REPOST: ST:DRG "Agents" [MISC PG] 46/54

[Douglas A. McLeod]

Close-up of a hand drumming the desk beside an office phone.
The phone bleeps and the hand grabs the receiver and takes it up
to the head of Bob Cowan.
"Cowan!" Pause. "No, it's not on CHRO. Try CFCF or WUTV.
It's in the TV Times. Consult your Saturday Citizen. Have a
great day!" Click.
Bob sets his jaw and stares at the phone. Bleep.
"Cowan!" Pause. "No, Voyager's not on this week.
Unfortunately, owing to an intractable corporate imbroglio
between Baton Broadcasting and CITY-TV" -- spit, spit -- "we
don't carry it. Thanks for calling!" Click.
Bob purses his lips, jumps up, paces in front of the camera
twice, and sits. Bleep.
"Cowan!" Pause. "No, the nacelle hinges are flexed by
eight enormous hydraulic pistons lubricated with cocoanut oil."
Pause. "No problem! Have a great day!" Click.
Bleep. "Cowan! Regix! Is it on? It's on! When? What?
I can't be in California in four hours! Oh yeah, time zones.
Okay! I'll be there!" Click.
Bob grabs his jacket and travel bag and sprints for the
door. As he passes Reception he shouts:
"I need somebody to cover for me on the weather!"
"Eh? What if I can't get anyone!?"
"Run a tape!"
The camera tracks down the aisle of a passenger jet in
flight and pauses by Bob Cowan slouched in his seat. He stares
at his neighbour's laptop with a glassy look until he catches the
stewardess's skirt out of the corner of his eye and twists around
in the seat.
"Oh, Miss! Miss! Have you got any more of those little
packages of Snackwells?"
He holds up a couple of empty wrappers.
"I'll be right with you, sir."
"Yeah okay."
He slumps back in the seat and notices his neighbour giving
him the look.
Bob: "Tried to get couch class but it was booked up. Ha!"
(Weak joke grimace.)
View of Airbus cruising west above the clouds.

"Crawlspace. The final frontier. These are the voyages of
The Door Repair Guy. His mission: to install and maintain
proximity-activated entranceways, to stake out new rooms and new
service conduits -- to boldly go where no one with a pass key has
gone before."

Star Trek: Door Repair Guy

Starring

Door Repair Guy as
Himself

Also Starring

Bob Cowan as
Himself

Rip Torn as
Gul Berman

Larry Sanders as
Gul Piller

Mary Tyler Moore as
Gul Taylor

Penny Johnston as
Kasidy Yates

Dana Carvey as
Regix

Kathie Lee Gifford as
His Lovely Assistant Madeline

LeVar Burton as
Himself

Shannon Fill as
Ensign Sito

And a Cameo Appearance by
Majel Barrett Roddenberry

[Commercial: George Formby for Windows 95:
The curtain rises to applause. George Formby in a brown
raincoat and cloth cap steps forward, bows, strikes up his
ukelele, and sings (to the tune of "When I'm Cleaning Windows"):

I've bought a new computer,
It's there beside the grate,
And so I need some software
To make it operate.

The man around the corner
Said, "Look what's joost arrived,
The newest software package
Called Windows 95."

Now, in my profession I'm brand new
But I'll never stop.
I'll run this blinkin' programme
Til I get right to the top.

This is a job that just suits me.
A Windows-watcher you would be
If you could see what I can see
When I'm running Windows.]

Paramount. Gul Berman barrels through the offices of Star
Trek: Deep Space Nine/Voyager/Door Repair Guy, greeting the
morning staff and congratulating each individual on the fine,
fine work he's been hearing about. He drops a word in an ear,
takes in the latest joke at the coffee pot, slaps some backs and
sets course for his office. He rounds a desk and spots a script
in an IN tray, brakes, glances around, lifts the script
carefully, reads the title, rolls it thoughtfully into a
cylinder, pauses, flattens a fly on the desk blotter, drops the
now dog-eared script back in the tray, takes out a pen and adds
his initials, and carries on down the hall. He comes up against
Gul Piller who is backing into the corridor with an armload of
file-folders.
"So, pal o' mine! What's on the playbill today?"
"Ah. Hi. Auditioning Martians for DRG 047. Gul Taylor
thought it'd be a good idea to hire only Canadians til we get the
guy into the Maquis and among some actors that people know. The
Canadian dollar's down, and she got a package rate out of
Toronto."
"Canadians! Those buzzards are all over this town, snapping
up jobs that should be going to red-blooded Americans!"
Kasidy Yates peers around the corner: "William Shatner on
line three."
"Hold on a minute, will you? I've got to talk to this --."
Berman barges into his office and grabs the phone. "Bill!
Buddy! How's it hangin, there, pal? What's that? No, I didn't!
What? Yeah? Ha! Ha, ha, ha! You're killing me! Bridge on the
captain! I can't wait to tell Mrs Berman! She'll piss herself!
Listen! Great talking to you, Bill! Next week? My schedule's
always empty for you, Bill. Okay, compadre! Tuesday! You
better believe it! Love ya!" Click. "Fucking Canuck. What was
I saying? Oh yeah. Time was those Canadians all wanted to be
English. Do anything to get that little aristocratic pat on the
ass. Made the best butlers on earth, I'm told. Now they all
want to pass for Yankee, but will one of them ante up his own
hospital bill, or bear arms in a militia? Try to carry on a
serious political discussion about Phil Gramm and they fade away
like cameleons. Bunch of fucking changelings, the whole pack of
them." A look of realization comes over Gul Berman's face.
"Hold that thought!" He disappears into a corner of the office
and comes out into the hall with a 1954 Rand McNally atlas open
to a map of the world and his finger on the expanse of pink north
of the US border.
"What did I tell you?"
Closeup of the words:

DOMINION OF CANADA

"I don't know what to say."
"Ah fuck it. If it means more budget for the boys in
special effects who are we to say nay? Vive la NAFTA! What's on
this afternoon?"
"I gotta get over to Stage 17 while LeVar wraps the last
couple of scenes for DRG 046, just as soon as Liam Neeson lands,
which should be at about 3:00 pm. You might want to make an
appearance."
"Wouldn't miss it. The Irish! Gotta love 'em!"
Gul Taylor dashes up.
"O-o-o-o-oh! Quick! The Weather Channel!"
They push into Gul Berman's office. Gul Berman grabs the
remote off his desk and punches up the Weather Channel.
Liam Neeson: ". . . snow in forty yairs."
Interviewer: "Does this blizzard put a crimp in your
shooting schedule?"
Neeson: "I was supposed to connect to Los Angeles half an
hour ago. I'm due to be shooting a guest appearance on Star
Trek: Door Repair Guy later today, after which I fly out to
Hawaii where they're filming Waterworld II. But I guess I'll be
too leeit."
Interviewer: "Indeed he will. We've just received word that
every airport from Maine to Maryland is shut down until tomorrow
morning at the earliest. Once again it's the biggest blizzard in
forty years. From LaGuardia Airport in New York for the Weather
Channel this is--".
Gul Berman: "Sonofabitch weather! And I just wonder where
that blew in from!"
Gul Piller: "I'll go dig out the clip show."
Gul Taylor: "Oo-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!"

[Commercial: George Formby for Windows 95

The things I've seen when I'm on line
Would suit a sailor very fine
If he were more than twenty-nine
When I'm running Windows.

A lass I've spied is quite the rage,
One million hits on her Web Page;
As many on the pressure gauge;
When I'm running Windows.

Oh, in my profession I'm brand new
But I'll never stop.
I'll run this flippin' programme
Til I get right to the top.

She has a twin and my oh my,
They make the idle hours fly by
With just a chair and one necktie
When I'm running Windows.]

Shot of Bob in Customs.
"Anything to declare?"
"It's a great day!"
"Your visa, sir."
"Yeah okay. Better check the balance on that. I've got
$3500 on it already. That last remote from Saro Stereo's Closing
Sale just about maxed me out. Plenty of Air Miles though!"
The Customs Officer speaks into her collar: "We need more
Tylenol down here."
Cut to Bob wandering the terminus, passing under banks of
television screens bright red with flight cancellations. He
heads for the telephones.
Cut to the office of Regix, Ferengi talent agent. Regix is
reading Variety in a padded leather chair at a desk covered with
telephones and file-o-faxes. Framed publicity stills cover the
wall. Regix throws the paper down on the desk.
"MADeline! I THINK I'm going CRAzy!"
Madeline enters, looking like she got up too early, then
drank a pot of coffee.
"What."
"'Abbott and Costello Meet Kenneth Branagh's Bride of
Frankenstein'? WHERE'S the profit in THAT?"
She looks sceptical. "Is Emma Thompson in it?"
(Reads.) "Oh yeah." (Reads some more.) "America's
Funniest MRIs! What a CONcept!"
"Snackwells on line eight."
He grabs the phone. "REGIX! Yeah? Yeah? How much does he
WEIGH? Is he SKINNY? He's a BEANPOLE! I KNOW THEY'RE LOW FAT!
HE'LL BE THERE! HE'S IN MY OFFICE RIGHT NOW! Okay, babe. So
long!" He slams the phone. To Madeline: "How much does Bob
Cowan weigh?"
She fixes him a stare, gives an exaggerated shrug, and
exits.
The phone rings.
"REGIX! Yeah? Where? The AIRport? You're in auDITion in
forty-five MINUTES! Get in a CAB and tell him to STEP on it!
WAIT! How much do you weigh, babe? Well, find out! I gotta
another call."
Shot of Bob standing at the payphone biting his lip and
giving his gut a pinch. He looks around, then hangs up, picks up
his travel bag, and heads away from the payphones.
Cut to Gul Berman's office. Gul Berman barks at the speaker
phone:
"Regix, sweetheart! How are ya, you old Yankee trader!
Listen, pal, we've got a small problem here." The camera draws
back to reveal Guls Piller and Taylor, and Kasidy Yates, gathered
around listening anxiously, and Scott Thompson peering in at the
door. A cassette case labelled A WHITER SHADE OF GRAY -- CLIP
SHOW -- EMERGENCY ONLY rests menacingly on the desk. "We're due
to wrap this afternoon and our special guest star is socked in at
LaGuardia. Can you help us out, old pal, old buddy?"
Cut to airport. Bob is standing on a baggage scale.
Cut to Regix's office.
"How about Alan Scarfe? OVEREXPOSED!? No, Saul Rubinek's
outta town. DO I LOOK LIKE THE KINDA MAN WHO'D REPRESENT BURTON
CUMMINGS! How about Ben Johnson? Great little sprinter. No
running in the show? That's too bad." Flips through filecards.
"SAY, Wayne Gretzky's good. Did you see Wayne Gretzky on SNL
that time? LAUGH?! I thought I'd DIE! He SLAYED! WHATdya
think?"
Gul Berman glances around the room.
Scott Thompson shakes his head. "He's in Toronto. Leafs
game tonight." He disappears.
Gul Berman: "Goddamn kids in the hall." To the phone,
charmingly: "Do you have anyone else?"
Regix: "Hold on a minute! Got another call!" He changes
lines. "REGIX!"
Bob: "A hundred and sixty four."
"GREAT! Don't go anywhere!"
Bob holds the phone and slips a Snackwell out the wrapper
and into his mouth.
Shot of Gul Berman listening to Regix's recorded voice
repeating "Here at the Regix Talent Agency your call is important
to us. Please stay on the line. Here at the Regix Talent Agency
your call is important to us. Please stay on the line."
"Come on, you little squirt."
"Here at the -- REGIX!"
"Pal! Do me some magic!"
Regix: "Two words: BOB COWAN! He's right here in my office
and we're just talking about the great time he had working with
you last time!"
Berman leans back from the speaker with a dire look on his
face. He points to the speaker phone and the rest wave their
arms and silently mouth "NO!!". He points to the clip show.
They squirm uncomfortably.
Berman: "Regix, buddy, you're a lifesaver! Tell Bob we're
all excited to see him again. We need him over here pronto, half
an hour ago. Send him Fedex."
Regix: "See ya, babe!" He stabs the phone. "BOB, buddy!
We're losing the Snackwells. They're going with Wilt
Chamberlain! Get over to Paramount. You're on Star Trek!"
Shot of Bob spraying cookie crumbs over a group of Hong Kong
businessmen who instantly draw pistols and point them at arm's
length at his head, shouting John Woo dialogue.

[Commercial: George Formby for Windows 95:

An e-mail came to my mailbox.
I answered straight away of course.
My server changed it all to Morse.
When I'm running Windows.

So I sent out an S-O-S
To my sysop to fix the mess.
He says it's my fault, more or less.
When I'm running Windows.

In my profession I'm brand new
But I'll never stop.
I'll run this flippin' programme
Til I get right to the top.

I asked my mate to take a look,
He had a peek, his head he shook,
Said he, "Read the instruction book."
When I'm running Windows.]

The sound stage. Door Repair Guy and several other actors
dressed in black special mission body stockings a la "Chain of
Command, Part One" are standing around a cavern set. LeVar
Burton paces back and forth with a script rolled up in his hand.
"Where's that Liam Neeson? Somebody give me a phone."
Half the crew and several actors produce cellular phones.
"Ah, thanks."
He punches a number and stands there with the phone to his
ear, looking first at the floor and then at the ceiling as
everybody looks at him.
"Busy."
He looks around and says, "Would somebody get up to the
office and see what's up with the guest star?"
DRG: "I'll go!"
And he's gone.
Cut to Brannon Braga's office. A freelance writer is seated
on the couch with a pile of papers on his knee. It's a story
pitch.
Writer: "DRG and Sisko --"
Braga: "We're done with DS9!" He winds up and snaps an
enormous black bullwhip just below the writer's earlobe.
Writer: "Okay. Okay. The Borg --"
Braga: "No Borg! We're doing a movie!" Crack!
Writer: "Yikes! All right. All right. Utopian society."
Braga (winding the bullwhip): "Talk to me."
There's a knock at the door. DRG looks in.
"Gul Berman around?"
"Have you tried his office?"
"Oh yeah." The door closes.
Braga: "Now. You were saying?"
Gul Berman's office. Berman is reviewing his voice mail
with his feet on the desk when there's a knock on the door. DRG
puts his head in.
"You!"
"Uh, hi. Just wanted to check in, you know, touch base, and
see how things are coming on the, on the movie."
"Movie? This is Hollywood, you realize. There are several
dozen feature presentations in the works at this very moment. To
which of them do you refer?"
"Door Repair Guy: The Motion Picture."
"Well, let me see. We did six films with the cast of the
original series, and we shouldn't be surprised to see as many
with the Next Generation crew. Then there's Star Trek: Deep
Space Nine. And, oh yes, Voyager. Call me when we're planning
Star Trek XXV."
"Yeah. Okay." Retreats out the door. "I'll call you
then."
"Arrivaderci!" The door closes. "Goddamned Nepeanian."
He pauses and turns it over in his mind. "Nepeapolitan?
Nepeanine?"
Then it comes to him, and a smile spreads across his face.
"Peon."

[Commercial: Windows:

I'm chuffed with my grand ftp,
I'm master of all that I see,
Downloading text and binary,
When I'm running Windows.

The gifs I find fill me with joy:
Natasha Yar is not a boy
And neither is Deanna Troi
When I'm running Windows.

In my profession I'm still green
But I'll never stop.
I'll run this blessed programme
Til I get right to the top.

The lads at Wired all agree.
This Internet is just for me.
It keeps me up til half past three
When I'm running Windows.]

Aerial view of freeway traffic jam. Shot of Bob with a
disgruntled look on his face seated in the back seat of a cab
watching the tops of the palm trees slowly slide by.
He mutters under his breath: "Door Repair Guy!"
He glances forward and notices the cabbie watching him in
the rearview mirror. Bob slyly looks away, then looks back. The
cabbie's still watching him.
"Hey! Eyes on the road!"
"You're that guy, aren't you."
"Huh?"
"You're that guy."
"What guy?"
"That guy. I've seen you before. Wait a minute til I think
of it."
"Too bad I don't have amnesia. What a wasted opportunity."
"I got it! William Shatner's stunt double!"
"Huh?"
"Sure! From T J Hooker!"
"Right."
"Ha ha! I knew it! You wanna get out of this traffic jam?"
"If we don't I'm going to miss my shoot."
"Get on the hood!"
"Huh?"
"Get on the hood! My brother-in-law has a print shop!"
He holds up an official-looking permit. Bob catches the
words CAR CHASE.
Shot of cab crossing the median and weaving between the
oncoming traffic with Bob spread-eagle on the hood, a windshield
wiper in each hand.
"W-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah!!!!!"

[Commercial: Encore le Formby:

You've heard of my adventures
Exploring cyberspace.
Now here's a few more details
To substantiate my case.

I'm that pleased when I'm gophering
I go for files on anything
But my wife calls it loafering.
When I'm running Windows.

The helpful Miss Veronica
Sends advice on japonica
She found in Thessalonica
When I'm running Windows.

In my profession I'm brand new
But I'll never stop.
I'll run these flamin' Windows
Til I get right to the top.

My colour monitor's a whiz
I've viewed Van Goghs and Matisses
And every Dilbert strip there is
When I'm running Windows.]

Gul Piller comes around the corner, spots Kasidy Yates at
the coffee-maker, moves in and buttonholes her.
Piller: "Have you seen the cost estimates on -- hey, that's
an attractive brooch! Who is that?"
"Majel Barrett Roddenberry."
"No kidding. Wow. I need the figures on that planeload of
Canadians."
She flares. "Don't talk to me! Go talk to Jeri! It was
her bright idea! Don't blame me when the Actors' Guild sets up a
picket on the front step!"
"What? You think somebody tipped them off?"
"Something like that is bound to --. Why are you looking at
me like that? Do you think I'd -- ? Because if you think for a
minute --"
"Hey, come on. Where do you think I got my groundskeeper?
Connecticut? Come on. I just thought you might know --."
"Well. I can't say for sure, but --."
She leans out and looks significantly down the corridor. He
follows her glance. Scott Thompson is at the water cooler. He
notices, holds up a paper cup and says, "Great water!" before
hurrying off.
"But he's Canadian."
"That's it. Who knows what kind of vendettas they leave
behind when they come down here."
"I never thought of that!"
Absorbed as they are they miss a hooded figure slip past.
We follow as the figure navigates several turns and comes at last
to a side corridor where we find Door Repair Guy in the cat
burglar suit with his arm up a Coke machine.
DRG: "Oh! It's you."
The visitor removes her hood and looks back over her
shoulder. It's Ensign Sito.
"They didn't see me come in."
"Would it be a problem if they did?" By now he has his arm
extracted and is rolling down his sleeve.
"I've been asked to leave on several occasions."
"Well, that ain't right. You're alumni."
She steps forward and pummels his chest with her fists.
"Can't you understand? I don't want to be alumni! I want
them to write me back in! They left me in limbo!"
He takes her wrists and examines her nose.
"Did you do that makeover?"
"It's . . . it's not a makeover."
"You got a job?"
"I think I hear a security guard!"
She throws the hood over her face and flees around the
corner.
He shakes his head, crosses his arms, and leans his shoulder
against the machine, triggering a Coke can cascade: ka-thonk, ka-
thonk, ka-thonk, ka-thonk . . . .

[Commercial: Formby:

Me wife's all set to pull the plug.
"Away and get a job, ye slug."
She hasn't the computer bug
When I'm running Windows.

So I've gone down to Microsoft --
You shouldn't think I'm very daft --
I'm cleaning screens fore noon and aft
While I'm watching Windows.

In this profession I'm brand new
But I'll never stop.
I'll save these screens with my damp rag
Til I get to the top.

I've many new computing mates
I shouldn't doubt that at this rate
I'll soon be thick with William Gates
When I'm cleaning Windows.

This is a job that just suits me.
A Windows-washer you would be
If you could see what I can see
When I'm cleaning Windows,
When I'm cleaning Windows.]

Award-winning ten-minute forty-seven second tracking shot
follows:
The cab screeches up to the curb. Bob rolls off the hood,
presses his trouser creases between his thumb and forefinger,
comes around to the passenger side, takes his travel bag from the
back seat, slams the door, throws a couple of bills to the
cabbie, says, "Keep it", adjusts his jacket and steps across the
sidewalk (our last glimpse of the cabbie being his expression at
the discovery of two Canadian $20 bills in his hand.) The camera
follows Bob up the front steps of Star Trek HQ to a pair of doors
which open like clockwork as a UPS deliveryman and a Romulan come
out, both putting on their shades, and we follow Bob's back
across the lobby to the Security desk where Gul Taylor intercepts
him and leads him down a corridor and out the back to a make-up
trailer where the camera jostles its way in to see Bob being
seated in a barber's chair and descended on by a team of make-up
artists and costume people. We hear Bob exclaim, "Hey, what is
this: ER?" as hands cut the trousers off his legs and the jacket
off his back, while somebody crams a blue bathing cap on his head
and someone else begins to paint his face blue. Gul Taylor says,
"I've highlighted your lines in pink," pushing a script into his
hands, which are now also being painted. "You can never have
enough blue eye shadow," quips a make-up tech, applying it.
Someone from costume says, "Lift your butt," as he pulls the
black body stocking up Bob's legs. Then: "Oh my God! Girdle!"
A girdle appears and is put to work. The camera is bumped and
jostled and we lose sight of Bob as the wardrobe and make-up
people swarm, and then suddenly he's lifted up and propelled
black and blue out the door, the camera following into the bright
sunlight to see Bob and Gul Taylor stomping off toward Stage 17,
Bob communicating with his walk that he hadn't been told anything
about any damn Bolian, and then they enter the sound stage and
navigate the back sides of several sets and come at last to the
brightly lit cavern. Applause.
Bob: "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr De Mille."
LeVar Burton: "Just find your spot and read the cue cards.
Let's try to get this in one take, people. Action."
Bob: "Okay. Some of you agents have been wondering why
we're training to fight Federation citizens instead of the
Cardassians. Some of you are veterans of the Cardassian war.
Some of you might even bear personal grudges against the
Cardassians. Well, let me tell you. It's the goal of the
Federation to make peace wherever possible, and we've made peace
with the Cardassians. The Cardassians are our allies. But some
people don't care for it, and they've made it their business to
overturn the treaty and plunge the border into war again. Our
mission is a simple one: preserve the peace. The McKee have a
lot of crack minds and a lot of Starfleet training on their side.
They're a tough opponent. It's your job to be tougher and
smarter. You all possess valuable skills and you've all been
supplied with credible personal histories of the sort that'll
make you highly attractive to Makwiss recruiting officers. Er.
The best way for the Federation to fight this insurgency is from
the inside. Think of yourselves as viruses in the body of the
Macaw. Um. Yeah okay. I hope you're all taking notes because
later on there'll be a McQuiz. Ha ha!"
LeVar Burton: "Cut!"
Gul Taylor: "Oh Bob!"

"What's the weather for tomorrow?"
"I'll check."
Click.
Bob: "And another hot and sticky one today. We reached 29
degrees Celsius, and with the humidity it felt like 34. Whoa!
Expect more of the same right through the weekend."
"Hm. It did seem warmer today."
"It really is amazing how short the spring is in Ottawa. I
guess I'll take the parkas in to the dry cleaner tomorrow."

Shot of cleaning contractor vacuuming the Bob couch set. He
vacuums in front of the couch, bends down, and pulls a piece of
cellophane from under a couch cushion. A handful of crushed
cellophane falls out, some of it shooting up the vacuum hose.
The contractor curses, shuts off the machine, and flips the
cushion up. Cellophane wrappers and cookie crumbs spill over his
foot. More cursing. He stuffs handfuls into the green garbage
bag attached to his belt, vacuums the rest, then flips the second
cushion. A second cascade ensues, this time including several
flattened Snackwells boxes. More swearing, garbage bag stuffing,
and vacuuming follow. He flips the third cushion, shaking his
head, and begins to stuff the debris into the garbage bag, then
stops, picks out a publicity still and holds it up to the light.
"To Bob. All the Best. Marina Sirtis."
He looks around and stuffs it into his shirt and continues
vacuuming, whistling and glancing over his shoulder.

------------
Written by Douglas McLeod, ai...@freenet.carleton.ca
------------
--
!!!!
http://www.consecol.org/~ajeanes/doorguy/intro.html
ftp://aviary.share.net/pub/startrek/parody/misc/DoorRepairGuy