NOTE: This MiSTing is third in a series. The other two parts can be
found at Web Site #9:
Part I: "Sati$faction Guaranteed"
http://www.masemware.com/mst3k/cgi/mstdisplay.pl/llanas_trilogy_1.DJY.txt?htmlmode=color&filename=llanas_trilogy_1.DJY.txt
Part II: "Proposition"
http://www.masemware.com/mst3k/cgi/mstdisplay.pl/llanas_trilogy_2.DJY.txt?htmlmode=color&filename=llanas_trilogy_2.DJY.txt
Part III begins immediately after the end of Part II.
[SoL. A warning buzzer goes off.]
Joel: Movie sign?!
Gypsy: [entering from left] Joel, a shuttle has just docked with the
satellite!
Crow: Must be Dr. Forrester's shuttle.
Orac: Please, friends! You have to hide me! They've finally come!!
[Joel and the bots look around in a panic for a good hiding place.]
Gypsy: Leave it to me, Joel!
[Gypsy scoops up Orac in her mouth and rushes offscreen, just as
Tarrant enters.]
Joel: Hi, uh, welcome to the Satellite of Love, Mr...
Tarrant: Tarrant. Del Tarrant.
[Tom shrieks and throws himself at Tarrant's shins. Joel struggles to
hold back Crow from attacking Tarrant as well.]
Tarrant: Call off your robot!
[He draws his phaser and points it at Tom.]
Joel: Whoa now, Mr. Tarrant del Tarrant! He's very harmless!
Tarrant: Just Tarrant. [as Tom bites him on the kneecap] Ouch! He's
attacking my shins!
Joel: TOM! Mr. Tarrant is our guest. Stop attacking him or no RAM
chips for a month!
Tom: But Joel!! The repetition! It's driving me insane!
[Joel finally reaches out and manages to pull Tom off Tarrant with one
hand while still holding onto Crow with the other. Tom growls softly
at
Tarrant.]
Joel: I'm sorry about that. We've been reading some fanfiction about
you and your crew, and well, it's been kinda rough. So what
can
we do for you, Mr. Tarrant?
Tarrant: [eyeing Tom and Crow warily] I'm looking for my computer.
Have
you seen a high-tech device about the size of a breadbox,
with
flashing colored lights all over it?
Tom: Nope.
Crow: No such thing.
Tarrant: I see. Well, do you mind if I have a look around?
Tom: Yes.
Crow: Absolutely.
Joel: Guys, be polite to our guest.
Tom: I thought we were, considering.
Joel: Just because we're prisoners doesn't mean we can't show some
hospitality.
Tom: As I was saying....
Tarrant: You're prisoners? Then I am fighting to free you and all
other
such piteous wretches from your captivity!
Tom: You take that back!
Tarrant: That computer is vital to my mission! You must help me find
it, for your own future and the future of all the galaxy!
Joel: [looking around, confused] Well, Tarrant, we honestly don't
have
any idea where your computer might be, do we, boys?
Tom and Crow: [innocently] No idea at all.
[Mads' light flashes.]
Joel: Excuse me. Our evil overlords are calling.
[He taps the light.]
Tarrant: I can't wait to get a look at those cads and--Avon?
[Deep 13. Dr. Forrester and Avon are standing by the camera. In the
background, Vila and Frank are toasting each other with some of Dr.
Forrester's foamy green drink.]
Dr. F: Hello, boobies! Enjoying your company?
Avon: Hello, Tarrant.
[SoL]
Tarrant: Avon? I got trapped in the shuttle somehow. Did you find
Orac?
[Deep 13]
Avon: Orac is up there, Tarrant. You just have to find him, and then
Vila can beam us back to our ship.
[SoL]
Tarrant: Oh--a mission! But Avon, we have some really repressed
people
here, and...
Crow: [quietly] Help! Help! I'm being repressed!
Joel: Um...excuse me, isn't Vila the short blond guy who's talking to
Frank?
Tarrant: Yes, that's Vila, and anyway...
Joel: Not to be rude, but if Vila's there with you, how's he going to
beam you anywhere?
[In Deep 13, Avon turns around to look at Vila]
Avon: Perhaps Soolin...
[Soolin and Dayna enter, looking refreshed.]
Soolin: Ah, just what the doctor ordered.
Dayna: Yes, I think we can have Vila beam us aboard now.
Avon: Ah. We seem to have gotten ourselves into a bit of a
situation.
[SoL. Gypsy enters.]
Gypsy: Joel, I put the you-know-what in... [she whispers in Joel's
ear]
[Deep 13]
Dr. F: Why don't I keep these boobies busy while we figure out a
solution
to your little dilemma, eh? I've got the third part of that
story
here, and believe me, it's the worst yet. On top of
everything
you saw in the first two parts, it has a self-insertion
character
and a Freudian medical scene too! Get ready for "This
Moment's
Madness!" Oh, and I'll leave the air on in the ship for your
friend, Kerr.
Avon: If it weren't for Orac, you wouldn't need to leave the air on
at all...
[SoL. Lights and buzzers go off. Tarrant points his phaser around
wildly.]
Tarrant: [shouting] What is this?!
Joel: [shouting] Don't worry, it's just movie sign! You'd better
stay
out here and look for Orac?
Tarrant: Good idea! Be strong in there--I will be working to free
you
all!
Joel: Um--okay...
Tom and Crow: WE GOT LLANAS SIIIIIIGN!
[Door sequence. They enter the theatre.]
Tom: Joel, why'd you let him loose on the ship? He could find Orac
while
we're in here!
Joel: He won't find Orac. Gypsy told me where he is.
[pats something on the fourth seat]
Bots: ORAC! You're safe!
Orac: Who...who was that purple goddess who rescued me?
Tom: Purple? Oh, that's just Gypsy.
Orac: I think I'm in love.
Joel: Oh boy...
> THIS MOMENT'S MADNESS
>
> by Dreelyn
Crow: That's great, but right now we have to watch this fic.
Tom: We'll help you through it, buddy.
> "Just a matter of feeling--
> This moment's madness is sure to pass,
Orac: And you'll wake up in a cozy padded cell....
Joel: That's the spirit!
> And tears will dry as you're leaving.
Tom: Unless it's raining, of course.
> Who knows, you might find something to last..."
Crow: Like canned peaches!
Tom: Or Twinkies!
> --"A Matter of Feeling"
> Duran Duran
>
> "I told you not to disturb me!" Avon snapped from his chamber.
Joel: [Avon] I'm disturbed enough already!
> Tarrant stood just outside.
Crow: [Tarrant] Can I have my *Playboys* back, please?
> "We're orbiting Llanas," the pilot said. "I just thought you'd
> like to know." Tarrant walked back to the flight deck of the stolen
> Federation cruiser.
Tom: For Pete's sake, just give the thing a name.
> Since the five companions had left Arda One,
Joel and Bots: The Pleasure Planet!
> the now-destroyed Pleasure Planet,
Crow: Oh, right.
> Avon had remained in his chamber,
Orac: [darkly] Or so they thought. But they would realize the truth,
once they started finding the shriveled, white vegetables....
Joel: [nervously] You're getting a little too good at this, Orac.
> never once coming out.
Crow: Why doesn't he just admit he's gay, already?
Tom: Of course, thanks to that "fully-functioning hyperdrive," Avon's
only been in his chamber for about 10 minutes.
> He had taken the defunct Llanian Birth and
> Growth Accelerator from the Federation even though it was of no real
> use.
Tom: The motive for which is to be explained later? I hope?
> Tarrant knew there was a method
Tom: Stanislovsky?
Joel: Melbourne?
Crow: Rhythm?
> to Avon's madness, but he
> almost didn't want to know *what* it was.
Tom: Neither do we!
> Upon reaching the deck, Tarrant was met by eager gazes from
> three pairs of eyes.
Crow: Arrgh! It's the disembodied body parts again!!
> "Well, did you tell him?" Vila asked.
> "Yes."
> "And what did he say?"
Joel: [Tarrant] He said "Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious."
> "Very little." Tarrant sighed and took a seat.
Tom: He'd hoped the conversation would open the communication
pathways and make asking Avon on that date that much easier, but
alas, to no avail.
> Moments of
> maddening
Tom: Plot devices...
> silence ensued before Avon stormed onto the flight deck,
Joel: [Avon/Picard] Number One, engage!
> wheeling the Accelerator in front of him.
Joel: He goes nowhere without his machine!
Crow: Orac must be jealous.
Orac: What's that?!
Joel: Relax--it's just a joke we made to get us through these
stories.
> "Are we in teleport range?" the computer expert inquired,
> taking a bracelet from the rack.
Crow: The fic has driven Avon to shoplift!
> "Yes," Tarrant said calmly.
Tom: [Tarrant, thinking] God, I want him!
> "I want you to put me down
Crow: [Tarrant] OK. Avon, you suck!
> on Llanas. I'm taking the
> Accelerator with me. *Don't* follow me."
Crow: [Tarrant] *Don't* worry!
> As Tarrant stepped
> forward to protest, Avon drew his gun.
Tom: Wakachikawakachika...
> "I think he means it, Tarrant," Vila said.
> "If I don't contact you in twenty-four hours... I'll contact
> you in twenty-four hours."
Crow: Are we headed once again to the Department of Redundancy
Department,
or did the fic lap itself already and I missed it?
Tom: [weeps] I'm so confused!
> Avon looked at them all, hoping none
> noticed his sudden shift in speech.
Orac: Suddenly, he was speaking Esperanto!
> He stepped into the teleport
> with the machine. "Now," he ordered Tarrant, threatening him with
> the gun.
Crow: Boy, Avon's really into this whole S&M thing.
> Tarrant switched on the teleport and Avon was gone.
Tom: [Tarrant] It was so easy. Why didn't we think of that before?
> Avon soon found himself on the surface
Joel: [Avon] Ah, here I am!
> of one of the most
> desolate planets he had ever seen. Pools of smoldering muck and
> stunted, dead trees were scattered everywhere.
Crow: It's Pittsburgh!
Joel: Uh, we apologize to anyone out there who lives in Pittsburgh.
Crow's never actually seen it, you know.
> Avon wrinkled his
> nose at the stench. He was standing on a plateau,
Joel: Wait--it's a volcano.
Tom: No, it's a plateau.
Crow: Too late, you've ruined my illusion.
> and from it he
> could see that the ruined landscape stretched for miles without a
> break.
Joel: Wow--it's going to get cramps if it keeps that up!
> There seemed to be a canyon ahead of him
Tom: So that canyon doesn't qualify as a break?
Crow: Naw, more like a fissure...
> and, wheeling the
> Accelerator with him, he decided to take a closer look.
Joel: [Avon] Doo-de-doo-de-doo, let's check out the big hole...
aaaaaaaaaaah!
> The canyon was wide, but relatively shallow.
Tom: It compensated for its weight problem with its caustically witty
remarks, unaware that it offended nearly everyone who heard it.
> The ground below
> was as barren as that under his feet, but littered with rubble.
Tom: [Fred Flinstone] Barney!
> While walking along the brink, Avon nearly tripped over a small
> piece of metallic debris, which was half-buried in the moist ground.
Crow: [Avon] Damn those land mines...
> He bent down and pulled it out from the ground, brushing it off with
> his hand.
Tom: One man's junk is another man's...junk.
> It was a sign, printed in Terran and in some language
> that was foreign to him.
Orac: Actually, it was Pig Latin.
> The sign read:
>
> Llollonoka
> 2,000,000
> Capital of Llanas
Tom: A *street sign*? You've got to be kidding me!
Joel: Tom, we've been over this plot-contrivance thing a million
times...
> Avon dropped the sign and shook off a sudden chill.
Crow: [Avon] I knew I should've gotten that flu shot!
> The canyon
> before him, as he now realized, had once been a city.
All: D'oh!
> His mind could just begin to comprehend the death and destruction that
> had taken place here.
Crow: [stupid Avon] Der...lessee...big hole...street
sign...ohhhh--death
and destruction!
> He sat on the ground near the edge of the
> cliff, crossing his legs and resting his forehead on his fists.
Tom: Maybe if he rests hard enough, he'll knock himself out.
> He
> began to think over his reasons for coming to this place.
Joel: I hope he clues us in when he figures them out.
> The
> planet's population had been extremely imbalanced--100,000 females
> to every male.
Joel: So there were...[quick calculation] twenty men in that city.
Tom: Yep. Twenty very tired, but very happy, men.
Crow: Reason enough for coming here, I'd say...
> Avon had thought that by returning this machine he
> could do some good, and somehow make amends for all the wrongs he
> had done.
Orac: Why would he want to do that?
Joel: Because he's out of character.
> He realized now how stupid that was.
Joel: Something we knew all along.
> He was trying to
> atone for killing a native of a dead planet by helping to repopulate
> the planet, and instead he had found that there was nothing left to
> repopulate.
Tom: Author, thy name is Soolin!
> He started to ask himself why he had even attempted
> this--it was something Blake would do...would have done. Avon's
> throat went dry.
Tom: That'll happen on a desert planet. Should've brought a canteen.
Joel: [raspy] Just call me...Dry Throat.
> Blake was gone;
Orac: ...to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. The
register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk,
the
undertaker, and...
Joel: [pats Orac] That's enough, Orac. We get it.
> he had to face it. He stood up
> again, very near the edge of the canyon. Memories were finally
> beginning to take root, spreading their foul tendrils to the corners
> to the corners of the computer expert's mind.
Tom: [Avon] What I wouldn't give for a weed wacker!
> He thought of Neyjha,
> the Llanian girl he had killed because he could not deal with the
> fact that she had been carrying his seed and his child.
Tom: Due to his own stupid refusal to invest in birth control.
> He thought
> of Blake, whose last word was the computer expert's own name,
Joel: [Blake, dying] Bill...Gates....
> and
> who died by his hand due to a misunderstanding. He thought of Vila,
> avoiding him after the trip on the shuttle the two had taken,
Crow: [Avon] I wonder if that had anything to do with the fact that I
stopped wearing deodorant.
> in
> which his every intention was to kill the thief in cold blood. He
> thought of Anna...
Tom: Pavlova?
Joel: Karenina?
Crow: Kournikova?
> Avon could stand it no longer. He looked at the grey sky,
> anguish on his face.
Tom: [Avon] Drat this lousy English weather!
Joel: Hey, he should be glad. You can't have proper angst in the
sunshine.
> He wanted to scream, but he was unable to make
> a sound.
Joel: [Avon] Drat that dry throat.
> He peered over the edge of the cliff, into the canyon. It
> was at least a fifty foot drop from where he was standing to the
> bottom.
Joel: He has amazing powers of distance calculation, doen't he?
> That, he thought, would be enough.
Tom: Oh, good! It's over! Oh...no...wait....
> He stepped back about
> three feet, closed his eyes, and calmly walked over the brink.
Tom: Why didn't he just walk off right then? Why step back?
Joel: Ours is not to reason why...
Orac: My logic circuits are hurting.
>
> Avon opened his eyes slowly. He was in a sort of cave, lying
> on some kind of bedding.
Crow: I'm sorry, story, do you think you could be a little bit more
vague?
> His body ached incredibly, and his head
> was pounding.
Joel: [Avon] Whoah, I must've been really drunk last night....
Tom: But did he get a traffic cone? It's not a good night unless you
get a traffic cone.
> He quickly realized that he was indeed alive. He
> closed his eyes and sighed.
Tom: Even suicide won't get you out of this fic, buddy!
> Maybe fifty feet wasn't high enough
> after all...
Crow: Avon made a mental note to try harder next time.
> He heard a rustling noise, and instinctively attempted to get
> up and hide.
Tom: ...Like a scared little bunny rabbit.
> He found the pain too great, however, and sank back
> onto the bedding. A short figure entered the cave and set down the
> bag it was carrying.
Joel: [Avon] Santa? Is that you?
> The being was dressed in a dirty white robe
> tied with a black sash, black boots and a black hood with a veil
> that covered its face.
Tom: No, apparently it's Bride of Santa...
> The figure turned to look at Avon and, seeing that he was
> conscious, it began to speak. "I see you've come to, Kerr."
Crow: Was that "to" supposed to be "too"?
Joel: Crow!
> The
> voice was clearly feminine, and it was pleasant and rich.
Joel: Miss Cleo?!
> "You've
> been out for over five hours, and that's not counting the time you
> spent at the bottom of that cliff. I took the liberty of dressing
> your wounds.
Crow: [Woman] See, there's a shirt on this one, and a little bowtie
on that one....
> Your left leg is pretty bad, Kerr,
Tom: [Woman] And don't get me *started* on your right elbow! Eww!
> and you've broken a
> few ribs. The robe you're wearing was all I could find--your
> other clothes were pretty torn up,
Joel: So...all his clothes mysteriously shredded in midair during a
fifty-foot drop?
Crow: Ah, she just wanted an excuse to strip him.
> and they were too tight to allow
> for the swelling
Tom: wakachickawakachicka...
> in your leg and arm, anyhow. I hope you're
> comfortable, Kerr. My name is Keyhna."
Tom: Really? I could have sworn it was "Mary Sue."
> She pulled the hood off and
> shook out her brown hair.
Crow: [Keyhna] Wanna party?
> Avon gasped.
Joel: [Avon] Why, Miss Keyhna, without your hood you're...beautiful!
> Standing before him was a nearly exact likeness
> of the girl Neyjha that he had killed.
Orac: Ah, I believe our author avatar has officially arrived.
> He closed his eyes and
> remained silent.
Tom: Good choice. If I were him, I'd take the Fifth too.
[CONTINUED in part 2]