basically it's a caricature of a
Barbieesque 50's spinster dream-house, taken to a vulgar extreme.
Think doilies. Mike enters, reading a comic-book, oblivious to the
'new look'.]
Mike: (to himself) Hehe... that cowboy Henk... heh...
(stops, looks up, freezes)
[Crow enters, wearing an oversized paint-stained smock]
Mike: (Still in shock) Wha - what exactly... I didn't... Crow, do you...
Crow: (smug) Yep, no need to thank me, Mike. Just a little hard work,
spare time, and of course, spirit. That's all. Anyone could have -
well, anyone who was extremely gifted and altruistic could have
done it almost as well.
Mike: But, but why did you -
Crow: Yes, it was tough getting it done before you guys woke up. I had to
rush it a little, so the plaster's still a bit wet, but I think you
get the general idea.
[Tom enters]
Tom: Whoa! Mike, have you been getting in touch with your feminine side
again?
Mike: I didn't - it was Crow who... Crow, what *did* you do, exactly?
Crow: Well, I figured that since we *are* stuck up here, and won't be
coming down in the foreseeable future, we might well try to cozy
things up a little. You know, add some of that personal, 'lived-in'
touch.
Mike: Well, that's a nice gesture, but why haven't you done it before? And
why didn't you tell us about it, so we could, er...
(looks at the decor)
Tom: Stop you.
Mike: Well, at least plan things?
Crow: It's nice of you to want to help, but if I hadn't done it alone, I
wouldn't have earned my 'Handy Helper' merit badge.
Mike: Your what?
Crow: Didn't I tell you? I've become a Bot Scout!
Tom: You're gonna dress up in highly revealing skirts and shout gibberish
together with teenage school-girls in Japan?
Crow: Saaay... (snaps out of it) No! I've joined the Bot Scouts of America!
Mike: Which means?
Crow: As far as I can see, I have to run around performing good deeds of
various kinds, and after a while my scoutmaster gives me a merit
badge.
(confiding) And don't mention this, but the scoutmaster and I are old
friends, so let me tell you, it's a pret-ty sweet deal.
Tom: Scoutmaster?
[Gypsy enters, dressed somewhat like Mr. B Natural]
Tom: Gah!
Mike: We'll be right back. (Hits commercial-sign button)
[Cut to commercials.]
[And... we're back]
[Everything has miraculously been restored to normal, and Gypsy has even
taken off the ungodly outfit.]
Mike: Now Crow, you can't re-decorate the satellite.
Crow: Why not?
Mike: (flustered)Well, for one, you don't have the time
(this place is bigger than it looks, you know). Maybe if you had
something like five hundred years on your hands, then perhaps. Also,
you don't have the materials and uh, you don't have the, what do
you call it...
Tom: You don't have any taste.
Mike: TOM! Well, umm, exactly. You don't.
Crow: Ok, fine, fine. I can take a bit of criticism. I guess I'll just
have to find something else to do to earn my handy merit badge.
Mike: Ok good, you do that. Hey, wait up guys: the thing that shouldn't
be is calling.
<Deep 13>
[We see Frank, apparently alone, looking into the camera and wringing
his hands]
Frank: (Nervous) Oh! Oh, hi guys. You kind of startled me there. Heh.
<SOL>
Mike: (Confused) What do you mean? You called us, remember?
Tom: Yeah!
<Deep 13>
Frank: Hmm, yes, yes of course. (Glances to the right) Well, umm, Clay
isn't -
he isn't here right now... he had to... he had to go to a family
reunion! Yes, to a family reunion... with his family, yes that's it.
He said he'd meet them there... anyway, that means I'll be sending
you
the (cocks his head to one side, as if listening to something we
can't
hear) experiment this week.
It's a...
<SOL>
Mike: (Columbo) Now hold on there. I wouldn't want to imply anything, but by
the strangest coincidence, I happened to remember that Dr. F has no
family other than his mother.
Crow: And he hates her!
Tom: Yeah! What gives, Franken-weenie?
<Deep 13>
Frank: But I, I assure you... [starts to sob] oh, what's the use? I killed
him! Oh God what have I done, I killed him! I had to do it, don't you
see?! Oh God... I've killed him! I've killed him, I've killed him,
I've...
[Dr. F enters, toweling his hair]
Dr. F: Frank? What's going on here?
Frank: Uh, nothing! Nothing at all, Clay! So sorry to disturb your bath!
Dr. F: [tosses towel away] Never mind that now; I see you've already called
up the marooned morons. [Turns to camera] Well Guybrush Driftwood,
your fanfic this week is a little piece on recreational activities in
the good ole days of Captain Kirk and his feisty crew. It's called
"Play Ball".
Enjoy!
<SOL>
Tom: ...so, I really don't see why a Hegelian dialectic reading of Ulysses
will give further insight into the tradition of Irish wakes!
Crow: Aren't you ignoring the rather obvious connection between Polyphemos
and
the original reasons for the ritual of Communion?
Tom: Hmm.... Yeah!
Mike: Never mind that now... we've got fanfic sign!!!
[Pandemonium, alarums divers, and all forms of general discombobulation]
>
> Play Ball
[Everyone enters the theater, in glorious ShadowRama(tm)!]
>
> pre-TOS, PG
>
> (c) Jungle Kitty 1998
> http://www.accesscom.com/~jkitty
>
> The world of Star Trek and its occupants belong to Paramount and
> Viacom, with the exceptions of a few people I made up. This
> not-for-profit piece of fan fiction does not intend to infringe
> on others' copyrighted property.
Tom: Pray note the tell-tale difference: "a *piece* of fan-fiction",
and a "*work* of art."
Crow: As in, a 'piece of...' well, you know what I mean.
Mike: Hey guys, come on! Go easy on this - it's Star Trek!
Tom: Yeah. Right.
Crow: Whatever you say, Mike. Sheesh.
>
> Comments and criticism are welcome, either posted to ASC or ASCEM, or
> emailed to jki...@accesscom.com.
Crow: [Reciting dully] An affiliation of Redund...@dot.superfluity.
>
> ***
Mike: Hey, from up here in space, people look just like little asterisks!
>
> Captain Kirk settled into the center seat on the bridge of the
> Federation starship Enterprise. He'd been her captain for less than
> three months, and he still thought of her that way.
Crow: Crow shifted uncomfortably in the cheap theater seat. He'd been
reading the fanfic for less than a minute, and it had already
ceased to make sense.
>
> The Federation starship Enterprise. Aah.
Mike: I can't help but feel that we forgot something...
Crow: The Enterprise! Aaaaaah!
>
> "Captain." The voice of Lieutenant Uhura pulled him out of his
> reverie.
>
> "Yes, lieutenant?"
Mike: [Kirk] I wasn't ashleep on duty, sherioushly, I washn't!
Tom: You were drooling in my lap - *sir*.
>
> "We're being hailed, sir. A Federation scoutship. The USS Wozniak."
All: (Snicker)
>
> Kirk sat up a little straighter, suppressing a grin. At the
> navigator's station, Commander Gary Mitchell turned toward
> the captain, not bothering to hide his delight.
Tom: [Mitchell] Damn these tight uniforms!
>
> "Put her on screen, lieutenant."
>
> The screen flickered and displayed an puckish face that neither Kirk
> nor Mitchell had seen in nearly two years.
Crow: [Kirk] Harlan! Hey, no hard feelings, right buddy? Right?
>
> "This is the Federation starship Enterprise, Captain James T. Kirk
> commanding. Are you in need of assistance, Wozniak?"
All: (Giggle more loudly)
>
> Kirk congratulated himself on his opening gambit.
Tom: Yeah, heh heh... tell them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth. Then offer them assistance! Yer a sneaky sunnuvagun,
Kirk.
> With this particular
> friend, it never hurt to get the upper hand. A dig at her abilities,
> as well as a none-too-subtle reminder that, although she got her command
> two and half weeks before he did, he had a starship. And in some
> things, size *does* count.
Mike: And come on, seriously - the "Wozniak"?
All: (Laugh)
>
> "Captain Suzanne Brandt here. No, we are not in need of assistance,
> Enterprise," she said evenly. "But we could use some entertainment."
>
> "What do you have in mind, Captain Brandt?"
Crow: [Brandt] Ever see "The Full Monty", Captain?
Mike: Eew.
>
> "We're mapping an uninhabited class M planet in your sector, Captain
> Kirk, and it has a large, open field that's just begging for a game of
> baseball."
Crow: Oh yeah, and we're also under attack by some guys who call themselves,
ehh... the 'bork', or something. So, are you *up* for a little
'ball'?
>
> She smiled in friendly invitation, but Kirk knew a challenge when he
> heard one.
Mike: Then again, Kirk hears a challenge when someone says: "We come in
peace."
> He turned to his first officer.
>
> "Mr. Spock. Estimated time to reach the Wozniak's current position."
Tom: [Spock] Yeah. Sure, whatever. Oh, oh wait, was that a question?
>
> "At present speed, one-point-six-two hours, sir."
>
> "Thank you, Mr. Spock." He turned back to the screen. "Two hours,
> Captain Brandt."
Tom: [Spock] I *said*, 97 minutes!
Mike: I'm a captain, damn it, not a mathemagician!
>
> "Very good. We'll send you the coordinates. Brandt out."
Mike: But the.. but how? And if they...
Tom: Let me help you out there, Mike. [At Nanite speed] What was the point
of Spock calculating the ETA to a place they weren't going to anyway,
and if Brandt's ship is at the same place as the planet then why would
she send the coordinates after they had miraculously calculated ETA
without them, not to mention the decidedly odd assumption that they
can
only move at the speed they already hold. Phew.
Mike: Err... thanks, Tom.
>
> The screen flickered, and Kirk found himself once again watching the
> stars trail by.
Crow: Oh, just move the mouse around a little, and everything will be
fine. [derisively] Computer illiterates.
>
> "Mr. Mitchell, lay in a course to the Wozniak. Mr. Spock, have the
> ship's computers analyze all personnel records for baseball
> experience.
> I want our best on that field."
Mike: Ah, it feels good to know that even 400 years in the future, we
can't come up with a better pastime than baseball, a game
predicated on precise conditions matching those of Earth and
with rules that would prevent just about any alien lifeform from
participating...
Crow: Sounds like *someone* got kicked out of Little League.
Mike: I did not! I quit because of my views on Vietnam! Not because
of anything else, like the fact that I throw like a girl.
Which I don't!
Crow: Oh, suuuuure Mike.
>
> "Yes, sir."
>
> The Vulcan's fingers ran lightly over the controls, as he contemplated
> the latest addition to a list of illogical requests from this most
> fascinating of humans.
Tom: [Spock] Baseball players... for a baseball game?! Preposterous!
>
> ***
Crow: No *'s allowed!
Tom: What?
Crow: No *'s allowed!
Tom: No *what* allowed?
Crow: [Exasperated] Come on, Servo! What part of your body looks like a *?
Tom: Hmmm, let's see... no... nope... uh-uh... sorry Crow, I can't think
of one.
Crow: Hmmm... Shoot, neither can I.
Mike: Will you guys pipe down a little?
>
> Two hours later, Captain Kirk and Commander Mitchell beamed down to
> the planet, accompanied by Lieutenants Riley and Rodriguez. They were
> soon joined by the other crewmen slated to represent the Enterprise in
> the upcoming contest.
Mike: So... anyone else having major flashbacks to "Secret Wars" right
now?
Tom: Actually Mike, we have *lives*. Sort of. Well, almost, anyways.
Mike: (hums "My Little Pony" theme)
Crow: Just shut up, ok?! Shut up!
>
> A lithe female figure carrying a baseball bat sprinted across the
> field toward them.
>
> Kirk pointed and said, "Thar she blows."
Mike: [Kirk] Hehe... and thar she raises her bat... and - shiver me timbers!
Arrrr!
Tom: Pret-ty dark, Mike. Say hi to Davey Jones for me.
>
> "My god, Jim," Mitchell gasped. "Look at her."
>
> Kirk chuckled. "Our little girl's growing up."
>
> He remembered the first time he'd seen Brandt at the Academy. After
> admiring a nicely rounded bottom, he'd been disappointed to see that
> the rest of the owner of said bottom had
Crow: ...been his eighty-year old physics professor. Bit of a let-down,
really.
> the physical attributes of a
> scrawny urchin.
Tom: Which, besides the scrawn, isn't much.
Mike: Seeing as how she isn't poor, orphaned, or musically talented, I'd
have to say that Ms. Kitty could just as well have described Ms.
Brandt as: 'a scrawny thin person'.
> Over the years, that had changed, but the early
> impression had lingered in his mind. And now, as Kirk watched her
> approach, he was struck by how nicely rounded everything was.
Mike: [Lenny] Duh, George? George, I - I don't want no rabbits no more, I
changed my mind.
Tom: You do that much too well, Mike.
Mike: Well thank you, I try to - heeey!
> And how well it was displayed by the Academy t-shirt and running shorts.
> The effect was noteworthy, and almost certainly deliberate.
Mike: He knew it was deliberate, and he only wished that he could have
come up with something as clever.
Crow: Hey buddy! Maybe you should try - Pants!
(all hum 'Cannonball')
>
> "My grandfather had an expression, Gary. She's gunnin' for b'ar."
Tom: Oh, is the *great* grandfather gonna tell us about - the heck is a
b'ar anyway?
Mike: Some strange pun? She's "Guinan" for the "bar"? Nah...
Tom: I think it might be Swedish. B'ar görne job, mjälten b'ar saknüssen.
Did that sound Swedish to you?
Crow: [Grandpa Simpson] That was in nineteen-dickety-b'ar. We had to say
dickety, because the Kaiser had stolen the word twenty...
>
> At that moment, Captain Brandt dropped the bat and threw herself into
> a hug with both men.
>
> "You two haven't changed a bit!" she laughed.
>
> "You have," Mitchell said, squeezing her tightly. "You've put on a
> little weight. And in all the right places."
Mike: That hole in your stomach was *most* unbecoming.
Magic Voice: (Rimshot)
>
> She frowned. "I don't know if I should thank you or deck you."
Tom: [Mitchell] Duh huh... breasts?
>
> She turned to Captain Kirk, her hands on her hips. He matched her
> stance as they sized each other up.
Crow: Merciful God, please say that they're not gonna square-dance!
>
> "So, Captain Kirk."
>
> "So, Captain Brandt. How are things on your toy spaceship? Amazing
> what
> they're doing nowadays with legos, isn't it, Commander Mitchell?"
>
> "It sure is, captain," Mitchell picked up his cue smoothly.
Crow: [Excited] Yeah, I know, I've got all the Exploriens, and -
Mike: Mitchell!
Crow: Sorry, Sir.
> "I hear
> they're going to paint all the scoutships pink, so they'll match the
> rest of Barbie's vehicles."
Tom: [Barbie] Space-stuff is hard!
Crow: [Ditto] I'm just a girl!
Mike: Here at Mattel, we need your help to set the clock back on sexual
equality by at least a hundred years! Won't you do your share?
>
> Captain Brandt chuckled dangerously.
>
> "Gentlemen. To quote the late, great Joan Crawford--"
>
> "Who?"
>
> "'Don't fuck with me, boys.'"
Mike: Doesn't it make you wonder though, why nobody said or did anything
worth remembering between now and the 25th century? I mean, all
of these people seem more familiar with 20th century schlock than,
say, the name of the guy or gal who invented the warp-drive.
Tom: No, Mike. No, it doesn't make us wonder.
>
> "Oooo, now I'm scared," Kirk teased.
>
> Her eyes narrowed as she smiled at him. "I can't tell you how much I'm
> looking forward to whipping your big, clumsy, Constitution-class
> asses."
Crow: I thought dark, gritty story-telling like this went out with the death
of Marvel.
Mike: Marvel isn't dead! Say it ain't so!
>
> Gary let out a low whistle. His grandfather had an expression, too.
> She's cruisin' for a bruisin'.
>
> "Care to make it interesting, captain?" Kirk asked.
Mike: I'd love to, but I'm under strict orders from the author. No wine,
no salty foods, and above all, *no interest*.
>
> "Name it."
>
> "A case of Romulan ale."
Mike: Being, of course, compatible with our internal chemistry and
pleasing to our taste buds.
Tom: You said you'd watched the show for years back on earth -
isn't it a little late to start complaining about the plot-holes?
>
> "First let's see some ID, James T-for-Tot Kirk."
>
> "Two cases," Kirk upped the ante, wondering how old she had to be
> before she stopped enjoying the fact that he was nearly two years
> younger than she was.
Crow: Let's see if I've got this straight. This grudge match, this
clash of titans, will be fought over cheap alcohol that could
be replicated at absolutely no cost?
Tom: Heck, with any verisimilitude at all, Kirk and Scotty should have
an entire deck dedicated to liquor storage already!
>
> Mitchell turned away to conceal his delight that the Brat could still
> needle Kirk in a way that he couldn't.
Mike: This guy needs to work on expressing his feelings more.
(Hastily) No wait, forget I said anything.
> He couldn't help being pleased
> to see his CO reminded of the years when, as the junior member of
> their trio, he'd been referred to as "Kid."
Tom: Eeew!
Mike: Talk about 'unlucky Pierre'!
Crow: Say, I thought this was rated PG. Heh, looks like things are
shaping up...
>
> He was startled out of these pleasant thoughts as he looked across
> the field at the opposing team. He was an avid sports fan, and, the
> more closely he looked at Brandt's players, the more concerned he
> became.
Tom: We've secretly replaced Ms. Brandt's team with rich, dark Folger's
crystals. Let's see if Commander Mitchell notices...
Mike: Well, so far this author's been great about not forgetting her
punctuation, but there is such a thing as 'too much of a good thing.'
Crow: [Shatner] Captain's, log... a bunch of our ship, fell off, and...
nobody likes me.
>
> "Captain Kirk," he said in a low tone.
Crow: "These men all have three noses... I'm scared, Captain!"
>
> "Why not three cases?" Brandt goaded.
>
> "Captain Kirk," Mitchell repeated more urgently.
Tom: [Kirk] What, what?! Oh, you should have taken care of that *before*
we left the ship, young man!
>
> "You're on." Kirk extended his hand and the two captains shook on the
> bet.
>
> "*Captain Kirk*."
>
> "*What is it*, Mr. Mitchell?"
Mike: [Dark Helmet] We're surrounded by *'s!
Crow: Come on Mike! What does that mean?
>
> Mitchell pulled his captain aside and said, "Can you afford to lose
> three cases of Romulan ale?"
>
> "I don't think I like that attitude, mister."
Tom: (Laughs) Now chip in, or you won't get dessert today!
Mike: All of a sudden he's commanding the Kid's Crew!
Tom: Brrrrr. Oh, and Mike, it's "Kids'" Crew.
Mike: Want to bet?
Crow: He's got a point.
>
> "Look at her team."
>
> "So?"
>
> Kirk played many sports, but followed none.
Crow: Hey! I just thought of something! Let's take a break, ok guys?
[We hear the doors open, and the fic stops scrolling]
Mike: He has the power to do that?
Tom: Oh, he's got this deal with Dr. F. I don't know the specifics of it,
but it seems really strange.
[Door Sequence]
<SOL Bridge>
[Crow is standing behind Tom, fiddling with something on Tom's back.
Mike watches, bemused]
Mike: So, Crow, what's this big idea of yours? (worried) You're not gonna
lobotomize Tom again, are you?
Crow: Of course not! What kind of scout would I be then? I just realized how
I could get my 'Handy Helper' merit badge!
Mike: Ok... and how are you doing that?
Crow: By reprogramming Tom to expand his skill repertoire. With just a few
simple adjustments I can add new useful skills in a matter of minutes!
Mike: Like what?
Tom: I'm gonna be a translator!
Crow: Yep, I'm working on enhancing his linguistic circuits. Let's face it
Mike: we're great bots, Tom and I, but in today's competitive job
market, we don't have the necessary abilities to make it! I figure
that the niche for charismatic automated translating units is pretty
wide open for a guy like Tom though, once he gets the required
enhancements.
Mike: But Tom, you don't want a job! Even if you did want one, you couldn't
get it!
Tom: What's wrong, Mike? Jealous? Oh, that's it, I see! You're insane with
jealousy that I might take over your job! Can't handle a little
competition for that fat salary of yours?
Mike: But I'm a temp, Tom. I'm a temp for a lunatic, and I don't even get
paid.
Crow: [Moving away from Tom] Ok, that should do it. I'll just start 'er
up...
[Silence]
Mike: Tom? Tom, are you ok?
Tom: (high-pitched, 'bubbly' voice) It is extremely! Are you not *happy
campers*?
Crow: Well, yeah, I guess. We're gonna have a jamboree in Mike's room on
Friday, so we...
Mike: Crow! Uh, Tom? You don't sound alright.
Tom: It is not to worry! We can *smell* the *noise* and are *enjoying the
sauce*! You are not *to see* the great *many-making* in us? The *re-
ordering* has been well.
Mike: Great, Crow. You must've short-circuited his linguistic center...
or something.
Crow: Does this mean I'm not getting my merit badge?
Tom: We see. You are too *slow* to *smell* what has *danced to us*. This is
sad. Perhaps you would want to make the *fingers* *less*? It is to be
forbidden. You would make us *squeeze the juice*!
Mike: Well, we still have to get him back into the theater. Give me a hand
here!
Crow: Ok Servo, let's go.
Tom: We see. Goodbye is the game. Hello! I am only joke.
<Theater>
Tom: What is for to *smell* here?
Crow: Well, Mike's been getting kind of rank, recently...
Mike: Hey!
Tom: We see. You are *frumple*.
>
> "She's got two former Amateur Galactic All-Stars," Mitchell explained.
Tom: NO! It should not! It is *further below*! The *juice* is being
*squeezed*!
>
> Kirk turned to his opponent, frowning.
Tom: NOO! The *Juice*! Ngaaaaaaaaah!! (sparks fly out of Tom's dome)
Mike: Tom?
Tom: (Normal) Wow. That was...
Mike: Peculiar?
Tom: Odd. Let's never mention it again.
Crow: Good plan.
>
> "*Ringers*, Captain Brandt?"
Crow: Why thank you! I just hope you brought enough for - oh.
>
> "Whatever are you talking about?"
>
> "You've got two All-Stars over there."
>
> "Actually, I have three," she replied calmly. "And as for your
> allegation--they were all onboard the Wozniak when I took command.
Mike: Yeah right, lady. And you say it was like this when you found it?
I think you better come down to the station, right now.
> Captain Hyoshi was a big sports fan. And, if it weren't so laughable,
Tom: ...he never would have left a ship called the "Wozniak".
> I would resent the implication that I can't beat you without
> cheating. However, if it will make you more comfortable, I'll have
> them stand down."
>
> "No, you don't. You're not going to spoil my victory by saying I
> didn't let you choose your own players."
Crow: Oh goodie. I pick your entire crew to play for me. Now what are you
gonna do, huh?
>
> She shrugged amiably. "Have it your way."
>
> With a sinking feeling, Kirk realized he'd played right into her
> hands.
>
> "Now," she continued brightly. "We need an umpire."
Tom: Permit me, your Majesty! With only a handful of brave men, a seaworthy
ship, and a chest full of gold dubloons, I'll paint the maps red with
British -
Mike: Tom? Uh, Tom? That's UMpire, not EMpire.
Tom: Oh.
>
> Both captains turned to their former classmate.
>
> "Oh no. No way," Mitchell sputtered. "I'm not refereeing the two of
> you. Never again. Forget it."
Mike: [Mitchell, scared and desperate] Coke??? Pepsi, then??? HoJo
Cola???? (sobs) I don't know!! I just. Don't. Know. (cries)
>
> "Commander Mitchell," Kirk cajoled. "As a personal favor? To your
> captain?"
>
> Mitchell grimaced and conceded with as much grace as he could muster.
>
> "I'd be honored...sir."
>
> "Good man."
Crow: Yep, that sounds perfectly impartial to me. No conflict of interest
here, nuh-uh.
>
> "Isn't it fun outranking your friends?" Brandt bubbled.
Mike: That's what you get for landing on a planet where the atmosphere is
mostly liquid ammonia.
> "Or should I
> say
> 'friend.' I keep forgetting you only have the one."
>
> She tossed the bat to Kirk.
Tom: TOGGGG!
(Mike and Crow look at Tom)
>
> "Aren't you my friend?" he asked
Mike: ...tears starting to form in his trembling blue eyes.
> as he caught it and they began the
> traditional hand-over-hand.
>
> "Yes, of course I am. But you don't outrank me." She neatly
> eagle-clawed
> the top. "We'll bat first."
Crow: Both of us? Highly irregular, but... ok, fine.
>
> Kirk gestured graciously toward home plate. "Age before beauty."
>
> "Pearls before swine," she retorted and sauntered away.
Mike: Oh, come on! Enough that you had to go and ruin Star Trek, but
to drag Dorothy Parker into this? For shame!
>
> Mitchell rolled his eyes and muttered, "Play ball."
>
> ***
Mike: [Butthead] Testes, testes - one, two... three?
Tom: Yeah Mike. Good one. Real fresh.
>
> The Wozniak's team scored twice in the first inning, and the
> Enterprise's first batter approached the plate with determination. On
> the second pitch, Christine Chapel sent the ball soaring deep into the
> trees beyond the field.
Tom: Talk about a lousy pitch!
Crow: I'd like to see you do better, Tommy deMilo!
> Then she casually trotted around the bases, as
> Wozniak's outfield searched for the ball.
>
> "Good work," Kirk congratulated her as she rejoined her cheering
> teammates.
Mike: [Kirk] I'll be docking your pay for a year until you pay off that
ball,
missy!
>
> "Thank you, sir. Feels good to play again." Seeing his puzzled
> expression, she explained, "Four-year baseball scholarship at the
> University of Michigan."
>
> Kirk laughed, suddenly feeling three cases of Romulan ale richer.
Mike: And realizing that here was another of his officers who really didn't
know squat about what to do on a starship.
>
> ***
>
> By the fourth inning, the umpire was sweating profusely. And it wasn't
> that hot.
>
> Jesus Christ. Don't they know it's just a game?
Tom: Theological stage directions? Whatever.
Mike: "And now, in the last quarter of the Game of Life, the forces of
Christianity are down by ten yards, as Average Christian receives the
ball."
>
> But it was never just a game, not with those two. The competition
> between them had always been fierce, and now it infected the other
> players. Every point was hard-won, and nothing went uncontested. And,
> to make matters worse, most of the off-duty personnel had beamed
> down, and the cheers and boos from the spectators egged the players
> on.
Crow: Who were already tipsy from all the egg-nog. Get it? Eggs? Boos?
'Cheers'? Ah, forget it.
>
> The score was five to five, and the Wozniak had a runner on second. On
> the pitcher's mound, Captain Kirk squinted at the batter, determined
> to turn her two strikes into three. She edged in and he pulled back.
>
> "Mitchell! Wake up!" he yelled. "She's crowding the plate!"
Tom: Oh can it, you big whiner!
Crow: [Kirk] Waaaah! Waaaah!
>
> The umpire assessed the situation. Technically, yes, Captain Brandt
> was crowding the plate. But he wasn't about to tell her to suck in
> her bosom.
Mike: Oh great, here we go...
Crow: What are you talking about, Mike?
Mike: Well, aren't you guys going to go into paroxysms of laughter
and juvenile mirth now?
Tom: What on earth for?
Mike: Never mind.
Bots: (giggle)
>
> Kirk also assessed the situation. Gary may be too chicken to do
> something about this, he thought, but I'm not.
Mike: (whiny senior citizen) I'm gonna write my congressman! You'll be
sorry then!
>
> He strode to the plate and said in a low voice, "Brandt. Pull those
> back. Or I'll knock 'em off."
Tom: 'Beat' Takeshi *is* William Shatner, in "Play Ball."
>
> She turned to the umpire with an expression of wide-eyed innocence.
> Mitchell cleared his throat uncomfortably.
Crow: He's been infected by the 'fierceness' going around, I see.
>
> "If you wouldn't mind, Captain Brandt."
Tom: (Mitchell) ...I'd like to borrow your underwear. Strictly for the
comfort, of course!
>
> "Of course, Commander. How's this?" She stepped back.
>
> "Thank you, captain," Mitchell smiled in relief.
>
> Kirk returned to the mound and turned to see Brandt shaking her behind
> as she bent over the plate. He knew that many batters did that to
> settle into their stance, and he was absolutely sure that was *not*
> why she did it.
Mike: He knew she did it because he'd poured a barrel full of ants down her
pants earlier! Girls. Go figure.
>
> "Right back at you, Brat-I-mean-Brandt," he said and hurled a breaking
> curve ball.
Tom: That kooky Starfleet humor... Brat-I-mean-Brandt, Jerk-I-mean-Kirk,
Potty-I-mean-Scotty, Retard-I-mean-Picard, Shitty-I-mean-Ju...
Mike: Hey... play nice, Tom.
>
> The next thing he knew, she was on second base, and the score was six
> to five.
All: Wah-wah-waaaaah.
>
> ***
>
> Bottom of the ninth. Ten-nine, Wozniak's favor. Two outs on the
> Enterprise.
Tom: Mike, how many humans live in the Star Trek Universe?
Mike: Oh, I don't know... about eighty bajillion?
Tom: And these two 'all-stars' are two of the best players among these,
err, 'bajillion.' And still they're only tied!?
Mike: Calm down... bend like the straw; do not break, like the tree.
>
> Lieutenant Kevin Riley nervously approached the plate. All I need is a
> single, he reminded himself. That'll tie it up, and this will be
> someone else's problem.
All: I don't think I like that attitude, mister! (laugh)
>
> "Bring me home, Riley," Kirk whispered as he waited impatiently at
> third base.
>
> Brandt crouched behind home plate and pounded the palm of her
> catcher's glove. "Right here, Jack! Easy out!"
Crow: Isn't there some kind of crisis these people should be attending to?
Do people in the future spend trillions to provide Starfleet officers
with recreational vehicles?
Mike: You forget, Crow, that this is the *old* Generation. Kirk didn't
'attend' to crises, he created them.
Crow: Oh.
>
> On the pitcher's mound, the best of Brandt's near-ringers nodded
> solemnly. Lieutenant Commander Jack Wallis was determined not to let
> his captain down.
Crow: This is why you should make sure to have an all-Spathi crew onboard;
they'd run away at the first sight of the bat.
Tom: Or a game between Kzer-za and Kohr-ah - each team would start
circling the planet away from the other, and they'd probably
end up never seeing each other again.
Mike: How would that help anything?
Crow: There'd be no fanfic, for one.
Mike: Point taken.
>
> The umpire bit his lip. What had he done to deserve this torture? He
> knew what was going to happen. Riley would get a hit. Kirk would race
> for home. Brandt would reach for the ball that would be hurtling
> toward her glove. And then--
Crow: Then, inexplicably, the captain would go on to write the entire
TekWar saga. It just didn't make sense!
>
> Let it be obvious, he prayed silently. I don't care who wins. Safe or
> out, it doesn't matter to me. Just don't make me make the call.
>
> In Mitchell's mind, the play had the sick, slow-motion quality of a
> nightmare.
Mike: Waiting for Godot?
Tom: The Caretaker?
Crow: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead??
Mike: Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse Tung?
Crow: Shopping and (Mike slaps his hand over Crow's beak) mmph!
Mike: Ok, that's just about enough. I'm starting to get homesick.
>
> Riley hit a line drive, and Kirk took off to the roar of the
> spectators.
All: (make car-noises)
> The ball bounced past the shortstop and was retrieved by
> the left fielder, who hurled it to the pitcher. Brandt stood with
> one foot on the plate, leaning forward and screaming, "Come on! Come
> on!" The pitcher threw the ball, and Kirk threw himself toward home.
Tom: And then Tonstant Weader threw up.
>
> Heart pounding, Mitchell waited for the dust to clear. And when it
> did, he saw Brandt on the ground with her legs spread wide, and Kirk
> face down in her crotch. Like a true over-achiever, he'd outshot the
> mark.
Mike: This... I did not need.
Crow: That kooky Kirk; what an over-achiever! You might even call him
an 'eager...'
Tom: Do you really want to go that low, Crow? Err, I mean.. Oh, you
know what I mean!
>
> Intent on the play, neither captain noticed their crews' uproarious
> laughter or what was causing it.
Crow: They ain't the brightest lights in the night sky, are they?
Tom: [Mumbling] When 'M-day' comes, they'll be the first to go!
>
> Brandt retrieved the ball from her glove and tapped Kirk on the head
> with it.
>
> "That was three cases of Romulan ale, wasn't it?"
>
> "Yes, it was," Kirk replied. "When can I expect delivery?"
Mike: Well, since we're at war with the Romulans, I'd say twenty, maybe
thirty years.
Crow: (Kirk) D'oh!
>
> "Ha! You're out."
>
> "Like hell I am."
>
> "Are too!"
>
> "Am not!"
Tom: Witty banter between the sexes was never the same after "X-Files the
Movie, part two: Shadows in the Sandbox."
>
> Both turned to Mitchell. "Call it!"
>
> Mitchell opened his mouth, his heart sinking. "Uh..."
Mike: I'm sorry, were you two doing something? Cause if you were,
you're gonna have to it again.
Crow: I was playing with my Legos...
>
> At that instant, both captains' communicators beeped, and they quickly
> turned away to respond.
>
> Less than a minute later, the game was forgotten as the two commanders
> ordered everyone back to the ships.
Tom: Commanders, captains... whatever.
>
> "All right, people, let's go!"
>
> "Move it, move it! Game's over."
>
> Mitchell moved to Kirk's side. "What is it, captain?"
>
> "The Klingons just tested a new weapon. The entire fleet's on
> standby."
Mike: [Dramatic] It seems the Klingons just moved into the 'Nerf Age!'
>
> Mitchell barely managed to keep himself from muttering, "Thank god."
> Somehow the threat of galactic war didn't seem as threatening as what
> he had just been facing.
>
> "Gary."
>
> He turned and was pulled into a hug by Captain Brandt. She couldn't
> have said why she did it, but less than a year later, she would be
> glad she did.
Crow: When Cmdr. Mitchell was elected president of the New Alliance of
Free Stars, Cpt. Brandt's story sold her story for millions!
Mike: No, you fool, he's going to die! Die, I tell you! Can't you just see
the red shirt?
Tom: Mike's right, Crow. This is what's known as 'the subtle sledgehammer
of foreshadowing'.
>
> "Take care, all right?" She pulled back and looked at him sternly. "I
> don't want to hear that you two didn't have the sense to get out of
> the way of a photon torpedo."
Crow: A 'photon torpedo'? Is that when someone shines a flashlight at him?
Tom: I think it's when someone *throws* a flashlight at him.
>
> "Understood, captain." He squeezed her hands and said in a low voice,
> "And just between the two of us..." He nodded toward Captain Kirk. "He
> was out."
Mike: [Mitchell] If I understand the rules correctly, though, I'm supposed
to keep this a secret.
>
> She grinned at him. "Thanks, Gary."
>
> She turned to Captain Kirk, who was issuing orders into his
> communicator. Suddenly seeing him as the captain of the flagship and
> knowing what that would mean in a conflict with the Klingons, she was
Crow: ...very tempted to go and hide under a rock for the next couple of
decades.
> uncomfortably reminded of that long-ago day when he beat the Kobayashi
> Maru.
Mike: Enough already with the Kobayashi Maru!
> Although she'd been relieved when he wasn't expelled and had
> enthusiastically joined in the celebration, she thought his
> explanation
> for his action was preposterous.
Tom: 'Marissa' made you do it? Who the heck's 'Marissa'?
> She'd told him so privately, and he'd
> laughed and said, "Brat, you're the last person I would expect to
> mother-hen me. You must be getting soft."
>
> His intentional misinterpretation of her concern had infuriated her,
> as
> she later realized it was meant to do. But at the time, it had very
> effectively ended the discussion.
>
> She pursed her lips and decided to give it another try.
Mike: You know how to do it, don't you? You just put your lips together
and blow...
Crow: As in 'this fic blows'.
>
> Kirk closed his communicator, and she touched his arm.
>
> "Jim, I know this is a waste of breath,
Tom: But I'm still gonna try to huff and puff and blow your ship down, ok?
> but try not to do anything too
> harebrained, all right? There *is* such a thing as a no-win
> situation."
Mike: Tell us about it.
>
> "Not in my universe."
>
> She twisted her hair in frustration. He still believed it was *his*
> universe.
Tom: Her totipotence Marissa will be highly displeased.
>
> "And I would love to stand here and argue personal philosophies with
> you," he continued, "but there isn't time. My starship's
> double-parked."
All: Wah-wah-waaaaah.
Crow: See, it's funny cause... he really doesn't know any physics...
>
> "Oh, Jim," she sighed. "You're such a jerk."
Crow: Heh... it's funny, cause...
Mike: Yes Crow, we get it. Alright?
>
> "I don't have time to argue that either," he said with good-natured
> finality. "What will the Wozniak be doing in all this?"
>
> "What a scoutship does best. Zip around and annoy the enemy any way we
> can."
Mike: We're hoping they'll laugh themselves to death when we hail them.
>
> "Well, they certainly picked the right woman for the job."
>
> They shook hands, briefly exhibiting the admiration and respect that
> was
> usually carefully hidden behind teasing remarks and practical jokes.
Tom: Call me kooky, but I can't see how t.p.'ing each other's starships
would show respect.
>
> Brandt hesitated over the next move, but Kirk didn't. He pulled her
> into
> an embrace and whispered, "I expect a rematch."
>
> "You'll get it."
>
> She removed herself from his arms, and they taunted each other one
> last time.
>
> "Witch."
>
> "Troll."
Tom: [With outrageous accent] Now go away, or I shall taunt you a
second time!
Mike: Awwwww, that was *too* lame, Kooky!
Tom: What? What?!
>
> Smiling, Kirk watched her jog across the field toward her crew. Then
> he
> and Mitchell moved toward the nearest Enterprise beam-up formation.
>
> "Captain?"
>
> "Yes, Commander?"
Tom: [Rosencrantz] How was that?
Crow: [Guildenstern] Oh, perfect. Now I try.
>
> "I thought you'd like to know, sir--and please keep this
> confidential--
Tom: [Smithers] I love you, sir... in that outfit, I mean!
> you were safe."
>
> Kirk suppressed all but the hint of a satisfied smile. "Thank you for
> telling me, Commander."
Mike: You're still fired though.
>
> Taking his place among his crewmates, Gary remembered another of his
> grandfather's favorite sayings.
Crow: Bite me!
Mike: For once, I'm with Crow!
Tom: Yeah, no more geriatric doddering, please!
>
> It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game.
>
> He couldn't help being pleased with how well he had played Monkey in
> the Middle.
Mike: And the author sends Vince Lombardi spinning in his grave.
>
> [The End]
>
Tom: Mike, can we go now?
Mike: Not until the doors open, buddy.
>
>
>
Crow: Is this a post-modernistic lack-of-closure, or a simple 'oops-
left-my-finger-on-carriage-return' lack-of-closure?
Mike: Actually, it kind of did have proper closure.
Tom: So this is more like the credits. Appropriate, when you think
about it.
Mike: Tom!
>
>
>
Crow: And... we're off!
Mike: Come on guys.
[Exeunt omnes]
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, it's over. You can open your eyes now. I hope you enjoyed it, and that
you realize it was all in good fun. No insult is intended towards
either Jungle Kitty or the good folks who made Star Trek: TOG. Well,
actually, those guys kind of screwed Harlan Ellison over a little too
much, but then again, who hasn't? Jungle Kitty is still ok, though. I think.
Comments are welcomed with open arms. As always, praise for the fic goes to
the author:
Jungle Kitty (jki...@accesscom.com)
and flames for the MSTing go to the MSTer:
Señor Kirneh (kir...@hem.passagen.se)
OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER: "Whenever someone asks me to define love, I stop
whatever I'm doing and think for a minute. Then
I spin around and pin the guy's arms behind his
back. NOW who's asking the questions?"
-Jack Handy
To find out more about Dorothy Parker, I would recommend that you
purchase "The Penguin Portable Dorothy Parker", which contains just
about everything she ever wrote.
To find out more about Harlan Ellison, visit Ellison Webderland, at
http://www.menagerie.net/ellison/ellihome.htm
> "We're being hailed, sir. A Federation scoutship. The USS Wozniak."