MiSTed: Stolen Memories (1/29)
Rottweiler
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Mystery Usenet Theater 3000 Presents _Stolen Memories_,
A _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine_ Fanfic by Mission Ops Productions
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Era: CASTLE
Categories: DS9, XXX
NOTES
This is a group MiSTing. Please send feedback to craz...@cnnw.net and
I
will forward it to the other authors.
At 562 kilobytes, this is currently the second largest MiSTing ever, and
the largest one set in the MST3K universe.
After you have read this MiSTing, you will understand why it was posted
on
St. Valentine's Day.
WARNING
The story _Stolen Memories_ contains explicit sex scenes. If you do not
want to read such material, do not read this MiSTing. If you are under
18
years of age, our culture says that you are not supposed to read about
sex.
I'm supposed to tell you to go watch some graphic violence on TV
instead.
While I'm fully aware that no one under 18 will stop reading because of
this warning, I have to include it anyway.
Now that the warning is out of the way, everyone who wants to read this
MiSTing may do so. Have fun storming the castle!
"As a writer, I like feedback - good or bad. If someone wants to
critique
my story they are welcome to do so. If they want to say they think it
sux,
they're welcome to do that too - I have no objections to it - as long as
they say why they think it sux." -- Red Skye, editor of _Stolen
Memories_,
December 23rd, 1996.
Much obliged, Red...
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Part 1 of Mystery Usenet Theater 3000 Presents _Stolen Memories_
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In the not too distant future,
In a castle made of stone,
A woman, a monkey and an alien
Really like to make Mike groan.
Mike is just an ordinary guy,
And those three enjoy seeing him cry.
They keep him trapped on a satellite,
While they try to find an ancient curse,
A Usenet post so terrible,
It will destroy the Universe.
MIKE: Standard sci-fi plot, right?
PEARL: We send him cheesy posts,
The worst we can find.
BOBO: la-la-la!
OBSERVER: He has to sit and read them all.
While I monitor his mind.
BOBO: la-la-la!
Now keep in mind Mike can't control
Where the posts begin or end. (la-la-la)
He'll try to keep his sanity,
With the help of his robot friends.
Robot Roll Call!
CAMBOT
________
/ ____ \
/__/ \__\
|_( )_|
\ \____/ /
\________/
CAMBOT: Tarl Cambot?
GYPSY
_,-(@)_
/ \ \_ \
/ \ \
< :------:
##----\====/
##
##
##
##
##
GYPSY: You've got mail!
TOM SERVO
_-_
(___)
|>|
_/===\_
/| o=o |\
/ | o=o | \
<> \=====/ <>
/ / | \ \
<_________>
TOM: I'm a Vorlon!
CROOOOW!
______
(\____/)
(_oo_)
(O)
___||___
[]/________\[]
/ \________/ \
/ /____\ \
/ /______\ \
/ /__\ \
(\ /____\ /)
CROW: Me Syndrome?
If you're wondering how he eats and breathes
and other science facts, (la-la-la)
Just repeat to yourself, "It's just a MiST,
I should really just relax..."
For Mystery Usenet Theater 3000!
_________________________________
| |
| ___________________________ |
| | | |
| | | |
| | | |
| | MYSTERY | |
| | USENET | |
| | THEATER | |
| | 3000 | |
| | | |
| | | |
| |___________________________| |
| o o o o o o [] |
|_________________________________|
/ \
/___________\
[CAMBOT moves backwards, through the doors]
[Door 1]
[Door 2]
[Door 3]
[Door 4]
[Door 5]
[Door 6]
[Dog Bone]
[Satellite of Love Bridge. MIKE is standing behind the counter. He is
wearing a sky blue jumpsuit. He addresses us, the audience, in an
earnest,
serious tone of voice.]
MIKE: Hello. I'm Mike Nelson, speaking to you from the bridge of the
Satellite of Love. I'd like to take this opportunity to address a
concern raised by several of you people who seem to be watching
us.
Specifically, I'm referring to whether one of our beloved robot
pals,
Cambot, can speak. I think I'll let Cambot himself field that
question.
(MIKE ducks down behind the counter and re-emerges holding a large
mirror
in front of him. We can now see CAMBOT, who looks exactly as he does in
the Season 9 Robot Roll Call.)
MIKE: Ah! There we go. Whenever you're ready, CB!
CAMBOT: (nervously) Oh! Uh... hello.
(CAMBOT's voice, although slightly computerized, has a very human,
vulnerable quality. His speech quavers with insecurity.)
CAMBOT: My name is Dwayne Cambotterman, but you probably know me best
simply as Cambot. It's true I don't talk much, but it's not
because I CAN'T talk, it's just... well, I haven't felt much
like
talking since... (he breaks off)
MIKE: (gently coaxing) Go on, Cambot. You can tell them.
CAMBOT: ...Since the love of my life walked out on me several years ago.
(nostalgic) Oh, she was beautiful - a Sony 8MM with remote
control,
built-in speaker, and a 2.5" color LCD display. She was one
classy
lady. But she devoted so much of her time to her career -
filming
weddings, bar mitzvahs and the like - that we hardly got to see
each other. Eventually she left me for a Steady-Cam named Rico.
Last I heard, she was shooting amateur video of torandoes and
selling them to the Weather Channel. (getting choked up) It's
still a little painful to talk about. I try not to think about
it.
Mike, can you put the mirror down? I think I'd like some "alone
time" now.
(The yellow light flashes)
MIKE: Sure thing, buddy. (sets the mirror down) We'll be right back.
(MIKE wipes away a tear and presses the button)
(At the bottom of the screen, we see a caption that says: "FOR YOUR EMMY
CONSIDERATION")
[Planet Bumper]