MSTed: "Treklander II", parts 1-3
Petrea E. Mitchell
[MSTH theme plays, and as the lights come up, Jack Perkins looks even
less animated than usual.]
PERKINS: Hello. Tonight, we journey back to the unforgettable universe
of "Treklander" in John F. Moore's second work, "Treklander II".
Having cleaned up the mess on Clari III, Duncan MacLeod, his
faithful assistant Richie, and his live-in girlfriend Julia
journey to Deep Space Nine, a place of interstellar intrigue and
adventure, to find-- who knows? Sit down and we'll tell you a
tale... on the Mystery Science Theater Hour.
[roll theme 1.1]
...o...2...3...4...5...6...G
[SoL bridge, in the midst of a heated discussion. Servo and Crow contin-
ue to mutter and growl at each other, while Gypsy looks on and Joel
speaks to the camera.]
JOEL: Hi, everyone, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. We were just
rehearsing our presentation for this week's invention exchange,
and the 'bots suddenly started arguing about which nasty nickname
to call the Mads.
CROW: [whining] Joel, tell him we already used "Pinky and the Brain"!
JOEL: I think we did, Tom.
SERVO: Well, what about "Big Ears and Noodle Noggin"?
JOEL: I think we used that too.
CROW: See? We've used too many examples from cartoons.
SERVO: What's wrong with that? I mean, do you find people like...
"Greenback and Stiletto" in real life?
CROW: [shaking head] No, no, no. I'm tired of cartoon references.
JOEL: Well, maybe we could use something from pop culture, like "The
Blues Brothers" or "The Beastie Boys".
SERVO: No, those just don't have the biting sarcasm of, say... "Disney
and Microsoft".
JOEL: We'd get sued for that one.
SERVO: Well, something similar.
GYPSY: "Igor and Nanny"?
CROW: No cartoons, Gypsy.
JOEL: "Canuk and Trembyle"?
CROW: Hey, you said that game was dumb! That was just to get more time
for yourself, wasn't it!
GYPSY: "Boris and Natasha"!
CROW: *No*!
GYPSY: "Sylvie and Bruno"?
JOEL: Hey, Gypsy's got a good idea. How about going the sarcastic oppo-
site route? Like... "Sapphire and Steel"?
GYPSY: "Sunsinger and Shadowdancer"?
[commercial light flashes]
JOEL: We'd better decide soon-- we've got commercial sign. [hits button]
SERVO: "Cutter and Skywise".
CROW: NO CARTOONS! [hurls himself at Servo, but Joel blocks his way.]
[Switch to Candace Bergen's phone company and get big money! Switch to
the cartoon phone company and get bigger money! Switch to the NASA-Se-
lect-meets-MTV phone company and see pretty graphs!]
[SoL bridge, and Crow has been calmed down.]
SERVO: It's a graphic novel, Crow. We went over this already.
CROW: [British accent] "Percy and Baldrick". [back to normal voice]
That's a good one. Let's use that.
GYPSY: No, "Tarma and Kethry"!
JOEL: "Zor and Zam" might--
[The Mads light flashes, and all speak at once.]
CROW: Too late, Mac 'n' Mutley are coming to us live.
JOEL: Great, Hercules Grytpype-Thynne and Count Jim "Frank" Moriarty are
calling.
GYPSY: Hey, Padarenka and Mikaela caught up with us.
SERVO: Uh-oh, Trefusis and Sir David Pearce want a word.
[Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is standing in the foreground, writing on a
clipboard. Frank, some distance back, is prodding a phone in an apparent
attempt to make it work.]
DR. F: [glancing up at camera] Ah, there you are, Gladys Winkworth. No
invention exchange from here this week, I'm afraid-- we've been
busy planning an ongoing campaign of terror to inflict on uncoun-
ted millions through Comedy Central.
[to Frank] Frank, remind them not to start the text crawls until
January. We want the pain to last!
[to camera] Anyway, Rimmer, we wouldn't want to deprive you of
the chance to show off your pitiful work-- go ahead with your in-
vention exchange.
[suddenly has a puzzled expression, then turns toward Frank a-
gain] Frank, that's the Cheese Phone!
[SoL. A tea set, a hair dryer, a Barbie, and a pair of high heels are on
the counter.]
JOEL: All right, Colonel Special K. Up here on the satellite, we get
just about every TV channel on earth.
CROW: And some that aren't even from earth, like VH1.
JOEL: Right. And we've noticed that certain toys are only marketed to-
wards girls. Most people think this is because of a complicated
system of society's preconceptions which would take hours to ex-
plain. Anyway, we think "girl" toys could just as easily be mar-
keted for boys, so each of us came up with a way to put a new spin
on a "sissy" toy. Tom, why don't you go first?
SERVO: All right, I came up with this secret agent tea set. [Joel indi-
cates the tea set, and picks up one of the plates] It may look
like just another route to a boring afternoon, but it's far more!
[Fake blades suddenly protrude from the edges of the plate, so
that it looks like a throwing star] Also, the teapot changes into
a semiautomatic rifle, and the cups have codes 'n' stuff that ap-
pear when you put hot water in them.
JOEL: Hey, that looks like a good way to put some action and intrigue
into a plain old tea party. Now, what about yours, Crow?
CROW: Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Crash-Test Barbie. [Joel
picks up the Barbie doll, which is attired in high-fashion skydiv-
ing gear.] Going out for a quick jump? Parachute wouldn't open?
[Joel tosses the doll up; it lands on the counter and breaks into
a half-dozen pieces.] Don't worry, she can take it-- just snap her
back together! [Joel starts putting the doll back together the
wrong way] And you can also switch her limbs around to turn her
into a hideous mutant monster!
JOEL: That's good, Crow. Well, mine is a little simpler. [picks up hair
dryer] It's a hair dryer that isn't just a hair dryer-- power it
up to turbo mode, and your friends will be literally blown away!
[Joel points the hair dryer at Servo. He flips a switch on the dryer,
which then emits a loud roar as it blows Servo out of the frame. A
crash is heard offscreen.]
SERVO: Ow!
JOEL: [switching the dryer off] Whoops, I didn't mean to send you into
the brakefront.
[Servo returns, relatively undamaged.]
JOEL: Now, what have you got, Gypsy?
GYPSY: [pushing the high heels to the center of the counter] These.
JOEL: [picking up the shoes and examining them] Great! They're... uh...
an ordinary pair of skyscraper heels.
CROW: <heavy sigh> Jeez, she never gets it right.
SERVO: C'mon, Gypsy, where's the action? The test of skill? The capacity
to cause torment?
GYPSY: I guess you've never tried wearing them.
JOEL: What do you think, sirs?
[Deep 13. The control console has been moved over to look like a bar.
Frank is behind the bar, wearing a bartender's apron and pretending to
clean a glass. Dr. Forrester leans into the scene very close to the cam-
era. He has a lime green porkpie hat perched jauntily atop his head.]
DR. F: Zay you went out for a fanfic.
[He leans out. The Mole People, Gerry and Sylvia, belly up to the bar.]
FRANK: What'll you have?
[Gerry and Sylvia hold up signs that say A GOOD STAR TREK FANFIC. Dr. F
leans into the scene again.]
DR. F: What if there were no good Star Trek fanfics?
[He leans out again.]
FRANK: Sorry guys, never heard of it.
[The Mole People look agitated.]
FRANK: The only Star Trek fan fiction we have around here is this.
[He produces a huge jug labeled TREKLANDER II. It's also festooned with
poison insignia and "Mr. Yuk" stickers. As Frank pours two glasses and
Gerry and Sylvia mime a furious argument, Dr. F leans into the scene a-
gain.]
DR. F: [whispering] Treklander II is a uniquely bad Star Trek fanfic!
[He leans back out as the Mole People take dubious sips from their glasses
and instantly keel over.]
FRANK: Anything else?
[A trembling hand holds up a sign that says STOMACH PUMP. Frank turns to
grin at the camera.]
[SoL. Joel and the 'bots are standing there, staring with jaws hanging
open, in absolute, utter shock and dismay.]
CROW: <gulp> What day is this?
[Sirens, buzzers, lights go off]
JOEL: Aaah, we've got fanfic sign!!
G...6...5...4...3...2...o...
>
SERVO: Joel, I insist you kill me *now*.
JOEL: [putting Servo down] No, we can make it through this. C'mon.
> Xref: agora alt.fan.john-winston:179
CROW: Heh. That couldn't *possibly* have said what I thought. Something
must be wrong with my eyes.
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!pagesat.net!decwrl!portal.com
JOEL: The same old--
> !uunet
JOEL: --huh?
> !news.delphi.com!usenet
JOEL: Oh, Delphi. Of course.
> From: John Winston <johnw...@delphi.com>
CROW: Whew. At least we're not getting "Treklander II" first... I'm glad
this is just a John_-_Winston post.
SERVO: [doubletake] Crow, do you realize what you just said?!
> Newsgroups: alt.fan.john-winston
CROW: [weak laugh] Y'know, that's *really odd, because--
JOEL: Did you just see--
SERVO: Was that my imagination, or--
ALL: "Alt.fan.john-winston???" AAAIIIIIGGGHHH!!
> Subject: Fire
CROW: Heh heh. Cool.
> Organization: Delphi (in...@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice)
> Lines: 5
> Message-ID: <JCwxEFE.j...@delphi.com>
JOEL: JCwxEFE is John_-_Winston's name on his homeworld.
> NNTP-Posting-Host: bos1d.delphi.com
>
> Dear Folks: I hate to be the one that yells fire,
SERVO: So I'll yell "Bingo!" instead!
> but there is a forest fire
CROW: Hmm. "Love -> *Forest* On Fire"?
SERVO: You've got to quit listening to Joel's Talking Heads CDs, Crow.
> about 2 miles form me near Columbia, Calif.
ALL: [wild, sustained cheering and applause]
> I hope I don't have to use
JOEL: Correct grammar, spelling, or punctuation.
SERVO: God forbid.
> the fire protection system I put up two days ago.
SERVO: Oh, what, a squirt bottle and a cup of sand? *That* fire's shak-
ing in its boots.
> Maybe I had better make
> it a little more secure tomorrow.
CROW: There, there, fire protection system. You're good enough, you're
smart enough, and doggone it, people like you!
JOEL: I don't really think that's what he-- oh, never mind.
SERVO: [chuckling] I think our old buddy needs to make a *lot* of things
more secure.
> John Winston
JOEL: Kill, Ubu, kill. Good dog.
> Xref: agora alt.fan.john-winston:181
CROW: Y'know, it's incredible how any idiot can get his own newsgroup.
SERVO: Yeah, no kidding. Alt.fan.penn-n-teller...
JOEL: Guys...
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!pagesat.net!decwrl!portal.com!uunet!news.
> delphi.com!usenet
> From: John Winston <johnw...@delphi.com>
CROW: Hey, where's the _-_? I want my money back!
> Newsgroups: alt.fan.john-winston
ALL: [shaking heads] Yaddayaddayadda.
> Subject: Fire 2
SERVO: The Wrath of Khan.
> Organization: Delphi (in...@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice)
SERVO: I guess anyone *can* get on delphi.
CROW: They let Arthur "Pendragon" Bouthiller on, didn't they?
JOEL: Do we have to bring up the alt.skinheads war again?
'BOTS: Sorry, Joel.
> Lines: 8
> Message-ID: <p0zS8zE.j...@delphi.com>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: bos1f.delphi.com
>
> Dear Folks: This forest fire is not laughing
CROW: Oh, but we are!
> matter now. It is about 2
> miles away now and they are evacuating people in Pine Ridge near me
> now.
JOEL: If you lived near this guy, wouldn't *you* evacuate?
SERVO: Why don't you just write at the fire, John? Then it'll go away!
> They are using over 1,ooo fire fighter ove 100 fire trucks with water
> bombers and helicopter.
CROW: And they've got eleventeen jet planes, and three squillion carrot
cakes, and everyone's got a Super Soaker and it's really cool.
> One bit of good news is that Yogi The Telepathic
> Dog
JOEL: [Yogi Bear voice] ...found himself a nice big pic-a-nic basket,
hey, hey!
SERVO: [Boo-Boo Bear voice] I don't think Ranger Smith is going to like
this.
> has regained the use of his wounded leg and is going on on all fours.
JOEL: Oh, well, that *is* good-- huh???
> He's ready for another fights.
CROW: Although his use of morphology is still a bit shaky.
> He says they just got a lucky bite in on him
> during the last fight.
SERVO: That's it. I think he's just started to make *negative* sense.
JOEL: I hope this isn't any indication of how bad the story will be.
CROW: Oh, I wouldn't worry.
JOEL: Whew.
> John Winston
CROW: I'm sure it'll be much worse.
SERVO: [as if just before the first drop on a roller coaster] Ready or
not, here we go...
> Xref: agora alt.startrek.creative:9053
JOEL: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of USENET, I shall fear no
bad fanfics."
CROW: Keep chanting, Joel-- maybe we'll believe it.
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!decwrl!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!
> swrinde!news.dell.com
SERVO: Hey, Ed, I just saw news.dell.com in the park with news.maria.
com!
> !tadpole.com!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
CROW: [muttering in prayer] Please let it be a discussion post. Please
please please.
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander II, part 1
ALL: [scream]
SERVO: Nietzsche was right.
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
CROW: Ya think he majors in creative writing?
JOEL: Or tries to?
> Lines: 91
> Message-ID: <2slf2n$r...@mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> There can be only one...
CROW: Even though this is the sequel...
> These are the voyages...
SERVO: My, but the combination of those two cliched phrases is stirring.
> T R E K L A N D E R I I
>
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
CROW: [snickering] Or is that Treklander III, copyrighted by John F.
Moore II?
JOEL: Oh, you just had to use that joke one more time, didn't you.
> Part 1
>
> It was a shift like any other at Deep Space Nine.
ALL: <snore>
> Quark was busy
> serving customers
JOEL: Quark's-- Over 1 Billion Life Forms Served.
SERVO: Which meaning of "served" do you mean...?
> while making sure Odo didn't find out about his latest
CROW: Mysterious rash.
> schemes, Dr. Bashir was working on some organic samples taken in the
> Gamma
> Quadrant,
CROW: Hey, Bashir finally got some women!
SERVO: [British accent] "Now *that's* organic!"
JOEL: Guys...
> Chief O'Brian was grumbling about
SERVO: Being stuck in a crummy fanfic written by somebody who can't
spell "O'Brien" right.
> one more thing to jury-rig on
> the station...
CROW: They fix trials there, too?
> just your average day on the station.
JOEL: Ho hum.
CROW: So... we can go now, right? It's just an average day, nothing's
gonna happen... the end, right? Right?
SERVO: Poor, naive, *stupid* Crow.
> At Ops, Major Kira was going over the docking schedules for the day.
> Dax wandered over to see why Kira was so interested in this day's
> schedule.
JOEL: [as Dax] "'Oh, you're so tense,' the milkmaid said to the--" hey,
this isn't the docking schedule!
CROW: Not for DS9, at any rate.
SERVO: Heh.
> Usually Kira had one of her subordinates handle such mundane
> tasks,
SERVO: [snooty voice] Since they were clearly beneath her dignity.
> leaving her to devote more of her time to running
JOEL: Cross-country or track?
> Ops.
JOEL: Oh.
SERVO: And to playing her "Buns Of Steel" video.
> "Why the attention to the schedule, Kira?"
CROW: [falsetto] It's my job, you imbecile!
> Kira paid her a cursory glance.
SERVO: Dax kept the change.
> "Odo got wind
JOEL: Well, he shouldn't turn into a chair so often.
> of a ship from Clari III
CROW: Is that in the clari.* hierarchy?
> that had spent a great deal of time talking with Quark. The communi-
> cations were scrambled so we don't know who it is...only where it was
> from."
JOEL: And that they called collect.
> "Any luck?" Dax asked, her curiosity peaked.
SERVO: Dax immediately grew bored with the conversation and left the
room.
> "That's the odd thing.
CROW: Right there. On your shoulder.
> There's only one ship from that region, and
> it's
JOEL: The Love Boat. Weird.
> a warp shuttle carrying a Federation diplomat."
> "Why would a diplomat want to talk with Quark?"
CROW: Advice on dental care?
> "You got me," Kira shrugged, "but I've informed Odo."
SERVO: Why would Odo be interested that Dax has got you, any -- oh, *I*
see.
> "So why are you still interested?"
JOEL: [as Kira] Well, you see, Dax, I'm a student of life.
> Kira pulled up a file.
CROW: Now what's *that* a euphemism for?
> "I'm working on getting records on the occupants
> of the shuttle.
JOEL: A man and two women, along with their kooky landlord, a Mr. Tan-
ner.
> One is a Starfleet officer who resigned her commision
> just before
SERVO: Whitewatergate.
> leaving Clari III, but the other two I can't find traces
> of..."
CROW: No. Please. Not *them* again...
> "Who chartered the shuttle?"
> Kira glared at her screen as if that would magicly give her the
> desired
> information.
JOEL: Which it will, if and when that happens to be a convenient plot
device.
> "Ambassador Duncan MacLeod.
ALL: AAAAAA!
SERVO: We are so dead.
> He's on some diplomatic
> mission into the Gamma Quadrant."
CROW: "Some diplomatic mission"? Boy, the Federation sure keeps good
files on this stuff!
> Dax looked stunned, then gave her typical whimsical smirk.
SERVO: You know, if that's typical behavior for her, I wonder how she
lived to be a couple hundred years old.
JOEL: Maybe her last couple bodies looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger.
> Kira saw it.
SERVO: Confirming that she does indeed possess a sense of sight.
JOEL: I bet that's a load off everyone's mind.
> "Mind telling me what's so damn amusing?" she asked.
JOEL: Oh, Quark told the *best* joke the other night. See, Odo, a rabbi,
and the Borg are trapped in a lifeboat, and-- well, you had to be
there.
> "Duncan..."
CROW: [falsetto] No, I'm Kira. I think you need to lie down.
>
> Richie relieved Julia Cathaway
SERVO: Gross!
JOEL: I guess technology *did* make amazing strides.
> of her piloting duties.
ALL: Oh.
> She went back
> to the rear of the shuttle to see her lover, Duncan MacLeod, waiting
> with
> coffee.
CROW: The next installment of the Taster's Choice drama.
> She gave him a kiss for his thoughtfulness.
JOEL: And a boot to the head for leaving his sweaty socks lying around.
> "How long until we're due to arrive at Bajor," he asked.
SERVO: Eh, not too long-- we're going so fast that you've lost the abi-
lity to use question marks.
> "About another couple of hours. We'll be in sensor range in about
> an
> hour and a half."
CROW: And we'll be stuck in a holding pattern over the spaceport for a-
nother hour and a half.
> One of the things that attracted Julia to Duncan was his
> `roughness'...
SERVO: Which was due to the coarse-grain sandpaper he had glued to every
inch of his body.
> his wanting to stand apart from modern society. Duncan once told her
> that
CROW: --that he was really a woman?
> the late twentieth century was his favorite time period,
SERVO: Wow... now that's a quirky coincidence.
> besides the
> period when he was Awakened.
JOEL: Duncan... get up, honey, it's time for school.
CROW: Aw, Mom...
> He even went to great lengths to ensure that
> his personal shuttle, which was waiting for them on the Serties,
JOEL: Marina's not even in this fanfic and he misspells her name.
> had been
> stripped
CROW: And left in an alley, propped up on cinder blocks.
> of many twenty-fourth century conveniences. The first she
> noticed was
SERVO: --that the advanced warp drive propulsion system had been
replaced by a gaping hole in the bottom of the hull through which
slave beings stuck their legs in a vain attempt to "run" the craft
forward.
> the food replicator had been replaced with a small kitchen-
> ette,
JOEL: They fit a kitchenette into a space the size of a shoe box??
> complete with enough food for the journey.
CROW: Like what? Complimentary bags of peanuts from Clari III Airlines?
> Duncan said he and
> Richie preferred to cook their own food, and she had to admit that
> food
> tasted better when it was prepared by her own hand.
JOEL: "Hand"? She only has one?
CROW: She lost the other one to Sancho Marin last time.
JOEL: No, it was Sancho Marin that lost the hand.
CROW: Well, maybe she's using Sancho Marin's hand then.
SERVO: Don't mention that name! Don't make this any worse!
> She drank her coffee and curled into Duncan's arms.
SERVO: Like the pliable, easily seduced mantoy that she was.
> "We'll have about a day while the shuttle's restocked and
> maintained,"
> Duncan said. "What do you think we should do in that time?"
JOEL: Nudge nudge wink wink say no more.
> Julia just smiled dreamily and said, "I'm sure we'll think of something."
SERVO: Oh, God. Please cut away. *Please* cut away.
>
> "I knew Duncan MacLeod fifty years ago, when I was Kurzon Dax.
CROW: That must have been before she was *Curzon* Dax.
> He was a
> swashbuckler back then.
JOEL: He buckled swashes?
CROW: Maybe she means Swatches.
SERVO: Duncan MacLeod, immortal Swatchbuckler.
> Ah, the adventures he would tell me about...I
> actually saw him in action once,
JOEL: But he injured a hamstring in the first quarter and had to be
taken out of the game.
> when the Tylok, a starliner on which we
> were both passengers, was attacked. He--"
SERVO: Ran for dear life.
> Kira cut her off.
CROW: Operator! *Operator*!
> "Judzia, that was fifty years ago. I'm sure he's
> changed quite a bit since then."
SERVO: And this must be slightly after she was *Jadzia* Dax.
> Dax laughed slightly. "Can you picture his face when he sees me?"
CROW: Utter revulsion?
SERVO: No, vacant-eyed and drooling, as usual.
> Kira looked sternly at him.
JOEL: Wait, he's not there yet!
> "Remember lieutenant, he may have been
> talking to Quark about who know what."
CROW: Ooh! Ooh! Mistah Kottah!
> Dax sobered slightly. "You're right. I should tell Odo what I know
> about him, not that it will help much after fifty years."
> Dax entered the lift
JOEL: Slightly.
> and headed for Odo's office.
JOEL: Slightly.
SERVO: Heh.
> Kira tried to get something on Ambassador MacLeod again.
SERVO: [as Kira] Okay, breathe in a little and I think we can make this
fit.
> She pulled his
[Crow opens his beak, then closes it, shaking his head]
> Federation bio. Much of the information was blank,
CROW: Much like MacLeod himself.
SERVO: Well, then it's not really information, is it? Sheesh.
> but she found a
> picture of him.
> Kira frowned when she saw a thirty year-old man that Dax said she
> knew
> fifty years ago.
SERVO: Uh-oh. MacLeod had better watch out. Kira's frowning.
CROW: [panicking] Oh, God-- oh dear sweet Giver of Life! Run, every-
one!
> She hit her commbadge,
JOEL: Stupid commbadge!
SERVO: Zo, vhy do you tink you haff zis unbridled aggression towards
zmall metal objects? Perhaps your mother--
> she reached Dax and asked if she
> knew any ships both Kurzon and MacLeod were aboard
JOEL: What, you mean personally?
> and when they were on
> said ships.
CROW: ".. said ships"?
JOEL: Prince John must be working towards a law degree.
> She pulled up passenger manifests for said ships, those that were
> still
> on-record anyway,
CROW: Your Honor.
> and pulled MacLeod's portrait.
JOEL: A wonderful oil painted in classic Renaissance style.
> She gaped when she
CROW: Felt the portrait pulling back.
> discovered that the portraits were identical.
SERVO: Fifty years and the guy is too cheap to have a new passport photo
taken.
> She tapped her commbadge. "Kira to Odo. I'm sending you something
> that should interest you."
CROW: [as Odo] I told you *not* to fax me any more of your body parts!
> --
> ***********************************************************************
> ******
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
JOEL: So where's the Sherrif of Nottingham?
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
> "You want it all but you can't have it!" -- Faith No More
CROW: I don't want any of it, but the Mads send it up anyway.
SERVO: C'mon, guys.
JOEL: Time to go?
SERVO: Yeah.
>
...o...2...3...4...5...6...G
[SoL bridge, where all is not well. Servo and Crow are on the verge of
crying; Joel has an arm around each of them.]
JOEL: Hey, c'mon, it's not that bad yet.
SERVO: "Yet"! <sniffle>
CROW: Joel, can't you let us skip this one? Please?
JOEL: Look, if you really can't stand it, you can leave, but that's just
letting the mad scientists win...
SERVO: Yeah. Whatever.
JOEL: Now, repeat after me: Treklander II is just a fanfic.
'BOTS: [uncertainly] Trek... lander... II... is just... a fanfic.
JOEL: Even in the fictional Star Trek universe, it's a piece of fiction.
'BOTS: [more calmly] Even in the fictional Star Trek universe, it's a
piece of fiction.
JOEL: It can't hurt me.
'BOTS: [confidently] It can't hurt me.
SERVO: Say, that worked! I feel better already.
CROW: I feel better already.
JOEL: [letting go of the 'bots] See? Now let's get back in there and
show jfm who's boss!
CROW: See? Now let's get back in there and show jfm who's boss!
JOEL: Uh, Crow?
CROW: Uh, Crow?
MAGIC VOICE: Commercial sign in ten seconds.
CROW: Commercial sign in ten seconds.
SERVO: Oh, knock it off, dickweed.
CROW: Oh, knock it off, *dickweed*.
SERVO: I know you are, but what am I?
CROW: I know *you* are, but what am I?
[The 'bots continue in this manner as the commercial button flashes and
Joel hits it.]
JOEL: [sotto voce, to camera, wearing a "here we go again" sort of ex-
pression] We'll be right back.
[Tune in to Comedy Central's Vacuum Marathon, featuring "The Vacant
Lot", "Limboland", "Empty Nest", and "Saturday Night Live"!]
>
> >From news.teleport.com!news.world.net!guardian.up.edu
JOEL: How'd this so-called guardian let *this* through?
> !sequent!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> Path: news.teleport.com!news.world.net!guardian.up.edu!sequent
JOEL: And *Sequent*! Airlocks on the doors, double security checks, and
they still can't stop Prince John?
> !uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
SERVO: Isn't that a misnomer?
> Subject: Treklander II, part 2
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
> Lines: 98
> Message-ID: <2tpm6i$f...@mozz.unh.edu>
> References: <Ron_Stein-1...@222.188.55.222> <matthewk.
> 7717...@ucsu.colorado.edu> <2tok3c$p...@news.CCIT.Arizona.EDU>
CROW: So now John has to pull others' names into his pool of slime.
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> There can be only one...These are the voyages...
>
> T R E K L A N D E R I I
SERVO: Electric Boogaloo.
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
> Part 2
>
> Odo waltzed into Quark's.
JOEL: To the strains of the Wienerschnitzel Waltz.
CROW: Due to his peculiar anatomy, he could lead, follow, and dip all by
himself.
> As if on cue,
SERVO: Okay, come on, let's get it together, people. It's "as if on
cue". That means you do it at the same time. Ready? Take fifty-
eight...
> most of Quark's more seedier
> regulars became scarce
SERVO: So are "scarce" animals, vegetables, or minerals?
JOEL: I think it's a kind of flower. See, he said they were seedy.
> as the Security chief zeroed in on the Ferengi
> behind the bar.
SERVO: *Be* the ball.
> "Constable," Quark said through a forced smile, "what a pleasant
> surprise.
CROW: But it's not our anniversary today. It's a lovely bouquet of
scarce, though.
> How may I help you?"
SERVO: [Odo voice] You may take a spacewalk in your underwear.
> "You can start," Odo hissed,
CROW: Hey, it's Jafar.
> "by telling me who you were talking to on
> Clari III and why."
JOEL: [as Odo] Oh, and Bashir wanted to know if it was female.
> "It was personal business," Quark quickly said. "Nothing to consern
SERVO: Hoo-boy.
> yourself with."
> "It just seems odd that a warp shuttle is due to arrive within a day
> from that very planet."
CROW: With a weird and dirty Scottish guy on it.
SERVO: They've already got O' Brien...
JOEL: Silly. O'Brien is Irish. Didn't you see Colm Meaney in "The Com-
mitments"?
CROW: Besides, O'Brien isn't all stinky like MacLoud.
SERVO: Is too.
CROW: Is not!
JOEL: Guys, don't start.
> "You don't say...," Quark said thoughtfully. "Strange how coinci-
> dences
> like that happen."
JOEL: [singing] Coincidences will happen... they're only hit and run...
SERVO: [singing] I just don't know where it will end...
> "Isn't it," Odo shot back dryly.
CROW: Ooh!
SERVO: Good one, Odo!
JOEL: That's gotta hurt.
[golf claps all 'round]
> "I'll be keeping an eye on you
JOEL: And I mean that literally.
> while
> the shuttle is being restocked...moreso than usual."
> "You have *nothing* to fear
SERVO: But fear itself.
CROW: Or another Treklander serial.
> from law-abiding citizens like myself,"
> Quark said with a well-rehearesed innocent expression.
CROW: Ah, the famed John F. Moore III character humor! There's none like
it.
> Odo just snorted and walked out.
JOEL: Odo's quite the equinesque stud today.
> Neither he nor Quark noticed Dr.
> Bashir listening closely to the conversation.
SERVO: [British accent, a la Bashir] I'll bet my trousers there's a
*woman* on that shuttle!
>
> Commander Sisco entered Ops from his office. "Report."
JOEL: "What I Did This Summer."
CROW: By Charles Rocket.
SERVO: Heh-- huh?!
> "All systems report normal sir," Chief O'Brian reported from his
> station.
SERVO: Uh, define "normal".
> "Commander," Kira said as she walked up to him,
JOEL: Don't worry about it.
> "Ambassador MacLeod is
> due to arrive tomorrow for a short stopover before a diplomatic
> mission to
> the Gamma Quadrant."
> Sisco looked at Kira. "Why wasn't I told?
CROW: We know how much you love surprises.
> I shall arrange--"
JOEL: --a wake.
> "Benjamin," Dax said from her station, "I knew the Ambassador as
> Kurzon Dax. He wasn't big on formal affairs.
SERVO: He was mostly big on quick, tawdry affairs.
> But if you're organizing a
> welcoming party..."
JOEL [falsetto] I'll sit in the cake 'til it's surprise time...
> Sisco smiled slightly
CROW: Again wit' da slightly! Feh.
> at his old friend. "I'll include you Dax."
JOEL: [affably] All right, I know who runs this station.
> "Commander," Kira said impatiently.
CROW: [Basil Fawlty voice] Yes, dear, I'm doing it!
> "Yes Major, I'm sorry. Was there something else?"
SERVO: [as Kira] Why do you think I'm still standing here, you twit?!
> "Ambassador MacLeod is under suspicion of illegal activities--"
> "What kind of activities?" Sisco asked.
CROW: Impersonating a fictional character...
SERVO: ...accomplice to a fanfic with malice aforethought...
JOEL: ...violating Paul's Law...
ALL: ...and one moving violation!
> "I'm not sure yet,
SERVO: But I know they're really, really bad.
> but a transmission to Quark was recieved from the
> Ambassador's point of origin, and since his ship is the only one
> arriving
> from that destination--"
> "So you're ready to condemn a Federation diplomat because someone from
> the area he *happened* to have departed from talked with Quark?"
JOEL: Sounds like an ironclad case to me.
SERVO: Yes! Hang the blimey bastard!
> Sisco
> stared at his First Officer sternly.
CROW: Starboard, aft, and port felt very neglected.
> "While I agree that the events may
> be linked I don't think we should condemn him just yet.
JOEL: Let's hold a media circus, some hearings, *then* condemn him.
SERVO: Just wait 'till he arrives. Then we condemn him when he can't get
away!
> We will greet
> the Ambassador with the proper respect, but not overly so.
CROW: For example, hold off on the offer to lick his body clean with
your tongue.
> I will inform
> Odo to keep an eye on both Quark and the Ambassador, though I'm sure
> Odo's already getting ready for the Ambassador's arrival."
JOEL: He's turned himself into a bowl of Jello.
>
> Dr. Bashir exited Sick Bay after reading the passenger manifest for
> Ambassador MacLeod's shuttle. A short time later he entered Security.
SERVO: [British accent] There *is* a woman on board! For joy!
> A
> watch officer was sitting it the desk.
CROW: People made out of timepieces often have trouble with pronouns and
prepositions.
> "May I help you, Doctor?" she asked.
SERVO: [as Bashir] Yes. Come to my quarters at 2300 hours.
> "I was looking for Constable Odo, actually."
JOEL: [falsetto] I can't, but I'll be happy to send the constable in my
place.
> "The Constable is off-duty right now. Is there anything I can help
> you
> with?"
'BOTS: Heh.
> "No," Bashir said,
SERVO: You inferior loser.
> "I was just wondering about what was being done
> about Ambassador MacLeod's arrival. I couldn't help but overhear that
> Odo
> suspects him
CROW: In the conservatory, with the lead pipe.
> of having dealings with Quark. Since I'm old friends with
> one of his companions
JOEL: One of his long-time companions, if you know what I mean.
CROW: Why, Joel, I... never even suspected.
> I'm naturally concerned."
JOEL: It's a gland thing.
> "Well," the watch officer said, "as I'm sure you know I can't
> disclose
> that information without the Constable's authority,
CROW: Or a note from the office.
> but I will let him
> know your concerns."
> "Thank you. Tell him at the very least I would like to know what he
> finds out about the Ambassador and his companions."
SERVO: No one in particular IS the watch officer.
> Julian left Security and returned to Sick Bay. Entering his office,
> he
> locked the door and activated his desk computer.
CROW: [as Bashir] Ah... alt.major-kira.pant.pant.pant!
> "Computer, activate personal files, authorization Bashir-nine-alpha-
> six.
JOEL: [dumb voice] Huh-huh, hey, guys. Now we know his password. Let's
wreck his credit rating.
'BOTS: [ditto] Huh heh, cool, yeah...
> Access all information on following persons..."
JOEL: MacLeod, Duncan. Last seen on deck of the Love Boat.
SERVO: No, that was Gavin MacLeod.
CROW: Hey! Two more celebrity siblings, guys!
>
> "We've entered Bajoran system Mac," Richie said from the cockpit.
JOEL: There's a system called Mac?
CROW: Established by New York City cab drivers.
> He
> got up as Julia eased into the pilot's seat.
SERVO: I really hope they're talking about the chair the pilot sits on.
> The station came into full view to the shuttle.
SERVO: [snooty voice] What an eyesore.
CROW: [similar snooty voice] Oh, yes, it'll just *have* to go, if *only*
for aesthetic reasons.
JOEL: [doubletake] Guys, that was *really* obscure.
> "Where's the wormhole?" Ritchie wondered to himself.
> Julia answered.
ALL: Aaaahhh!
SERVO: Don't do that!
> "The Bajoran wormhole is only visible when ships are
> either entering or leaving the wormhole. Sensors pick up the
> disturbance
> caused by the wormhole's position."
JOEL: [as Julia] The methane meter is over here...
> She pulled up a sensor reading of
> the system to show Richie the position of the wormhole."
CROW: Oh, yuck! In public?
SERVO: Hey, anyone lose a double quote?
> *This is Deep Space Nine, welcome to Bajor.
CROW: Would you like to buy any duty-free ceramics?
> You are cleared to dock.
> Please relinquish control to station tractor beams.*
JOEL: We have assumed control. We have assumed control.
SERVO: Hmm... sounds like somebody's been gophering to syrinx.umd.edu.
> "This is Ambassador MacLeod's shuttle.
JOEL: The _Challenger_.
> Instructions recieved. You
> have control, station."
ALL: [Bill and Ted voices] Station!
> As the tractor beam locked onto the shuttle and guided it toward the
> landing platform, the trio got their essentials together
SERVO: Julia, is this your underwear?
CROW: [as MacLeod] Richie, do you really need to take *all* of your
Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers along? We're only going to be here a
day!
> and prepared to
> disembark.
CROW: --into the cold, black void of space with no hope of survival.
> "You realize that they'll be waiting for us with some kind of
SERVO: Sharp instrument.
> pompous
> ceremony," Richie said.
> "I know," Duncan sighed, "but we'll just have to grin and take their
> worst..."
JOEL: Oh, the *tortuous* life of a diplomat.
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
CROW: I'll bet his favorite screen saver is "Starfield".
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
SERVO: [Steven Tyler voice, singing] John... Prince John, be cool...
tell the people... about Awakening and Quickening-- sorry.
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
JOEL: Yes, it's time for "Ask Prince John"!
> "You want it all but you can't have it!" -- Faith No More
CROW: If we want none of it, can we have any then?
> >From news.teleport.com!news.reed.edu!usenet.ee.pdx.edu!fastrac.llnl.
> gov!s1.gov!overload.lbl.gov!agate!spool.mu.edu!sdd.hp.com!usc!math.
> ohio-state.edu!jussieu.fr!univ-lyon1.fr!swidir.switch.ch!scsing.
> switch.ch!news.dfn.de!news.dfn.de!Germany.EU.net!EU.net!uunet!mozz.
> unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
SERVO: Yeah? Come down here and say that!
> Path: news.teleport.com!news.reed.edu!usenet.ee.pdx.edu!fastrac.llnl.
> gov!
JOEL: From the hallowed halls of Reed College, Portland State Universi-
ty, and Lawrence Livermore Labs comes...
> s1.gov!overload.lbl.gov!agate!spool.mu.edu!sdd.hp.com!usc!math.
> ohio-state.edu!jussieu.fr!univ-lyon1.fr!swidir.switch.ch!scsing.
> switch.ch!news.dfn.de!news.dfn.de!Germany.EU.net!EU.net!uunet!mozz.
> unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander II, part 3
JOEL: ...this drek.
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
> Lines: 68
> Message-ID: <2ufck
SERVO: [calls over his shoulder] Spengo! Don't read that!
> 6$n...@mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> T R E K L A N D E R I I
>
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
CROW: Geez, first Winston loses the hyphens, and now Prince John loses
the annoying combination of the overused catchphrases. What a
day.
> Part 3
>
> Commander Sisco, Lt. Dax, and Constable Odo stood in formal dress
SERVO: [as Dax] And may I say that's a *lovely* strapless gown you're
wearing, Commander.
JOEL: [as "Sisco"] Shut up. Just shut up.
> by the
> airlock door as it opened,
CROW: ...flushing everyone out into the vacuum of space! The end.
> revealing Duncan MacLeod.
SERVO: As well as an ape, and it was indeed difficult to distinguish
between the two.
> Dax's mouth
> immediately gaped when she saw the man she knew fifty years ago, look-
> ing
> as if he hadn't aged a day.
CROW: Rather, looking as though he had aged centuries.
> "Ambassador, welcome to Deep Space Nine. I'm Commander Benjamin
> Sisco,
JOEL: Heh... and this really isn't how I spell my name...
> Commanding Officer of the station. This is my Chief of Security,
> Constable Odo,
SERVO: But you can call me Snidely.
> and my Science Office, Lt. Judzia Dax."
JOEL: The whole office? Dax must've put on a few pounds.
> "Commander, Constable...Lt. Dax, are you well? You seem a little
> pale."
CROW: That's because my mother was a bucket! Heh heh.
> Dax snapped back to reality
ALL: Boioioing!
> and closed her mouth,
CROW: For the first time since inhabiting this host.
> choking back the
SERVO: Bitter bile of resentment over being named last.
> questions she had to ask.
JOEL: I wonder where Tony is, what he's doing, who he's with, is he
thinking of me...
> Now was not the proper time or place.
> MacLeod continued as two others exited the airlock.
SERVO: Into the merciless black void of space. Duncan had forgotten to
dock the shuttle correctly.
> "These are my
> assistants Julia Cathaway and Richie--"
> *Ops to Commander Sisco,* Kira's voice chirped.
JOEL: I tawt I taw a station commander!
SERVO: Oh, now we'll never know Richie's last name!
> Sisco tapped his commbadge. "Go ahead Major."
> *Commander, there's a disturbance in the docking ring.
CROW: Ambassador Kosh's ship says it wants to go walkies.
> The Isari won't
> let Chief O'Brian's team aboard their vessel
JOEL: Until they can spell his name right.
> to do routine maintenance.*
> "On my way. Sisco out." He then turned to MacLeod. "My apologies,
> Ambassador, but duty calls."
SERVO: When you gotta go, you gotta go.
> "Not at all," MacLeod said, "I'm not overly fond of these stuffy
> affairs anyway."
CROW: Oh, bite me then.
> Sisco and Odo headed toward
SERVO: A secluded place where they could steal a precious few moments of
privacy together.
> the docking ring, while Dax returned to the
> bridge
CROW: Over the River Kwai set. She'd had it with made-for-syndication.
> after staring disbelievingly at MacLeod.
JOEL: [as Dax] It's been fifty years and he hasn't bathed *once*!
> "What was that all about Mac?" Richie asked.
> "What was what all about?"
ALL: Third base!
SERVO: Heh.
> "The way that Trill just...stared at you."
JOEL: She must have a thing for big, stinky Scottish guys.
> "I have a feeling," MacLeod said,
SERVO: A wonderful, delicious feeling coursing through my body.
> "that we've met before..."
JOEL: Oh no, I feel a completely pointless flashback coming on...
>
> (The SL Tylok,
SERVO: Straight Line?
CROW: Super Lougie?
JOEL: C'mon, guys. It obviously stands for Star Liner.
SERVO: Then whose star liner?
JOEL: Um...
CROW: The Generic Starship Company. We don't gum up your story with ir-
relevant background, detail, or realism. Fly us!
> Statdate 10325.6, about fifty years ago.
SERVO: Bet you a million bucks he never closes that parenthesis.
> Duncan MacLeod
> and Kurzon Dax sat in their cabin playing three-dimentional chess.
CROW: In stark contrast to their one-dimensional characters.
> "I'm afraid that's checkmate," Duncan said.
JOEL: Don't be afraid. It's only a chesspiece.
> Kurzon looked at the board. "Well, I'll be damned. That's three in
> a
> row I've lost."
CROW: [as "Kurzon"] I'm all out of clothes now. You know, strip chess
would be a lot more interesting if I had any desire at all to see
you naked.
> "Play again?"
SERVO: No! You always win! It's not fair! I hate you I hate you I hate
you!
> Kurzon laughed. "No, I know to quit when I'm behind. C'mon. Let's
> head to the lounge. I'm sure that Garani waitress was checking me
> out."
JOEL: Imagine how surprised she'll be when she sees my next host body!
> Duncan slapped his friend on the back. "You never change Kurzon.
CROW: Boy. That's ironic.
> All
> right, but you're buying."
> As the pair headed toward the lounge, the ship was rocked by an
> explosion.
JOEL: Great-- the pyrotechnics guy screwed up again.
> "Pirates," Duncan hissed.
SERVO: *Singing* pirates! We've flashed back into a Gilbert and Sullivan
musical!
JOEL: Oh, how does Duncan know that? All that happened was an explosion.
> "They're getting bold, attacking a starliner
> on the main starlanes."
> "This is a passenger ship! What do they want with us?"
CROW: The Eye! With the ransom we get for that, we could buy one, maybe
two more of these ships!
> "Whatever they can get," Duncan stated. Suddenly, he Sensed an
> Immortal
> in the vicinity.
JOEL: Yeah... yourself, you bonehead.
> "What is it?" Kurzon asked.
SERVO: It's an Immortal! Can't you read?
> "Nothing. Look, you get into hiding.
CROW: I'll count to a hundred and then I'll try to find you, okay?
> I'm going get our bags and
> valuables."
SERVO: And skip out in the escape capsule! Ha ha!
> Kurzon didn't argue. As soon as he was out of sight of Kurzon,
> Duncan
> drew his sword
JOEL: Ever thankful that he had taken Graphic Design and not Industrial
Arts like his stupid friend had wanted him to.
> and sought out the Immortal...)
CROW: You owe me a million bucks, Servo.
SERVO: Stupid poetic justice.
>
> "Well," Julia said, "we're not accomplishing much standing here.
JOEL: [exasperated] You haven't accomplished much, period!
> Why
> don't we go get a drink while the Commander's busy. When he's done,
> we
> can find out where we're staying."
SERVO: Let's hope it's not that crappy Ramada Inn we saw a few light-
years back.
CROW: And hopefully it's not the warp core like on the _Enterprise_.
> The trio headed to Quark's,
SERVO: Knowing instinctively where to go, of course.
> not noticing the dark-skinned medical
> officer listening in to their conversation.
CROW: Bashir does a lot of that, doesn't he?
SERVO: What a nosy little punk.
> As they left, he snuck onto
> their shuttle...
JOEL: And raided their fridge.
SERVO: [as Bashir] Maybe they've got another woman on board!
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
> "You want it all but you can't have it!" -- Faith No More
CROW: It's uncanny the way John F. Moore is able to probe into the deep-
est desires of my psyche with these amazingly accurate quotes of
his.
>
CROW: Not.
SERVO: Let's split, guys.
[All leave.]
>
[Fresh Cheese update: The dates of two showings to be named later have
been switched. CC's scheduling department has a reputation to uphold!]
[SoL bridge, with something close to Muzak playing. Joel is wearing a
yachting cap and jacket a la the captain guy from _Catalina Caper_, Ser-
vo has on an antique leather aviation helmet, and Crow, to the right of
Servo, is wearing a baggy brown knitted vest and a manila-envelope-col-
ored hat. All three are behind a cardboard cut-out made to look like a
head-on view of a yellow classic car. If one looks carefully, "BESSIE"
is scrawled on one side of the 'hood'.]
[Crow appears to begin speaking, but the music is the only thing to be
heard. Cambot shows the first of a series of silent-movie-type 'cards',
the text of which will hereinafter appear in braces.]
{"Boy, Joel, incidental music was at a real low back then, wasn't it?"}
[Joel turns toward him and says something.]
{"Well, remember, Crow, movie-making was brand-new in the silent era.
They hadn't had a lot of time to develop mood music."}
[Crow replies, shaking his head, and Servo adds something.]
{"They must have taken years to come up with something this inane!"
"Yeah, how much worse can it get?"}
[The Haunting Torgo Theme promptly starts up. Joel shrugs, and the 'bots
seem to make comments of assent. All is calm for two beats, and then the
Joel and the 'bots start yelling.]
{"Aaaah! Change it back change it back!"}
[The insipid, uninspired soundtrack returns. All look relieved.]
{"Thanks, CAMBOT."} [A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy smiley-thing
blinks into the place of the 'O' for a moment.]
[Joel says something toward the screen.]
{"Uh, CAMBOT, we already talked about this. Could you please..."}
["CAMBOT" is rendered in ornate italic capitals, and a multicolored se-
lection of celebrity smileys from _The Smiley Dictionary_ scrolls across
the bottom of the 'card'.]
[Servo shakes his head, Crow rolls his eyes, and Joel does not look a-
mused.]
{"CAMBOT..."} [This time, "CAMBOT" is done in illuminated Gothic. Each
letter is a work of art unto itself.]
[Joel starts moving the cut-out out of the way, and Crow and Servo now
look eager.]
{"All right, that's it."
"Let's get him!"}
[Piano-only chase music plays. The picture de-focuses briefly as Cambot
pulls quickly back. In the meantime, Joel and the 'bots have somehow
gotten tangled up with each other and the cardboard. They collapse in a
heap behind the counter. The music stops completely, and Cambot timidly
returns to his earlier vantage point as Gypsy enters. Gypsy turns toward
him and says something brief.]
{"Dickweeds!"}
[Lights flash wildly and dramatic music plays!]
{"FANFIC SIIIIGN!!!!"}
[Random limbs are being waved about behind the counter. The sound of the
G door opening is heard as the picture freezes. Fade to MSTH set and the
ever-chuckling Jack Perkins.]
PERKINS: [shaking head] Ah, they don't make them like they used to. Ex-
cept here, of course-- join us for the next Mystery Science The-
ater Hour. Good night.
[Lights down; MSTH theme starts.]
MSTed by Steve Brinich <ste...@access.digex.net>,
Jason Cohen <in absentia>,
Jim Gould <jgo...@walnut.holli.com>,
Petrea Mitchell <pr...@mvp.com>, (The Editor of Fate)
Mark Sachs <sa...@crayola.cse.psu.edu>,
& Tom Salyers <ab...@freenet.hsc.colorado.edu>
Host segments by Petrea Mitchell & Mark Sachs
[Perkins moves off the giant reels and appears to be trying to do a for-
ward somersault.]
Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters, situations, merchandise,
and EMFs all copyright 1994 Best Brains, Inc. This MSTing not endorsed,
authorized, or supported by anybody. Not intended as a personal attack
on John Winston or John F. Moore III, but as whatever is nearest to
that and still protected under the First Amendment. "Treklander II" re-
produced by permission of the author. This article may be freely distri-
buted as long as this paragraph remains intact. If you recognized all
the silly nicknames in the first segment, get yourself a life IMMEDI-
ATELY.
[No, he's not doing a somersault after all-- he's trying to spin on his
head like a break-dancer.]
If you'd like to MSTify some deserving piece, contact <misties-request
@jg.cso.uiuc.edu> to join the "dibs" mailing list.
[Perkins gives up on the head-spin and just lies there on the floor, ex-
hausted.]
Stay tuned for the continuation of this tale... if you can stomach it.