MiSTed: "CivStory" with short: "The Creepy Guy Saga" by Mike Barklage (Chirpy the Mutant Hellbeast) barklage@ucsu.Colorado.edu Hello all! This is my fourth full-length MiSTing. But before we begin, I need to make a few explanations. The short at the beginning is actually two AOL posts from KeijiKJ, also known as the Creepy Guy, or ScaryGuyWithBots. For those who weren't at the Con and don't know who I'm talking about, this is the guy who was talked about on-line for a month after the Con was over. He is the person who dressed up as Joel for the entire weekend (not just the Costume Party), carried around semi-accurate renditions of Tom and Crow, talked endlessly about those bots to anyone who would listen, and said Jef Maynard feared for his job after seeing how much better KJ's bots were. He also sneaked into the BBI Studio Press Tour and was forcibly removed, plus a whole host of other embarassing things. These posts were taken from the early parts of the flame war in the MST folders on AOL, before it descended into puerile name-calling. It was basically KJ (calling himself "BOTMASTER") versus everyone else... are you surprised? At any rate, on with the show! In the not-too-distant future... 6...5...4...3...2...1...* [Scene opens on SOL bridge. Crow and Tom are both doing something.] TOM: A greeting and question of occupation. CROW: An answer. Something cleverly hip. TOM: A conversation ensues. CROW: Biting, witty remark. TOM: Indignant retort. CROW: Insulting yet witty commentary, with the phrase, "Bite me," thrown in somewhere. TOM: Violent threats in a loud tone of voice. [Mike enters and puts his hands on the bots in a calming gesture.] MIKE: Soothing, non-inflammatory words. TOM: Explanation of anger. MIKE: Unexpected and funny response. [Gypsy enters.] GYPSY: Richard Basehart! [Gypsy leaves. The Mads' light flashes.] MIKE: Obscure pop culture reference. [Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is looking puzzled. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then opens it again.] DR.F: Just what are you doing, Weiner Boys? [SOL.] CROW: Hilarious response! [D13.] DR.F: Oh, I see. Whatever. FRANK! [Frank enters.] FRANK: Yes, Your Immenseness? DR.F: Load up today's experiment, will you? FRANK: Right-o, Steve! [SOL.] MIKE: Forrester derisively describes the experiment and includes several insults directed at us. [D13.] DR.F: Your experiment today is... hey, you can't predict me like that! No, not Clayton Forrester! I'll show you! Your experiment today, my friends up in space, is a delightful piece of fiction from alt.startrek.creative called "CivStory." It is preceded by an intellectual short from the Creepy Guy, who is a wonderful human being in his own right. I sincerely hope you enjoy it! [SOL. Lights and buzzers are going off.] , ALL: CLICHED CATCH PHRASE MEANT TO IMPLY PANIC!!! 1...2...3...4...5...6...* [Mike and the bots enter the theater.] MIKE: Oh, that *is* fun, isn't it? CROW: Biting social commentary! > Subj: Re:Hmm... TOM: Hmmmm... AOL posts... > Date: 95-01-06 01:50:50 EST > From: Keiji KJ CROW: Oh no! It's the Creepy Guy!!! > > I dunno... MIKE: ...much about proper social interaction. > > I dress like Joel, TOM: You think you *are* Joel. There's a difference. > my wife wasn't there (and the only call made to her was by > me-'Love you, wish you were here', that sort of thing). CROW: I love you, you love me, yadda yadda yadda... > Best Brains has been > friendly enough, (just got a letter from them last week), TOM: Probably telling him he's been stricken from the Info Club. > the bit about > fragile is my guess as to why the original ones weren't on display (don't > know why really-haven't asked). Besides, what does 'better ' mean, anyhow? > Jef's rendition and mine MIKE: Jef Maynard doesn't make 'renditions,' he makes originals. CROW: Original whats? MIKE: Uh... muffins. CROW: Oh. > were for two different purposes: his have to be made > fast, because he has a really heavy workload, and has to make a lot of props > fast. TOM: So you're saying Jef does things fast? > My design was based on the idea that they would have to be as strong > as possible to take transporting and knocking about. MIKE: Insane maniacal bot abusers! Next on Geraldo! > Also, mine had to be > designed so they could be disassembled quickly, CROW: No disassemble! > and with only a screwdriver. TOM: Still have that drinking problem, eh? > They are rigged so they'll do anything any of the bots in the show ever did > as well. MIKE: These bots are rigged to explode if they go below 50 MPH. > Darn it, you've gone and goaded me into going on in a log winded, > boring fashion about my 'bots again! TOM: Ha ha ha... KILL HIM! > Keep in mind that if you get a prop > guy to start talking, he'll go on forever about how to > cast urathane. CROW: Keep in mind to bite me. MIKE: Eww! What you do in the privacy of your home is *your* business, KJ. > > As to attending future events, well, I wonder why they sent the letter with > the 'sorry we didn't acnowlege your journalist credentials sooner' message. TOM: Me too, since I doubt they ever sent one. > Besides, how can you revile someone you don't know to any extent, and have > had relatively little contact with? CROW: Easy. Through on-line services. > It's remotely possible that what you say > has some tiny grain of fact in it (I tend to crack really bad jokes, and I do > go on about my props too much; so it's no telling how many people I might > have rubbed wrong). MIKE: If there were 2000 people at the Con, I'd say, roughly, 1999. > Your post as a whole just doen't relate to reality. TOM: Ironic, isn't it? > Anyhow, how would YOU know? Do you work there? > > As to anyone elses Crow, there was one, count 'em, attempt at Crow (besides > my own, of course) , CROW: Of course. > the owner of which was so overwhelmed by my construction > that he hid it in his room. ALL: CROW: Ego alert! Ego alert! > I encouraged him to bring it out, complemented > him, and gave him my card along with an offer to help him locate the parts he > didn't have. I don't see how you can get any nicer than that. TOM: Or anymore condescending. > > As far as I know, he didn't carry it around much after that because it broke > in transit, so he was a little embarrassed. MIKE: As opposed to *my* bots, which can survive a free-fall from 10,000 feet. > > I'd think that it's unlikely that the Brains would want to harass little 'ol > me. CROW: It's the other way around, KJ. > For one thing, > it wouldn't be in their best interests. I'm currently at work on two > articles, one of which I'm hoping to make the definative work on the subject TOM: On the subject of articles? > (with some help from Sampo). MIKE: Ah, so you're friends with M Sampo... > Certianly if they expressed a lot of (certianly > unwarrented) hostility toward me, well, that would tend to color what I > wrote. CROW: Blackmail. Works every time. > > Besides, it think if there was any real problem there, > Sampo would have mentioned it "Hey dude, they're not gonna let you in again". TOM: Like, whoa, Sampo's a surfer dude! > But really, as far as they 're concerned, they could have no way of knowing > if I decided to send someone else (an assistant, my wife, a friend, etc. > etc.) MIKE: That's the point, KJ. Send someone else, but *not you*. > And of course, if I had to do that, what I would say about it in print > would certianly be uncomplimentary. CROW: Nanny nanny boo boo. > > Besides, I made Trace laugh so hard he clutched his > groin; that's gotta count for something. MIKE: You gotta wonder what he was laughing *at*. TOM: We're getting into a whole weird area here. CROW: Who's Trace? MIKE: Uh... Crow, I'll explain when you're older. > > Finally, I think you are jumping to WAY too many conclusions TOM: About what? Trace clutching his groin? > > > > > Subj: Re:Fourth post. CROW: Do you get the feeling we're jumping from conversation to conversation? > Date: 95-01-20 01:35:32 EST > From: Keiji KJ > >> Second of all, Sampo, can you explain to me too what the deal is in the >> botmaster folder? MIKE: Sampo, what's Vietnam? > > No, I've got a better Idea. Let's discuss it publicly. TOM: *sigh* Oh great, here we go again. > > Dumping out all the blatant lies and pure hogwash Sampo and his buddies have > said, or are saying, what happened is: MIKE: Whoa! Suddenly Sampo's not your friend anymore. > > I, 'Botmaster, CROW: I object to that. > went to the MST con. While there, I brought my 'bots (Tom & > Crow), TOM: Hey! We're not your bots! > which are the best ones that have been done outside of the Brains. I > also wore a very nicely done red jumpsuit, ala Joel. MIKE: I see his ego has survived this flame-war unscathed. > > Well, reasonably enough, I am pretty proud of my constructions, CROW: "Reasonably proud"? More like "head so large you can't fit through doorways." > so > I suppose Sampo and his buddies felt that I was a little too pleased with > myself. TOM: Yeah, that's it, KJ. They're jealous of you. > Also, I tell a lot of bad Jokes, so I told a few that Sampo and his > mob didn't like. MIKE: We report ta Sampo, see? Youse keep quiet and yer family don't get hurt. > By the appearance, they were following me around taking > notes, CROW: No, word gets around about really annoying people. > because apparantly Sampo has used his very good connections to see to > it that the brains have heard every joke I made, quoted out of context and > with appropriate distortions. TOM: The Sampo Conspiracy... next on the X-Files. > > So, at least according to Sampo, the Brains don't like me anymore , because > of the above. MIKE: No, they don't like you because you turned the Con into something twisted and evil. > Also, he and his lynch mob have treated every effort I've made > to explain, or to try and create some sort of understanding, CROW: "Every effort"? Um... I count zero times. > with some very > unreasonable nastiness. So you say the posts in the 'Botmaster file scared > you? Well, Sampo and his buddies posted those messages. TOM: All of them, including the ones from 'KeijiKJ.' > I think being > shocked by their sheer rottenness is a very reasonable reaction. MIKE: So is being afraid of KJ. > They've even recieved warnings from AOL. CROW: But I haven't. Nosiree. I wasn't anywhere *near* my own folder. > Keep in mind that all this came from my doing > something they just didn't happen to like; what's going to happen to YOU if > you do something they don't like? TOM: Let this be a lesson... to *you*. > > Remeber ZOMBIE NIGHTMARE? MIKE: Ugh. Boy, do I ever. > The bad guys in that movie were a group of kids > that did things they knew were wrong, because they thought that anything they > did as a group was OK. TOM: They were the Keating Five. > This kind of group is called a CLIQUE, and Sampo and > his friends are definately a Clique. CROW: Yep, AOL is just like a junior high school that way. > > You can't abuse people because they are different from you. It is > unacceptable to slap nasty names (like 'Creepy Guy', for example), on people > you don't understand. MIKE: We understand you. We just don't *like* you. > And Sampo has no authority to give people orders, not > to you, and definately not to me. TOM: Sampo controls us all! HE PULLS THE STRINGS!! > > -'BOTMASTER CROW: Once again, I object. TOM: Let's split, gang. [Mike and the bots leave the theater.] 6...5...4...3...2...1...*... [SOL. Mike is in the background typing on a typewriter. Crow and Tom are in the foreground.] CROW: Okay, are you ready, Mike? MIKE: Ready! TOM: All right! Let's start off, "Dear Mr. KJ..." CROW: No, no: "Dear Mr. Creepy..." TOM: Right, okay. Ahem. "Dear Mr. Creepy. We hope this day finds you in good health, and your basement workshop nice and warm." CROW: "We are writing to inform you that you are a loser, so why don't we kill you." TOM: No, don't say that. CROW: Um, okay, scratch the Beck reference. "Never have we been graced by the presence of a greater lunatic than when we met you at the Con. Your mere presence was enough to wake us screaming in the night for the next 3 months." TOM: "We know your life revolves around us. That's why we're scared of you. So next time there's a convention, please stay at home with your oh-so-perfect constructions, your jumpsuit, your ego, your paranoid delusions, and your Cindy Crawford gifs." CROW: "If we ever see you again, we have a whole bunch of forklifts revved up and set to kill. And in conclusion, bite me!" Woo-hoo!! TOM: "Signed, Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot." [Tom and Crow whoop it up while Mike takes the paper out of the typewriter.] MIKE: Okay, that's it! Now all we have to do is put it in an envelope, slap a stamp on it, and send it in the mail! [The room falls uncomfortably quiet.] TOM: Um... you don't suppose Dr. Forrester would send it for us? MIKE: Naw, probably not. CROW: Oh... [Buzzers, lights, and the whole shebang.] ALL: AAHH!! WE GOT USENET SIGN!! 1...2...3...4...5...6...*... [They enter the theater.] CROW: Well, there goes a great idea down the drain. > > > From: jfy@tivoli.com (Joseph Young) > Date: 11 Jan 1995 12:30:00 GMT > Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative > Subject: AUTOPOST: CivStory.zip (part 01/01) MIKE: Sid Meier's CivStory. > > This is an automated reposting of fiction from the alt.startrek.creative > archives. CROW: *sigh* Gee, this looks familiar. TOM: Mike, why there are *so many* bad Star Trek fanfics out there? > This is archive file: story/tng/Michael_Errante/CivStory.zip > Any comments, questions, etc. about the archives may be > addressed to jfy@tivoli.com. MIKE: It's like Hollywood, I guess. The system is set up so that there are more bad fanfics out there than good ones. Besides, bad TV breeds bad fiction. > =====================================CUT HERE=================================== > Exploding: story/tng/CivStory > Organization: Freshman, Art, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA TOM: Oh, joy. A freshman art major. CROW: He's got it wrong -- you don't become an art major until you've flunked all of your engineering courses your freshman year. > Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu MIKE: He's just zees guy, you know? > !cis.ohio-state.edu!news.sei.cmu.edu!fs7.ece.cmu.edu!crabapple.srv.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!me1g+ > ~Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative > Message-ID: > ~Date: Mon, 11 May 1992 13:13:49 -0400 > ~From: Michael Paul Errante > ~Subject: Civ Paper > ~Lines: 718 > > OK people here is the paper I wrote for my Civ class. I am sending this > as my very last message this year to this board. CROW: Thank god for small favors. > Any coments should be > sent to my e-mail address. I should have enough space for a bunch of > short comments. TOM: I hate it when my shorts get bunched. > > Hope ye like it. MIKE: ...at the Renaissance Festival! ALL: HUZZAH! > > ############################################################################### > # > > > > Scene: Outside shot of the Enteprise orbiting a red orange planet. > > Picard voice over: Captains Log Stardate 60107.4023. TOM: I miss my mommy. > We have just > finshed repairing the damage to science station on Seemu 3 and are proceeding > to leave orbit for a rondeavouz with the Hood. CROW: Yo, Picard's a homeboy N da Hood. > I am hopeful that our journey > will go without interuption for my crew has earned a rest. > > Scene: Main bridge. Worf is at tactical, Riker is in his chair. MIKE: Hey, do you mind? I'm on the throne here! > Troi is in hers', wearing her blue dress uniform. Data has navigation and > Wes is at the con. TOM: Oh no! First Creepy Guy is at the Con, now Wesley Crusher! > Several nameless ensigns are at the stations behind tactical. CROW: Hi, we're extras. > The captian enters from his ready room. > > Riker stands: We are ready to leave orbit sir, just waiting for your > command. > > Picard, sitting in his command chair: Ensign Crusher plot a course > heading 345.8 by 764.3. MIKE: In other words, down a bit and off to the right? > Warp 4. > > Wes: Course set and laid in sir. CROW: But *I'm* not. > > Picard:Engage. Number one you have the bridge, I will be in my > quarters. > > Riker: Can't wait to finish that book, eh captain. > > Picard: Yes Will, I just love Shakespeare. I am just finishing with > Hamlet right now. TOM: A "Shakespeare fan" who hasn't read Hamlet?! > I can't wait to see how Ophelia reacts to the news of > her fathers death at Hamlets hands. > > Nameless Ensign #1: She kills herself. > > Picard: What? MIKE: How did you get a line? > > Nameless Ensign #1: She kills herself, goes batty and thinks shes a > fish. It's all very beautiful. (He turns around, it is Q) At least thats > what I've been told. > > Picard: Q. CROW: R. > > Cut to opening. > > Picard voice over: Space the final frontier. These are the TOM: ...seemingly neverending... > voyages > of the Starship Enterprise. It's ongoing mission to explore strange new > civilizations, to . To boldly go where no one has gone before. MIKE: I guess they don't feel like seeking out new life, or exploring strange new worlds. CROW: How pathetic. A Trekkie who can't even get *this* part right. > > Lots of nifty space shots, and the Enterprise zooming all over the > place. TOM: Help! We're out of control!! > > Commercial- MIKE: Mentos: the Freshmaker! > > Scene: Outer shot of the Enterprise in warp. Title in the upper > right corner. ATW-Q. > > Picard: Q. CROW: Oh no, we hit a wormhole! > > Q: Pi-card. TOM: Pi-card, any card. > > Riker: What the hell do want Q? > > Q: Commander Riker, still the silver tongue aren't we. MIKE: Is that an invitation? > > Picard: Q! CROW: Picard just can't seem to get past that. > What are you doing here. I thought you out exploring > dead civilizations with Vash. TOM: No, actually I was just exploring Vash. CROW: Ba-dum-tss! > > Q: She got, well, upset when I brought an extinct lifeform back into > existence and it mauled a team of archeologist. MIKE: The *nerve* of her! > So I left her there to help > them patch things up. What have you been up to to Picard? Read any good > books lately? CROW: Only Howard Stern's. > > Data: Captain Picard was remarking on a book when you made your > presence known, and since you did comment on it you already know the answer > to the question,I do not understand your reasoning for the question. TOM: Ya know, Data gives us 'bots a bad name. > > Q: It was a joke you insufferable android. MIKE: Not a very good one, but still... > Something you are not > capable of understanding. > > Worf: Captain, permission to escort our 'visitor' off the bridge. > > Q: Try it and end up a cow. > > Data: There are several religions where being a cow is considered an > honor. The Hindus of Earth, the Deraks of Glorfinch, the Semba of... CROW: Data, for the sake of all robots everywhere... ALL: SHUT UP!!! > > Picard: Not now Mr. Data. Permission denied Mr. Worf. What is it > you want Q. TOM: I want someone to fix the '?' key on this guy's computer. > > Q: I just want to be friends, Jean-Luc. > > Riker: Sir, I say we just ignore him, maybe he'll get the hint and > go away. > > Picard: I only wish we could, but I think that solution is not a > possibility. MIKE: That didn't work with Fabio, either. > > Q: Stop talking about me as if I'm not here, it really bugs me. Now please, > just hear me out. CROW: Can I finish? Will you let me finish? > > Picard: As if I could stop you. > > Worf: I could try. TOM: Worf is stupid that way. > > Troi: Commander, I am sensing intense hostility from Leutenient Worf. [Mike and Tom groan, but Crow laughs.] TOM: Why are you laughing, Crow? CROW: Oh, I thought this was a parody. > > Picard: What is it that you are going to do to us Q. Get on with > it or leave. MIKE: Just be gentle. > > Q: Well, it has come to my attention that you don't have a firm > grasp on the interconnectedness of things. TOM: What things? MIKE: Well, you know, *things*! > > Riker: Just what does that mean. > > Q: It all very zen. First you have to understand the collective > unconscious. CROW: Oh, is the great Q going to give us a Civ lecture? > > Wes: What's the collective unconscious. TOM: Why do I sound drugged. > > Data: Accessing. MIKE: ...the Internet. Reading alt.sex.stories. Fascinating! > The collective unconscious is a term coined by > Karl Jung on twentieth century earth. The basic idea behind it is that all > the experiences of every sentient being in the universe can be accessed and > used by those who follow them. > > Wes: Oh, I may have to do an experiment on that someday. CROW: What, an experiment to see if warp engines have a collective unconscious? > > Q: You do that kid. I'm sure you'll find something out, or kill > your mom again. ALL: > > Wes: That was an accident, I was just trying to improve... > > Picard: Please Wes, we have more important things at hand than you. ALL: MIKE: I can't tell you how satisfying this whole exchange is! CROW: Do you think Dr. Forrester sent us a *good* story by mistake? TOM: No, I'm sure it gets worse somewhere ahead. > What are you getting at Q. > > Q: Well I was trying to explain that you have no sense of > continuity. MIKE: Neither do Star Trek writers. > Sure you occasionally run into someone you've met before but > you never see the reprocussions of what you've done. if you did you would > realize that you should be at war with the Cardassians, after all the last > time you looked they were gearing up for a war. > > Picard: SO they thought twice about attacking us. Who would blame > them. TOM: Hell, if I were them, *I'd* attack me twice. > I know how the past can come back to haunt you, look at what happened > with Yar. CROW: Poor scripts? Bad acting? > > Q: Yes what happened with Yar. Is her legacy dead or will her > granddaughter come back for revenge next. MIKE: It all depends on when Denise Crosby needs money again. > You know nothing of how one thing > can affect an entire civilization. TOM: Take Spam, for instance. > > Riker: And I suppose you are going to show us. > > Q: I had just planned on telling you but since you suggest it. Let's > give it a try. CROW: Hey! Since when has anyone listened to *Riker's* suggestions? > > Q snaps his fingers, MIKE: ...and whistles a happy tune. > and disappears in his usual flash of light. > Another flash at each of the bridge crew disappears, except the nameless > ensigns. Troi and Wesley. CROW: Now's the time to make my move! TOM: Forget it, geek. > > Scene: England, 1601. Picard appears in a flash of light alone. He > is dressed in a simple frock and worn trousers, both brown. CROW: Good thing they're brown, too, because -- MIKE: All right, Crow. > He glances around > in disaray. > > Picard: Q, where are you? TOM: Who Q? Where Q? > What have you done? I demand that I be > put back on the Enterprise immediately. > > Wandering Person #1: Oi, mister you best not be talkin' to yerself. > Someones gonna take ya as a crazy and trow ya in da loonie bin. MIKE: Oi'm Cockney, ya know! > > Picard: My fine man, would you care to tell me in which city I am > in, and , ah, what the date is. > > Wandering Person#1: Sure mister, yer in W England, and it's > June 14 1601. CROW: How did he pronounce the "W"? TOM: And why is West England considered a city? > > Picard: How very interesting. Thank you. MIKE: Now get away from me, peasant. > > Scene: Roman hall. Worf appears, he is missing the head ridges. CROW: And of course, he is not alarmed at all that he is missing a vital part of his anatomy. > He is wearing a white toga. A group of men are conferring near him. He > slips behind a column to conceal himself. TOM: I'd want to, also. Those togas are worse than hospital gowns! > > Senator #1: We must strike now, for the good of the Empire. MIKE: The Empire Strikes Back! > Caesar must die. CROW: Caesar Must Die(t). > > Senator #2: We must be unanimous, are ye with us Brutus. TOM: So Worf has been transported into a Shakespeare festival? > > Brutus: I...I do not know. Caesar is my friend, he has put his > trust in me. I cannot betray that. > > Senator #1: The good of the Roman Empire comes before any one man, > even Caesar. > > Brutus: True, but is it necessary to...k...k...kill him. MIKE: Porky Pig in a role that will surprise you... > Could we > not try to reason with him. CROW: Uh... we're not. > Show him he is hurting the Empire. He would listen. > > Senator #3: Caesar is not the man we once knew. MIKE: He's started wearing angora sweaters. > His mind has changed since he has gotten power over the entire Empire. > > Brutus: Ai, I know what you say is truth, it is just hard to accept. > I am with you. May Caesar forgive me, I am with you. TOM: Let's go, guys. [They leave the theater.] 6...5...4...3...2...1...* [SOL. Open on a close-up of Tom Servo.] TOM: Hello, folks! For this host segment, we thought it would be funny if we compared the crew of the Enterprise to a really dysfunctional family! So let's sit back and see what happens... [Cambot pulls back to show the entire bridge. Mike is in the center of the bridge area. He is wearing a "bald wig" and holding some beer.] MIKE: Ah, nothing beats a good bottle of cheap beer. Makes the pain go away. No where is that good-for-nothing son of mine? [Crow enters. He has a Riker-style beard.] CROW: What the hell do you want, dad? MIKE: Don't swear at me, boy. I'm your father. CROW: Only biologically. I see you've been hittin' the Earl Grey again. MIKE: What's it to ya? I'll get drunk when I wanna! And right now, I want you to go down to the store and get me more booze! CROW: But I was just going to go hang out at the pool hall! MIKE: You'll do nothing of the kind, you deadbeat! Now get me more beer! [Gypsy enters, pauses, and starts to leave again.] MIKE: Just where do you think YOU'RE going, young lady? GYPSY: I'm... uh... going to Beverly's to do some homework. MIKE: Don't lie to me, Deanna. I know you're going to see that biker guy Worf! GYPSY: So what if I am! MIKE: So what?! Why, you just bought yourself a two-month grounding! Get up to your room and stay there! GYPSY: It's my life! You can't control me!! [Gypsy storms out. A few moments later, Tom enters.] TOM: What's going on? CROW: Come here, you dog-faced nerd! TOM: Don't hurt me! [Crow pushes Tom over, who lands on the floor with an thud.] TOM: Daaaadd!!! MIKE: Now, now, son. Take your beatings like a man. [Tom hoverskirts out.] MIKE: Now are you going to get me some booze, Will? CROW: I will not! I'm going to the pool hall whether you like it or not! [Crow leaves.] MIKE: You come back here this instant! CROW: I hate you forever! MIKE: Oh yeah? Then I'm leaving you out of my will, er... Will! Do you hear me?! I'm Jean-Luc Picard, dammit! I'M JEAN-LUC PICARD!! [Suddenly lights and buzzers go off.] MIKE: AH!! WE GOT USENET SIGN!!! 1...2...3...4...5...6...* [Mike enters the theater. Crow and Tom are already there.] MIKE: Yikes. That reminded me of every Thanksgiving dinner I've ever attended. > > Scene: Lobby of some sorts, restroom signs are seen on the wall > behind Riker is dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and a shirt that has a > blue three quarter sleeves on it. TOM: Wow! There were about 8 different sentences crammed into that one! > Several people around him are jumping > around, laughing and screaming. CROW: Cool, a mosh pit. > He looks around and sees a poster. Bette > Midler at the Red Rocks Apitheater with a large sold out sign over it. The > date was Sept 14, 1973. > > Riker: Q, where the hell am I. TOM: Red Rocks Ampitheater. Jeez, you *are* slow, aren't you! > > Screaming Fan Boy #1: Come on man, Bette's about to come back on. MIKE: Thank you, Screaming Fan Boy! > > Riker moved with the flow of the crowd toward an open ampitheater > door. CROW: I guess tickets were free that day. > > Scene: Outdoors, near a forest of some sort. Data appears wearing a > pair of overalls, a white shirt and a wide brimmed straw hat. He looks > about. > > Data: Interesting. It would appear that I am now in the south > France, sometime near the end of the eighteenth century. TOM: How can he tell? MIKE: And who is he talking to? > Q must have > placed me here. I believe that the best course of action is to locate some > form of shelter and.... CROW: Thank you, Lt. Exposition. > > The aindroids head cocked sideways slightly. MIKE: ...before falling off his shoulders. > > Data: Strange, apparently my programming cannot come up with a > proper sequence that I should follow. I shall have to run a diagnostic on > them when I get back to the ship. TOM: Data, you are *such* an imbicile. > > Data headed away from the forest, attempting to whistle while > doing so. > > -Commercial CROW: Do you want to make more money? > > Scene: England 1601. > > Picard is wandering along the street, he approaches a large building, > opens the door and enters. > > Scene: A theater of sorts. TOM: It's only sort of a theater. It doubles as a bowling alley. > Seats are located on the upper level > only. The stage is several feet off the ground. MIKE: Floating. > The stage is not set at all. > > Actor #1: I don't think he's going to show today. > > Actor #2: Why not? > > Actor #1: He was having trouble with a scene. He probably is > still working on it. > > Actor#2: Well then. If he is not going to be here, what are we > to do. > > Picard: Pardon me. TOM: I tooted. > > Actor #1: There is no performance today good sir. You are not > supposed to be here, please leave. > > Picard: This is the Globe theater? CROW: No, it's the Globe Supermarket. Of *course* it's a theater! > > Actor #2: Yes. > > Picard: Ah, then would it be possible for me to see William > Shakespeare, if it is no problem. > > Actor #3: He is not here yet, and we don't quite expect him anymore. MIKE: The Writers' Guild is striking again. > > Picard: Do you know where I may find him. > > Actor #1: Have you tried him rooms? > > Scene: South France. TOM: Shakespeare lives pretty far away! > Data has taken to walking along a road. He > sees a cottage off the road and begins heading for it. He is humming. > > Scene: Enterprise Bridge. CROW: Well, *that* was a riveting scene! > Geordi is sitting in Rikers chair. > Wes is at the con. Troi is in her chair. MIKE: The *comfy* chair! > Dr. Crusher is standing next to > Troi. Nameless ensigns are at all other stations. The captains chair is > empty. > > Troi voice over: Counselors log, supplemental. TOM: We're all going to die. > The crew is > holding together well enough, considering the chain of command has been > completely obliterated. Q has yet to resurface and offer any sort of > explanation. I am most concerned about Geordi. The mantle of command > has fallen to him, CROW: And it hit him right on the head. > and he is very inexperienced, and worried if he will > make the correct decisions. TOM: It's your first time, isn't it. CROW: No! I've commanded lots of times! > > Geordi: Ensign Crusher, set a search pattern to search this > quadrant. Long range sensors. MIKE: Yeah, that always works. Just like level-1 diagnostics. > > Wes: Course set and laid in, sir. CROW: But *I'm* not. MIKE: Okay, we've used that joke enough. > > Geordi: Engage. > > Troi: Don't worry Geordi. We'll find them soon enough. > > Geordi: But how Counsellor. Q could have sent them anywhere, and he > probably did. TOM: Where you going, anyway? MIKE: Anywhere. TOM: Man, I wish I was going with you! > > Dr. Crusher: Did Q mention anything that might give us a lead to > where they are. > > Wes: Well he was talking about zen, and unconscious and changing > civilization. > > Dr. Crusher: You don't suppose he sent them back to change history, > just to prove it can be done. > > Geordi: We don't even know if Q is capable of something like > time travel. CROW: After all, the Enterprise only travelled in time in every other episode... > > Troi: He has seemed confidant in his omnipotence. TOM: In his impotence?! ...Oh. > > Geordi: I guess we'll just have to wait this one out. MIKE: We know how you feel. > > Scene: Roman Senate. Worf is making his way down near the floor. > He walks over to Brutus. > > Worf: You will derive no honor from this act. CROW: I know, but I always *wanted* to be a Senator. > > Brutus: What? I don't know you do I. > > Worf: (Shaking his head) No you do not, but I know of you and what > you plan to do. You will suffer if you go through with this treasonous act. TOM: Don't vote for the Contract With America. > > Brutus: But it is for the good of the Empire, that is not treason. > > Worf: Somethings come before an Empire. Honor is one of them. > You will be dishonored. MIKE: Since when has that ever stopped a congressman? > > Worf turns and walks away. Brutus turns and raises his hand, CROW: ...if he's Sure! > almost > shouting, but stopping. His head drops in thought. TOM: He picks it up off the floor and reattaches it. > > Scene: Red Rocks Ampitheater. Riker has just come through the > doors, he can barely hear the piano that is solely playing on the stage. > The light shines off the players white outfit. He listens. Chopins' > prelude n C minor drifts to his ears. He stops, caught up in the music. CROW: > He looks up, the sky is a deep indigo, stars gleaming. The song changes > from the normal one. Rikers attention is moved back to the stage. MIKE: Riker begins swiping at the air, trying to catch the notes. CROW: > > Riker: Beautiful. Beautiful music. TOM: Duh... music pretty. > > Scene: Cottage in S. France. Data has arrived at the cottage. > > Data: Odd, I do not understand how I came to come to this cottage. CROW: You walked, remember? > I wonder if this is more of Qs' doing. MIKE: Only if he was moving your legs for you. > > He Knocks. TOM: He paddy-whacks. CROW: He gives a dog a bone. > > Data: Is there anyone in residence here. > > He knocks again. We hear noise from inside. The door opens a man > with a red beard is in the door. He raises his hand to shield his eyes from > the sun. > > Data: Pardon me sir,... MIKE: Have you heard the good news about the Lord Our Savior? > > Van Gogh: Vincent, my name is Vincent. What is it you would be > wanting of my. Not a portrait I am sure. TOM: I'm not interested in any encylopedias. > > Data: No thank you. I would like (he is caught for a reason) CROW: If I caught Data, I'd have a reason, too. > somewhere I could stay for the evening. I am a...traveler from far away. MIKE: Yeah, that's it, that's the ticket... > > Van Gogh: You can stay on my floor if that suits you at all. > > Data: That will be acceptable, I am sure. TOM: Especially for someone who doesn't need to sleep. > > Van Gogh opens the door for Data to enter. Data goes in. Van Gogh > closes the door. > > Scene: An interior room. Picard is sitting on a chair, there is > one other opposite. MIKE: He's on Super Password! > A desk is in the corner by the window, a stack of > papers on it. > Shakespeare' voice: I hope that tea is acceptable, Jean-Luc. > > Picard: (laughing to himself) Yes tea will do quite nicely. CROW: Ha ha! It's funny, because, see, he likes tea! > > Shakespeare: (entering, and sitting on the chair) I am sorry you > had to go through all the trouble of finding me. It must have been hard > for you to get here from France. TOM: English pig! I wave my private parts at you! > > Picard: It isn't how I got here that worries me, it's how to get > back. > > Shakespeare: If you need work, I am sure the theater could use you > for a few weeks, building or something. MIKE: Heck, maybe you could star in a one-man version of "A Christmas Carol." > > Picard: No money isn't the problem, it's time. > > Shakespeare: I do not understand, do you have an engagement you > have to get to. > > Picard: Not quite, but I'll leave it at that. I wanted to ask you > about your plays, especially the new one, Hamlet. > > Shakespeare: A rather tragic tragedy. CROW: What, are you Yogi Berra all of a sudden? > It has the makings of a very > good play. Love, betrayal, revenge and death. Lots of death. Almost > everyone died. TOM: "DOOM: The Play." > > Picard: But why must everyone die? CROW: Why... must... Spock... die... > Couldn't several live. > > Shakespeare: Then it wouldn't be a real tragedy. Tragedy takes > place best when there is the most at stake and all is lost. MIKE: Sounds like me in Vegas. > When people > get pulled down because of only a small commitment to a main character. If > people believe the small characters and they suffer, the audience suffers > along with them. TOM: Kinda like this fanfic. > And if their suffering causes a lead player to suffer, > all the more it is felt by the audience. If the audience is drawn in, > then it will be a good play. Only one or two of the smaller main characters > can live, after all we need someone who could have told the story. CROW: Jeez, sorry I asked. > > > > Scene: South France. A decent sized room with several painted > canvases in it. MIKE: South France is a decent-sized room? > Data is sitting at a table with some flowers on it. > Vincent brings some wine to the table. > > Van Gogh: It gets terribly lonesome out here at time, but the > quiet is good for my work. TOM: It's gotten a lot quieter since I cut my ear off. > > Data: I find that your work is quiet, unsettleing to most people. CROW: Quiet and unsettling? > > Van Gogh: There is a problem. People see my work as vulgar, I see > it at a perfect chance to manipulate the world that I live in to better suit > my needs. MIKE: I'M THE GOD! HAHAHA!! > My work is in based in reality, but I don't limit myself to it. > I put down the color I think they could be. TOM: Personally, I always thought oranges should be blue. > > Data: People have a great fear of the different, of the unknown. > > Van Gogh: True, true. If people could think like me, then maybe > they could understand what I paint. If they lived as I have lived, or knew > of how I have lived maybe they could understand what I paint. But they do > not. > > Data: I wish I could. > > Van Gogh: I wish you could, also. Come sit over here, the light is > much better. CROW: Have you ever thought of getting your ears pierced? TOM: We're outta here. [They leave the theater.] 6...5...4...3...2...1...* [Mike, Crow, and Tom are on the bridge.] CROW: Ya know, Mike, that Data guy really gets to me. TOM: Yeah, why is he such a loser? MIKE: What makes you say that? CROW: Oh, LOTS of stuff. Like the fact that he can't use contractions. Who would program a robot not to be able to use simple grammar? TOM: He's a wimp, too. You'd never catch *me* cowering under a desk, let alone in a major motion picture. CROW: What about his lack of emotions? What's the deal, Mr. Data? *I* have emotions. No prob! TOM: Anyone who seeks out advice on humor from Joe Piscopo is lame in my book. CROW: Then there's his evil twin brother. I mean, how stupid is *that*? TOM: Um... are you forgetting about Timmy, Crow? CROW: Oh yeah. Okay, forget that one. MIKE: Is that all your complaints about Data? TOM: No! There's still the biggest complaint of all. CROW: The fact that Data, for *some* reason, aspires to be a human. MIKE: Hey! What's wrong with that? TOM: To start with, you'd be all squishy and hairy and stuff. CROW: And you always smell like a zoo. TOM: And you keep leaking gross things, too. [Crow and Tom walk offscreen, discussing the merits of being metallic instead of human. Mike looks at Cambot.] MIKE: Robots. What can you do? [Lights and buzzers, etc.] ALL: AH! USENET SIGN AGAIN!! 1...2...3...4...5...6...* [They enter the theater.] > > Scene: Ancient Rome. The senate has conveened and Ceaser is down > on the floor MIKE: ...bawling like a baby. > Several senators surround him at a distance. CROW: Nope, we're not surrounding you. Not at all. > > Caesar:...with the aid of the people. We can drive the northerners > back north, if we are united as a people. TOM: Caesar belongs to the Redundancy Department of Redundancy. > I have let you the people appoint > the senators, and under their council I have decided that we must strike > before the barbarians. MIKE: Damn Canadians! With their snow and their hockey! > We must keep them from our homeland, we must keep > the Empire pure and strong. CROW: And yes, we *can* lower taxes and increase defense spending! > > As he ends the croud cheers. ALL: Sieg heil! Seig heil! > Caeser gets down off the podium as > the cheers subside. The croud filters out. The senators group up. TOM: Caesar, we want to talk to you about your drinking problem... > Worf can be seen walking against the crowd, towards the floor. > > Senator #2: See Brutus, he is bringing us into a war that we have > no need to be in. MIKE: Like in Bosnia? > We must strike now, before he can cause much damage. > > Brutus: No, I cannot allow this. I will not betray my friend. > > Senator: Then you betray your country. Come fellows, we must still > strike. CROW: And we won't give in to a salary cap, either! > > They move towards Caesar. > > Brutus: CAESAR, BEWARE. TOM: ...the Ides of March! > > Senator #1 turns around, pulls a knife from his toga MIKE: Yowch! Where was he keeping that thing? > and stabs > Brutus in the stomach. Brutus falls. Caesar turns. CROW: Crow retches. > > Caesar: What treachery is this. My friend Brutus, killed before > my eyes. I swear by my soul, he shal be avenged. TOM: Yep, I am really mad. I am so angry at you. > > Caesar pulls a knife from beneath his toga MIKE: What, is this an everyday thing for him? Does he always carry concealed weapons? > and begins towards > Senator #1. As he passes the other senators they form a ring around him. CROW: Red Rover, Red Rover, send Caesar right over! > Each pulling a knife from their toga. MIKE: I still say that's gotta hurt. > > Caesar: Tis treachery most foul. Am I to be sacrificed for the > advancement of your careers. I think not. I shall not go meekly and I > shall not go alone. TOM: I'm taking... > > He lunges toward Seantor #1 TOM: ...*Bob* out with me! CROW: Does each senator have a number painted on his toga? > and cuts deply into his side. The other > senators close the circle. Worf appears and grabs one of the senators, ALL: > throws him across the room, he lands on his shoulder, he writhes in pain. MIKE: He uses compound sentences, he uses bad grammar. > Several senators break off from the assault on Caesar to attack Worf. He > dispatches them quite easily. TOM: Now I *know* this isn't real. Worf is actually winning a fight! > He picks up one of the knives and moves to > aid Caesar. Caesar has held his own fairly, two senators lie at his feet, CROW: ...licking his toes. > he is bleeding from three places. Worf wades in to the mass of senators and > begins slashing, hitting kicking and head butting anything in range. MIKE: Worf's such a butthead. ALL: > The > senators break from Caesar and concentrate on Worf. We see him cut several > times. The senators begin to fall from the combiuned assault of Worf and > Caesar. TOM: Worf and Caesar *are*... Hard to Kill! > When the last one falls Worf drops his blade. Caesar puts an arm > around Worf. CROW: It's Miller time! > > Caesar: Well fought. I thank you for the aid, if not for you I > would be fallen. As is my dearest friend, Brutus. > > Worf: I could not allow such a dishonorable act to go unchallenged. > I am satisfied that we both survived. MIKE: However, it does not please me. > > Caesar: I will have to be more carefull who I trust in the future. > I will have to rule with a stronger hand. TOM: I'll pass a new crime bill. That oughtta work. > If treachery as this is to be avoided. > > Caesar turns toward Brutuses' corpse. CROW: Brutuseseseseses' corpse. MIKE: How many of his corpses are there, anyhow? > Worf disappears in a flash of light. TOM: Worf's quantum leaping! > > Scene: Red Rocks Ampitheater. Riker is listening to the song as it > comes to a close. He begins to applaud. He disappears in a flash of light. CROW: Well, Riker had a busy day. > > -Commercial MIKE: Zay you're in a bar... > > Scene: Bridge of the Enterprise. Same as before except Dr. Crusher > is missing. TOM: She's playing tennis with Billie Jean King in 15th century China. > > Geordi: I'm about ready to give up on this one. CROW: I really don't know what I'm doing. > We can find no > trace of the Captian, Riker, Data or Worf. I don't think Q left any. > > Troi: Don't worry. We'll find them...eventually. MIKE: Ah, Troi. Always the mindless optimist. CROW: Or just mindless. > > There is a flash of light and Captian Picard, Riker, Data and Worf > are all back on the bridge, in Starfleet uniform. > > Geordi: Captian...Riker...Data...Worf... TOM: ...Auntie Em! > where have you been? > > Captian: Apparently Q sent us back in time. I had a most interesting > conversation with William Shakespeare. MIKE: Well, *a* conversation, anyway. > What happened to you Will? > > Riker: I went to a Bette Midler concertin 1973 where some man was > playing a most amazing song. CROW: And I had the most amazing pot, too. > > Picard: Bette Midler? > > Data: Accessing. Bette Midler, a preformer during the later half of the > twentith century. TOM: Starred in bad movies for Disney. Got all weepy with Johnny Carson. > I believe the man in question could be Barry Manilow. He > played on her first tour which took place in that year. MIKE: Barry Manilow? CROW: This story has all the great ones: Shakespeare, Van Gogh, Manilow... > > Picard: Thank you Data, now tell us what you did. > > Data: I talked with Vincent Van Gogh, and had my portrait painted > by him. > > Picard: That is spectacular, I would enjoy seeing how he painted > you. > > Data: Since there is no record of it in my memory, I do not think > that it was actually painted. TOM: But you were just there! You saw it! MIKE: What was I just talking about? I don't remember. > > Picard: That is to bad, I am sure it was beautiful. Worf? CROW: Excuse me. > > Worf has taken leave of the small group and taken his post. Several > wet blood stains can be seen on his uniform. > > Riker: Worf, your bleeding. TOM: Yes, what *about* his bleeding? > > Picard taps his communicator. > > Picard: Picard to sick bay. Dr Crusher to the bridge, medical > emergency. > > Worf: I shall be fine, sir. MIKE: I'm not quite dead yet! I'm getting better! > > Picard: How did it happen Worf? > > Geordi: Where did you go, Romulus? CROW: No, no. He's Worf. You're Geordi. > > Worf: I was sent back to... TOM: ...the future? > Sir there is an unidentified ship > approaching us on an intercept course. Warp 7. > > Every one takes their normal positons at this time. The namless > ensigns that are replaced move to the turbolift. > > Pircard: Estimated time to intercept. > > Worf: Sixteen miniutes, sir. MIKE: A mini-ute is like a minute, except shorter. > > Picard: Hail them. > > Worf: No response. > > Picard: Keep hailing them, Leutenant. CROW: Try golf-ball sized, this time. > Sugestions Number one? > > Riker: Shields up and arm phasers. TOM: Jeez, I *never* could have thought of *that*! > > PIcard: Make it so. > > Worf: Shields up, pharsers are armed and ready. MIKE: Can I actually fire them this time, sir? > > Dr. Cruher arrives in the turbolift. > > Dr. Crusher: It's good to see you again, Jean-Luc. Which one is > my patient. CROW: Nobody. Go back to sickbay. Ha! I love that! > > Picard: Lt. Worf. > > Dr. Crusher goes over to examine him, popping the scanner from the > medical tricorder she carries. TOM: Either this Klingon is dead, or my tricorder's broken! > > Dr. Crusher: What happened to you Worf, you have several broken > bones, multiple cuts and quite a few abrasions. MIKE: ...and you're missing your head ridges, too! > > Worf: I will be fine Dr. Crusher, please leave me to my duty. CROW: Broken bones? No problem. > > Dr. Crusher: As cheif medical oficer I order you to report to > sick bay. > > Picard: Go down to sick bay Worf. We need you in top condition > A.S.A.P. > > Worf: ...Yes, sir. > > Worf and Dr. Crusher leave in the turbolift. Riker takes tactical. TOM: Now let's see... the big yellow button is for phasers... which one is photon torpedoes? > > Data: Time till intercept is now ten miniutes forty seconds. > > Picard: Any respone to our hails. MIKE: Only to the canned-ham sized, sir. > > Riker: None, sir. The other ship has power to weapons and shields. > Sir, it looks like one of ours. CROW: I got it! It's KHAN! > > Picard: On screen. > > The ship appears to be similar in design to a Galaxy class, except it > is larger, and has a more foward tilt to it. > > Data: Time to intercept four miniutes sixteen seconds. TOM: That was the fastest six minutes I've ever seen! MIKE: Must be those "mini-utes" again. > > Picard: Slow to impulse. CROW: I'm already pretty slow, sir. > > Riker: Sir they are hailing us. > > Picard: On screen. > > The other ship is set just like the Enterprise. The Captian is > seated in his chair. He is in his late thirties, short brown hair. TOM: Hey, how did I get my hair back? > > Picard: I am Captian Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise. > What is it you want from us. > > Captian: I am Captian Marc Fredrickson of the Starship Guenivere. > Either surrender yourselves to the Empire, or be destroyed. ALL: > > Picard: Empire, what Empire? > > Captian: The Galactic Roman Empire. CROW: Great. MIKE: Hasn't this been done about a thousand times before on Star Trek? > > Picard: The empire fell a milenia ago. What is it you really > want? TOM: Is this some kind of prank? > > Captian: I will not repeat this again. Either surrunder your ship, > or be destroyed. > > Picard: I will not give up my ship to an Empire that does not exist. > > Captian: Have it your way. CROW: ...at Burger King now. > > The viewscreen switches back to a shot of the enemy ship. It begins > moving. A volley of photon torpeedoes fly out from it and hit the Enterprise. > The ship rocks violently. > > Picard: Evasive manuvers Alpha six. Status Number one. MIKE: Just did number one, Captain! > > Riker: Shiels are at eibghty four percent. No damage. TOM: ...except to my spelling. > > Picard: Fire at will, CROW: What did I do??? ALL: TOM: Ah, some jokes never get old. > attempy to disable it before destroyong it. > > Riker: Aye, sir. Phasers fired. > > A beam of red light stabbed out at the other ship, but was absorbed > by it's shield. The ship reciprocated the attack. > > Riker: Shields at fifty four percent. There in damage to decks > thirty five and seventeen. Evacuating and sealing them off. > > Another volley hits the Enterprise. MIKE: Stefan Edberg gets another point. > > Riker: Sir, we've practically lost shields. I propose we try warp > out of here and repair the damage. > > Picard: I don't think they are going to let us just go like that. CROW: Aren't you even going to *try* it? > > Riker: We cloud sepatate the saucer section, at least we could save > some of the crew. > > Picard: Make it so. TOM: ...but I want to be the one who decides who lives and who dies. > > Riker taps his communicator. > > Riker: This is Commander Riker. All hand prepare for an emergency > saucer section separation. I repeat all hand prepare for an emergency saucer > separation. MIKE: Is anybody else having a "Generations" flashback? CROW: Unfortunately, yes. > > Everyone begins to shuffle about, TOM: Shuffle shuffle shuffle... > Picard, Data and Riker head for > the Turbo lift. > > Picard: Will, you stay here. You are needed. > > Riker: It has been a pleasure, sir. > > Picard: For me too, Will. > > The turbolift doors slide shut. MIKE: Suckerrr! > > Riker walks to the center of the bridge. TOM: Did I just get duped, big time? > > Riker: Ensign crusher set a course fro Starbase 125. > > Wes: Course set and laid in, sir. CROW: But I'm n-- MIKE: STOP! Enough already! CROW: Sorry. > > Riker: Wait for my order, then punch us out of here at Warp 9. > > Picard Voice over: Number one, commander Data and I are ready when > ever you are. > > Riker: Initiate saucer separation seq.. TOM: Did he pronounce the abbrevation like that? "Seq."? > > A fourth volley of photon torpeedoes slammed through the shields > and into the side of the Enterprise. > > Riker: Separate the saucer, NOW. > > Wes: Saucer separated. MIKE: Milk poured. Kitty lapping. > > Riker: Engage. > > Geordi: Sorry sir, but we've lost warp engines. We're sitting > ducks. CROW: Sorry, but I'm completely useless. > > Riker: Then all we can do is pray for a miracle. TOM: Santa Claus really *does* exist! > > The fifth folley cut the antimatter containment field to shreds. MIKE: That's not a good thing, is it? > There was a large flash of light. > CROW: Yes? > > > The End > TOM: D'oh! CROW: Not since Monster A-Go-Go has there been such a satifying ending. > > > > \ > \enddata{text,17149788} > > MIKE: You gotta wonder if Mr. Art Major was taking writing lessons from Alex "Revenge of the Romulans" Buchanan. > > > =====================================CUT HERE=================================== TOM: I also wonder what grade Michael got for this. > -- > Joseph Young Tivoli Systems, Inc > Systems Administrator 9442 Capital of Texas Highway North > joseph.young@tivoli.com Arboretum Plaza One, Suite 500 > Phone:(512) 502-4720 Austin TX 78759 FAX: (512) 794-9929 > > CROW: Joe, Joe, Joe. Why can't you only archive the *good* fanfics? 6...5...4...3...2...1...*... [Bridge of SOL. Mike, Crow, Tom, and Gypsy are there, as usual.] CROW: *sigh* Well, that was another stinker of a fanfic. MIKE: Yeah. But it did raise a few interesting points. TOM: Like what? MIKE: About hopping through history. If you had the ability to do that, who would you see? TOM: Hmmm... that's a tough one. I think I'd visit Jesus Christ. We'd just kind of talk, hang out, stuff like that. MIKE: That's nice, Tom. TOM: Yeah. Then I'd write another book of the Bible, so it would be John, Luke, Mark, Matthew, and Servo! MIKE: What about you, Crow? CROW: I'd go back to ancient Egypt and hook up with Cleopatra. Aw yeah! It'd be a hot time in the ol' pyramid tonight! MIKE: Huh. Gypsy? GYPSY: I'd go to the set of the television show "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" and meet Richard Basehardt! TOM: Why am I not surprised? MIKE: Myself, I'd go back to the 1960's and convince Coleman Francis to pursure that career in law instead of making films. CROW: That's not a bad idea, Mike. TOM: Go for it, big guy! MIKE: Yeah, where's Q when you need him? [The Mads' light begins flashing.] MIKE: So what do you think, sirs? [Deep 13. Forrester and Frank are there.] DR.F: Forrester makes an angry comment at Mike and the bots' expense. FRANK: Frank says something impishly cute. DR.F: Forrester turns his anger at Frank. FRANK: Frank panics. DR.F: Forrester kills Frank. [Forrester begins violently strangling Frank. Frank head whips back and forth, hitting the button in the process.] \ | / - * - Pwoosh! / | \ FRANK: Expressions of extreme pain! Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its characters and situations are copyright of Best Brains, Inc., and are used here without their permission. Star Trek: the Next Generation is copyright of Paramount. No infringement of either copyright is intended, and I don't have any money to give, anyway. This MiSTing is meant in fun and games, and should not be taken as an insult to KeijiKJ, Michael Errante, or alt.startrek.creative, no matter how much they of them deserve it. (Okay, so maybe it IS an insult of KJ, but with any luck he'll never see it.) This work can be distributed freely, as long as it remains intact, please. This MiSTing is not copyrighted by me because I think it's silly to take a work of fanfiction that seriously. > Screaming Fan Boy #1: Come on man, Bette's about to come back on.