[MSTing] 'Lines As Q Part 2' (Pt. 1 of 2) [ST:TNG][PG]
Megane 6.7
(And give yourself a severe case of eyestrain)
(The future isn't what it used to be....)
"MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 6.7" (SEASON FOUR)
EPISODE 31: LINES-AS-Q PART 2 (PT. 1)
(A Star Trek: The Next Generation MSTing)
MSTed From the Desk of Megane 6.7
This is a MSTing of a work of fiction created by another author.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or
trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred.
Any random mention of certain anime characters, song titles, etc. are
the property of their respected creators/distributors/etc. Just covering
my own ass here folks....
"Star Trek: The Next Generation" is the property of Gene Roddenberry,
and all the distributors of his work.
"Lines-As-Q Part 2" is the property of David Hines and he's welcome to it.
I do not intend to offend him for making fun of his work like this but I figure
it's only a matter of time before someone does. Think of this as another form
of C&C. It's all meant in good fun. ;)
(This MSTing rated PG-13 for language and some mature content.)
(Cue "Mystery Science Theater 6.7 Love Theme" in 5... 4... 3....)
It's the not-too-distant future,
Last Sunday BC
There was this guy named Joel
Not so different from you or me
He worked at Gizmonic Institute
Just another guy in a red jumpsuit
He did a great job cleaning up the place,
But his bosses really hate him
So they shot him into space!!!!
Joel:
(OH... MY... GODDESS!!!)
Crow and Tom:
(IT'S MEGAMI-SAMA!)
(Instead of holding messed up video, Frank's holding a computer printout)
We'll send him crappy fanfics
The worst we can find (lalala)
He'll have to sit and read them all and we'll monitor his mind (lalala)
(Instead of where it shows the guys watching the movie, it shows them
ducking behind their seats for 'Artemis's Lover'.)
Now keep in mind Joel can't control
When the fanfics begin or end (lalala)
Because he used those special parts
To make his robot friends;
ROBOT ROLL CALL:
CAMBOT:
'Text only'?
Gypsy:
'Oh, my!'
Tom Servo:
'Sweet-o!'
CROOOOOOOW!!!
'I'm not a hentai!'
If your wondering how Joel eats and breathes
And other science facts (lalala)
Then repeat to yourself
*It's just a MiST*
You should really just relax
for MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 6.7!!!!
* * *
THE DELTA QUADRANT
"WE ARE THE BORG... YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED... WE WILL
ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS
TO OUR OWN...."
The oddly shaped satellite continued to show no signs of life as the Borg cube
slowly approached it. The vessel had appeared in the Delta Quadrant by means
unknown to the Borg, but that would soon change once the ship was brought into
the cube. Its technology would be seized, its occupants assimilated, and the
Borg would soon be brought another step closer to perfection....
A tractor beam lanced out from the Borg cube, attempting to lock onto the
satellite only to be deflected by a shield. Likewise, a cutting beam, normally
used to slice sections of a ship's hull away like a knife would carve a
Thanksgiving turkey, proved to be ineffective. Undaunted, the Borg fired a
cluster of torpedoes designed to drain the energy of the shields as well as
the satellite... only to be quite surprised when they too failed to make any
sort of impression.
"LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED...
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE...."
A moment later, the satellite finally sent back a communication of their own.
"Up your nose with a rubber hose!" a voice taunted.
"NOSE IS IRRELEVANT... RUBBER IS IRRELEVANT... YOU WILL
BE ASSIMILATED...." the Borg replied.
"Oooh! We're shaking! We're shaking!" a second voice giggled.
"Face it, you guys haven't been impressive since 'First Contact' and since
you have no hope in hell of tractoring us in, why don't you try assimilating
something more your speed... like tribbles!"
The tractor beam abruptly ceased, as did all other attempts to capture
the satellite, and the cube was silent for a long moment, its hue gradually
turning scarlet while wisps of steam leaked from various sections. Finally,
there was a response.
"YOU ARE IRRELEVANT... PREPARE FOR ANNIHILATION...."
The cube suddenly lashed out with an impressive array of firepower, raking
over the shields of the satellite. A second volley finally prompted the
Satellite to perform evasive maneuvers as the Borg cube charged towards them,
all its weapons blazing.
"Hey! You guys better cut it out before we get mad!" the first voice from
exclaimed as the Satellite of Love struggled to prevent a collision with the
enormous cube while continuing to absorb a staggering amount of energy
from the Borg's weapons.
"ANGER IS IRRELEVANT... NOW DIE, YOU LITTLE TURDS...."
was the Borg's final response as they began jamming transmissions.
* * *
SATELLITE OF LOVE
"Oh, you're just trying to kill us to be friendly then?!?" Tom Servo
retorted as the bridge shuddered again. "Captain, our shields are buckling,
what are we going to do?!?"
Crow T. Robot leaned forward in his command chair, scrutinizing the Borg
cube as it continued to hammer them with everything at its disposal. His 'Wrath
of Khan' Starfleet Uniform had oil spilled down the front and his Skipper's hat
had seen better days. As the satellite shuddered once more, Crow bolted to
his feet, yanked down his shirt, brushed off some lint, adjusted his belt
buckle, zipped up his fly, and exclaimed.
"All right, Borg, you asked for it! Mr. Servo, unleash... THE DETERRENT!"
"Aye, Captain! One robotic Richard Simmons coming up!"
"No, the OTHER deterrent!" Crow growled under his breath.
"Huh? Ohhhhhh...." Tom nodded in understanding as he stabbed several
buttons on his console with his mouth. "Deterrent away! Hang on to your
bippy!"
The satellite seemed to convulse for a moment before spitting out a torpedo
towards the attacking Borg cube, smashing a hole into it before the Borg could
react....
* * *
BORG SHIP INTERIOR
"HULL BREACH IN SECTION NINE... INITIATING REPAIRS... WARNING,
UNIDENTIFIED LIFE FORM DISRUPTING REPAIRS... ALL DRONES IN
ADJOINING SECTIONS PROCEED TO SECTION NINE AND ELIMINATE
INTRUDER...."
A group of drones converged on Section Nine in a matter of minutes only to find
several of their comrades lying dead at their feet. A moment later, another
drone fell from the ceiling, followed by a single humanoid life form with a
staff landing awkwardly on its feet.
"STATE YOUR DESIGNATION...." the Borg demanded in a single voice.
The hunched-over figure slowly turned to face the drones, the slightest hint
of a smile tugging at its lips, as a haunting piano theme suddenly filled the
air.
"I aM tORgO..."
The humanoid stretched out his arms and suddenly, dozens of thick
slimy tentacles shot out of the humanoid's abnormally large knees, impaling the
entire group of drones in the blink of an eye.
"TheRe iS nO WaY oUt oF hErE... It wiLL bE dArK sOOn... YoUr LiVeS
aS YoU kNoW iT... ArE ovER...." Torgo's deranged warble echoed throughout
the cube as he began staggering down a corridor, the tentacles from his knees
dispatching drone upon drone with incredible speed and brutal efficiency as he
made his way to the bridge.
"I WiLL TaKe cArE oF tHiS pLAcE uNTiL tHe maSTeR rETuRNs...."
"OR PERHAPS YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU?" Another
voice, this one female, replied with amusement as Torgo whirled to see the Borg
Queen step out of the shadows and walk towards him, her hips swiveling sexily
with every stride.
"T-TaKe cARe oF mE?" Torgo replied nervously as the Queen placed her arms
around his neck and stared deeply into his eyes.
"I BRING ORDER TO CHAOS... I CAN BRING ORDER TO YOU AND
TOGETHER, WE CAN BRING ORDER TO THE GALAXY...."
"BuT t-tHe m-MaSTeR...."
"CAN'T GIVE YOU WHAT I CAN...." The Borg Queen finished for him as she
ran her fingers lightly across his skin before leaning forward and tilting her
head for a kiss....
* * *
THE SATELLITE OF LOVE THEATER
"Guys? You in there?"
Crow and Tom glanced away from the movie screen to see their creator, Joel
Robinson, standing by the theater doors. "Oh, hey, Joel! Come and join us!"
Crow invited.
"What are you guys watching?" Joel asked as he grimaced at the sight of Torgo
sucking face with Alice Krige.
"Oh, just a little Manos/Star Trek: The Next Generation crossover we whipped
up in the Holocabana with a little self-insertion mixed in for fun!" Tom
replied cheerfully.
"Uh... why?"
"Training, Joel! Earlier today, we decided to contact Deep 13 and see if we
could find out what our experiment was for this week. While Frank wouldn't give
us a direct answer, he did let it slip out that it's a Star Trek: The Next
Generation fic," Crow replied.
"Oh... you really shouldn't do that to Frank, guys. He's liable to
get hurt again if Dr. F finds out," Joel admonished.
"As opposed to being hurt the next time Dr. F does an experiment
on him?" Tom retorted.
"I see your point. So you're trying to create a horrible Star Trek fanfic
in order to toughen up for the real deal?" Joel guessed.
"That... plus we had nothing better to do at the moment," Crow replied.
"Oh? What about cleaning the loadpan like I asked you two to do this
morning?" Joel replied ominously.
"Uh, well, that is...." Tom and Crow stammered only to be rescued by
the theater's P.A. system as it crackled to life.
"Hey, guys! Sorry to interrupt, but Manny Calavera and Glottis are
calling...."
"Probably for the best... training or not, I don't think any of us are ready
for a Torgo lemon scene...." Joel remarked as he and the others quickly
shielded their eyes from the movie screen and left the theater.
* * *
DEEP 13
Dr. Clayton Forrester stood in front of the viewscreen, hands clasped behind
his back and looking quite pleased with himself as Joel and the bots quickly
made their way to the bridge.
"Ah, greetings, Brain Donors... good to see you're making more of
an effort to be prompt when I summon you...."
"Well, considering you nearly suffocated me the last time...." Joel
muttered.
"What was that?" Dr. Forrester inquired darkly.
"Nothing, sir," Joel wisely replied.
"That's more like it! Now pay attention, 007, while I unveil my
latest malevolent marvel!" Dr. Forrester replied as TV's Frank brought out a
silver tray with several rectangular boxes.
"Ah, summertime... the dawning of a new season is nearly upon us...
Joy... fun... a season in the sun is now less than a month away... but with it,
comes the end of another season... a season where a young man's fancy turns
to thoughts of love... a season where April showers bring May flowers... which
leads us into a season when some of us can barely breathe between fits of
sneezing, sniffling, coughing, moaning and yawning, all thanks to hay fever and
allergies making your life a living hell...."
Dr. Forrester took a deep cleansing breath before continuing. "Yes,
soon those poor shmoes with itchy red eyes, leaky red noses and scratchy dry
throats will find relief as pollination draws to a close until next year... or
so they thought."
An evil smile played across his lips as he rubbed his hands together
eagerly. "That's why I've taken the liberty to invent the first ever...
POLLEN-LACED KLEENEX!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!" Dr. Forrester
cackled as he abruptly gestured at the boxes on the silver tray. "Frank,
why not give us a demonstration?"
"Ohhh, I hate this part of the job...." Frank whined as he tenderly pulled
a Kleenex free of one of the boxes and gave it a cautious blow. Moments later,
Frank's nose began itching as he suddenly exploded with a sneeze. Blowing his
nose into the tissue didn't help as he sneezed again and again. His eyes burned
as he struggled to breathe through his abruptly stuffed nose. Finally he
dropped the offending Kleenex and fled to his room while Dr. Forrester
chuckled evilly.
"That's right, Joel, hidden within each of these seemingly innocent tissues
are millions upon millions of microscopic pollen particles! We got ragweed! We
got dust! We got goldenrod! We got 'em all! The more you use them, the more
congested you get! Now allergy suffers will be subjected to allergies ALL YEAR
LONG! And when they're forced to rely on allergy medication on a yearly basis,
guess who'll own a huge chunk of stock in all the major allergy medication
companies? ME!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Dr. Forrester sighed with pleasure. "Ahhhh... it's not easy being EVIL... but
damn if it ain't fun... but enough about me, Joel, let's see what puny little
invention you've managed to cobble together this week, hmmmm?"
* * *
SATELLITE OF LOVE
"Well, sirs, we seem to be on the same wavelength when it comes to
preparing inventions for the coming season. But while your invention strikes
fear into the hearts of the allergic among us, my invention can lend a helping
hand to anyone having trouble falling asleep on hot summer nights...."
Joel gestured at the counter where a blanket and four pillows rested. "I got
the idea for this invention from my grandma's old electric blanket. I realized
that, to my knowledge, no one's been able to invent a blanket or pillow that'll
cool you down at night without resorting to sticking it in the fridge or
freezer.
So I invented a blanket and pillow set that react to a person's specific body
temperature and adjusts it accordingly to endure a cool refreshing sleep.
No more sweating in your underwear at three in the morning...."
"No more turning your pillow over every five minutes for relief...." Crow
added.
"No more high electricity bills from fans or air conditioning!" Tom chimed in.
"And you don't even have to plug it in or use batteries or anything! Pretty
neat, huh? I haven't decided on an official name for it yet but...."
"How about 'Ice Pillows' for starters? It's a name *and* a compliment!" Tom
suggested.
"For the blanket, I still think 'Cool Sheet' says it all," Crow interrupted.
"...as you can see, we're still working on it. Anyway, what do you think,
sirs?"
* * *
DEEP 13
"Not bad, Mr. Freezie, but I know for a fact how difficult it is to get a
spot on the infomericals and unless you're willing to inhale an entire asscheek
of Mr. Popeil, you'll be lucky to get a guest spot on 'That's Incredible!'...
Dr. Forrester snorted as he wiped his hands on his labcoat before proceeding.
"But I digress... it's that time again, Joel. Time to begin your fourth year
of hell! Normally, I would be subjecting you to an anime lemon to start the
year off on a painful note, HOWEVER, I've decided to shy away from anime for the
moment and rather than pick any old lemon, I've decided to try something a
little... different." Dr. Forrester smiled mysteriously.
"Here it comes...." Crow muttered.
"Steady." Joel whispered back.
"Yes, instead of bad anime fanfiction, which you obviously are well-schooled
in by now, your experiment this week will be a Star Trek: The Next Generation
fanfic... but then you already knew that, didn't you?"
"H-huh?" Crow and Tom gulped simultaneously.
"Very clever, trying to get information out of Frank like that. Fortunately,
even HE wasn't aware of the horror I am about to subject you to! So, tell me...
have you ever heard of a girl named Marrissa Picard?"
Crow and Tom gasped, their jaws dropping in horror while Joel rubbed his
temples and replied, "You're sending us a Ratliff story, aren't you, sirs?"
"Oh, no, no, no, Joel, you are so wrong! This story merely CONTAINS
Marrissa Picard and her brethren... but it was written by a Dave Hines who
incidentally has self-inserted himself into the fic as well! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Tom and Crow began whimpering and clutching each other with fear.
"O-okay... that sounds pretty bad...." Joel was trying his best to remain calm.
"B-But we've handled self-insertion before and survived! We can do it again!"
Joel replied defiantly.
"True... but have you ever had to tackle a story from the halfway point? Have
you ever been thrust into the middle of a story with no idea of what went on
beforehand and STILL be expected to understand it without going insane?" Dr.
Forrester added while flashing a smile of triumph.
Crow and Tom promptly fainted while Joel suddenly felt like Chakotay
when he saw fifteen Borg vessels bearing down on Voyager in 'Scorpion'...
"My god...." Joel whispered.
"Sorry, he can't get you out of this either!" Dr. Forrester gloated as he
trembled with girlish glee. "So prepare yourselves, Trekkies, for the second
half of Dave Hines 'Lines As Q' is now... upon you! Send 'em the pain on a
platter, Frank...."
Frank returned from his room, now heavily medicated, and wobbled over
to the file cabinet. "It'll bee there in jussa second, boss...." Frank wheezed
as he kept a respectable distance from the Kleenex boxes.
* * *
SATELLITE OF LOVE
Joel had managed to revive the bots and was trying his best to reassure
them when alarms wailed and multicolored lights flashed.
"OHHHH, WE'VE GOT FANFIC SIGN!!!" Joel cried out.
(Door 6: It's a metal door with no knob. Before you can do anything, it's
yanked off its hinges from the other side by a tow truck.)
(Door 5: It's an old fashioned elevator. Both sets of doors open for you as you
pass through.)
(Door 4: It's made of dominoes. You tip the lead one over and watch as
the pile slowly lowers until it's half its original size and you step over it.)
(Door 3: It's filled with cute stuffed toys. You cuddle them for awhile
before proceeding.)
(Door 2. It's solid black marble. An Akahn floats from behind you and
touches the door. The door vanishes.)
(Door 1: It's a castle gate that rises into the ceiling, revealing a drawbridge
that slowly lowers to the ground. You cross it cautiously, looking for moat
monsters.)
(Door .7: It's a swirling blue vortex. Suddenly a large hand reaches out of its
center and pulls you inside.)
Joel emerged from the vortex into the theater with Tom in his
arms, Crow emerging a moment later and following close behind.
Stepping over the air grate that prevented Tom from entering the theater
on his own, Joel placed him down on one of the theater seats and sat next
to him, Crow sitting on his right.
Tom: OK, let's have a quick refresher course on Marrissa Picard before we
begin! One, she's an annoying Mary Sue type character and uhh... uhh....
Crow: Ooh, I know! She can't get enough of them strawberries and umm... shoot,
there was something else... help us out here, Joel!
Joel: Uhh... err... plot contrivances are her best friend?
Tom: Yeah, that works! <taking deep breaths> Okay, we can do this... I know
we can do this....
Joel: That's the spirit, Tom! It's Sidney or the bush!
(Crow and Tom stare at Joel)
Bots: Sidney or the bush?
Joel: Peanuts reference... you know... Chuck?
Bots: Oh.
>Chapter Nine:
Joel: <monotone> Chapter Nine... Chapter Nine... Chapter Nine....
>Marrissa walked down the corridors of her ship feeling better than
>she had in days.
Crow: Must've been the strawberry-flavored enema.
>Getting the full night's sleep had done her a lot of good.
>She would have to remember to thank Martin for his concern.
Tom: Suddenly, she paused as she noticed the red alert lights flashing while
the familiar voice of the computer announced a self-destruct countdown only
seconds away from completion....
Joel: <Martin> Heh heh heh... sucker!
>When she reached V.I.P. Quarters, Suite 13, she pressed the chime for
>admittance.
>"Yo!" came the voice from within.
Joel: <Alf> Come back later! I'm eating! Hey, get back here, Lucky!
Computer! My dinner won't stay still!
>The computer interpreted that as an invitation to ingress,
Tom: <computer> Huzzah!
Crow: <P.T. Barnum> This way to the Ingress, indeed....
>so the doors parted for Marrissa.
Joel: <Marrissa> You know, you'd really look better in a ponytail....
>Dave was lounging in a chair before the computer panel grinning to himself.
>He also looked a great deal more chipper than he had on the previous day
Crow: <Marrissa> Forget HAL... what the HELL are you doing, Dave?
>"Mr. Hines," Marrissa began.
>Dave looked up and saw Marrissa. "Ahh!"
All: <giggles>
Tom: Finally! A logical reaction to Marrissa!
>Then Dave shook his head and tried again.
Tom: <Dave> Um... Aahhh?
Joel: He's stalling! Give him a bit of choke!
>"Captain?"
>That's definite progress, thought Marrissa. "You seemed to be happy
>about something."
Tom: <David> Uh, yeah, I was just enjoying some... err... educational
programming with your computer.
Crow: <Marrissa> My GOD, what are those Orion Slave Girls DOING
with that Vulcan?!?
Tom: <David> Uhh... p-prospering?
>"Oh, yeah!" Dave swiveled the monitor around, and showed Marrissa
>a screen proudly proclaiming
Crow: ...another crash-free day on the Windows NT server!
>"Welcome to the Dave Hines HomePage!" with Dave's
>picture repeated over and over again in the background.
Joel: <monotone> Dave... Dave... Dave... Dave... Dave....
Crow: <Dave> And if you need to reach me, I'm DavieDuud on ICQ!
>"HomePage?" Marrissa asked, confused. Then she remembered. "Oh, yes.
>Your so-called 'Internet'.
Tom: <Dave as Dr. Cal Meacham> MY internet? It belongs to the WORLD
WIDE WEB!
>After World War III, a surprising amount of data was recovered on that
>from old computers that somehow survived.
Joel: Luckily, Intel decided to use a Styrofoam casing for the Pentium 5
before the bombs dropped....
Crow: Unluckily, Blue Man Group was horribly burned to death while in
the process of filming the commercials....
>What has been found kind of stands as an 'online museum' to that era that
>everyone can visit."
Tom: <Dave> Cool! Can I visit the Cindy Margolis exhibit first?
Joel: <Marrissa> They even simulate the old days of connecting by modem!
All the pictures load slowly and it crashes every once in a while!
>Dave scrolled the screen down to his counter and was a little depressed
>to see that the number was not much higher from what he remembered
>back in 1998.
Joel: <Dave> Not only that, but the Wesley Crusher fansites have survived
and DAMN IT, they STILL have more hits than me!
>Turning to Marrissa, he began, "Look, ah, Capt-"
Tom: <Dave> Ahh!
>Marrissa interrupted. "Mr. Hines, you are not in my command, and I'm
>not on duty.
Crow: <Inspector Gadget> Slacker!
>I do prefer Marrissa."
>"Oh. Okay. Dave, then.
Joel: <Marrissa> No, that's YOUR name! We can't both be Dave!
Tom: <David> How about... Snugglebutt?
>Marrissa, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday.
>I was... um... having a really bad day."
Tom: <Marrissa> Apology accepted.
Crow: <Dave> Thanks... you strawberry sipping FREAK!
Tom: <Marrissa> HEY! I demand an apology for that!
Crow: <Dave> Sorry, you'll have to wait till tomorrow.
>"I know. I spoke with Martin before coming to see you. Effective
>immediately, you are no longer confined to quarters.
Joel: <Marrissa> You'll get to use nickels and dimes as well!
>Our current assignment lasts for another couple of days, after which we'll
>be returning to Earth, so you should be back home within a week.
Crow: <Dave> Nah, that's okay. Just drop me off on Angel One and I'll
be fine. Really!
>Until then, here's a communicator pin, standard issue to all aboard.
>The computer can let you know how it works."
Tom: <Marrissa> Cause damned if I know how it works.
Joel: Oh yeah. Tap your chest. Real complicated.
>"Hmm." Dave said noncommitally, accepting the pin and attaching it
>to his t-shirt.
Crow: Would that be above or below the picture of Martina Sirtis?
Tom: Eh, I picture Dave as more of a Frakes fan, myself....
Joel: <Dave> Maybe I'll use it... Maybe I won't... We'll just have to SEE,
won't we?
>"You don't sound too pleased."
>"It's just that... I really don't expect there to be much left on
>Earth for me after nearly five hundred years..."
Joel: <Marrissa> Aww hell, just get Jean-Luc to adopt you! Then you can work
in the vineyards!
Crow: <Dave> I can make wine coolers?!? Score!
>Consulting a PADD she had brought with her, Marrissa responded,
Tom: <Marrissa> Yes, Dave is a few parsecs short of a quadrant, isn't he?
>"Well, Martin has done some research and has found some living descendants
>of your first cousins, and..."
Crow: <Marrissa> ...he has received a court order from them, passed down from
generation to generation, forbidding you from coming within fifty kellicams at
all times....
>"Thanks anyway, but I wasn't that big on family when I was back home.
>I'm a bit of a lone wolf."
Tom: <Marrissa> Yes, I rather sensed that from your webpage.
Joel: <Dave> Just call me Terry Bogard, baby.
>"That's too bad. I've always felt that family, whether by blood, or
>adopted, was one of my most cherished treasures."
Crow: <Marrissa> Well, that, and having a nice author to make me perfect in
every way.
>"Yeah. I know, I've read all about it."
Tom: <Dave> Duneedon lent me his copy of the Herbertville Chronicle.
>"I was a bit curious about that. You claim to have read my history
>in what you refer to as 'fan-fics'?"
Crow: And the forth wall comes a tumblin down....
Tom: <Dave> Um, not exactly... Actually, your history is well-documented by
a series of text files known as 'MST-ings'. They commented on virtually
everything you did and every aspect of your missions.
Crow: <Marrissa> Ah. They spoke of my triumphs and how important I
was to the universe I presume?
Tom: <Dave> Well... you were on a par with the greats back at home!
Your shrine was right next to Oscar the Immortal and Dr. Thinker the
Incoherent!
>"Yeah. Short for fan fiction. From my best estimate, this is the
>fourth 'epoch' of your storyline, in which..." Dave trailed off. "I can't
>remember!"
>"What do you mean?"
>"I remember all of your stories up to a certain point... now in your
>time. That's it! I can't remember anything that happens after now!"
>"Maybe that's Q's doing, to make sure you can't change what happens
>with foreknowledge of events."
Tom: <Dave> Nah, it's most likely just a convenient plot device. Hey,
might as well be honest since the fourth wall is down....
Joel: <Marrissa> Luckily, I still have my magic eight ball... Wha!?
'Outcome hazy'?!? Son of a....!
>"Maybe... hey, maybe he'll erase my memory of the end scene in 'The
>Only Constant' too!"
>"What are you talking about?"
Tom: <Dave> Oh, nothing much... just a lemon fanfic that's got you and
Wesley Crusher falling in love and having LOTS of KINKY SEX....
Crow: Marrissa> W-What?!?
Tom: <Dave> Gotcha! Ha ha!
Crow: Marrissa> Ooooh! You are SUCH a dork!
>Just then, the intercom blared in Jay's voice,
Joel: <Jay as Martin Short> Somebody help me... I'M POSSESSED!!!
Crow: <Jay> Awwk! It's caught in my throat! Jay to Sickbay, medical
emergency! Dr. Heimlech to the bridge!
>"Captain to the bridge!" as the ship rocked.
Tom: <Marrissa> Oh no, it's FALLING DOWN!
Crow: <Dave> My fair lady!
>Marrissa realized that they were under attack!
Tom: <Marrissa> Mars again? Can't they take a hint?
Joel: <Marrissa> Bridge to Engineering! I need a atomic wedgie beam
in THREE MINUTES or we're all dead!
>Unfortunately, the next thing Marrissa realized was that she was in a
>transporter beam.
Crow: All right! Now scatter her atoms all over the universe! Go on! Do it!
DO IT!
Joel: Sadistic little robot, aren't you?
Crow: Bite me!
>Chapter Ten:
Tom: <Weird Al Yankovic> No, really... THIS is the last one... Honest.
>"Get those shields up, Mr. Lochard!" Jay barked from the command
>chair.
>"Trying, sir." Ross Lochard responded.
Joel: <Lochard> Give me a break, they're heavy!
>"No good. They hit the rear shield generator. Damage control teams have
>been alerted to the area."
>"Tell them this has emergency priority. Mr. Rozhenko!
Tom: <Damage Control> Yeah, yeah, we'll get to it when we're damned
good and ready!
Crow: All they need is Captain Kirk and this can be another episode of
Rescue 911.
>Keep the front of the ship pointed towards the enemy vessel!"
Joel: <Jay> That way they can keep us in their sights and get a clean shot!
Tom: I don't suppose the author could get to the REASON this attack is taking
place?
Crow: Reason, yes. Plausible, unlikely.
>"Aye, sir." Alexander responded.
>"Commander! I have identification on the enemy vessel." began Ross.
Crow: <Jay> Great! Now how about identifying that stain on your pants?
Tom: Luckily, the enemy vessel had their driver's license stapled to the hull.
>"It's Trakce. The ship's name is the Gilkarn."
>Jay thought for a moment. No one he knew personally.
Joel: <Jay> Hmmmm, I once flew a Gilkarn in the Gamma Quadrant... nah,
couldn't be her.
>"Sir!" Ross exclaimed. "The Trakce have beamed two personnel from
>this ship to their's!
>Checking... they took Mr. Hines and..." Ross rechecked
>his readings, "...and the Captain, sir."
All: <bridge crew> HOORAY!!!
Joel: <Jay> Quick! Get us out of here before they change their minds!
Maximum warp!
Crow and Tom: <bridge crew> Aye aye, sir!
>"Mr. Lochard, I want them back. Try to target the Trakce shield
>generators.
Tom: After all, the shield generators are the WEAKEST part of the
shield system! Yes, they are!
>Gordon to Engineering."
Crow: Susan to Ten-Forward.
Tom: Mr. Hooper to Sickbay.
Joel: Big Bird to the Mess Hall.
>"Sutter here, Commander." Although most of the former "Kids Crew"
>knew each other quite well, they fell back to standard Starfleet protocol in
>situations like this.
Crow: Rig the workstations with squibs and lurch around violently when
the camera shakes?
Tom: Don't forget the dramatic posturing.
>"Lieutenant, the Trakce vessel we are engaging has kidnapped the
>Captain and our guest.
>Send whoever is most expert in Transporter systems to Transporter Room One."
Crow: <Jay> ...then beam that asshole into space for making the Transporter
systems so frigging complicated!
Joel: If he's anything like the cable repairman, don't expect him for a few
months.
>"That would be Lieutenant Sachs, sir, and she's on her way."
>Jay pondered what his next action should be.
Crow: Translation: Writer's block.
Joel: <Jay> How about... knight to queen's bishop four?
Tom: <Lochard> Um, sir? I've still got the shield generators targeted... just
patiently waiting for your order to open fire... anytime now....
>Calling up a sensor schematic on the Captain's viewscreen, he saw that
>the Trakce were jamming all frequencies,
Crow: <Jay> Raspberry... Only the Trakce would DARE give me the raspberry!
>ruling out a call for help. In any case, the battle would already be decided
>by the time help arrived,
Joel: <Jay> Pity for the Trakce that I'm so impatient. Ah well.
Tom: <Jay> I want us to have a nice quick defeat. Then we can knock off
for some Starfleet-sponsored counseling and massage therapy on Risa!
>and Jay was always a firm believer in the theory that universe helps those
>who helped themselves.
Crow: <Jay> Of course, if I help myself then I don't need the universe's help...
but
if I can't help myself then the universe won't bail me out and... arrrrgh, my
head
hurts!
Joel: Lawless AND godless. A perfect combination for a Starfleet officer.
>His only choice at this point was to wait, and have a little faith in his
>remarkable crew.
Tom: <Lochard> This is the end! We're doomed, I tell ya! DOOMED!!!
Crow: <Rozhenko> I'm frightened, Captain! Hold me!
Joel: <Jay> Maybe if I strike a dramatic pose like that Riker fella... nope.
Well, I'm out of ideas!
>Though he did know one thing: if those Trakce harmed
>one hair on Marrissa's head, they would answer to him.
Crow: <Trakce> We're going to shave Marrissa bald!
Joel: <Jay> Errrr... is that your final answer?
>---
Tom: Hey look, it's a line! And it's masquerading as Q!
Crow: <chuckles>
>Marrissa felt disoriented.
Tom: <Marrissa> Strawberry flavored LSD... bad trip, baby... real bummer.
Joel: <Dave> Uhhh... Dave's not here, man!
>She recognized the sensation of being transported,
Crow: <Marrissa> Mmmmm, feels like I'm buzzed on Jamie Jeans... errr,
I mean JOLT!!!
>but the phase inducers must have been barely within tolerance
>levels, and way below Federation standards.
Tom: <Marrissa> Gawd, why do I have to settle for being kidnapped by a
*lowly* transporter system! Like, I'm Marrissa Picard, you know? I deserve
to be beamed up by the best!
>As she opened her eyes, she found herself and Dave in a brig.
Tom: <Marrissa> Oh, GOOD ONE, Jay!
Crow: <Marrissa> Well, Dave, looks like you're going to be my bitch for
a while... you know how to toss salad, right?
Joel: <Dave> Eep!
>Dave was sitting down, and shaking his head, not being used to the
>sensation of being transported at all.
Joel: Anybody get the feeling Dave doesn't get out much?
>Looking out through the forcefield, she saw an alien bridge,
>being manned by aliens distinguished by colorful hair ribbons. She
>knew this enemy quite well.
Joel: <Marrissa> Lady Lovelylocks... So we meet again.
>"Ah, the little princess has joined us. I do hope you'll be
>comfortable." said a voice from the command chair.
Crow: Nice to see Chairy still getting work after Pee Wee's Playhouse.
Joel: <Marrissa, tapping comm badge> Aww crap, Jay... send out the
Aestivalises! I'm in deep trouble here!
Tom: <Jay> This ain't a Nadesico crossover, Captain!
>As the chair swiveled around to give Marrissa a look at her enemy,
>she gasped.
Joel: *SQUEAK!!!*
Tom: <Marrissa> Cripes! Oil your chair once in a while, willya?!?
Crow: <Marrissa> Holy crap! It's Captain Tylor! How the hell did YOU
get here?
>She recognized this Trakce and thought him to be long dead.
>"Ath Ressel." she said in an amazed voice.
Joel: Really? Sounded kinda flat to me. Maybe "ATH RESSEL?!?" would've
been better....?
Tom: Nah, sounds too hysterical. How about "A-Ath... Ressel!?"
Crow: Nitpick, nitpick, boy we LOVE to nitpick!
>Chapter Eleven:
Crow: Starfleet goes bankrupt and Marrissa is forced to take a job as a
galley chef on a Klingon ship, serving Gagh and Bloodworm pie?
Tom: Someday, Crow. Someday.
>"Not quite." said the enemy leader. "But I am glad you take the time
>to remember your victims. I am Ath Dralnok, brother of the Ressel you
>killed."
Joel: Grandfather of the Ressel you will defeat four or five sequels from now.
>"I did not kill Ath Ressel."
Crow: <Marrissa> I merely worked him over with a two-by-four. It's not
my fault he was too much of a wuss to come out of his coma!
>"You do not admit that you caused him to fail in his mission?"
>"I didn't let him capture me, if that's what you mean."
Tom: <Ath Dralnok> So you DID cause him to fail! Ah geez, I don't
suppose it would have KILLED you to just let him have ONE little
victory to build up his self-confidence and maybe lead our race to
glory, huh? The hell with the Trakce and their little hang ups, is that it?!?
You make me sick!
Crow: <Marrissa> Oh, calm down and have some dip.
>"Yes, and the Trakce Central Authority executed him for that failure.
>Therefore, I hold you responsible.
Crow: <Marrissa> Gee, with logic like that, I can't imagine how I was
able to outsmart you guys....
Tom: <Ath Dralnok> You're one to talk about logic! How many plot
contrivances have gotten YOU by, eh Marrissa?
>And worse, you have acted on several occassions to deny the Trakce
>their manifest destiny of expansion. Did you know, Captain, that
>Trakcean children are taught to fear you?"
Joel: <Trakcean children> Marrissa?!? Ahh!
Crow: Not to mention all ST:TNG fans and MSTies, far and wide....
>"No, I was not aware of that."
Tom: <Marrissa> But now that I think about it... that's kinda cool!
>"Because of this, I was ordered to take you for Trakce once and for
>all. It was a simple matter. When Ressel held you, he implanted a
>subcutaneous transponder set to only go off a few minutes ago, thus
>avoiding detection.
Joel: <Marrissa> Ohhhh... I was WONDERING what that plate in my head
was for!
>When we came to where your ship was at the time, it was a simple
>matter to locate you."
Tom: <Ath Dralnok> You tend to leave a mess wherever you go.
Joel: <Ath Dralnok> We just asked Ruri to use Omoikane's higher
functions... and there you were!
>Dave, who was busy trying to control feelings of nausea, finally
>spoke,
Tom: <Dave> Ralph. Barf. Vomit. Puke.
Joel: <Marrissa> I've heard of colorful speech, but I didn't expect a
Technicolor yawn!
>"Mommy, make the bad man stop talking."
>Ath Dralnok looked at him.
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> I'm your mother now, pink boy!
>"As for the large one, he was a special prize. Our transporter beams
>aren't as focused as yours,
Tom: <Ath Dralnok> Hey Davie boy, how would you like to be our prize
tonight? Say, about nineteen hundred hours or so?
>so he was caught in the fringe of the transporter effect.
Crow: And, as we all know, the fringe has many benefits.
Joel: <groans>
>His quantum signature is interesting. We shall subject him to scientific
>tests."
Tom: Translation: Anal probes aplenty.
Crow: <Dave> Hey, I ain't Scott Bakula! You got the wrong guy, I tell you!
>Marrissa knew what the Trakce considered as "scientific tests", and
>knew that Dave had no hope of survival if they "tested" him.
Joel: <Marrissa> Their English finals are impossible! Even Shakespeare
couldn't get an A!
>Just then, the helmsman shouted,
Crow: <helmsman> I'M GEORGE TAKEI, DAMMIT!
Tom: <helmsman> Look out! WORMHOLE! Heh, just kidding.
Joel: <helmsman> Look, ma! No hands!
>"Ath! The Earther's ship is approaching quickly!"
>"Idiot!" Dralnok roared. "You said that they would not be able to
>track us if we used the anamoly's emanations as cover!"
Crow: <helmsman> Sorry, sir. They must have used a tachyon pulse or altered
the sensors to pick up emanations or modified a class one probe to detect our
ship emissions or some other technological crapola that Star Trek pulls out of
its ass every frigging episode....
>"Apologies and mercy, A-..." The helmsman was cut off as the Ath
>pressed a control on the bridge and the helmsman simply disintegrated.
Tom: Ath Dralnok *IS* Dr. Evil!
Crow: <Ath> See? You're responsible for THAT death too, Marrissa!
>"Communications, signal for assistance. Relief pilot, take over."
>ordered Dralnok.
>Suddenly, the ship rocked,
Joel: <Relief pilot> No, don' gettup! I c'n DO thish! Now, letsee what
thish does... oops, we sheem to be shpining out of constrol! Whoa whoa
whoa! SHTOP MOVING!!! Ooooo-kay... we shtopped. Tat's good. Huh?
Me drinkin' on doody? Gettaouthere! I'm ash shober as shugar! Jus' uh...
jus' gimmeaminuteandI'llmerJanthfgrr... *clunk*... ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz....
>and Dave and Marrissa noticed the brig forcefield shut off. In their
>arrogance, the Trakce had failed to remove the duo's commbadges.
Crow: Plot Contrivance anyone?
Tom: Shyeah right! And I suddenly grew legs!
>"Picard to Endeavour! Beam Mr. Hines aboard!"
Crow: <Jay> Aww, but we're making pretzels tonight, Captain!
Can't we beam up Mr. French's instead?
Tom: <Marrissa> *HINES*, you moron! Not HEINZ!
Joel: <Ross> So he's the one with the fifty-seven varieties?
Tom: <Marrissa> ARRGH!
>As she turned to Dave, he tossed something at her and said, "Catch."
Joel: <Marrissa> Mr. Hines! This is no time for Frisbee!
>The world dissolved around her.
Tom: Who needs global warming when we have Marrissa?
Crow: <Marrissa> This is just like the time Krypton blew up and my first parents
were forced to put me in a rocket capsule!
>The next thing she knew, she was standing in the Endeavour's transporter
>room, holding an extra commbadge. She saw Shayna Sachs at the controls.
Joel: <Shayna> Glad to have you back, Captain. And sorry about the beard,
we're checking all transporter systems for the problem now....
Crow: <Marrissa> Beard? What beard? *scratch scratch* YAAAAHHHHHH!?!
>"Shayna, lock on to a human life sign over there, and beam him over
>here."
>"I can't, sir.
Tom: <Marrissa> Why not?
Joel: <Shayna> I, uh... l-lost the key, sir.
Tom: <Marrissa> Oh lovely. And that was the last spare too. <sighs> Oh well,
might as well knock off for the day. Replicator, a strawberry smoothie please?
>The Gilkarn's shields are up again, and..."
>Marrissa didn't wait for Shayna to finish, as she raced out of the
>transporter room and towards a turbolift.
Joel: ...only to have her face bounce off the closed doors as they failed to
open on cue!
Crow: <Shayna> ...as I was about to mention, sir, we've been ordered by
Starfleet to change all the door mechanisms so they only open when someone
says 'Shh!'.
Tom: <Marrissa> Damn you, Kirk! Damn you to hell!
>---
Crow: The 100 millimeter dash. Just one of the many sports that never
really caught on.
>Back on the Gilkarn, Dave smiled to himself as Marrissa disappeared.
Joel: <Dave> Good, one less load to worry about.
Crow: <Dave> Now, what was that about capturing a prize, Mr. Ath?
>Shouting, "I like this part!", he raced out of the brig, and clotheslined
>down Ath Dralnok.
Tom: Oh, SHEESH. Give me a break.
Joel: <Dave> I like this part! <singing> Ooh, rock me Amadaeus! Ooh,
rock me Amadaeus! Ooh, rock me Amadaeus! Ooh!
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> I put in forty hours a week for *this*?
>"That's for having a brig on the bridge!"
Joel: <Dave> And... and this is for not taking our communicators! And... and
this is for not being a cool race like the Borg! And... and... this one's for
my webpage! WHY WON'T ANYONE VISIT MY WEBPAGE?!? WHY?!?
Tom: Hey, it's hilarity... so it MUST be hilarious.
>Dave turned towards the rest of the crew and smiled.
Crow: <Dave> Don't make me silly. You wouldn't like me when I'm silly.
>One of the Trakce soldiers was fumbling for his disruptor, but
>Dralnok screamed, "Not on the bridge, you idiot!
Tom: <soldier> Well, where do you suggest I fumble for it then?!?
>Take him down with hand-to-hand combat!"
Tom: Thumb wrestling! Best three out of five!
Crow: <soldier> Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man... bake me a cake as
fast as you... HI-KEEBA!
>The Trakce couldn't quite get a handle on Dave's combat style,
Joel: Luckily for Dave, the Trakce had never seen a Billy Quan sketch.
Crow: Kids! Be Like Dave!
Tom: <Dave> Behold the awesome power of the Curly-Ken! Whoop whoop!
>though as he leapt around the bridge, hopping on consoles, and
>occassionally yelling things like "Whee!" or "I'm being a bad little
>bunny!".
Joel: Bad Usagi! You deserve a spanking!
Crow: Sayyyyyy....
Tom: Y'know, we're coming DANGEROUSLY close to Ryan Landek
territory here....
>However, Dave's luck couldn't hold out forever.
Crow: <Lady Luck> Oooh, I'm going to give you such a PINCH!
Joel: <Dave> Hey, no fair! Marrissa's luck just keeps going and I run out?
>A Trakce underling caught his leg and caused him to trip, smacking
>his chin on a panel.
>In the background, Dave heard Dralnok yell, "No! You've doomed us all!"
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> You've activated the doohickey that controls the
whatchamacallit that unleashes the thingumabob!
Joel: <Dave> I-Is that bad?
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> I HAVE NO IDEA!!!
Tom: Oops, speaking of doohickeys, mine just went off... time for a break,
guys....
Joel: Groovy, let's take a walk.
Crow: I hear ya.
(Joel picks up Tom and follows Crow out of the theater.)
* * *
SATELLITE OF LOVE
"Boy, that last scene was goofy, wasn't it? And speaking of goofy, here's
something we hope you'll really like!" Joel exclaimed as the camera faded to
black for a moment before fading up to a stillshot of Dave Hines.
Crow: Only way he could be goofier is with dog ears, a long nose, and a "hyuck"
laugh....
Tom: Just man the slide machine, Henny.
(A question mark is superimposed over the stillshot.)
Tom: Kids! How would YOU like to experience the thrill, wonder and whimsy of
beating the living crap out of the Trakce?!? Well, now... YOU CAN! From the
talented people that brought you RENEGADE, prepare yourself for adventure with
'Dave Hines' Battlerama'!"
(Stillshot of Dave Hines assuming the crane position before a mystified Trakce
solider)
Crow: This is sure to make Seanbaby's new Top 20 list....
Tom: How many times have you purchased a video game with your favorite
licensed character only to find out as you play that it actually... <gasps>...
SUCKS!
Whether it be a lame game engine, crappy graphics, product placement
overkill or just plain half-assed programming, licensed games rarely if ever
cut the mustard! Hell, they barely even dent the stuff! But no longer, for
your
prayers have forever been answered by the awesomeness of 'Dave Hines'
Battlerama!'
(Stillshot of Dave Hines launching a dropkick worthy of Erik Watts at another
terrified Trakce solider.)
Tom: Yes, you'll have SECONDS of fun as you help Dave kick keister and
chew pack after pack of Bubbalicious as you control Dave aboard the bridge
of a Trakce ship!
Crow: It combines the fast paced gameplay of the original Final Fantasy
with the dialogue of Metal Gear!
Tom: He jumps, he bounces, he closelines, he even TALKS!
(Stillshot of Dave Hines's face.)
Dave: 'I'm being a bad little bunny!'... 'Whee!'... 'A winner is me!'...
'Whee!'... 'All your base belong to us!'...
Crow: And he even has the classic Golgo 13 four-dot zingers. Wow.
(Stillshot of Dave Hines using the Three Stooges Eye Poke on Ath Dralnok)
Tom: And so much mor... well, actually, that's all he can say... BUT THAT'S NOT
ALL! For 'Dave Hines' Battlerama' is proven to be better with women AND kids
alike! Isn't that right?"
(Stillshot of Gypsy)
Gypsy: Huh?
(Stillshot of Mary-Kate Olsen taken from an episode of 'Full House')
Mary-Kate: <tape recording> You got it, dude!
(Stillshot of Dave Hines leaping towards several Trakce with a pair of karate
chops.)
Tom: 'Dave Hines Battlerama' boasts more on-screen enemies than Smash TV,
more blood than Resident Evil and more swearing than Conker's Bad Fur Day.
Sure, it could be an empty boast, but with those kind of promises, CAN YOU
AFFORD TO TAKE THAT CHANCE?
(Stillshot of the Army of Darkness Movie Poster with Dave Hines' head
superimposed over Bruce Campbell's)
Tom: Yes, 'Dave Hines' Battlerama' will make you play until there's nothing left
of your thumbs but a pair of huge, gooey, swollen, pus filled blisters!
Crow: So be sure to ask your parents' permission first.
Tom: In fact, we're so sure you'll like this game that we've included a
money-back guarantee! If you're unsatisfied with the game in any way, send us
your name, address and the telephone numbers of as many of your friends as
possible and we'll send you FIVE DOLLARS of your money back! That's right,
FIVE DOLLARS! What, are you deaf? I said FIVE DOLLARS!!! And don't
worry about us, we'll more than make up the loss as we sell your contact
information to anyone with the right amount of moolah!"
Joel: Tom? Sorry to interrupt but it's commerical sign....
Crow: Anyone see the irony of that after reading this?
Tom: Already? Uh-oh, I'd better wrap it up! Uh, er, um... that's 'Dave Hines
Battlerama'! Order today, offer unlimited, visit Dave's Hines webpage at
www.davedavedavehines.com and tell him he sent ya cause I really don't want
the blame! This is Tom Servo announcing!"
Crow: <Red Skelton> Good night and may God bless.
Joel: Uh, right. Anyway, we have commerical sign.... *tap*....
TO BE CONTINUED IN 'LINES AS Q PART 2' (PT. 2)....
Hiya! I hope you're enjoying this MSTing so far! As with my other mutiple part
MSTings, there's lots more fun and weirdness to come, so don't skip it or you'll
only be missing out on some great riffs and skits. ;)