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MSTing: HELIOPOLIS (3/5)

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a.ca...@genie.com

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Jan 9, 1996, 3:00:00 AM1/9/96
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[Continued from part 2]

> "May I have your number?" he asked.

Mike [falsetto]: "Umm... it's five."

>almost routinely. Pluck.

Crow: There's another one! Is =that= a sound effect?
Tom: I think it's a commentary on the youth's brash spirit!
Mike: No, no, no. Remember that flower metaphor? This is the horrific
payoff.
Tom: Good thing he decided against the poodle idea, then.

> "Yes," she said, suddenly ecstatic. "And could you-"
> "Sure," he said. He drew a random card

Tom [falsetto]: "Okay, now I want you to remember that card and place it
back in the deck!"

>out of his wallet and carefully wrote his telephone number on it.
> "Let me get my purse," she said. "I'll just go and get it," she
>added,

Mike: She's redundant and repetitious and redundant and repetitious and
redundant.

>her thoughts momentarily distant, as she remembered that she had come to
>the beach with a friend who, although she had gone off on her own for a
>while, was now back on the bench watching them. Daniel watched Aurora

Crow [wildly glancing around]: Y'know, I have the creepiest feeling I'm
being watched.

>as she trudged back over the hot sand toward where her friend was sitting.
>She retrieved an object from her purse, while fending off a barrage of
>questions from

Tom: --Sam Donaldson.

>her friend, and then hurried back with a piece of paper which she deposited
>in his hand.

Crow: I hope it's a restraining order.

> Without waiting for approval, Daniel kissed her lightly

Mike: If he went to Antioch College, he'd be in jail now.

>and bid her goodbye. She was delighted, infatuated, confused. Never mind,

Crow: Okay! Already forgotten. Let's go!

>Daniel thought,

Crow: Aw, man...

>she would work out her feelings sometime. It wasn't his concern yet. Then
>he left the beach and headed for Glenda's -- his girlfriend's -- apartment.

Tom: And that's the end of HELIOPOLIS's -- this story's -- beach scene.

>
> The Dreamer

Mike: Neal! How are we supposed to build a bond of trust when you keep
dragging up this "Dreamer" routine?

>what he had done for the rest of that afternoon at Glenda's apartment.

Tom: My bet's on hash.

>Strange, that was;

Crow [Yoda]: "Know your father, I did!"

>he just could not remember. It was as if the thread of memory he was
>following had been cut in two places and had a piece removed. But at least
>he had remembered something.

Mike: Unfortunately, it was all baseball statistics.

>It was a start. There he was in a small blue room staring up at the blue-
>and-white marbled ceiling, his eyes idly searching for patterns in the
>veins while his mind struggled to locate

Crow: --Waldo.
Tom: Aw, I was gonna say Carmen Sandiego.
Mike: Or Jimmy Hoffa.
Bots: Huh?

>the missing memory. Damn it, he should =know= what had happened -- at
>least have a guess! -- but the space in his brain reserved for this memory
>was vacant.

Mike: Wouldn't you know it? You drive around for hours and when you finally
find a space it's reserved for this guy's memory.

>He simply could not remember. Oh well, he thought. He skipped over the gap

Crow: Hey, could you pick me up a couple of polo shirts while you're there?
Tom: That's "over the gap", not "over to the Gap". Dummy.

>and picked up the thread on the other side.

Tom: Let's head on over to the other side ourselves, guys.

[1...2...3...4...5...6...]

[Purple light flashes.]

Mike: Hey, sensors are picking up yet another satellite! Let's check it
out! [hits purple button]

[Hexfield viewscreen opens. Inside we see another set of doppelgangers for
Mike, Crow, and Tom, only this time they're grossly overweight and their
faces are smeared with food.]

Mike: Hi, this is the Satellite of Love. Who are you?

SOP-Mike: *burp* This is the Satellite of Plenty. *belch* So what kind of
horrific torture are =you= being put through?

Crow: We have to read cheesy stories! The worst Dr. F. can find!

[awkward silence]

SOP-All: STORIES?! You get to read =stories=?

Mike: Hey, it's hardly a treat. We're talking Ratliff. Mentech, Schulman...

SOP-Tom: Big deal! We have to =eat= whatever Dr. F. send us! It's torture,
I tell you! TORTURE!

Mike: Oh, how bad could food be?

SOP-Crow: Well, my experiment today is that I have to finish off a case of
Crispers. What are Crispers? "Fried-Out Pork Fat With Skin Attached"!
This is what's on the =bag=! This is the least nauseating way they could
think of to describe this crap! *gags*

SOP-Mike: I, on the other hand, get to enjoy a two-liter bottle of Beefmato.
You've heard of Clamato? Same basic idea. IT'S LIKE DRINKING A COW! This
stuff really EXISTS!

Tom: How about you?

SOP-Tom: I'd rather not say.

Tom: Oh.

SOP-Tom: It's Scottish.

Tom: Oh.

SOP-Tom: Pray for me.

Mike: Well, no offense, but we're going to spend the next three weeks
throwing up if we spend another minute with you. Bye!

SOP-Crow: Yeah, bite me.

[Hexfield viewscreen closes. Lights flash.]

All: THANK GOD WE DON'T HAVE DISGUSTING FOOD SIGN!

[6...5...4...3...2...1...]

>
> It was late in the evening, but not dark; it was never dark in
>Heliopolis.

Mike: Crime was at an all-time high because Batman wouldn't come near the
place.

>He was returning home from somewhere (where? No idea.)

Crow [laughing]: Well, that's refreshing.
Tom: "Once upon a time there was this guy, and then some stuff happened, I'm
not sure what, and I have no idea what he did after that. The end."

>It was several days after the encounter at

Mike: --Farpoint.

>the beach. His father slid open the door and let Daniel into the apartment
>on the fourteenth story of Street H.V. #332.
> "What time is it?" his father asked dully.

Crow [Tor Johnson]: "Uhh... time for go to bed?"

>They both knew the answer.

Tom: 42. Everyone knows that.

> "Your sisters were waiting for you to come home -- Verona wanted
>help with her mathematics," his father said.

Mike: "Then she wanted you to put gasoline in the automobile and drive down
to the grocer to purchase facial tissue for her brassiere."

> "Oh, I'm =so= sorry," Daniel said, "I'll just go right away into
>=her= room and help her." His father pulled a wry face.

Tom: --out of his pocket.

>It was the old argument about the sisters' occupation of what had formerly
>been his bedroom alone.

Crow: Humor's always much funnier when you explain it a whole lot.

> "That," his father said, "is because you are never home."
> "Poulou," his mother scolded

Crow [high-pitched]: HA ha ha ha HA ha ha ha HA-- he's got a stupid name!
Poulou! Poulou! Poulou! Pou-pou-poulou! Ha ha HA ha ha ha--
Mike: Settle down, Beavis.

>from somewhere inside, "and Daniel. Stop this bickering. No one needs
>it." Like Daniel's father, she too sounded tired. She was sitting,
>tiredly,

Tom: I don't get it. Is she supposed to be tired or something?
Mike: I don't think so. Maybe if he says "tired" a few dozen more times
I'll start to buy it.

>at her desk where, judging from the stack of print-outs, she had been for
>some time.
> Poulou turned to address Daniel's mother.

Tom: "Four score and seven years ago..." HA! I love that one.

>"This is the fifth time this past week has come back entirely too late with
>no explanation."

Crow: "And I hated that Wednesday the =first= time through!"
Mike: He's right, though. There =is= no explanation for time travel.

> "You didn't ask for an explanation," Daniel said. His father stared
>at him in disbelief. He shook his head and squinted at Daniel's mother.

Crow: "Hey, Ethel! Ah thank Ah see me a porky-pahn down here!"

> "You see, Elise? I didn't ask for an explanation," he said. He
>stretched out his hands as a gesture of

Tom: --catchin' a really big fish.

>helplessness. Daniel's mother squinched

Crow: EWWW!
Tom: In public, too!

>her mouth into a frown.
> "Daniel," she reproached.

Tom: That's not an intransitive verb, Neal. It's not even really a speech
word, Neal. Where's your direct object, Neal? Where is it? Where? WHERE?

>Daniel leaned back against the closed door and said nothing.

Mike: Of course he did, love, of course he did. *sigh*

> "Please tell us where you were," his mother asked him politely.
>Poulou shifted his weight slightly, as if to throw its force behind his
>wife's command.

Crow [gruff]: "Here y'go, hon'. Mah ass is backin y'up all th' way."

> "Is it that important =where= I was?" Daniel asked. "The mere fact
>of my absence seems to be all that matters. But I was with Glenda if you
>must know."
> At that moment there was a bustle

Tom: --in your hedgerow, in case you don't know.

>in the nearby hallway as a door was opened and a young girl rushed out of
>the room. Daniels squatted to receive her

Crow: Aw, no, he's multiplying! They're all over the place!

>and she tugged at his shirt. "Dan'l, Dan'l" she said, unable to pronounce
>the name quite right.

Mike: That =would= explain why it's SPELLED DIFFERENTLY! AAGGH!
Tom: Calm down, Mike. This is Neal "'=NOOOOOOOOO!!!=' he screamed loudly"
Mentech here. I'll take a little redundancy gladly if it'll get him to
stop using "reproached" as a substitute for "said".

>Her name was Corydrane and she was

Crow: --in for years of therapy.

>five. Daniel's parents brightened as she came out.

Mike: "We're glad you're a lesbian, dear. Now we don't have to worry about
George F. Will picking you up on the beach."

> "Yes, it's Daniel," Poulou said. "At last. He's late."

Crow: He's pregnant?
Mike: He's dead.
Tom: He's all of these and more!

>Corydrane dreq

Tom [twitching]: That... that's just a bunch of random letters!
Crow: I don't know about Corydrane, but this =story's= dreq all right.

>back her soft, blond-haired head

Mike: Her =head's= soft? What, is her skull made of cartilage?
Tom: Nerf, maybe.

>in cute suprise, staring wide-eyed at Daniel. Then her severe expresseion
>dissolved into a grin.

Tom: Wow, lots of typos.
Crow: Whenever Neal has to write about a child his fingers get all shaky.

>"Dan-don, dan-don," she chanted,

Tom: --and an enormous demon appeared and cast them all into the seething
pits of hell.

>tugged on his shirt in the direction of their room, and ran off to it
>again. Daniel stood up and shrugged at his parents.
> "How is Glenda?" his mother asked him kindly.
> "She's fine," Daniel said noncommitally.

Mike: "Found out today she's actually Ed Wood in a dress. Surprisingly, I
don't have a problem with that!"

> "Could you give us some idea of when you will return, when you're
>with her?" she asked. "I don't mind at all, it's just that..."
> "We've never met her," Poulou accused.

Tom: I Accuse My Children.
Crow: Poulou-- hee hee hee!

> "What, never?" Daniel asked, suprised. "I'm sorry. I must keep on
>forgetting. I'll have to arrange for you to meet her some time. You'd
>like her," Daniel lied. Poulou made a disgusted clicking noise

Mike: --and flipped himself up off his shell and back onto his feet.

>and left to go to the family room; he knew very well that Daniel would
>never just forget something like that.
> "You can find dinner," he said, departing.

Crow [gruff]: "I'm sure there's sumthin' under th' sofa or sumplace."

>Daniel leaned against the door again, but tensely, temporarily this time.

Tom: As opposed to the last time, when he leaned against the door for his
entire life.

> "Dad is in a bad mood tonight," Daniel said conversationally.
> "You were late," Elise said,

Mike [falsetto]: "--and he still hasn't gotten used to Mallory going out
with that Nick guy."

>"and, yes, I suppose these things are bound to happen," she said
>diplomatically.
> "But I didn't have to be so rude, right," Daniel said.
> "You were!" she exclaimed, staring unswervingly into his eyes. He
>looked away.

Tom [Daniel]: "Mah-ahm! Quit it with the goo-goo eyes!"

> "Sorry, I guess," Daniel said incidentally, then he straightened up
>and

Crow: --was crowned Prince of Posture!

>walked away. His mother shook her head and returned to the computer screen
>in front of her.

Mike [falsetto, making typing motions]: "I am a 13-yr-old cheerleader.
R there any hot guyz here?"

>Daniel tapped lightly on his door and then entered his room.
> It was a spacious room but it had only one window,

Tom: --and he was hoping for at least a couple of choices as to where he'd
plunge to his death.

>under which Daniel had jealously guarded his space against the invasion of

Crow: --the secret fleet of black helicopters the UN will use to take over
the world!

>two consecutive sisters. He lay down on his brown silky pillow-bed,

Mike: Y'know, those sheets =used= to be white.
Crow: Eww.

>then propped his head up on his arm so he could see what Verona and
>Corydrane were doing.

Tom: Lamenting their freakish names, no doubt.

> "You were late," Verona said, as if that somehow scored a point in
>her favor.

Mike: And as if the last three dozen characters hadn't just said the same
thing.

> "Was not."
> "Was too!" Verona said. Corydrane giggled and chewed on the bottom
>of one of her rubber pyramids.

Tom: Actually, they're only coated with rubber. The inside's lead. She's
five years old and already sterile.

> "You gwand dan-don," she said with puffy cheeks and an apricot
>stained smile. It made Daniel melt.

Crow: Eww! Get a spoon.
Mike: The thing is, you just know that if Neal were confronted with an
actual child he'd run screaming.
Tom: I doubt he's ever ever met a real child. I mean, sure, the cliched
portrayal's to be expected, but would it be too much to ask for a cliched
five-year-old if she's supposed to be five? Neal's playing this kid like
she's two.
Mike: Maybe she really =does= have a history of lead poisoning.

> "Cawydwane, cawydwane," he mimicked her.
> "Dan'l!" she reproached.

Tom: [bashes head repeatedly into seat]
Mike: Hey, Servo, cut it out. Crow, make him stop.
Crow: I'm with Tom. This is =terrible=. She's worse than Raven-Symone and
the Olsen Twins put together. Any more Elmer Fudd Fwench and I'm going to
dropkick her across the room.

> "I need your help on this problem," Verona addressed Daniel,

Tom: [attempts to gnaw own head off]

>businesslike. He huffed off of his bed and walked over to Verona.
>Standing behind her, he examined her work on the schoolscreen.

Mike: I'll bet that would've seemed really futuristic in 1935.
Crow: "Someday children will do their schoolwork on =computers=! Why, many
of them will have a computer in their very own =home=!"

> "Here," Verona poked the matte screen with her middle finger.

Crow: I've been doing that to this story for ages now. Doesn't help.

>A mathematical curve she had traced on the screen was flashing red in error
>along a small section. "The computer keeps telling me I've made a mistake
>but I can't see where."

Mike: Umm... the flashing red part, maybe? Just a thought.

> "Hmmmm," Daniel said, pretending to think.

Crow: Conclusive proof that he's not a Method actor.

>He held his chin in repose and thumped the floor with his foot as he
>started to whistle softly.
> "Daniel! That bothers me," Verona complained.

Mike: Where does Neal get these concepts? Last time it was a bunch of
boring people complaining that nothing happens. Now it's a bunch of
annoying people complaining that they're bothering each other.
Tom [disoriented]: ..."reproached"..."addressed"..."huffed"...
Mike: That too.

> "Oh, poor baby," he retorted. "Look, do you want me to help or
>what?"
> "Just =do= solve the problem," Verona sagged

Mike [pretentious Boston accent]: "Ah, fight, fight, Hahvard, =do=."
Tom [grumbling]: No, she didn't =say= it... would've been too easy for her
to =say= it... no, she decided to go ahead and =sag= it...

>with an all-too-adult display of impatience.
> "No," he teased. He pivoted on his foot as if to

Crow: --make a quick chest pass to Malone for the hoop!
Mike: Hey, Crow, you seem to be holding up pretty well. What's your secret?
Crow: Oh, I'm used to coping with horror. I was in Nam.

>go back to his bed.
> "Dan-don, Dan-don," Corydrane piped from her bed where the rubber
>pyramids she had been sticking together had fallen apart, again.

Mike: Maybe because rubber isn't adhesive.

> "I'm gonna get you!" Daniel said monstrously and grabbed Corydrane,
>who squealed with delight. He tickled her acutely.

Mike: Better than tickling her obtusely, I guess.
Crow: But not quite as good as bashing her head into the wall.
Tom: And then feeding her to the German shepherds.
Mike: Tom! Crow! This is sick! You're talking about slaughtering a child!
Tom: Three words, Mike. "You gwand dan-don."
Mike: Still.

> "Dan'l," she said between uncontrolled bouts

Crow: I saw one of those on pay-per-view. The jujitsu guy cleaned up.

>of laughter, starting to writhe out of his grasp more determinedly: she was
>getting worried that he wasn't planning to stop.

Tom: I'm getting worried that Neal isn't planning to stop. How much longer
before we finally cut away from this gruesome scene?

> "Now that's enough!" he thundered,

All: You said it!

>and he gave her one, last playful rag-doll shake.

Mike [public service announcement]: "Shaking babies, even in fun, can cause
tragic head and neck injuries!"
Tom: Good.

>Meanwhile Verona was trying to get his attention.

Crow: She was madly firing off signal flares.

> "Sometimes, Daniel..." she scolded him.
> "The princess is upset, awww," he chided. "Now look here," he
>pointed to a different spot than Verona had. "The real problem is here --

Tom: I really hope he's pointing up off the page at the author.
Crow: "Did I request thee, maker, from my clay to mold me annoying? Did I
solicit thee from ill-conceived characterization to promote me?"

>the curve goes up here, =up= here, not down again."
> "But I keep trying and it won't go!" she whined at him, and dared
>him with her eyes to try and fix it. "How would you do it?"

Mike: "Welp, first of all, y'wanna reroute yer transverse hoses -- y'got
some blockage here an' y'don't want that!"

> "Damned if I know -- you're the math expert around here, not me.
>I'm just the loafer, right?" he poked her.
> "You gwand dan-don!" said a neglected Corydrane.

Mike: Okay, I give up. Get the German shepherds.

>
> So that was domestic life, the Dreamer thought.

Tom: No, that was hell. Sheer, unadulterated hell.

>That particular memory ended there, so he searched for another,

Mike: Could you pick a less annoying one this time?
Crow: How could he not?

>listening closely for echoes of Aurora or Glenda: those two names stirred
>something in him.

Tom: Seen the teenybopper. Bring out the guy in the angora sweater.

>He tried hard for several minutes, and met with no success whatsoever. It
>was maddening.

Crow: Neal describes his attempt to think up a remotely interesting scene.

>He felt oppressed by his surroundings. The ceiling hung too low, weighing
>him down. The bed was itchy and uncomfortable. The air was hot and
>stagnant; he was being suffocated.

Mike: Hmm. Reminds me of the Motel 6 in Medford, Oregon.
Crow: Reminds me of reading that last scene.

> When it at last seemed unbearable, he went over to the window and
>pressed his face against its cool surface. He looked out into the liquid
>blackness of Space. It seemed so close;

Tom: Unless that's one =really= thick window, it =was= so close. Sheesh.

>he wanted it to flow through him -- but the smooth polished window got in
>the way.

Crow: Don't let that stop you, buddy! Haven't you ever seen the THE
HUDSUCKER PROXY?

>It was sheer and clean, with sharply cut edges. A thin, precise rainbow
>glinted off the bevelled edge. Glass! Glass!

Mike [laughing]: Well, that's =one= way to inject some energy into a story.
Crow: Now is that just another sound effect, or does it mean something now,
or...?

> Glass meant something, but he could not fathom what.

Crow: Guess that answers that. *sigh*

[Commercials]

[Continued in part 4]

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