MiSTed: "Bridge" (MiST on the Ghost Planet)

[Jen White6]

MiSTed: "Bridge"
Original story by Kim McFarland
MiSTing by Jen White

[Scene: The Ghost Planet Industries Green Room, June 1998. Moltar,
Zorak, Brak, Lokar, and Tansit are reading over scripts for the
upcoming season's shows. Lokar is editing his with the aid of a
thesaurus. Tansit scans page after page, finding nothing to
highlight. Brak is marking pages of interest with sticky notes, many
of which are adhering to his hands and mask rather than the script.
Zorak is decorating his script with a green highlighter. Moltar is
looking at his script booklets in puzzlement.]

Moltar: [to Zorak] So, I direct the show, but I'm also on script
directing it?
Zorak: Yyyep.
[Moltar opens a script and flips past a few pages.]
Moltar: The screw-ups are scripted?
Zorak: Uh huh.
Moltar: And when Space Ghost blasts you?
Zorak: [growling] Yes.
Lokar: [looking up] I do believe our igneous cohort is experiencing
difficulty comprehending the fact of existence as fabula.
Tansit: Huh?
Lokar: To elucitate: [Shakespearean voice] Life is a tale told by
an idiot, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing. Life is a
poor player that struts and frets his quarter hour upon the stage and
then is heard from no more.
Brak: [looking up] Macbeth, act five, scene five, by ol' Billy-boy
Shakespeare.
Lokar: [to Tansit] Consider yourself fortunate that you have not
endured extended periods of time in the hot lights of the stage.
[looking at Zorak pointedly] From all evidence, it leads to rapid
neural degeneration.
Zorak: [to Lokar] And the less time you get onscreen, the "sweeter"
you are. Isn't that right, 'lover'?
Tansit: HEY!
Zorak: Kiss-kiss!
Lokar: Ignore him. One displaying his lack of mental development
cannot be expected to hold one's own in a dialogue, and must resort
to "playing the dozens".
[Zorak, a snarly expression on his face, draws in a breath to reply.
Then he pauses and looks at Moltar. An evil grin appears on Zorak's
face. Perhaps Moltar echoes it; there's no way to know. Zorak
gathers his scripts and walks out. Moltar does too. Lokar looks up
as they close the door behind themselves.]
Lokar: The air is fresher already.
Brak: Why're you so mean to Zorak?
Lokar: Because he is the most utterly noxious invertebrate it has
ever been my misfortune to be incarcerated alongside.
Tansit: He's a jerk, too.
Brak: [stubbornly] He's my buddy.
Lokar: I would comment that I pity you, but that is a given.
[In the background, the monitor flickers on. Zorak's image speaks.]
Zorak: Pretty soon you're going to feel sorry for *yourself*! BWA-
HA-HA-HA-HA!
Tansit: Huh?
Lokar: [tiredly] What, again?
Zorak: You got it! Another gem from the Internet, coming your way!
It'll keep you busier than searching out the two or three lines they
gave you this season will! BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!
Lokar: [twirling one finger in the air] Go on, get it over with.
R-r-r-r-roll the cr-r-r-r-r-rap.

> BRIDGE

Lokar: Over troubled writings.

> By Kim McFarland

Tansit: Well, at least it's not by My-
Lokar: Do NOT say those names. I still feel ill when I recall the
last chef d'oeuvre we suffered through.

>
>
>
> Launchpad walked into his home.

Lokar: Marvelous scene-setting technique.
Tansit: I'm there.

> He was not due to get off
> work for another few hours, but he'd had another crash.

Tansit: Launchpad McQuack: Crash test dummy.

> It wasn't
> a memorable one -

Brak: Huh? Aren't crashes ALL memorable?
Lokar: It depends on what he is crashing. The author has not yet
deigned to inform us. For instance, if he crashed Windows 95, it
would be a perfectly unremarkable event.

> he'd even been able to get the plane into the
> air afterwards! -

Brak: Well, that's why it ain't memorable. He crashed a *plane*,
so everybody's dead.

> but Mister McDee had blown a fuse and fired him
> on the spot.

Lokar: Understandable, if he was present at the crash.
Brak: His ghost fired Launchpad.

> That hadn't fazed Launchpad any more than the crash
> had.

Lokar: Already I have the distinct impression that this Launchpad
personnage is thicker than the proverbial brick.

> Scrooge regularly fired him, and then rehired him the next
> day. It was all part of the routine.

Tansit: Either he has really good job security, or really bad. I
can't figure out which.

> He took out the spiral-bound notebook he used as his diary.

Lokar: Please tell me that this person has never been placed in
charge of government records.

> While turning to the current page, he noticed that the recent
> entries all looked the same, with only minor variations.

Tansit: He's just *now* noticing what he's written in his *own*
diary?

> It
> looked like it was written in code, in fact.

Brak: [Launchpad] I wish I knew what all these dots and dashes
stood for.

> He had developed a
> kind of shorthand - one symbol for a crash, followed by the
> craft's name and one to five stars; another for maintenance and
> repairs, and others for the other dozen-odd things he usually
> did.

Lokar: This is a prime example of "slice of life" literature.
Brak: You mean, naturalistic, unembellished representations of
ordinary people's lives are significant, and merit literary
attention?
Lokar: No. I mean that they are as dull as ditchwater.

> It was his habit to jot down something about each day -

Brak: In a diary? Whoa!

> but,
> looking back, there hadn't been much lately that was memorable
> enough to take the time to describe.

Lokar: Or to base a narrative upon.

> He frowned. He put the pencil in the notebook to mark his
> place and set it down. He took one of the earlier notebooks out
> and opened it.

Tansit: Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway, Jack London, move over.

> It was one from five years back.

Brak: [chanting] Ommmmm. I am at one with five years back.

> These entries
> were much longer.

Brak: 'Cause he used legal sized notebooks back then.

> He remembered that he used to spend a lot of
> time writing down everything that he could remember about the
> day. A lot of it had been about the kids.

Lokar: Kids? What kids?
Tansit: Gosalyn and Honker.

> He'd written so much back then because each day had been
> unique. Even if it was a dull work day, Huey, Dewey, Louie,
> Webbigail and Bubba were always up to something.

Brak: I know Huey, Dewey, and Louie, but who are Webbigail and
Bubba?
Tansit: Webbigail's a little girl duck, and Bubba's a cave duck they
added in the second season. Huh, I wonder why he didn't say he
missed Doofus? (pause) Well, actually, I don't wonder.

> He missed them.

Lokar: In his crashes, which is why they are still among the
living.

> Oh, he still saw them, but they were growing up. They had lives
> of their own now.

Tansit: But Launchpad doesn't - he's an undead zombie!
Brak: [Launchpad] Mmmmm! More brains!

> And his job consisted mostly of flying cargo or people from
> here to there. It was nothing to complain about.

Brak: Except how tired his arms got! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!
[Lokar rolls his eyes]

> He enjoyed
> flying.

Brak: [singing] Launchpad in the sky with diamonds-

> It was certainly safer than getting into dogfights and
> trying to stop the latest Beagle Boy attempt to empty the money
> bin

Lokar: [to Brak and Tansit] The first of you two to make a comment
on dogfights with beagles will earn my eternal scorn.
Brak: Gee, I didn't know we hadda earn that.
Tansit: You've always given it out for free before.

> (why did they keep trying? They'd never get past Gizmoduck!).

Tansit: He's a hero, and the union rules say the hero's gotta win.
Nuts.
Lokar: What do you expect, with Metallus as our negotiator?

> Things weren't dull now, not really... just predictable.

Brak: Ain't dull and predictable kinda the same thing?
Lokar: No. It is predictable that Space Ghost will each day
incinerate Zorak, but it never ceases to entertain me.

> He
> followed a routine that he had become comfortable with. Even
> being fired after his crashes was a part of that routine.

Lokar: They say that one will get used to hanging if one does it
long enough.
Brak: They who?
Tansit: Those cowboys on "Ren & Stimpy".

> Routine. That word stuck in his mind. Maybe that was the
> problem.

Brak: Yup. It's hard to think when you got a word stuck in your
mind. Just like it's hard to talk with peanut butter sticking your
tongue to the roof of your mouth.

> Without knowing it, he'd fallen into a rut. A safe,
> comfortable one, but was that what he wanted?

Tansit: Tune in tomorrow to "Ducks of Our Lives" for the answers to
these and other questions.

> *****

Tansit: Wow, this is a five star story!
Lokar: On a scale of one to ten, perhaps.

> The intercom on Scrooge's desk buzzed. "Launchpad McQuack is
> here to see you, Mr. McDuck."

Lokar: Quite an articulate buzz, that.
Tansit: Hey, maybe Metallus could take lessons!

> Scrooge did not look up. "Send him in."

Brak: [singing] Send in the clowns-

> Launchpad strolled in. "Hi, Mr. McDee. Just stopped by to
> drop these off." He placed a set of keys on Scrooge's desk.
> Scrooge glanced at the keys. "What's that for?"

Tansit: Oh, opening things usually.

> "You know, it's the keys to the McDuck hangars and planes.
> I'm giving 'em back."

Brak: [Launchpad] The hangars are in the mail, and the planes'll
be in your in-box this afternoon.

> "Oh. This is about when I fired you yesterday. Forget it,
> you're back on payroll."

Lokar: Astounding. We have found the one person less selective in
his choice of assistants than Space Ghost.

> He pushed the keys across his desk
> toward Launchpad,

Tansit: Scoring a 10 in the shuffleboard deck! And the crowd goes
wild!

> then went back to his paperwork.

Tansit: [Scrooge] One autograph per person. Darn shuffleboard
groupies.

> Launchpad did not pick up the keys. "No - I think I'll stay
> fired this time."

Brak: Is this reverse psychology or something?
Tansit: Maybe *I* shoulda tried that.

> Scrooge looked up, annoyed. "If it's a raise you're looking
> for, forget it." he warned.

Lokar: [Scrooge] And you shall get no extra coal for your office!

> "No, Mr. McDee. I'm serious. I think it's time I moved on."

Brak: [Launchpad] I traded in my biplane for a Cadillac-ac-ac-ac-
ac.

> "Move on? What nonsense are you talking about, Launchpad?"
> At first he had thought that Launchpad had been trying to bargain
> with him. Now he was not so sure. He seemed too cheerful.

Tansit: If you were working for a guy called Scrooge, wouldn't you
be happy to quit?

> "Well, all I do now is fly planes-"
> "Imagine that. I wonder how that snuck into your job
> description."
> "Sure, but pilots are a dime a dozen."

Tansit: [moodily] Kinda like villains-turned-sidekicks today.

> "Who told you that?"
> "You did. Most every time you've fired me."

Brak: Ooo, *zing*!

> Launchpad
> continued earnestly before Scrooge could speak. "Anyway, there's
> nothing wrong with the job. But any old pilot could do it, you
> see?

Lokar: You'll notice he did not use the more common phrase "any
idiot".

> And Gizmoduck protects your money bin. I'm sorta getting
> rusty."

Tansit: It's Gizmoduck's fault! Superheroes are always puttin'
people out of work!

> "If you're just bored, Launchpad, I'm sure I can find
> something interesting for you." Scrooge crossed his arms.

Tansit: [Scrooge] I have some back issues of "Playbill" you can
read.

> The sarcasm was lost on Launchpad. "Nah, that's okay, Mister
> McDee. But, you see, you don't need me here anymore."

Brak: [Launchpad] I've done all I can do. I've wrecked all your
planes.

> "So, what're you planning to do?"

Lokar: Graduating to the rank of Air Traffic Controller comes to
mind.

> "Oh, there's a few things I could do. I could hook back up
> with `The Flying McQuacks'. Or," he said with a thoughtful look,
> "I could move up the coast, to St. Canard."

Brak: [Launchpad] I hear they got killer waves there!

> "Move up THERE? Whatever for?! That city has so much crime
> it's practically a death trap."

Tansit: [dramatically] Who wants to live forever?!

> Launchpad had a faraway look in his eyes. "Maybe there's
> some derring-do to be done there."

Brak: [stares for a moment] Whoa. Parse that!

> Scrooge rolled his eyes heavenward. "Ach. When will you grow
> up?"

Lokar: An interesting question to find in cartoon fan fiction
written by a supposed adult.

> "Hey, I'll keep in touch with ya. Soon's I get a place I'll
> give you the number. If ya need me for something, all ya gotta do
> is give me a ring."

Brak: [Launchpad] I prefer silver, 'cause gold turns my skin
green.

> "You are serious about this. Well, all right, Launchpad.
> I'll treat this as your two-week notice."
> "Right-o, Mister McDee. Catch ya later." Launchpad grinned
> and turned to leave.

Brak: [Launchpad] Hasta la vista, baby!

> Scrooge watched him go. He would be back once he found out
> nobody else would hire someone who had a habit of crashing
> everything he flew or drove, no matter how cheap he was willing
> to work. He'd be back.

Brak: [Launchpad] I'll be quack.

>
>
>
> Launchpad stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled as he walked
> home.

Brak: [Launchpad, singing] If I could talk to the animals...
[speaking] Oh, wait, I *am* an animal.

> If he had been unsure beforehand, he had convinced himself
> while talking to Mister McDee that this was the right move.

Tansit: [Launchpad] It's great not to have a job any more. Who
cares about food or house payments?

> He had
> thought before about how neat it would be to move to St. Canard -
> well, now he would actually do it!

Brak: All that talk about it being a death trap sure woulda won me
over!

> A big city like St. Canard had
> an air of romance and intrigue that fascinated him.

Lokar: Ah yes, the picturesque people and all their creative if not
legal ways to amuse themselves. The fascinating things one has to
step over on the sidewalk...

> It even had a
> resident mysterious vigilante!

Lokar: ...The resident costumed buffoon who feels entitled to
enforce his morals upon the rest of the population.

> He had been clipping articles about
> him from the St. Canard Times. Who knows, Launchpad thought, maybe,
> just maybe...

Tansit: [Launchpad] He won't mind me stalking him.

>
>
>
> All characters copyright (c) Disney. Story copyright (c) Kim
> McFarland. Permission is given by the author to copy this story for
> personal use only, provided no changes are made to the story or the
> credits.

Brak: Oh, nuts.
Lokar: Bah. All who put their maunderings out on the web should
expect the derision they deserve.
Tansit: Actually, I think she gave permission for this.
Lokar: What kind of person is so desperate for attention as to
*consent* to the public ridiculing of their works?!
[Zorak's image appears in the screen]
Brak: Ya got me.
Tansit: Y'know this one actually wasn't so bad.
Brak: Hey, yeah! My head doesn't hurt as much as usual.
Lokar: [to Zorak] You disappointed me. I expected worse of you.
Zorak: [sullenly] Well, they can't all be cruddy.
Lokar: Oh, I wouldn't go THAT far. But as fan fiction goes, this
was less toxic than usual.
Zorak: Just wait'll next time!
Lokar: You might more profitably spend your time polishing the
delivery of your lines, judging from your fatuous performances of the
previous season.

[Moltar's control room]
Zorak: Wha-?
Moltar: [snickers]

[Green Room]
[Zorak's image growls, then disappears into static.]
Tansit: [hopefully] Hey! Maybe he's run out of lousy stories to
send us!
Lokar: Do not be ridiculous. Cyberspace is a veritable cornucopia
of dreck. One can pick and choose from such abundance and never run
short.
Brak: You sound like you've been lookin'.
Lokar: I am not unfamiliar with the Internet.
Tansit: Why'd you go looking for crummy stories? Haven't we read
*enough* of them?
Lokar: [smugly] I have my plans.
[the camera pans in on the static in the monitor screen.]

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| |#~##*#####-###~*####*6| | |
| ________________________ |/

This MiSTing is copyright (c) by the author, JenW...@aol.com.
"Bridge" is copyright (c) by Kim McFarland. Launchpad McQuack,
Scrooge McDuck, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Bubba, Webbigail, and Doofus are
all copyright (c) Disney. Moltar, Zorak, Tansit, Lokar, Brak,
Metallus, and Space Ghost are copyright (c) Hanna-Barbera. This
MiSTing was done in the name if fun, and no malice is intended to
anyone.

so sez Jen "Call me MiSTer!" White.