X-MST3K: Prologue

[Kielle]

YES! It's here! It's finally going public! Woo hoo! Don't have
a clue as to what MST3K is? The prologue will explain itself. And
yes, this IS indeed quite X-Men related -- you'll see! Sit back
and prepare for the horror that is

X-MST3K
~~~~~~~

Copyright 1997 by Kelly "Kielle" Newcomb (kie...@aol.com)
With assistance and host segments from Greg Newcomb
(doc...@aol.com)
Arbitrarily chopped up to fit into posts

IMPORTANT LEGAL NOTE: All legal stuff is included in the final post
as it's a bit lengthy. In brief, all recognizable stuff belongs to
its respective owners (including the text of the MSTied fanfic) --
no money is being made and no harm was intended. Well, okay, no
permanent, physical, or monetary harm, anyway. Do NOT archive this
piece without my express permission. Feedback is adored at
kie...@aol.com, where I'd love to hear your favorite lines and
explain any that you didn't get. Hey, I'm chatty. :)

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PROLOGUE

KIELLE: Hello and welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm your
gracious host, and...well...okay, so I'm not on the the Satellite
of Love. I'm nowhere NEAR the Satellite of Love. In fact, the
Satellite doesn't even exist! There! I said it! What more do you
WANT from me?! <sob> I type my fingers to bloody rags for you
ungrateful little snots and what do I get? SARCASM! <Tim Curry
mode on> Well, babies <Tim Curry mode off>, I'll have you know
that for the next however-many-pages-this monster-takes-up-on-your-
computer the sarcasm is MY job, so get it out of your system now!
Right?! OKAY?!? Okay.

Now, where were we before I had a psychotic episode? Oh yes, I'm
your generally-gracious host, Kelly "I'm Really A Very Nice Person"
Newcomb, alternatively known as Kielle. Yes, it's pronounced "KEE-
elle," and that's the only time I'm going to remind you tonight!
This is an excursion into the fringes of the dark side of my sense
of humor. Previously this was ONLY distributed to friends and on
request, but after a few months to chew on it I finally decided
to...well, all right, the truth is that my co-writer/husband found
out that I hadn't posted it publically, and after the work he put
into it, welllllll...here it is. In its glorious entirely. Ouch.

Be forewarned: this story is heinously insulting to a tender young
fanfic writer. Be it known here and now that I bear absolutely NO
ill will towards Andrew Vincent -- it's the characters speaking
through me, I swear! If anyone wants to do the same to my own
work, I don't mind at all. Anyway, I'll give Vincent this much: in
ways he's better than Gibby. ;)

Oh yes, and I'd better give credit where credit is due: my beloved
husband Greg "I Am NOT A MSTie Fanboy!" Newcomb contributed his
time and talent to create the opening, the "Rogue" host segment,
and the ending. He also helped me to thrash out a few recalcitrant
jokes. Thanks, honey. You're the greatest.

Right! <rubbing hands together briskly> Enough apologies and dire
threats and mushy stuff. Let's meet the cast, huh? Some of you
will know exactly what I'm talking about (yes, I can see you
perfectly well in the back, Guthrie -- sit down!) but I'm sure some
of you are scratching your heads in bemusement. I'll take
questions now. "How much money did I blow at the MST3K Con"? Too
much. Okay, you in the back. "How many hours of MST3K have I
watched"? Uh...that's a bit personal. Next question please? "Is
it true that you were once seduced in a bedroom lit only by the
flickering light of the original 'Gamera'?" Eng?!? How on EARTH
did you...? Oh. Dang it, Greg, I told you to wait outside while I
did this. THANK you dear. Someone bar the door behind him.

Now -- where were we? Ah! "What is Mystery Science Theater 3000?"
he asks. Thanks for the blatant set-up, Abyss honey; yes, I'll get
that 10 bucks to you after the show. The concept is simple: humble
temp Mike Nelson is trapped in space aboard a satellite...Mike,
take a bow.

<Over the podium a wide-screen TV crackles into life. On screen, a
deceivingly normal-looking fella with light blond-brown hair waves
cheerfully at the audience.>

KIELLE: There was another guy before Mike but it's bad form to
discuss him on a Mike episode. 'Kay. Anyway, poor Mike is at the
mercy of a mad scientist who forces him to watch the Worst Movies
Ever in order to test the breaking point of the human mind.
Luckily, Mike and his robot buddies are armed with a good sense of
humor and, to quote a great man, "general wackiness ensues." Our
favorite mad scientists are none other than Dr. Clayton Forrester -
- you'll meet him later, great guy, chock full of home-brewed evil
-- and his assistant, the seductive TV's Frank. Uh...oh dear.
There seems to be a towel draped over their side of the video feed,
so...
MIKE: No wait, it's okay, Frank sent up a picture.

<He holds a dog-eared Polaroid up to the "camera." On it are two
guys on a beach on 20's-style full-torso bathing suits. The one in
the Wince-Green togs is tall and bespectacled with the kind of
hairstyle you can only get from either a good hefty bolt of
lightning or from drinking a vat of Jolt! Cola. There's a
clipboard stuffed in the crook of his arm -- even at the beach he's
busily scribbling away at it.>

<The other "Mad" is a slightly rotund fellow with a friendly smile,
a black bathing suit with "Deep Thirteen" emblazoned on it above
his heart, prematurely gray hair, and a spit curl to die for. He's
holding up a fishing pole with an extremely pissy-looking seagull
hanging from the hook.>

MIKE: Dr. F's the green one.
KIELLE: Quite. Thanks, Mike. Looks like the audience is getting
restless, so let's get onto this. Also stuck up on the SOL is the
lovely Gypsy, the one who really runs the ship...

<A...well, she's...well, suffice it to say that if you cut a small
rectangular trash can in half, painted it purple, stuck it back
together, added lips and a hefty flashlight "eye," and put the
whole lot on top of a length of flexible pipe, you've have Gypsy.
She ducks briefly into frame, says "HI!" in a high-pitched voice,
and sways off again.>

KIELLE: And Cambot of course. Everyone else forgets Cambot but not
us, right Camby?

<The camera angle of Mike bobs and tilts rakishly before levelling
back out.>

KIELLE: And last but not least, there's the two brave bots who
actually sally forth into the theater with "Guinea Pig" Nelson:
Crow T. Robot and Tom Servo! Let's give a big round of applause
for...uhhh...hey Mike, where are...?
MIKE: Last I heard, they were headed for the other end of the SOL
to take turns flushing each other out of an airlock. Crow says
that it's quite a rush and I should try it, but...well, I guess
explosive decompression really just isn't my thing.
KIELLE: Ouch. Good call. Well, guys and girls, you'll meet them
soon. Tom's the little red gumball machine which the lovely
singing voice, and Crow's the gold bot with the loud
mouth...saaaay, you ever notice how much he sounds like Dr.
Forrester...?
MIKE: <disapprovingly> We don't go there, young lady.
KIELLE: Oh. Uh. Sorry. Anyhow...any further questions? Yes back
there? No, I didn't feel like writing Pearl Forrester. So sue me!
I MISS FRANK!!! BITE ME!!! Ahem. Well then, on with the show!
There ARE a few ACFF injokes in here, you know me...but really, not
too many, I swear. I just couldn't resist dropping in a few,
knowing who was going to be reading this. Drop me an e-note if you
want anything explained -- I just LOOOOVE explaining weird stuff!
Now, turn down your lights where applicable...

<The lights go down and the text starts scrolling>

MIKE: <whispered> What IS this, Newcomb? You gave the bots all the
good jokes!
KIELLE: <whispered back> Gimme a break! I did not! You're
imagining things! I tried really hard! You got lots of lines!
MIKE: Yeah, sure, but most of them involve telling Crow to shut up!
Couldn't you have been a little more original?
KIELLE: What can I do? There are conventions, you know. So next
time I'll write it all bizarre artsy Bergman/Kafka-esque, okay?
Anyhow, I dare you to check his lines and tell me you wouldn't have
done it anyway.
MIKE: Weeeelllllll...
KIELLE: I'll make it up to you later. I cook a mean mac-&-cheese--
Shhh! It's starting!
MIKE: Mac-&-cheese AND chocolate chip cookies.
KIELLE: Ye gods, we're starting to sound like Brucha and Sinister.
All right, all right, you're on. C'mon, man, get to your mark!

<Mike dashes out of frame and Kielle slouches down into a front
seat. Faint thudding sounds are heard at the back of the theater
as Greg attempts to gain access, but no dice.>

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THE REAL ACTION BEGINS IN IN PART ONE...