MSTed: The ROOM
Paul Duca
LOVE IT! LOVE IT! I came across that thing while exploring the
christnet sites, and this is the comment I made...
As Dennis Miller would put it, we have two captions for this
picture....
1. God is so busy writing down the smallest detail of the most
insignifcant life, that is why he has no time to do something about the
real miseries here on earth.
2. Those cards will be used to blackmail us in Heaven. If we ever
displease God(by doing something like asking for better food or a warm
place to sleep), he will take those cards and give them to the most
sanctimoniously virtuous people we knew on Earth, and they will spend
eternity making us miserable for not living up to their standards.
Paul Duca
#56954
Yeah, right, in Heaven I'll be rich and young and handsome and popular
and sexually satisfied...
Ripco Com
Alright...number three...you've enjoyed "Head Like A Hole" (well, odds are
you didn't) and "NEED CASH TO PAY OFF YOUR DEBTS? READ ON!", so now here
comes "the ROOM," a wierd abstract Christian out-of-body experience, or
something. Read on, Garth! Read on, Wayne! Best if downloaded by date on
bottle. CHRONOLOGICAL NOTE: Let's say...around season six.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~
[Opening Credits]
[Doors-1234567]
[On the SoL]
[Many brand-name products, mostly food, are laid out on the table. Each
'bot seems to be doing an experiment of some sort on a certain item.]
MIKE: Oh, hi gang. We're up here on the Satellite of Love, doing what very
well may be a breakthrough in modern science. You see, have you ever
watched those commercials that advertise a product and then proclaim
some mysterious power that is involved in said product's greatness?
Well, we're performing experiments on each item to see if these
proclimations hold true in the real world. OK, just watch them for a
while and you'll get what I mean.
[Close up on Servo. He is huddled over a Klondike {TM} bar.]
TOM: Hmmm, let's see the results so far...Bark like a dog, check. Squeal
like a pig, check. Make monkey noises, check.
[Zoom out]
TOM: Uh, Mike, exhibit "KB" checks out. It seems that one would do
everything mentioned for it.
CROW: [Comes running from his Golden Grahams {TM}, wearing a lab coat] Let
me see that! [Looks over Servo's clipboard] Fascinating!
MIKE: Well Crow, how's it coming on your product? Have you figured out
how they're crammed with graham?
CROW: Inconclusive at this point. However, the Sumo Wrestler Theory is on
top as we speak.
[Mads light flashes]
MIKE: Hey. Penn and Even More Penn are calling.
CROW: Teller? Why I didn't even---[stifled by Mike]
[Down in Deep 13]
DR. F: Hey, McFly, how's it hangin'?
[SoL]
[Mike looks down for a second, then quickly up again, embarrassed]
[D13]
DR. F: Nice. Now, to change the subject...What do you have for show and
tell, children?
[SoL]
MIKE: Well, we're running what we'd like to call our "Special Product Test
Lab." Have you ever wondered how Mom can fit Sunny D {TM} in a
lunchbox?
CROW: It's not magic!
TOM: [Quickly hovering over in his lab coat] Oooh! Let me see your
results!
MIKE: Or, why people get that sensation when they bite into a York
Peppermint Patty {TM}? Or, what exactly gets kids "Hooked On
Phonics? {TM}?"
GYPSY: [also in lab coat] Why, we're doing a signal analysis on THAT
commercial right now!
MIKE: Great! [Back to Dr. F] Well, with your approval of course, we'd like
to publish our results on these products...you know, just to show
who's making false promises, and who's got the real scientific
know-how.
[D13]
FRANK: Hey, what is it that makes that bird go cukoo? I've always wanted
to know.
DR. F: Mmmm. Sounds...interesting.
[realizing potential of project...if only he could get his hands on it
and take credit...hmmm...]
DR. F: Just...send them to me through the Umbilicus when you're done, and
I'll be sure to publish them and get you a Nobel.
FRANK: [Whining] C'mon, tell me! Waahhh!
[SoL]
MIKE: [realizing his realization of the poten--never mind...] Uh, yeah,
doc.
We'll just be sendin' 'em down right now...oh, what the hey. Servo,
give 'em a copy. I'm sure Frank'll wet his pants if he doesn't find
out.
[D13]
FRANK: Yippee!
DR. F: Excellent. Well, this week's experiment is either a cosmic
pseudo-religious account of an out of body experience, or some
fantasy short with a cheap Jesus tie-in. You be the judge. At
first,
the title, "the ROOM," conjures up images of...well, actually,
it doesn't conjure anything, and, after you've read it, it still
won't give you much, but that's the point of all this anyway, so
have fun, Nellie, and don't come crying to me when it's over, or
rather, do.
[SoL]
MIKE: How profound.
TOM: Guys! I've found out where Nytol {TM} gets your Zs, and it's not
pretty!
MIKE: Let's see!
[Lights flash]
MIKE: Never mind! We've got USENET SIGN!!!
[Doors-1234567]
[Mike plops Servo down in his seat and sits. Crow follows.]
>From gail.ripco.com!chaven.com!news8.digex.net!news2.digex.net!
CROW: This server sounds so excited.
>news7.digex.net!news1.internettreehouse.com!
TOM: Internet Treehouse?
MIKE: "We've got speeds of up to 112KBps, two terabytes of storage, and...
NO GIRLS ALLOWED!"
CROW: Oh look. Three "dots" for the price of two.
MIKE: How clever.
>news.cwi.net!tipu4.cwix.net!feed1.news.erols.com!newsfeeds.sol.net!
TOM: Hey, is that us?
MIKE: I sure hope not.
TOM: That's gotta' be us.
CROW: Heh-heh..."pump."
>news.inc.net!ringer.cs.utsa.edu!lonestar.jpl.utsa.edu!
>spurcell Wed Mar 26 23:43:41 1997
MIKE: I am Spurcell, from the planet Wedmar.
TOM: Spurcello...wasn't he some mobster?
>From: Fisher of Men
CROW: Hey, somethin's bitin'...oh, it's just you, Earl.
><spur...@lonestar.jpl.utsa.edu>
TOM: I hear that was a good movie.
MIKE: "E.D.U."?
CROW: I thought it was "P.C.U."
TOM: I was talking about "Lonestar."
>Newsgroups: talk.religion.misc,alt.bible.prophecy,alt.christnet,
>alt.christnet.bible,alt.christnet.evangelical,alt.christnet.hypocrisy,
>alt.christnet.philosophy,alt.christnet.theology,alt.fan.jesus-christ,
>alt.messianic,alt.recovery.religion,alt.religion.christian
CROW: Alt.christnet-THIS, alt.christnet-THAT, just put a little star
thingie there.
TOM: So I take it his core audience is religious people.
>Subject: the ROOM
MIKE: ...of DOOM!
TOM: [parent] I've had it with you, young man. Go to the ROOM!
>Date: Fri, 7 Mar 1997 11:33:27 -0600
MIKE: Seems like only a couple months ago...oh.
CROW: A snowman--with a horn--giving some gang sign.
MIKE: Why must everything be a smiley to you?
>Organization: The University of Texas at San Antonio
TOM: Ah, yes, the only TRUE Christians...
>Lines: 98
MIKE: Short 'n' sweet.
['Bots sigh.]
>Message-ID: <Pine.SOL
TOM: What'd I tell you...
MIKE: That CAN'T be right...
>.3.91.9703071132...@lonestar.jpl.utsa.edu>
CROW: Aren't the Utsas busy fighting some war in Zaire?
MIKE: I know what you're talking about, but I can't set you straight.
>References:
CROW: Class, you'll need at least three references in your bibliography.
><Pine.ULT.
MIKE: Pine ]I[: The ULTIMATE Pine.
TOM: Damn kid ran over mah pines!
>3.91.9703040217...@osuunx.ucc.okstate.edu>
><331D1C...@netlink.com.au>
CROW: Now, is that Austria or Australia?
MIKE: Does it matter?
>NNTP-Posting-Host: lonestar.jpl.utsa.edu
MIKE: Hmmm...JPL...
CROW: Jim's Planet of Listerine.
TOM: Just Plain Lovely.
CROW: Penn Gilette is a--no, that doesn't work...
>Mime-Version: 1.0
MIKE: Somebody should really upgrade those mimes.
CROW: "Mime-Version 2.0, cooler-looking, but just as annoying!"
>Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
TOM: Doesn't the bible say "ASCII not," yada yada yada...
>In-Reply-To:
MIKE: No one really likes me, so I have to reply to myself.
CROW: A fat moose...standing on, um...one of those rolling office chairs.
MIKE: Hmm?
CROW: The smiley.
MIKE: [bending his head all out of shape] Oh...I guess...
>Path: gail.ripco.com!chaven.com!news8.digex.net!news2.digex.net!
>news7.digex.net!news1.internettreehouse.com!news.dot-net.net!
>news.cwi.net!tipu4.cwix.net!feed1.news.erols.com!newsfeeds.sol.net!
>newspump.sol.net!news.inc.net!ringer.cs.utsa.edu!lonestar.jpl.utsa.edu!
>spurcell
TOM: Ooh, deja vu...
>Xref: gail.ripco.com talk.religion.misc:300647
MIKE: Y'know, after two thousand years, we need something new to
talk about.
CROW: Another moose--no, no--a snowman with moose-antlers...kneeling...
on TWO overturned chairs.
[Mike hits his forehead, sighing]
>alt.bible.prophecy:85583 alt.christnet:258971
CROW: A man wearing a Northwestern shirt...jumping over his cat
on a trampoline.
MIKE: Well, I guess we should ALL start playing...
>alt.christnet.bible:124972
TOM: A woman wearing a purse...and high-heels...and carrying a golf club.
CROW: [after a few seconds of examining] I like, I like!
>alt.christnet.evangelical:42991
MIKE: My turn. A kid wearing a baseball cap, on a skateboard?
CROW: 'salright...
>alt.christnet.hypocrisy:17530
CROW: A man, kneeling on a basketball...carrying a pizza over his head.
MIKE: Damn, you're good.
>alt.christnet.philosophy:36385
MIKE: Ooh. A guy in a cowboy outfit, sticking out his tongue.
CROW: Getting better.
MIKE: I see what you like about this.
>alt.christnet.theology:53497 alt.fan.jesus-christ
TOM: I hear he's a superstar.
MIKE: [Deep God voice] I'm your BIGGEST FAN!
>:23289
CROW: It's Pam Anderson! And she's...oh my...
MIKE: Methinks you're taking this a bit too far.
>alt.messianic:94273
TOM: Hmm...he's kneeling, arms crossed...and eating a goldfish.
MIKE: I see...or not.
>alt.recovery.religion
CROW: Hi, I'm Bill...and I'm a eucharistaholic.
M & T: Hi, Bill!
>:17628 alt.religion.christian:238874
CROW: Anna Nicole Smith!
MIKE: I oughtta' slap you...
> In that place between wakefulness and dreams,
CROW: I wrote this essay.
TOM: ...SLEEP!!!
>I found myself in the room.
MIKE: [as if announcing a slogan] Find yourself in the ROOM.
>There were no distinguishing features save for the
TOM: Polka-dot walls, that stack of John Tesh CDs, those farm animals...
>one wall covered with
MIKE: Glue!
CROW: Spam!
TOM: Spiders!
MIKE: Large indexcard files!
T & C: Huh?
>small indexcard files.
MIKE: Whatever.
>They were like the ones in
CROW: That place.
TOM: You know, with that guy...
MIKE: Oh, yeah. We were there for that thing...
>libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.
MIKE: Oh, THOSE small indexcard files...
>But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and
>seemingly endlessly in either direction,
CROW: Were pretty big, if you ask me.
>had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files,
TOM: The wall stepped back, threatened.
>the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked".
MIKE: Wall Of Files, you rascal, you!
>I opened it and began flipping through the cards.
CROW: Barbara Bush?!
>I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names
>written on each one.
MIKE: Wall, you stole my woman!
> And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
TOM: Toronto! I should've known!
>This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog
>system for my life.
MIKE: Oh, sorry about that, Wall.
>Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small,
>in a detail my memory couldn't match.
TOM: No, wait, we're at FBI headquarters!
> A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror,
CROW: Add 1/2 cup fear, 3 oz. astonishment, bake at 350 for 4 hours.
MIKE: Serves one.
>stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their
>content.
TOM: No, Tibby, NOOOOOOOO!!!!!
MIKE: [To Crow] What's his problem?
CROW: I'll explain later.
>Some brought joy and sweet memories;
MIKE: I don't care what anybody says, that was a GOOD mud pie.
>others a sense of
TOM: Sight, touch, hearing, what?
>shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see
>if anyone was watching.
CROW: President Nixon, don't you ever KNOCK?
>A file named "Friends" was next to one marked
MIKE: "Boston Common."
TOM: Above one marked "Seinfeld."
CROW: Across to the one marked "Suddenly Susan."
>"Friends I Have Betrayed".
TOM: "Sincerely.....Marcel D. Monkey."
> The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird.
>"Books I Have Read",
CROW: That's so weird...who reads books?
>"Lies I Have Told",
MIKE: I SWEAR she said she was eighteen!
>"Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed At". Some were almost
>hilarious
TOM: [Laughing] Like the one, where the grasshopper walks into a bar...
>in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers."
>Others I couldn't laugh at:
CROW: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers' Faces and Got Beat Up For."
>"Things I Have Done in My Anger",
TOM: "Body Parts I've Pierced,"
>"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents".
MIKE: "I love you, and you'll never know..."
>I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were
>many more cards than I expected.
TOM: Nipples, eyelid, tongue, five in the nose...
>Sometimes fewer than I hoped.
CROW: "You'll be sorry, Mom"?! I never did better than THAT?!
> I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
TOM: All this in only a hundred and seventeen years...
>Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write
>each of these thousands or even millions of cards?
ALL: No.
>But each card confirmed this truth.
MIKE: "In case you're reading this, yes, you did write this. Signed, you."
Hmm, this one checks out...
>Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
CROW: Except for the one marked "Inmates I Have Slept With"...WHERE DID
THAT ONE COME FROM???
> When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To", I
>realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were
>packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found
>the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of
>music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file
>represented.
TOM: Hootie? Ace Of Base? No, bud, I'd say it WAS the quality.
> When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a chill
>run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing
>to test its size,
MIKE: Oh, empty. Good...WAIT A MINUTE!
>and drew out a card.
CROW: Did he say..."Drew"?
MIKE: Heh-heh...
>I shuddered at its detailed content.
CROW: No, not you, Bubbles!
>I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
MIKE: That's what I get for mixing turpentine and Mountain Dew!
> An almost animal rage broke on me.
ALL: [Singing] Memories...
>One thought dominated my mind:
CROW: "More beer."
>"No one must ever see these cards!
MIKE: "Wait a minute. I'VE already seen them. Scratch that."
>No one must ever see this room!
TOM: Hmmm, so I guess the people that built it and inserted all the
cards had their EYES CLOSED?
>I have to destroy them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file
>out. Its size didn't matter now.
MIKE: [Yoda] Size matters not.
>I had to empty it and burn the cards.
CROW: Not that I didn't have that in the back of my mind when I first
got here...
>But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I
>could not dislodge a single card.
MIKE: I knew I should have written a "Times I've Been To The Gym" card!
>I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong
>as steel when I tried to tear it.
> Defeated and utterly helpless,
TOM: Beaten by an index card...
CROW: Oh no! Here come the manilla folders!
>I returned the file to its slot.
MIKE: "S & M"...Here you go.
>Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying
TOM: "JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!"
>sigh. And then I saw it.
MIKE: Great! A "Get Out of the ROOM Free" card!
>The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With". The handle
>was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled
>on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell
>into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
CROW: "Eight, nine..." oh nevermind.
> And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that
>the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me.
TOM: "Then I remembered: I'm Jewish!"
>I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the
>overwheming shame of it all.
MIKE: The tear gas didn't help much either.
>The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.
CROW: Groovy!
>No one must ever, ever know of this room.
MIKE: Other than me of course, for I already do, and otherwise that
statement wouldn't work, and--oh, nevermind.
>I must lock it up and hide the key.
TOM: No one ever said anything about a key!
MIKE: If he never knew about this place, didn't he ever wonder what
the key was for?
> But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not
>Him. Not here.
CROW: Joey Butafuoco!
>Oh, anyone but Jesus.
TOM: So, he and Jesus are old friends?
CROW: He was lookin' at me funny when I saw him when I was in that coma...
>I watched helplessly as He
MIKE: This is sick.
>began to open the files and read the cards.
MIKE: Oh.
>I couldn't bear to watch His response.
TOM: [Begins to laugh uncontrollably]
>And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His
>face,
CROW: JC, you've got a big zit...[pointing to a part of his nose]
...right here.
>I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
MIKE: [Deep God voice] Hootie? I am truly disappointed in you.
>He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.
TOM: "Flagellation?" C'mon, Jesus, couldn't you look at "Books I Have
Read" first?
>Why did He have to read every one?
MIKE: Maybe He had nothing better to do.
CROW: You know, with more and more people becoming Buddhists, my
schedule's getting pretty free. I like it!
> Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room.
TOM: "My place, say, seven-ish?"
MIKE: Blasphemer!
>He looked at me with pity in His eyes.
CROW: Daddy, can we keep him?
>But this was a pity that didn't anger me.
MIKE: Yeah? What are YOU lookin' at, punk--er, God?
>I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry
>again.
CROW: This guy's got a real problem.
MIKE: Well, he's with the big JC.
CROW: But CRY? "Oh, excuse the mess, Lord...WAAHHHH!"
>He walked over and put His arm around me.
MIKE: I LOVE YOU, MAN!
TOM: You're not getting my eucharist, Johnny.
>He could have said so many things.
CROW: Like, "Don't you shower?"
>But He didn't say a word.
MIKE: He kinda' had a pantomime act going. It was funny at first, but
it really wasn't Godlike.
>He just cried with me.
CROW: [Deep God voice] Oh, don't do that...<sniffle> you're starting
me now, oh look what you've done. You've got me going now.
WAAAAAHHHHHH!!!
> Then He got up and
TOM: ...walked on out.
MIKE: [as Jesus] "I just remembered...I have a dental appointment at
four."
>walked back to the wall of files. Starting at
>one end of the room,
TOM: He started to drool uncontrollably.
CROW: Whoa! Doped-up Jesus!
MIKE: I tried waving my hand in front of his eyes, but it didn't work.
>He took out a file and, one by one, began to
>sign His name over mine on each card.
CROW: HEY! Whaddaya' think you're doing?
TOM: Just because you died to save us doesn't mean you can mess up my
cards!
> "No!" I shouted rushing to Him.
MIKE: "Use THIS pen! That one's out of ink."
>All I could find to say was "No, no,"
CROW: [spaced] "Whoa, JC, what did you lace my eucharist with?"
>as I pulled the card from Him.
MIKE: "MINE!"
>His name shouldn't be on these cards.
TOM: Since when do YOU make the rules?
MIKE: I disn't see YOU on any cross!
>But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.
MIKE: So...red.
CROW: [artsy, complete with lisp] I saw shades of brick red, touches
of maroon here and there, and just a hint of magenta.
MIKE: Yeah...red.
>The name of Jesus covered mine.
TOM: OK, J, take ALL the credit.
CROW: It's like he thinks he created the world or something...
>It was written with His blood.
ALL: EWWW!!!
> He gently took the card back.
MIKE: [secretary] I'll file this...Doctor Schwartz will see you now.
>He smiled a sad smile
TOM: And God said, "Let there be oxymorons."
>and began to sign the cards.
MIKE: [as if signing] Dwight...D.....Eisenhower.
>I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly,
TOM: That's disgusting!
MIKE: Jesus Christ!
CROW: [giggling] Yup, that's his name.
>but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and
>walk back to my side.
MIKE: "Cm'ere, ya' big lug!"
>He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."
TOM: "The papers are signed, and tomorrow we can pick out a ring."
> I stood up, and He led me out of the room.
CROW: [Buddy-buddy] So, enough about me. What is Jesus like?
>There was no lock on its door.
TOM: Wait, what was that about a key?
>There were still cards to be written.
MIKE: The End.
CROW: Possibly a "Times I Have Hallucinated About the ROOM" card.
[Crow exits. Mike follows, carrying Servo]
[Doors-7654321]
[Mike and the 'bots are behind the desk. Their 'experiment' has been
cleaned up.]
MIKE: Well, guys, what did you think of that piece?
TOM: This guy was obviously trying to make a statement, to educate,
perhaps...
CROW: I think I know what you mean...
MIKE: Yes. I think he might have had something to say...
TOM: Can't put my finger on it, though...
MIKE: Ah, well, I'm sure it'll come to you. [Mads light flashes]
Oh, the guys are just itching to put some closure on this week's
experiment.
[D13]
DR. F: [Licking his chops] Ah, wonderful, meaty closure. Well,
Milk Duds {TM}, I've received your results, and Frank is ready
to look them over.
[SOL]
MIKE: [Nervously] Oh yeah, Tom, so I guess you sent it to them.
TOM: [Motioning Mike and Crow aside] Actually, Mike, I kinda' sent
them some bogus papers. You know, as unlikely as it might be for
them to succeed, I didn't want to give them any breaks.
MIKE: [Whispering] I see. But if he catches on--
TOM: [Whisper] No no. They look legit.
CROW: [Whisper] I don't like this. This week's experiment was easy. He
might get angry and send us a Corman marathon.
MIKE: [Whisper] We'll have to wait and see.
[D13]
DR. F: [Impatient/ignorant] Are we done yet?
[SOL]
MIKE: Oh, sure.
[D13]
FRANK: Everything checks out, Steve.
DR. F: They look legit? Good. [To Mike] You know, Nell Carter, I just
might go easy on you next week and send you one of the "good"
"Sliders" eps.
[SOL]
[Collective sigh]
ALL: [Giggling] Great!
[D13]
[Frank gives papers to Forrester]
DR. F: Until next time, automotons. [Looking papers over]
Push the button, Frank.
* * *
* * *
***
***0***
***
* * *
* * *
[fwooosh]
DR. F: Acme?!?!
Everything by Matthew Edward "Ratt" "Stan" Stanislawski I, Esquire
<ma...@ripco.com>
Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters, situations, merchandise,
and that darn cat are copyright 1997 Best Brains, Inc. This MiSTing
is not authorized, endorsed, or supported by anyone but me. This is not
intended as an attack on any of the brands listed. You may distribute this
article freely, as long as everything in it (including this notice)
remains intact and unchanged.
>But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him.
>Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
Ripco BBS Chicago Call now for a free trial membership 773-665-0065
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