MSTing: A RATLIFF WEDDING 9/9
a.ca...@genie.com
>Chapter Fifteen
>
> After leaving the balcony, the newlyweds made their way to the
>ball room. Already, most of the guests had arrived. The Klingon
>contingent was discussing Starship Tactics
Nine: Don't these people have any =hobbies=?
>with some of the Chiefs of Security from the assembled Starfleet vessels.
Tom: Some assembly required. Batteries not included.
>Glinn Dukat Mikor and his father Legate Dukat were discussing the merits of
>the newest one seated Essex fighter, the Essex-10-D with Captain LaForge and
>his fighter commander, Lieutenant Commander Matt Grubb.
Mike: He's not a bad pilot, but his hygiene could use some work.
>Martin Sussex, Earl Flores, was talking with Counselor Troi about the
>possible problems that could arise from the marriage of his commanding
>officers.
Tom [Troi]: "Wait for the first time a dispute breaks out on the bridge and
then watch the dishes fly!"
> Entering the room, Marrissa announced, "Sorry we're late, but
>some Romulans thought that now would be a good time to take Essex. I
>had to explain their error with a rather large bat."
Crow: "Ah yoozed mah lucky baby-seal-clubbin' bat!"
Mike: Sports metaphors make genocide even more fun!
> "That's OK, Marrissa," Commander Dukat Mikor replied. "We
>certainly didn't want them to attend in such a mood."
Tom: I know comedy equals tragedy plus time, but it's only been five minutes
since the slaughter!
> "Since we are a little late for a reception line, Clara has
>suggested that we hand out the cake," Marrissa said. "I've been waiting
>to see what Guinan and Mary have come up with in the way of cakes, any way."
Crow: "And it better damn well be crammed full of strawberries!"
> At that Guinan spoke up, "In that case, the wedding cakes are
>behind that curtain."
Mike: Pay no attention to the man... there.
>The curtain was drawn back revealing the wedding cakes for both couples.
>They were shaped like the Starship Endeavor, right down to the hull markings.
Tom: And they tasted just like the Endeavor, too!
>Not only that but they were big,
Mike: Well, Marrissa's was, anyway. Alex and Clara's was the size of a
matchbox.
>the saucer itself was a good 5 feet across
Tom: They must have some mighty big cups around here.
Crow: I knew Marrissa loved her coffee, but this is ridiculous!
>and it's thinnest dimension was two inches, the thickest being over six.
Crow [Jay]: "Hey, I'm under enough pressure here!"
Nine: Even the cake is conspiring to make Jay look inadequate.
>Standing on the upper arch of each cake were miniatures of the the newlyweds.
Tom: Great, Marrissa action figures.
>"Only the upper arch and the saucer are cake, so don't try to cut the warp
>engines."
Mike [Alexander]: *crunch* *crunch* *gulp* "Oops."
> Then Marrissa noticed a small error in the design,
Crow [Marrissa]: "Who put cloven hoofs on my figurine? Is this someone's
idea of a joke?"
>"Guinan, I don't know about you but last time I checked the Endeavor's
>registration wasn't NCC-1701-E," Marrissa noted.
> "OOPS," Guinan muttered. "Force of habit."
Mike: *groan*
Tom: What?
Mike: Get it? Guinan, Whoopi Goldberg, SISTER ACT, "force of =habit="...
Tom: Umm... I think you're reading =way= too much into this.
> "Oh well, Captain Riker has been accusing me of wanting his
>chair since he got it," Marrissa said. "I don't think he will mind me
>borrowing his registration, will you Captain?"
Crow [Riker]: "Nope! Why don't you just take my testicles while you're at
it?"
> "Not at all Marrissa, I'm almost done with the Enterprise
>anyway," Riker replied.
Tom: He makes it sound like a gym towel.
> "So their is truth to the rumors," Captain T'Gwen Washington
>said. "Captain Marrissa Picard may get your chair then."
Crow [Riker]: "I dunno about that, but I sure wouldn't mind her grabbing my
seat! Hyuk hyuk!"
> "Tell me Captain, can you find any other person more worthy?"
>Riker asked.
Mike: More worthy, yes. More likely to kill you if you don't submit to her
will, no.
> "To tell the truth, no," Washington replied. "Her record makes
>all of ours look like cadets fresh out of the Academy, some place she's
>never been, and she's only been a Captain for 4 years."
> "Hey, I taught Tactics 240 during summer school at the Academy
>the year I turned 17," Marrissa replied.
Crow: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! FOR GOD'S SAKE, STOP TRYING TO ONE-UP EVERYBODY!
WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE ABOUT YOUR GODDAMN RESUME!
Mike: Hey, Crow, settle down. It's almost over.
Crow: Never until now did I understand how anyone could hate a person enough
to sodomize and dismember their corpse.
Nine: Crow, one word: Therapy.
>"So that no longer applies."
> "Their are some rather hungry Klingons over here," Luteg son of
>Nomed said, from across the room. "If you don't mind I'd rather like to
>have some cake."
Tom [Luteg]: "A fresh, dripping carcass would be even better, but cake'll do
in a pinch."
> "Who am I to deny the leader of the Klingon high counsel?" Marrissa
>asked as she walked over to the cake. "Who forgot the knife?" she asked
>after looking for one.
Crow [Marrissa]: "Oh, wait, now I remember -- I buried it in Riker's back."
> "I knew I was forgetting something," Mary daughter of Guinan said.
> "Perhaps my knife may be of service," Luteg said, handing over
>his Klingon knife. "I always keep it clean, it would not be good for
>an enemy to die because of a disease your blade has spread."
Mike: Uhh... right.
Tom: And as on every festive occasion, the talk soon turns to pestilence.
> "I don't doubt it," Marrissa replied. "And Im not going to use
>the only other blade I've seen in this room. That ceremonial sword of
>my cousin Victoria is just too dull."
Mike: Much like this story. Ba-dum-bum.
> "You mean she hasn't given up on giving out titles?" Jay replied.
> "Yes Jay, she has a title for you, and Alex as well," Marrissa
>replied.
Crow: Prince of Posture!
>"So you better get used to the idea. Members of the Royal Family of Essex
>don't take no for an answer."
Nine [Jay]: "Really? Well, I'll just keep that in mind the next time you say
you have a headache."
> "At least I can say I tried," Jay replied as they began passing out
Crow: --from the bus fumes?
>the cake.
>
> After all the cake had been passed out, Queen Victoria marched
>to the center of the room and said, "While you all are eating, I've got
>some titles to give away.
Tom: Whee, door prizes.
>Sir Jay Gordon, please approach and kneel, or do I have to have Marrissa
>bring you over?"
Mike: Oh, =that's= what the choke collar's for.
> With a look of resignation, Jay walked up to the Queen and kneeled.
>"For meritorious service to Essex, I hereby grant you the title Duke of
>Aberdeen.
Crow: "We've had an opening there since the Royal Electrician found the last
one alone in his Seattle home with the remains of his head embedded in the
back wall!"
>Rise my Duke," Victoria granted. After Jay had stood, she continued.
>"Alexander Rozhenko, please approach and kneel."
> Alexander approached, much more willingly than Jay, but then
>Alexander hadn't seen the frustration that some of Marrissa's titles had
>given to her.
Nine: Yeah, all those privileges with no responsibilities can be so
frustrating.
>"Alexander, son of Worf, for your devoted service to both Essex and the
>Federation, we hereby grant you the title Duke of Wellington, a title so
>graciously lent to us by the King of Great Britain, King George X.
Mike: Any relation to Malcolm?
>In addition we also knight you. Rise, Sir Alexander, Duke of Wellington,"
>Victoria said.
> Meanwhile Jay had made it back to his wife's side. Marrissa
>whispered into his ear, "That wasn't so bad, was it."
Nine: A question Jay would echo later that night.
> "No, but I reserve the right to change my mind based on future
>troubles that that title may incur," Jay replied.
> "Don't worry, I've got all the titles with duties attached,"
>Marrissa replied.
Tom: "You're just a figurehead! I just needed to make sure there'd be
someone to take the fall for me in case my years of corruption are
discovered!"
>"The most you could end up with is regent in the event of my having a child,
>dying,
Crow: Oh please please PLEASE let this be foreshadowing.
>and Victoria dying without heirs."
Nine: Gee, I thought =we= were supposed to be the ones supplying the dark
commentary.
Tom: And as on every festive occasion, the talk soon turns to death.
> "I don't want to even think about it," Jay replied. "One death
>scare in a life time is enough for me, I sincerely hope that you out live
>me."
Crow: That makes one of us.
Mike: I see Ratliff's been reading WHITE NOISE lately.
>
> After performing the traditional dance with the father of the
>bride, it was now time for the most looked forward to part of the
>evening, the tossing of the bridal bouquet and garter.
Tom: Hmm. A gerundial clause in a sentence with no subject.
Nine: So?
Tom: Well, who exactly was dancing with ol' Jean-Luc?
Nine: Everyone. He's like Tralala in LAST EXIT TO BROOKLYN.
>First the young females gathered behind Clara. Among them were Lieutenant
>Shayna Sachs, Laxwanna Troi, and Marrissa's half-sister Jackie, who
>discreetly placed her eleven year-old self
Mike: --next to her three-year-old id and her fifty-year-old superego.
>on the side opposite of her mother, Captain Beverly Picard so she wasn't
>caught. Clara tossed the bouquet over her head, right into the waiting arms
>of her former second,
Tom: Yeah, I hear Clara's big on the duel circuit.
>Lieutenant Shayna Sachs.
> "I told you it would go right to Shayna," Alexander said.
> "I should have known better than to bet against you, my son,"
>Worf replied. "Here's you money, just don't spend it all in one place."
Crow [Alexander]: "Don't worry! I'm planning to spend it on booze =and=
pornography!"
> "Alexander Rozhenko," Clara admonished. "How dare you bet on
>such a unlikely event. There are two dozen unmarried females in this
>room, each of which had the same odds."
Tom: Then... Alex's choice was no more unlikely than any other! Doesn't
Ratliff think these things out at =all=?
Crow: *snort*
> "Yes, my love, but none who habitually catch things you drop or
>throw," Alexander grinned.
Tom: What?
Mike: Ratliff's characters have a whole different sense of what constitutes
humor. It doesn't translate well into our culture.
Tom: So the French think he's a genius?
Mike: No, but I hear he's big in Kyrgyzstan.
> Now it was Marrissa's turn, Jackie still hadn't been noticed at
>the edge of the crowd of unmarried females.
Crow: Notice he can't say "women" because most of them are still years away
from reaching their teens.
>The bouquet went up in the air. It hit a lighting fixture
Tom: Doh!
>and bounced down, right into Jackie's waiting arms.
Nine: Then the chandelier, loosened by Marrissa's wild throw, dropped from
the ceiling right onto Jackie's waiting head.
>As she caught the bouquet, Captain Beverly Picard finally noticed Jackie's
>location.
Tom: I thought Jackie caught the bouquet, not Beverly!
Mike: She did.
Tom: But, grammatically... oh, forget it.
>"Jacquelyn Marie Picard, what are you doing over there," the Doctor's voice
>rang out.
> "Catching my sister's bridal bouquet," Jackie replied.
Tom: I find her bouquet wonderfully fragrant, with just a touch of currant.
> "Jackie ..." her mother began.
> "Doctor, I see nothing wrong with my little sister catching my
>bouquet," Marrissa said. "It's not like she dove in front of every one
>to catch it.
Crow [Marrissa]: "--like I would've done! She didn't even elbow anybody in
the face!"
>In fact, I believe that her odds of catching it were the worse of any of the
>females behind me."
> "Don't try to give her an excuse to get out of a direct order,"
>Doctor Picard replied.
Nine: Reason clearly isn't going to work, Bev. I think it's time to haul off
and belt her.
> "Doctor, I believe when it comes to my wedding, such things are
>mine to decide.
All: MRRROW!
Crow: Ffft! Ffffft!
>So I asked Jackie to be sure to join the single ladies, after all she is a
>single lady," Marrissa said.
Mike: No, she isn't! She's a child!
Tom: I think we've just discovered the flaw in Ratliff's logic responsible
for all this needless horror.
> Thus placated, Captain Beverly Picard returned to her seat beside
>the Fleet Admiral. Jackie then came up to her older sister and whispered
>into her ear, "Thanks for covering for me."
> Marrissa whispered back, "Cover, what cover?"
Nine: "I genuinely believe you should be married off before you reach
puberty!"
>Epilogue
>
> After the reception, Captain Marrissa Picard and her husband Jay,
>and her cousin Clara and her husband Alexander, entered two open carriages.
Tom [singing]: o/~ Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry... o/~
>They proceed off the Palace grounds though a sea of thrown rice.
Mike: Whoa, suddenly we're back in the present!
Crow: It's like FORREST GUMP.
>Then they began a procession though the city and which would eventually lead to their
>honeymoon accommodations, Marrissa's own residence, and in Clara's case, the
Tom: --local Motel 6.
>Royal Hunting Lodge.
Nine: Alexander likes it when all the dead animal heads watch.
> The crowds were out in force to see the Princesses and their new
>husbands as they proceeded in the twilight around the city. As the sun
>set behind the mountains, the carriages split up to take their newlywed
>couples to their accommodations. Soon Marrissa's Castle
Mike: Oh, you've got to be kidding.
Crow: Marrissa's Castle? Hey, I think I got up to level thirteen on that!
>peeked up from behind the trees. It was located on a peninsula, in the
>middle of a large garden. The west side was designed like a traditional
>castle, complete with a moat and drawbridge.
Tom: The other side looked more like an International House of Pancakes.
>The carriage crossed the draw bridge and drew to a stop in the courtyard.
> "Thank you, Jenkins," Marrissa said, after Jay helped her down
>from the carriage.
Mike: That's an awfully odd nickname! Well, whatever works...
>"Put the carriage in the carriage house and the horses in the stables, and
>then you may have the next couple days off."
> "Thank you your highness," Jenkins replied.
Nine [Marrissa]: "No problem! It's the least I can do for cancelling your
health benefits!"
> "No titles Jenkins, now get to work," Marrissa said as she and
>Jay walked over to the main entrance. As they reached the large double
>doors, they opened.
Crow: Eww! Internal organs everywhere!
>Suddenly, Jay picked Marrissa up
Tom: "Hey, baby, live around here much?"
>and carried her across the threshold. "Traditionalist," Marrissa accused.
> "The castle got me in the mood," Jay said.
Crow: Wait till he sees the tower!
> "It's not that traditional," Marrissa replied. "Just look at
>the living room."
Nine: Let's see... he copied the bar from "Cheers", so I'm betting he
copies the living room from... "Friends", you figure?
Mike: Nah. Not Ratliffian enough. I'm thinking "Full House".
> "Lead on, I think I need a full tour anyway," Jay replied, as
>they proceed down the cavernous and very traditional main hall.
Tom [rabbi]: "Without tradition, we are nothing!"
>Marrissa then turned into a nearby door
Crow: How surreal.
>which slid apart like those on the Enterprise. Inside the room was the
>Enterprise.
Mike: Gahh!
>More precisely, it's bridge with a couple modifications to make it a
>suitable living room.
Mike: Hmm. I see she put in a wet bar.
Tom: Nice coffee table, too. Ikea, you figure?
>"Now I see why your living room is the reason Captain Riker thinks you want
>his chair."
Crow: You mean the battered dummy of Riker hanging from the ceiling fan?
> "And half the fleet is ridiculing his reason," Marrissa replied
>as she moved toward the leather couch which occupied the command area.
Nine: Great. Half a millennium into the future and they're still
slaughtering cattle to make upholstery.
>Turning toward the main veiwscreens's location, which was a large east
>facing window. she continued, "So far as I know, he and Chelsea are the only
>StarFleet Captains who have seen this room and no one will believe him."
Tom: "That's why I call it the Snuffleupagus Room!"
Crow: Riker and Chelsea? NOOOOOOO!!!
> "Poor Riker," Jay replied. "I assume this castle has
>everything."
Nine: "You know, whips, chains, a rack, hot oil..."
> "Yes, Jay and I believe the bedroom is accessible via that
>turbolift," Marrissa smiled.
Mike: Eugh. Okay, I admit, I'm a little queasy. But I guess that wasn't so
bad. Let's go, guys.
>
Mike: Oh, no. No. No, no, no...
> That night was a rowdy one at Marrissa's Palace, the first of
>many such nights.
Crow: Aw, no, he's going soft-core! Where's the money shot?
[stunned pause]
Mike/Tom/Nine: CROW!
Crow: What? Oh, like you weren't thinking the same thing.
>In fact that very night, Captain Marrissa Picard, Princess of Essex
>conceived a child.
All: AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Tom: Oh, the humanity! The =humanity=!
Nine: Once upon a time Jay and Marrissa loved each other very much, and then
one day...
Crow: Wait till alt.sex.stories.pedophilia gets a load of this!
Mike: Y'know, maybe Senator Exon was right...
>
>But that's another story ....
Tom: And we're going to make sure Dr. Forrester never comes anywhere =near=
that other story. Let's get the hell out of here.
[1...2...3...4...5...6...]
[SOL. Crow and Tom are playing some kind of board game. The board is black
and studded with little white stars; placed in careful formations on the
board are red and blue tokens in the shape of starships. Nine looks on
skeptically. Enter Mike.]
Mike: What's all this?
Crow: Mike! Speak of the devil. We were hoping you'd show up! We've got
the ROYAL WEDDING Home Game all ready to go and all we need is for you to
roll the dice! I'll be playing the Federation, and Tom's playing the
Romulans.
Tom: According to the rules, I go first! Umm... okay, my ships attack your
ships. What now?
Crow: Okay, you roll two dice. Mike? [Mike jiggles the dice in his hand.]
According to the ROYAL WEDDING Battle Sheet (tm), you need to roll at least
a 140 to inflict any damage. And the roll comes up...
[Mike rolls the dice.]
Crow: Five, three... eight! Sorry, no damage. Now I counterattack. Mike,
roll fourteen dice, please. [Mike grabs a handful of dice and rolls them.]
Ten, twenty, carry the one... fifty-nine! Now, according to rule 73b, I get
to multiply that by ten thousand because Marrissa's on my side, and then
subtracting your defense strength, that means... okay, I wiped out fifty-
eight thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight of your ships.
Tom: But... I only have twelve.
Crow: Then I guess I win, huh? What do you think, sir?
[Deep 13]
Dr.F.: Ah, but you forget, Bumblebee! Now that you've defeated your putative
opponent, read what you've won!
[SOL]
Crow: Okay... "Congratulations! Or, should I say, 'Congraduations!' You
have just won the ROYAL WEDDING Home Game! Your name will go down in the
annals of history. However, as Stephen Ratliff is the chronicler of said
annals, it will be misspelled." Hey!
[Deep 13]
Dr.F.: That's right! I've got a database of the top ten players right here.
I'll just put you in at #1... "COW T. TOBOR".
[SOL]
Crow: Doh!
Tom: Stephen Ratliff. The only way to win is not to play.
[Deep 13]
Dr.F.: You said it! Now for a relaxing game of Global Thermonuclear War.
Let's see. "The Soviets have launched a first strike. Do you push the
button?" Why, yes, I believe I--
\ | /
\ | /
\|/
---O--- Fwshhhh!
/|\
/ | \
/ | \
MST3K and all its characters, etc., are Copyright 199x Best Brains. I'm
not a Best Brain. On a good day I'm barely even an Above Average Brain.
This MiSTing is in no way endorsed by Best Brains. Chances are they'd be
sickened and horrified were they to read it. Nevertheless, it may be
distributed freely as long as it's in its entirety and this notice is
intact. (As opposed to, say, Marrissa's hymen.)
MiSTed by Adam Cadre (MSTie #59588), a.ca...@genie.com, April 1996. Any
comments, questions, remarks, laments, retorts, rebukes or recriminations
are more than welcome. If you enjoyed this MSTing, hie ye hence to the
Ratliff MSTing archive at http://rtt.colorado.edu/~barklage/mst/mst.html --
it features MSTings by Chris Mayfield, Mike Barklage, and many more!
> "Lets just say that I've had a hard time preserving my virginity
>the last couple nights," Marrissa replied.
Rob Bowell
I take it all back. This story was pure evil, deep hurting, and so
hilarious my stomach hurts from laughing. Now I just hope the original author
isn't some 14 year old somewhere.
Stay pink, soft and oily,
Rob Bowell
**********************************************************
They're hardly divisible, sir-well, I can do you blood
and love without the rhetoric, and I can do you blood
and rhetoric without the love, and I can do you all
three concurrent or consecutive, but I can't do you love
and rhetoric without the blood. Blood, is compulsory-
they're all blood, you see.
-The Player in Tom Stoppard's "Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern are Dead"
**********************************************************
Jamie Plummer
: Oopsie,
: I take it all back. This story was pure evil, deep hurting, and so
: hilarious my stomach hurts from laughing. Now I just hope the original author
: isn't some 14 year old somewhere.
I thik someone told you in another post: Ratliff is a deeply
disturbed college student of some sort. Which makes his
stories all the scarier.
--
Jamie Plummer jc...@faraday.clas.virginia.edu
Save MST!!! got to http://faraday.clas.virginia.edu/~jcp9j/canceled.html
"Ask yourself if you have what it takes to be a columnist... do you have enough self-confidence so that after studying a magazine article on brain
surgery for 20 minutes, you feel comfortable giving a lecture to a thousand brain surgeons on what's wrong with their profession?" - David Brooks
Rob Bowell
jc...@faraday.clas.Virginia.EDU (Jamie Plummer) wrote:
>Rob Bowell (rbo...@monmouth.com) wrote:
>: Oopsie,
>
>: I take it all back. This story was pure evil, deep hurting, and so
>: hilarious my stomach hurts from laughing. Now I just hope the original
author
>: isn't some 14 year old somewhere.
>
>
>I thik someone told you in another post: Ratliff is a deeply
>disturbed college student of some sort. Which makes his
>stories all the scarier.
Yes, but, you see . . . my stupid news server sometimes posts my posts
a week after I send them. *grr*
Jamie Plummer
: In article <Dq9pF...@murdoch.acc.Virginia.EDU>,
: jc...@faraday.clas.Virginia.EDU (Jamie Plummer) wrote:
: >Rob Bowell (rbo...@monmouth.com) wrote:
: >: Oopsie,
: >
: >: I take it all back. This story was pure evil, deep hurting, and so
: >: hilarious my stomach hurts from laughing. Now I just hope the original
: author
: >: isn't some 14 year old somewhere.
: >
: >
: >I thik someone told you in another post: Ratliff is a deeply
: >disturbed college student of some sort. Which makes his
: >stories all the scarier.
: Yes, but, you see . . . my stupid news server sometimes posts my posts
: a week after I send them. *grr*
Well, I hope you're happy. Your slow newserver set of a chain
of events, and now Ratliff is sending me messages implying he's
going to sue me for slander. (It was almost literate too - it
must have taken him all afternoon.)