[MiSTied] The Misadventures of Crag, parts 1 & 2
Matt Abbott
by Matt Abbott (mab...@osiris.ee.tufts.edu)
original posts by Charles Leake and Stephen Ratliff
This is my first MiSTing, although I've been a fan of MST3K for about
three years and a reader of r.a.t.m for about one. It may be my last, since
I'm losing this Internet account soon. Comments are welcome as long as any
criticism is constructive.
I am not officially registered to the MST Authors List, and I do not
have dibs on these postings. I tried to register, but I had problems with
mail being returned by the daemon. I tried to get help by posting to a.t.m
but all I got was an MST3K FAQ, so I'm just going ahead and posting my
MiSTing. I'd like to join the list and get this in the archive, so any
help would be appreciated. Hopefully I'll be able to put this in the archive
and rejoin the list when I get a new account, or whatever. Thanks! :)
(Please don't send me any FAQs; I've got them all.)
The host segments might be a bit long for the short posts, but here we
go...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
(In the not too distant future...)
(1...2...3...4...5...6...7)
[SOL. Mike, Gypsy, Tom, and Crow are there, all facing the camera. The
Mad's light is flashing.]
MIKE: Hello, everyone, I'm Mike Nelson, and these are my robots Gypsy,-
GYPSY: Hi!
MIKE: -Crow T. Robot, and Thomas Servo. Welcome to the Satellite of Love.
Dr. Clayton Forrester has a special announcement to make, so let's go
directly to Deep 13, shall we?
[He hits the button.]
[D13. Dr. Forrester is behind a podium. A ridiculous number of fake
microphones are mounted on it.]
DR.F: Thank you, Twinkletoes. As you all know, I've found myself
assistantless in recent weeks. In fact, all this business of
ascension into... [becoming slightly annoyed] banana... [waves hands
in frustration]... whatever, has made me rather vexed. [Regains
composure] However, today I've called this news conference to
announce the hiring of my new assistant. [He reaches down and pulls
up a stuffed dummy, dressed in a Deep 13 jumpsuit. It has a drawn-on
face and a wig of long hair which show it is obviously supposed to be
female.] It's... uh... her name is... [looks at dummy, thinking]...
Fran. [He let's it fall to the floor with a thud.] You start the
invention exchange, Mike.
[SOL. Mike is wearing a mouse suit. Gypsy is at his right, Crow and Tom to
his left. A computer is on the desk.]
TOM: Our invention exchange this week strikes another blow in knocking down
the barriers between you and your computer. Have you ever noticed
that a mouse or a joystick doesn't give you the pinpoint precision you
need for a video game? That's why we've invented the Human Mouse.
Mike's been fitted with our prototype model and lovely assistant Gypsy
is plugging him in now.
[As Tom resumes talking, Gypsy lowers her head below the desk, comes up with
the extra-long tail of Mike's suit in her mouth, and deposits it in a large
plastic attachment on the side of the computer. Sound effects begin, and
Mike begins jumping, turning, miming shooting a gun, etc. Crow and Gypsy are
engrossed in the action.]
TOM: With the Human Mouse, each and every action of your body is
transferred to your character in the game. There's no more
frustration over not having the control you crave. Let's watch.
CROW: [matter-of-factly] Mike's playing "Doom."
[Mike continues playing the game. We hear gunshots mixed with the other
sound effects. We see a red splotch appear on Mike's suit as he groans and
clutches his chest.]
GYPSY: HE'S BEEN SHOT!
[The 'bots rush to his aid.]
[D13. Dr. Forrester is standing; Fran is propped in a chair to his right.]
DR.F: [unsympathetically] Oh my. I hope he's O.K. *Our* invention exchange
this week is the world's first *fully automatic* alarm clock. A
simple demonstration will show you what I mean.
[The camera pans down to show there is a contraption on the desk.
It consists of an old-fashioned alarm clock, the kind with two bells on top,
connected to a support that holds a large weight directly above it. There
are various cables connecting the parts. We see Dr. Forrester's hand
adjusting the clock. A few seconds pass; the alarm goes off for a few
seconds, then the weight falls, demolishing the clock. The camera pans back
up.]
DR.F: Thus the alarm is stifled and you can continue your slumber sans the
usual exertion. I've successfully sold the idea to a company which
markets multiple units in each package so you don't have to buy a new
one every day. Unfortunately the company is affiliated with Oscar
Meyer, so they sell them in packages of four even though the work week
is five days long. [He pauses, waiting for a response.] Mike?
[SOL. Medical equipment can be seen -- an I.V., a heart monitor, etc. Crow
and Tom are wearing surgeons' masks and coats, while Gypsy wears a nurse's
dress and a hat with a red cross on it. Crow and Tom are moving about
frantically.]
TOM: [distressed] He's having palpitations! Nurse! Increase the flow of
polysorbate 60!
CROW: [equally distressed] And prepare 20 cc's of monosodium glutamate!
Quickly!
GYPSY: [worriedly] Oh... [She exits stage left.]
CROW: Begin the CPR!
[Tom turns nearly horizontal, then disappears quickly below the desk so that
we imagine his body is colliding with Mike's with great force. We hear a
thud, then Tom reappears and repeats this a few times. Crow watches.]
[D13.]
DR.F: [unsympathetically] Well, it appears you've got everything under
control. Your post this week is short in length but not in Deep
Hurting. It's another Star Trek fanfic bearing a name I think you'll
recognize. Obviously it's not intended to be a great work of fiction,
but I think you'll agree that it doesn't even come close to living up
to its own low standards. Any questions?
[SOL. Mike, still in the bloody mouse suit, is leaning forward with his arms
around the "shoulders" of Crow and Tom, at his sides. Lights and alarms go
off.]
CROW\: WE'VE GOT USENET SIGN!
TOM /:
[Crow and Tom rush out from under Mike, who slowly falls forward until he
lightly hits his head on the desk. This seems to wake him up, and he joins
in the commotion.]
(7...6...5...4...3...2...1)
[Theater. They sit down, Mike still with the mouse ears visible. He pulls
them off after a few seconds.]
>From: srat...@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
ALL: [Grrrrooooooan.]
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: REPOST: The Misadventures of Crag part 1
>Date: 27 Jul 1995 19:01:15 GMT
>Organization: Radford University
>Lines: 95
>Message-ID: <3v8npr$l...@newslink.runet.edu>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: rucs2-gw.runet.edu
>X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]
>This is a repost of Charles R Leake's Misadventures of Crag.
>Orginally posted a year ago.
>A sequel has been written by myself (Stephen Ratliff) at his insistance
>and will be posted following this one.
MIKE: It took him a year to write it?
>Misadventures of Crag
>by Charles Leake (cle...@runet.edu)
> Crag, a young Ferengi, was sitting on a small rock.
CROW: I hope there weren't any *crags* in it.
> In front of
>him was a huge group of other young Ferengi.
TOM: They're young, but they're *huge*!
> In the center of chaotic
>bunch was a very old Ferengi. The old Ferengi walked slowly through
>the crowd, occasionaly stopping to whack some of the young Ferengi.
MIKE: It's Sean Penn!
> As
>this old Ferengi passed by Crag he stopped. Crag jumped back a few feet,
>fearful that he was to be the next victam of this old Ferengi's wicked
>whacks. But the old Ferengi just stood there and looked at Crag.
CROW: So let me get this straight. These guys are Ferengi?
> Then
>the old Ferengi waved his hand at another Ferengi, who looked much older
>than most of the gathered crowd
MIKE: [Old Ferengi] Hi Mom!
> and wishpered something in his ear. The
>old Ferengi then countined to plow through the crowd of young Ferengi.
TOM: [singing] Mr. Plow, that's my name; that name again is Mr. Plow!
> After the old Ferengi left, a group of older Ferengi walked up to
>Crag.
CROW: So there's a young Ferengi, an old Ferengi, a *group* of young
Ferengi, and a *group* of old Ferengi.
> Crag not want to have anything to do with them started to run, but
>the other group was faster. Not knowing what to do Crag struck at them.
TOM: [Crag] HI KEEBA!
>Only to find himself at the recieving end of a bunch of vicious chops.
>As the group beat the stuffing out of him, the old Ferengi returned to
>watch the fight.
CROW: [Old Ferengi, smoothly] I love this job.
> In under ten seconds Crag was out for the count. When Crag came
>to he awoke in a starship.
TOM: A *Jefferson* Starship.
MIKE: No, just a Starship.
> This struck him asunder for he had never been
>in a starship before. Crag had a small problem, he was cluasterphobic.
>This small tiny room was to much for Crag.
CROW: It was small *and* tiny?
> He ran for what he thought
>was a door.
> Well Crag was dead wrong, it was not a door but a engineering
>panel. Again he down for the count. This time the Ferengi who took him
>were not so stupid and strapped him down to a chair. As Crag came to he
>saw the old Ferengi again.
> This time the old Ferengi was talking to Crag.
MIKE: Maybe we're finally gonna have some dialog.
> The old Ferengi
>told him he was a choosen one,
MIKE: Guess not. What was *I* thinking?
> one of the few who would add to the great
>Rules of Acquassion and that he(the old Ferengi) was a Old One, the
>great mystic who manged
TOM: "manged"?
> to rip off half the know universe. He handed
>Crag a pencil, a piece of paper, some cash (yes a rare thing for a
>Ferengi do but he looked at Crag as an investment),
CROW: Crag up a quarter to fifteen and three-eighths...
> and a crowbar.
>As the old one walked out he hit a switch. A strange green fog filled
>the room. The Old one had done it agian
MIKE: That crazy Old one! [laughs]
> this time was with gas.
TOM: I *don't* wanna know.
> When Crag came to, he awoke in a grassy field. Relived to find
>that he was no longer in the Starship. He looked over himself,
CROW: He had to stand on his tiptoes!
> he still
>had his book (the book on the Rules of Acquastion),
TOM: Oh, *that* book!
> his pocket calclator
>(to calculate profit) of course lacking the 2D battaries, and all the stuff
>the Old One gave him. (But than again, the Old One borrowed the wallet
>that Crag hid in bottom of his socks).
MIKE: How does he walk?
> All of a sudden Crag got a deep craving for food. Well it just
>happened that across the grass field there was a house. So Crag walked
>over to it. As he got closer to the house he noticed a pie sitting on
>the window ledge.
CROW: Oh, how convenient!
MIKE: And original.
> So beening like a good Ferengi, he "borrowed it".
>Well after finshing the pie it started to rain.
> Crag did not want to get wet so he ran towards the house.
TOM: Since he was already next to the window, it didn't take long.
> Just his
>luck there was a garage for him to hide in and dry off. So he ran towards
>it. When arrived at the garage door, he found it locked. Well this got
>Crag mad so he used his crowbar on the lock. At first it did not seem
>to work. But in a fit of anger he manged to somehow pop the lock off.
TOM: These Ferengi do a lot of "manging."
MIKE: Must be manging season.
> Well being the good Ferengi,
CROW: Uh, I think you said that.
> he opened the grage door and ran in.
>Sitting in the garage was a shuttle craft.
MIKE: This is like a weird dream.
TOM: A *stupid*, weird dream.
> The craft made Crag curious.
>So he walked up to it and started to press the strange buttons on its side.
>All of a sudden the side door came flying open.
> Crag decided, he need to make some profit so he walked in to the craft
>and started studying the buttons. Well Crag had never been in one of these
>things before, but he had the general idea on how to fly it.
MIKE: Well, that makes sense.
> So he kicked
>the control panel cursing his luck that he had a cool toy but he could
>not use it.
> Well his kick did something and it turned on. So being like a good
>little Ferengi
CROW: Yeah, you *said* that already.
> he flew off in the shuttle craft out into great expanse of
>space.
>But as he flew off he add the following passages to his "Book".
>rule 247 - If it is not bolted down take it, if it is we have crowbars.
>rule 248 - If does not work kick it.
>Hence we have rule 247 & 248 in the The Book.
>To be continued in Misadventures 2 - Misadventure at the Bar
TOM: Starring Robert Shapiro!
>Special thanks to Stephen Ratliff, who tried to keep the story on a sort of
>Star Trek theme, of course he failed.
MIKE: There's a big surprise.
> But he did give me some good ideas
>and he did help greatly to this story. Agin thanks Steve oh yhea, sorry
>about all those spelling and grammar errors but I have a severe case of
>Deslixy.
>Of course all flames will be returned to sender.
>email- cle...@rucs2.sunlab.cs.runet.edu
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Computer Scince Major, Radford University.
>srat...@runet.edu Author of the Marrissa Stories
CROW: The Marrissa Stories, hmm...
MIKE: Crow, I think you're too young for those.
>Matainer of the FAQ Status of Recently Posted Stories on a.st.c.
>home page : http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>It may be a matter of Seconds or Minutes, but those minutes may be the
>minutes that change history
> -Lt. Tasha Yarr, TNG "Yesterday's Enterprise
TOM: Deep. Let's go.
(1...2...3...4...5...6...7)
[SOL. Crow, Tom, and Mike, who is in his jumpsuit.]
CROW: Mike, all this science fiction is just a bunch o' crap. *We're* in
space and nothing exciting ever happens to *us*.
[The hexfield viewscreen begins to open.]
TOM: Look! Something's coming through on the hexfield viewscreen!
[It's a man dressed as Captain Picard, wearing a fake bald scalp with
Picard's sparse hair.]
PICARD:This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Your
unidentified craft has ventured into Federation space. We demand that
you... what's the word... um... leave.
MIKE: Sir, we're just orbiting Earth-
PICARD:Silence! You've left your shields down to fool me into thinking
you've surrendered! Worf! Arm photon torpedoes! Wes! Where's my
scotch?! [A hand from off-screen hands him a bottle. He looks at it,
trying hard to focus.] What's this? Old Granddad?! You dare mock
me?!
MIKE: Uh, sir-
PICARD:I don't have to do this, you know! I'm a Shakespearean actor! "Soft,
what light from yonder window, Horatio! Whether 'tis nobler...
'tis..."
[He trails off and falls over backwards with a thud (of course). The
viewscreen closes. Mike and the 'bots look at each other for a few seconds.
Lights and alarms go off.]
ALL: WE'VE GOT USENET SIGN!
(7...6...5...4...3...2...1)
>From: srat...@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: Misadventures 2: Misadventure at the Bar
TOM: [Barney from _The_Simpsons_] HEY HOMER!
>Date: 27 Jul 1995 19:02:14 GMT
>Organization: Radford University
>Lines: 64
>Message-ID: <3v8nrm$l...@newslink.runet.edu>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: rucs2-gw.runet.edu
>X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]
>The Misaventures of Crag
> Created by Charles Leake
> Based on Star Trek
> Created by Gene Roodenberry
ALL: ROOODENBERRY! ROOOODENBERRY!
>Episode 2
>Misadventure at the Bar
> by Stephen Ratliff
> Crag the unlucky Ferengi took his stolen shuttle to the local
>space station, Stigma Sigma Seven.
CROW\: STIGMA SIGMA! STIGMA SIGMA! ROOOOODENBERRY!
TOM /:
MIKE: All right guys, knock it off!
> Upon arrival he desided to see what
>opportunities chould be found.
CROW: "chould"?
> The first place he planned to check was
>the bar. So he turned right where the sign pointed saying BAR-->
TOM: Seems like the logical thing to do.
> Unfontunityly it was the wrong type of bar. Crag was knocked
>out.
MIKE: [Laughing] Those wacky Ferengi!
> He woke up some time later.
CROW: As opposed to some time in the past.
> Someone apparently had a sense of
>humour
MIKE: How did they get in *this* fanfic?
> as while he was knocked out someone had written on the back of
>his shirt in five langages 'Kick Me'
TOM: SWM, 30, sense of humor, speaks five languages...
> This time he got to the bar,
CROW: But he already *got* to the bar... oh, *I* see!
> after
>recieving a dozen swift kicks from many differant aliens.
> Inside the bar there was a collection of unusual charactors.
>At the first table A couple Klingons were toasting their latest victory.
>The second table contained a couple love-sick Vulcans (plak-tow isn't as
>secert as it use to be.)
TOM: [Wisconsin accent] Ya can't go to Plak-Tow any more without it being
swamped with tourists.
CROW: [same accent] Oh, I know, ever since they opened the water slide.
> At the third table some Bajorans were planning
>a terrorist attack. Crag desided that none of these opponitties were
>for him. So he sat at the back table and opened his book and wrote
>rule 250
> Sometimes --
TOM: That's a good rule. I have that one in my book.
> At that moment A Cardassian entered the bar and clamoured for
>attention. "Attention,
MIKE: Does anyone have a blue 1989 shuttlecraft? You left your phasers on!
> I looking for some brave souls to chart a
>Cardassian sector of space for my goverment. I will pay 100 bars of
>Gold press latium to the five people who are hired,
TOM: [Cardassian] Everyone else gets paid in donuts.
> plus exspences of
>course. I will be hiring the first five who arrive at Cardassian
>Station Tarra Nova."
>Crag quickly finished his writting
> the opportunity comes to you.
MIKE: [Crag] But in many cases, you go to Tarra Nova.
> Meanwhile the Cardassian beamed out of the station.
TOM: Oh, he must own a Beemer!
> Crag put up
>his book and left the bar with several others.
> Crag quickly got in his shuttlecraft. The Shuttle unfontunitly was
>last in line to take off from the bay.
CROW: So he took a swim! [Pause] Get it, 'cause... there's a bay... [sigh]
> By the time it left the other
>ships were streaking off.
> However Crag noticed that the other ships were not taking the
>direct line to Tarra Nova. Crag, being new to this sector, decided to
>take the straight line.
> This was not the best idea Crag had as his equipment began to go
>down
TOM: [singing] To the Dirty Boulevard...
> To Be Continued . . .
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Computer Scince Major,
MIKE: There's a scary thought. Let's go, guys.
> Radford University.
>srat...@runet.edu Author of the Marrissa Stories
>Matainer of the FAQ Status of Recently Posted Stories on a.st.c.
>home page : http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>It may be a matter of Seconds or Minutes, but those minutes may be the
>minutes that change history
> -Lt. Tasha Yarr, TNG "Yesterday's Enterprise
(1...2...3...4...5...6...7)
[SOL. Mike, Gypsy, Tom, and Crow.]
MIKE: Well, guys, just as a little exercise, let's each tell what we learned
from today's experiment and how we think the story will end. I'll
start. [Sappily] I think that Crag goes on to find his fortune on
Tarra Nova, becoming the best galaxy-charter ever and proving that
happiness is possible even for a young Ferengi named Crag.
GYPSY: That's nice, but I think that on the way, he should help to save a
family of puppies!
MIKE: O.K. Crow?
CROW: I think his shuttlecraft gets sucked into a black hole and he dies a
horrible death as the overwhelming G-forces slowly tear apart his soft
flesh.
MIKE: Oh, come on now. What do you think, Tom?
TOM: I think he gives up, sells the shuttlecraft for a thousand bars of
gold-pressed latinum, hops a flight to Vegas, and blows it all on
slots and cheap hookers, proving the futility of human, Ferengi, and
robot existence.
MIKE: I'm disappointed in you two. What do you think, sir, uh... and
madame?
[D13.]
DR.F: We're disappointed in all of you. And I've got disappointing news.
Fran's found a higher-paying job as a Maytag repairwoman, so I'll have
to continue my search for a new assistant. In the meantime, adios,
buckaroos. [Pause. Dr. Forrester is smiling at the camera.] Push
the button, Fran. [He sidesteps over to her, still smiling into the
camera, and throws her body over the console.]
[Fade out.]
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------------------------------------------------------------
KEEP CIRCULATING THE TAPES
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> he(the old Ferengi) was a Old One, the
>great mystic who manged to rip off half the know universe.