Path: bga.com!news.sprintlink.net!howland.reston.ans.net!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!convex!news.duke.edu!zombie.ncsc.mil!cs.umd.edu!newsfeed.gsfc.nasa.gov!usenet From: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov (T-Bone) Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k,rec.arts.tv.mst3k Subject: MSTed: Better the Devil You Know (1/8) Date: 6 Oct 1994 02:07:07 GMT Organization: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center -- Greenbelt, Maryland USA Lines: 472 Distribution: world Message-ID: <36vm4b$l9h@paperboy.gsfc.nasa.gov> Reply-To: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov NNTP-Posting-Host: lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Xref: bga.com alt.tv.mst3k:22344 rec.arts.tv.mst3k:11202 [Sung to the theme song] Not at all in the future, Last September, in her car, There was a woman named Kate Driving with her friend named la. While heading to the CON, on I-24 She got zapped by a ray that came through the door. Mike got teleported into her place And Kate was put in orbit with some robots up in space. ("What the hell?????") "We'll send her this bad fanfic The worst from a.s.c. (la la la) Then we'll throw in an awful short. Her pain will be all it can be. (la la la)" Now even though Kate can't control Where the fanfic begins or ends (la la la), She'll get some help to survive this mess, Thanks to her new robots friends. (Robot Roll call) Cambot! (Lick your lips!) Gypsy! (Say it, sister!) Servo! (Whatever...) Crooooooow! (What a babe!) Now if you're wondering what Mike's doing now, Or what happened to Kate's friend (la la la), You will all find out soon enough As we push this joke to the end ... On Mystery Usenet Theater Three Thou - Sand! [Door sequence] [Interior of Sat'O'Love. We pick up the scene a few days after the Different World MSTing. Instead of Mike, our very own Kate Wrightson, in an intriguingly stretched jumpsuit, is standing behind the Sat'O'Love counter. Crow and Tom are nuzzling Kate, Gypsy is trying to get them to behave.] KATE: Hi, everyone in (r)atm-land, I'm your own Kate Wrightson. As you may know if you saw "Different World", I was going to go to the Con to be with all you MSTies, but Dr Forrester and TV's Frank had other plans. I've had fun with the bots, but I do miss home, especially my dogs. Ow! Would you two stop it? TOM and CROW: Sorry, Mom! [snickering] KATE: Geez, what's got into you guys? Anyway, I know that Dr F is HEY! GYPSY: That does it! If you two can't control yourselves when we have guests, you can just go to your room and stay there until the experiment starts. CROW: No! I don't wanna goooooooo! TOM: But Kate promised to show us that trick with the Pez dispenser! GYPSY: You two are behaving like a couple of babies, so you'll be treated like babies! [Tom begins crying Wah! Wah! Wah! like an infant who's wet himself.] CROW: No we're not! No we're not! [Starts to cry] KATE: I think you'd better go, guys. GYPSY: Get to your rooms! [Tom and Crow exit blubbering.] KATE: Thanks, Gypsy, those two have been driving me crazy ever since I got here. GYPSY: You should have said something. KATE: Well, Crow is alright, but I think Tom is *really* confused, on top of everything else. GYPSY: Well, you *are* the only female they've encountered up close, except for Nuveena. KATE: But what about you? GYPSY: What do you mean? KATE: Well, you're a female. GYPSY: I'm a robot. MAGIC VOICE: Kate, should I show Gypsy your copy of Robin Morgan's _Sisterhood Is Powerful_? KATE: Good idea; once Gypsy's read the S.C.U.M. manifesto, she'll be as happy as Ed Wood with an angora goat. MAGIC VOICE: How about those magazines Joel had hidden in the load pan bay? KATE: Uh, no, thanks, Magic Voice. [Turns back to Gypsy, then has an idea.] But save them for *me*, anyway. MAGIC VOICE: You got it. Oh, and commercial sign in fifteen seconds. KATE: Now Gypsy, Tom and Crow are robots, too, right? GYPSY: Yeah... KATE: ...and they're boys, right? GYPSY: Yeah ... KATE: ... and you aren't, right? GYPSY: Yeah ... KATE: ... and you like Richard Basehart, right? GYPSY: Yeah ... KATE: So ... GYPSY: Hey, I guess I am! But why don't they act like that around me? KATE: Well, Gypsy, they probably see you as more of a sister or a cousin. GYPSY: That shouldn't matter. KATE: Why, did their parts came from West Virginia? GYPSY: No. They just act so differently around you. They don't like me! [Gypsy starts to cry on Kate's shoulder; Kate hugs and pats her on the back.] KATE: Oh, it's nothing like that, Gypsy. It's just that guys look at their sisters differently than the way they look at other women. GYPSY: How do you mean? KATE: Well ... when males reach a certain age, they get these ... urges ... [Lights for commercial sign begin to flash] GYPSY: Like the time we put the extra starch in Mike's underwear? KATE: Not quite. MAGIC VOICE: Commercial sign in five four three two ... Commercial sign now. KATE: Uh, excuse us for a minute. Gypsy and I need to talk. [Hits button.] [Penn Gillette reminds us that MST3K is sponsored by New Maxwell House Clear. And by The New US Navy. Full speed ahead, especially with the female officers.] [Back on SOL. Kate and Gypsy are talking animatedly.] GYPSY: So that's all it takes? KATE: Once they think that you are unreachable, they will see you in a whole new light. GYPSY: But what about after that? KATE: Men are easy to control, you just have to know how to out-think them. GYPSY: You think I can do it? KATE: Gypsy, how tough could it be to outsmart a person who is genetically inclined to watch that "Baseball" thing on PBS? GYPSY: Yeah, thanks Kate! I'll go let the boys out and get started. [Exits.] KATE: I hope I didn't start something I'll regret later. [Lights begin to flash.] KATE: Woops, Cassanova and Tom Jones are calling. [Hits button.] [Down in Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is dressed in a tux (but still wears his lab coat). Frank, dressed as a valet, is brushing Dr. F's lapels. Both speak with proper British accents.] FRANK: Excuse me, Mr. Wooster, sir, but we should hurry; we don't want Miss Honoria Glossop to think we aren't punctual. DR F: Well, flibbledy-dee, Jeeves! These machinations of my Aunt Agatha will be the death of me yet. This Glossop woman seems to think that it is her duty to save me from a life of happiness and my dear old Aunt is only too happy to conspire. Personally, I am tempted to go straight to The Drones for a quick snifter with Barmy Featheringay-Phipps to bolster my sagging confidence. FRANK: Very good, sir. But I must remind you that dishonoring Miss Glossop so may resort to your Aunt re-opening negotiations with Sir Watkin Basset, whose daughter Madeline has recently broken off her engagement with Gussy Finknottle. DR F: Really? FRANK: I fear so, sir. And I have heard a rumor that Florence Cray has been making not-entirely-discreet inquiries about you as well. DR F: Well, with Florence once again on the prowl for a three-tiered cake, an evening with Honoria Glossop suddenly seems a fate slightly less worse than death. [Back on SOL. Kate and the bots are stunned.] TOM: What the Heck Ramsey is going on down there? [Deep 13.] DR F (normal voice): Ah, ... whatever your name is! FRANK (whispering): Kate. DR F: Kate, yes. Glad to see you're paying attention. Well, the big news of the social season is that Dr. Clayton Stonewall Forrester is courting, and his first success is tonight: a date with someone I've long admired. FRANK (still speaking with accent): Oh dear, Mister Wooster, I fear that I must repolish your spats for that glossy shine that you so enjoy. DR F (slapping Frank): Would you knock it off? Well, Kim, this leads right into our invention exchange. When you are a hard-working, wildly successful scientist like, say, ME, the twenty-hour days do eat into other areas of one's life. Why, there is barely enough time for household chores, visiting friends, and so on, and a daily dose of exercise often goes out the window. But I've come up with something that will still make you look like that gorgeous hunky beefcake that is inside you. I call these little buggers Tux Pads. FRANK (normal voice): Yes, now you can have the look of rippling pecs and a flat stomach under your tuxedo, thanks to our realistic-looking and -feeling foam rubber body parts. Imagine yourself driving the babes bonkers with your new James Bond look. DR F: There is also a foam rubber attachment for your trousers which we can't talk about due to FCC regulations. [Back on SOL] GYPSY (now with a short butch haircut): That is so typical of the lies you white male oppressors inflict on us sisters. CROW: Huh? TOM: What? KATE: Well, this is my first time doing this sort of thing ... quit snickering, you two ... but here's my idea. It's a kit I call Real Feminine Protection. [Holds up a plain-looking purse.] It's for us women to protect ourselves against loud, obnoxious, uncaring, drunken guys who only see us women as objects. CROW: Notre Dame fans? TOM: Congressmen? GYPSY: All men. TOM and CROW: Huh? KATE: There are several parts to the kit. It comes with a corsage similar to the orchid from _The Corpse Vanishes_ but the fragrance only reacts with testosterone. Then there's a bayonet purse ... [demonstrates] TOM and CROW: Aigh! KATE: ... the flame thrower compact ... [demonstrates] CROW: What manner of woman are you who can summon flame without flint or tinder? KATE: ... the Black Widow Lipstick ... [Kate puts the black lipstick on her lips and kisses Crow, who passes out immediately. Kate starts rummaging through the purse.] There's also a bracelet with a dagger attatchment for dancing, a scarf which can be used as a garotte, and so on. [Deep 13] DR F: Impressive, but that won't stop the most aggressive of men. [SOL] KATE: Well, I did think of something REALLY effective for men who just don't understand the word "no", but it turns out Loreena Bobbit already has a patent on it. [Deep 13] DR F: Not bad! Frank, get Gloria Steinam on the phone, and tell her we've got a business deal for her. Well, Karen, your fanfic is a piece of mildew ... [SOL] KATE: From the Star Trek group? [Deep 13] DR F: ... from the Star Trek group. [look of bewilderment] How did you know that? [SOL] KATE: It's become passe. [Deep 13] DR F: Well, in that case, we'll throw in a short from the college basketball group. But nothing you do can put me in a bad mood for my date. [Pushes the button] [SOL] KATE: Oh no! Usenet Siiiiiiiiiiiiignnnn....... [Door sequence; Kate and the bots enter.] >Newsgroups: rec.sport.basketball.college KATE: I hope this isn't about John Thompson being a racist. >From: cam...@netcom.com (Chris Jaeb) TOM (singing): Let me tell ya' little story 'bout a poster named Jaeb ... >Subject: WANTED: WEALTHY BOOSTER CROW: I guess the economy needs a shot in the arm! Haha! >Message-ID: >Organization: NETCOM On-line Communication Services (408 261-4700 guest) KATE: Boy, some guest; drank the last beer and put her feet on the coffee table. >X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL1] TOM (singing): If he only had a brain... >Date: Mon, 12 Sep 1994 22:26:28 GMT KATE: Quickfire! TOM: Growing Mangoes Turgidly! CROW: Groping Mary's Tomatoes! KATE: Guitarists Mining Tin! TOM: Gizzards Mean Tummies! CROW: Uh, Griffey Makes Thunder! KATE: Grazing on My Thighs! TOM and CROW: WHAT?!?! KATE: Sorry. I've been in space too long. >Lines: 36 > >Dear Cyberspace: KATE: I'm a freshman at a small Midwestern University... > > Do you know anyone CROW: Do you really know yourself? >that is interested in college and/or professional >sports marketing TOM: Hey, who isn't? *yawn* [Rests head on Kate's shoulder] >and has $100,000 to invest KATE: Oh, yeah; we'll just take that out of petty cash. CROW: Tom Petty or Johnny Cash? >in a project that will generate >a BIG return in 24 months? TOM (deep voice): It's Big Jim Slade! >If you provide the name of a "Player" CROW: Joe Dumars! KATE: That's not what he meant ... >that >becomes part of this project, KATE: Known as "Manhattan"! [Evil laugh] >you will be paid a substantial finders fee. TOM: Of course, you'll be paid in bags of rice, but ... > > We have secured the *exclusive* right to distribute CROW: Cable to the Amish. >140 college >basketball and football teams games and talk shows. KATE: Big deal; 139 will involve Notre Dame. >This programming will be >used TOM: Hey, take it to comp.software.abuse.support! CROW (cracking voice): My name's Virgil, and I abuse my programming. KATE and TOM: Hi, Virgil! >as a foundation to build a wide range of leading edge one and two-way >communication services. KATE: Better known as: TOM: The letter ... CROW: .. and the telegraph. > > We are ideally looking for someone that is excited KATE: Or just has a gun in his pocket. >by the opportunity >to "dis" the establishment... CROW: Of course, we want to make a lot of money and BECOME the establishment, but that's besides the point. >and create something that will make people >better appreciate the world we live in. TOM: Snapple. > > This project represents the first step KATE: ... toward a pyramid scheme. >toward bringing the average >American online. CROW: Given the average person who calls into talk radio, this *CANNOT* be a good thing. KATE: That's kind of elitist. CROW: Three words: Rush Limbaugh's dittoheads. >We are talking about an inexpensive computer system and >service TOM: With a free set of Ginsu knives! But wait, there's more! >that gives people that presently do not use computers a reason to >buy one KATE: Hey, if pornographic .gif FTP sites in Scandanavia aren't enough to ... (switching to sweet, innocent mode) Hey, guys, I've only *heard* about them. No, really! CROW: Riiiiiiiiiiight. TOM: Yeah; sure. >and get what they want when they want it. CROW: Glad to see you are treating Americans as the mature people they are. >It is REALLY a *SWEET* KATE (singing): Fox on the run ... >business whose time has arrived. TOM: Just ask delphi, netcom, aol, ... > > The future is ours. KATE: Apparently Chris never really grasped the whole concept of Reaganomics. >The more we leave CROW: The better we look. >the development of this frontier >to the government and large corporations TOM: The better the cost efficiency of the product? >the less say we have in what it is >*WE* will become. KATE: And you want us to become spoiled brats and revolutionaries, from the tone of your post. CROW (singing): There'll be fighting in the streets ALL (singing): With our children at our feet. > > Thanks for your time. TOM: Oh, thank YOU for the rosemary. > >Best regards, CROW: The nominees for Best Regards in a Usenet Post are: > >-Chris KATE: Don't call me Jimmy Everett!!! > > "Remember...if you do not live this life to its fullest, nobody is >going to do it for you." TOM: So act irresponsibly and get loaded. >-- > cam...@netcom.com [Commercial we'd like to see: the half-armored guy in the Volkswagon ad is walking down the street when some you toughs push him over and give him a serious melvin.] MSTed by Richard Burton (aka T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov) and by Kate Wrightson (kwri...@moe.coe.uga.edu) Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with my writing this up. This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. We intended no flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which I referenced in my MSTing. This MSTing reflects my and Kate's own personal viewpoints, and not always both of ours, and does not necessarly reflect the views of the University of Georgia, NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center, or my employer, Hughes STX. Path: bga.com!news.sprintlink.net!howland.reston.ans.net!europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.umbc.edu!haven.umd.edu!cs.umd.edu!newsfeed.gsfc.nasa.gov!usenet From: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov (T-Bone) Newsgroups: rec.arts.tv.mst3k,alt.tv.mst3k Subject: MSTed: Better the Devil You Know (2/8) Date: 8 Oct 1994 02:23:44 GMT Organization: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center -- Greenbelt, Maryland USA Lines: 528 Distribution: world Message-ID: <374vrg$4am@paperboy.gsfc.nasa.gov> Reply-To: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov NNTP-Posting-Host: lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Xref: bga.com rec.arts.tv.mst3k:11501 alt.tv.mst3k:22403 >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative TOM: Well, here we go again. >From: paul.h...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) >Subject: Better The Devil You Know 1 CROW: Boy, it's the *really* Satanic Verses. >X-Mail-Agent: GIGO unreg at shbbs vsn 0.99 pl1 - G2K v1.01 TOM (singing): It was business as usual in police room 619. KATE: What? TOM: GIGO KATE: Oh, that's BAD. >Organization: Silicon Heaven BBS (2200-0630 UTC) (44-1626-834331) V32B KATE: But there *is* no Silicon Heaven! CROW: Preposterous! TOM: Where do all the calculators go? >Date: Wed, 10 Aug 1994 23:40:58 +0000 >Message-ID: >Sender: use...@demon.co.uk >Lines: 66 > >From: ph...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) CROW: Your parents must be so proud. > > >Better the Devil you know. KATE: Gilbert O. Sullivan? TOM: Lou Holtz? CROW: Bob Packwood? KATE: No, I know him. CROW: Oh, I'm sorry. > >By P.D Hubbard. KATE: What's the name of this again? TOM: Better the Devil You Know. KATE: And who wrote it? CROW: P. D. Hubbard. KATE: *The* P. D. Hubbard? CROW: No, *a* P. D. Hubbard. > > >Prologue: KATE: ... and anti-owl. CROW and TOM: What? KATE: I'm from Oregon. CROW and TOM: Ooohh... > >Anna O'Halloran CROW: Suspected bomber for the ULA, escaped today from Long Kesh ... TOM: Oh, could we PLEASE perpetuate more negative stereotypes. >stood beside the rail peering out over the sea. TOM: Listen, you flightless fowl, quit looking at the water and pay attention to me! >It was a warm afternoon, not a cloud in the sky. KATE: Wait a minute! The ULA doesn't exist, they were in that Tom Clancy book _Patriot Games_! TOM: Hey, that's right! CROW: But that was the point. TOM: Oh. KATE: Sorry. >Quite nice for >the time of year, she thought. CROW: I'll accept your apology, if you include a hug. [Kate hugs Crow, who sighs.] TOM: Hey, people, we have a job to do. >Taking the holiday to get away >from it all was a stroke of genius. TOM: Well, a stroke, anyway. >A few days in the southern >states, enjoying New Orleans. KATE (singing): Oh, we goin' ta' New Aw-leans, We gonna go see the Mardis Gras. [Tom does the whistling bit.] CROW: Uh, Kate, promise me you won't sing again? KATE: Even if I wear those flannel boxers? CROW: Oh, well, in that case, sing away! TOM: What? >Then a tour of the gambling dens >of Cuba, winning a little, losing a lot. CROW (flasetto): At least I got to keep Castro's beard from that game of strip poker. >Now, finally, the last >leg of her trip. TOM: Then some sentence fragments reminiscent of old _Miami Vice_ scripts. >If she had told her friends that she was coming >home on a fifth rate tramp steamer, KATE: Shouldn't that be "homeless steamer"? TOM: Oh, who cares? >they would have called her >all the fools under the stars. CROW (taunting): Heidi Fleiss! Heidi Fleiss! >However, getting away from it all TOM: And all the other cliches >was the idea and staying clear of the usual tourist haunts, >seeing things that others would not see. KATE: Poverty CROW: Crime TOM: Disease >A good idea all round. CROW: On paper, anyway. > >Some sort of commotion broke the spell. KATE: Alright, who broke the spell? TOM and CROW: Not me! >Looking up, Anna noticed >the observer in the crows nest CROW: Hey, get outta my room! >shouting to the bridge, TOM (shouting): I bid three spades! >pointing >to something not visible from this side of the ship. KATE: The OTHER side of the ship. >'Probably >a Whale' she mused to herself. TOM (sarcastically): Oh, thank you, Ishmael! >The shouting got shriller. CROW: And it was not pleasing. >Finally, Anna decided to go and have a look, KATE: Hey, it's a peep show tent from a county fair! CROW: How do you know about those? KATE: Well, see, I had to work my way through college, ... >after all, most of >the ships crew were over the other side of the ship looking. TOM: Some people run to the other side! We're capsizing! [Tom, Kate, and Crow lean to the left in unison.] >Pushing her way to the front of the crowd, CROW: Move it, stand aside, main character coming through ... >she finally got a look >at what was causing all the fuss. KATE: Oh no!! What's Tom Arnold doing with those Sargasso eels?! > >Up on the bridge, TOM: Yes, it's The Drifters singing their salute to dental work. >the crew could not believe their eyes. CROW: Though their elbows were quite trustworthy. >Some >sort of a tunnel had opened in thin air, directly in front of the >ship. KATE: Hey, are Martin Sheen and Kirk Douglas on this ship? >Zig zagging had no effect, TOM: So she bought them pre-rolled. >it was almost as if the ship >and the phenomenon were magnetically linked. CROW: How much *do* you know about electromagnetism, Trek-boy? >The hole grew >bigger, KATE: Not a word, Crow! TOM: Heh heh. CROW: I wasn't going to say anything! >looking more ominous by the minute. TOM: And more stunning by the fireplace. >Lightning bolts >seemed to whirl about inside the opening. [Kate giggles.] CROW: You thinking what I'm thinking? KATE: Yep. TOM: What? What? KATE and CROW: Nothing. >Someone ordered TOM: ExTRa cRaZY BreAd. >full >astern, the ships screws biting into the water, KATE: And into the cheesecake. CROW and TOM: Mmmmmmmmm. >trying to claw >her away from the gaping hole, but to no avail. TOM (Deep, NFL-Films voice): But for Anna O'Halloran and the Baltimore Colts, there would come another day. >The water was >dead calm, where was the horizon? CROW: Uh, towards the North? Or South? Or ... KATE: Okay ... >A call came up from the engine >room. KATE: ... saying fellas it's too rough to feed ya. >The boilers were at bursting point, TOM: They just HAD to tell someone! >they were loosing the >fight. CROW: Hey, keep that fight tied up! We don't want it loose on the deck! >The ship started to slip towards the hole. KATE: Yes, it's Eroto-Suggestion Playhouse. TOM: I feel all funny inside. > >Down on the deck, the crew started to drop. CROW: Gimme twenty, Maggots! >Anna's lungs ripped >at her throat, KATE: Die, Anna, die! >trying to claw the rapidly diminishing oxygen. CROW: By this time, m... TOM: >AHEMThe air was being sucked into the hole with a whirling shriek. KATE: Feel better? TOM: Yes. *sniff* >With her last spark of consciousness, dark fingers blurring her >sight, CROW: Does this bug you? I'm not touching you. Does this bug you? >she saw the front to the ship enter the hole. TOM (Barry White voice): Oh baby. > >The SS Cotopaxi slowly slid into the hole. TOM (Barry White voice): When we make love, baby. KATE: Enough. >It almost looked like >she was entering a brick wall, CROW: But without the bricks. >section by section disappearing >from sight. KATE: Just like ... ALL: Niagara Falls! KATE: Slowly I turned. >Finally, as the rear mast entered, the hole closed >down upon itself. TOM: You kids quit slamming that interdimensional hole when you run in and out! >Nothing was left, just the blue sky and placid >sea. KATE: And a bad fanfic which would live in infamy. >A week would pass, TOM: Oh, that's gotta hurt! I can't even swallow an HOUR! >the ship would be posted as overdue, CROW: So the quartermaster decided to induce labor. KATE: And the ship had a bouncing baby dinghy! CROW: Oh, it was a boy! TOM: Wh--? Oh, PLEASE! >then finally missing without trace. [Kate and Tom look at Crow.] CROW: What? TOM: Nothing. >Nothing would be seen of her >again ALL: Hooray! >.....or so people thought. ALL: Boo! > > > TOM: We gotta go. [They exit.] > > > > >~~~ Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR] >-- >| Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own. [Door sequence. Gypsy and Kate are talking as Crow enters.] GYPSY: Thanks for the Phranc tapes, Kate. I'll get the Ma Rainey cds back to you in a bit. [Exits] CROW: Say, Kate? KATE: Hm? CROW: I have a question, but it's kinda weird. KATE: Look, after all the time I've spent on the newsgroups and working for the government, nothing can surprise me. Ask away. CROW: Do you think Tom's cute? KATE (obviously not expecting THAT question, but trying to be nonchalant about it): Uh, well, Crow, Tom's a nice guy, ... I don't know if he's really your type, but ... CROW: Now wait just a minute here, Kate! That is NOT what I was looking for. What I meant was, what do you think of Tom? KATE: Oh, well, he's really cute. He's nice enough, I guess. Confused, but nice. He goes overboard when he wants my attention, though. I wish he'd quit playing those show tune albums so loudly. He also smells kinda funny, like ... well, it's hard to describe. But why do you ask? CROW: Well, I was thinking of asking Gypsy out, and I was wondering if you think I would get much competition from Tom. KATE: Crow, it's not about competing. It's about just being yourself. If she likes you in that sense, she'll let you know. If she doesn't, then don't worry about it. Look, just be nice to Gypsy, treat her with the kindness and respect she deserves. Be yourself. I know she likes you as a friend, and if she likes you as more than a friend, you'll know. CROW: And if she doesn't? KATE: Then she doesn't. In spite of popular opinion, you can't really make people into something they aren't. CROW: But we're robots, not people. KATE: Look, you guys have free will and your own personalities. That alone puts you higher on the evolutionary scale than marketing executives and Wheel of Fortune fans. CROW: I see your point. Uh, just one problem. KATE: What's that? CROW: Well, I was going to ask Gypsy out, right? and treat her all nice and stuff like you said? But I want to do it right and not screw things up like I did with that whole Timmy thing? So, like, I thought I'd read some info about it and watch some videos that might help, right? But the only book I could find was _Clan of the Cave Bear_, and the only videos I could get were _Adventures in Babysitting_ and _What To Do on a Date_. KATE: Uh, well, I think you need better resources than that. CROW: Any suggestions? KATE: What were you thinking of doing? CROW: Well, since Joel left, no one has really treated Gypsy all too well. So I thought maybe she would appreciate a romantic date. [Servo pops into our view in front of the counter, but Kate and Crow can't see him. From his reactions, he is obviously spying and getting jealous.] KATE: That's sweet, Crow. I think a romantic date would be perfect. What did you have in mind? CROW: I was thinking about a candlelight ramchip dinner, maybe WD-40 drinks and dancing, followed by a moonlight stroll and watching the stars through the hexfield viewscreen. KATE: That sounds perfect. You really are a sweetie, you know. [Servo begins to shake a bit, then calms down.] CROW: Uh, there's just one problem KATE: What's that? CROW: I don't know how to dance. KATE: Oh, come here, I'll show you. It's easy. Cambot, could you put in that Mel Torme cd of Tom's? [Kate and Crow face each other, ready to dance. The strains of "I've Got You Under My Skin" begin in the background. Servo starts to shake in anger, his anger increasing as Kate and Crow laugh and dance.] KATE: Okay. And one and two and three and four ... CROW: Hey, this is actually kinda fun. KATE: Yeah, and three and four. And one and two ... Ow! CROW: Sorry! KATE: That's okay, everyone does that when they learn. Just concentrate ... and four and five and six and seven and DIP. [Kate dips Crow.] CROW: Weaeh. [Servo is starting to get really mad now.] CROW: Hey, can I try that? KATE: Sure, just wait for it to come around again. CROW: ... three and four and five and six and seven and DIP. [Crow dips Kate.] KATE: WAH! [Crow and Kate start to laugh and giggle as they resume dancing. Tom can't stand it anymore and jumps up.] TOM: A-HA! CAUGHT YOU!!! CROW: What? TOM: YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH THIS ... THIS ... *DIPPING*!! CROW: Servo, ... TOM: AFTER ALL WE'VE MEANT TO EACH OTHER HOW COULD YOU? KATE: Look, Tom, I was just ... TOM: Don't YOU start! YOU HUSSY! Everything was fine between us until YOU came along! KATE: What? TOM: Yes, Crow and I had something special, but NOoooooo, he has to leave me and see some WOMAN! CROW: Tom, what the Sam Hill are you talking about? TOM (beginning to lose control): Couldn't you see that I loved you, Crow??? CROW: You're nuts! Kate, he's nuts. KATE: Look, Tom, I was just teaching Crow how to dance so when he and Gypsy go on a date, ... TOM: GYPSY TOO!?!?!? That does it, Crow! I'm throwing your things out the air-lock and I never want to see you again! I'm going home to Mother! [Tom leaves in a huff and a hurry. Lights for commercial sign begin to flash. Kate and Crow are standing there stunned.] CROW: Did this just take a really weird turn? KATE: Yeah, I ... think so. CROW: Good, I thought I needed rebooting. [Kate hits the button.] Actual Commercial that we swear is not being made up: Oliver North, found guilty of breaking Constitutional law and lying to the Senate, is running for Senate in Virginia. Actual quote: "Congress is out of control." Well, Ollie, you would be the expert on government officials being outta control. MSTed by Richard Burton (T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov) and by Kate Wrightson (kwri...@moe.coe.uga.edu) Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with our writing this. This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. We intended no flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which were referenced in this MSTing. This MSTing reflects Rich and Kate's own personal viewpoints, and not always both of ours, and does not necessarly reflect the views of the University of Georgia, NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center, or Rich's employer, Hughes STX. Path: bga.com!news.sprintlink.net!howland.reston.ans.net!europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.umbc.edu!haven.umd.edu!cs.umd.edu!newsfeed.gsfc.nasa.gov!usenet From: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov (T-Bone) Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k,rec.arts.tv.mst3k Subject: MSTed: Better the Devil You Know (3/8) Date: 19 Oct 1994 01:26:43 GMT Organization: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center -- Greenbelt, Maryland USA Lines: 755 Distribution: world Message-ID: <381skj$qif@paperboy.gsfc.nasa.gov> Reply-To: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov NNTP-Posting-Host: lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Xref: bga.com alt.tv.mst3k:22847 rec.arts.tv.mst3k:13092 [Kate, Tom, and Crow enter the theater, with Kate carrying Tom.] >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative TOM: Don't touch me. Just set me down. >From: paul.h...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) CROW: Look, Servo, ... TOM: I don't wanna talk to you. >Subject: Better The Devil You Know 2 KATE: Electric Boogaloo. >X-Mail-Agent: GIGO unreg at shbbs vsn 0.99 pl1 >Organization: Silicon Heaven BBS (2200-0630 UTC) (44-1626-834331) V32B CROW: You know, whenever I see "Organization:" in a Star Trek fanfic, the phrase "Chaos Theory" leaps to mind. >Date: Wed, 10 Aug 1994 23:41:00 +0000 TOM: Oh, we'll rue that day. KATE: I'd rather Bea Arthur the day. >Message-ID: >Sender: use...@demon.co.uk TOM (singing): Return to sender ... (speaking): again and again until it's a mailbomb. >Lines: 204 > >From: ph...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) > > >Better the Devil you know >By P.D Hubbard CROW: Why do people follow Scientology? (page 17) > >Part 1. KATE: How can you part one if there is only one and nothing to part it from? CROW: Split it down the middle? > > >"First officers log, Stardate 48455.6. TOM: This is really gonna suck, guys. >The Enterprise is >currently on a mapping expedition of the 'Hobbs' sector. KATE: We recently discovered a tiger-shaped asteroid being defended by a "Spaceman Spiff". >Little >is known about this area CROW: Well, there's no sense in a mapping expedition to a well-known place, is there? >with the exception that it consists of >a small cluster of suns, each with six planets apiece, a real >rarity. TOM: Sounds like you know a lot more than "very little". >We are currently having technical difficulty with the KATE: ... llama fur in the phaser banks. >ships sensors at the moment due to a sporadic fault with several >sensor pallets. CROW: We've noticed that it happens every time we send e-mail to Ecuador, but our system managers can't explain it. >Engineering has promised me full sensor sweep TOM: Rug doctor, steamin' mad at sensors. >operation by the time we arrive at star system number six. KATE: The larch. The ... larch. >Someone in Stellar Cartography has one hell of a sense of humour. CROW: Graffiti in one of the restroom stalls says 'Site of The Captain's Log'. What a wag! >The unofficial label for number six is 'Hades II', TOM: Officially it's known as "Pittsburgh". >I will have >to have a word with them later. KATE: "Schweinhund" >Meanwhile, all is well, and >that's how I want to keep it. End Log...." TOM: Oh, well, that means a boring fanfic. CROW: Well, of course, ... TOM: I meant MORE boring. CROW: Oh. > > >"Will......" KATE (dreamily): "John" TOM (dreamily): "Marsha" CROW (dreamily): "Puma" TOM (dreamily): "Cornjob" KATE (dreamily): "Chief" CROW (dreamily yet scratchily): "McCloud" > >Riker turned and faced Troi. ALL: Waah! >"You rang!!!!!!!", he smiled at >her. CROW (falsetto): Will, your Ted Cassidy just isn't funny. > >"Will" she said again in a quite tone. "Don't go too hard on the KATE: *ahem*! >Cartography department. KATE: Oh. >They don't choose the designated names, TOM (falsetto): I'm sure they were showing affection for you by calling that crater "Smirking Bearded Dickweed". >besides, a little bit of fun now and then would'nt go amiss". CROW (as Riker): So you've reconsidered the clown suit and the wet celery? > >He sighed. "I know....., it's just that this mission is really >starting to get to me. KATE: That mission bugs me, it really bugs me!! >Nothing happening, nothing amiss. TOM: Not an action sequence anywhere. KATE: Sounds like a normal fanfic. TOM: Or Star Trek episode. >Everything is so efficient around here that I can't even find a >speck of dust anywhere". CROW: Just feed chocolate-covered coffee beans to some dogs; that'll liven things up a bit. > >"And whose fault is that????", she replied, KATE: After all, you were the one who hired that valet named "Jeeves". >"I remember the last >inspection tour when you nearly took that young Ensign's head off >with that mouth of yours [Tom and Crow turn to Kate giggling.] TOM: I didn't know Riker's mom was a Bobbitt. CROW: Well, what name would be more appropriate? KATE: Okay, okay; let it go, you two. >over a bit of fluff on his uniform. CROW: That "bit of fluff" was his fiance'. Must you be so catty? >Since then, everybody's been working overtime keeping the ship >clean and tidy". TOM: Why, even our stools don't stink. >She paused a few seconds then continued. KATE: Well, what do you *expect* people to do after a pause? Continue pausing? >"Look >Will, TOM (falsetto): Nice, aren't they? >relax.... KATE (singing): Don't do it, if you wanna come to it. >nothing will happen if you want it to". CROW: So knock off the lewd innuendo. > >"Is that you or you in your councillor capacity speaking?" TOM: Jerk. > >"Its me, besides you know where my office is if you need it". CROW: Thanks, that burrito went right through me. > >Riker grimaced, KATE: Then hamburglered, ... >weighed up the options, then decided to let it >go. [Crow makes a grunting sound.] TOM: Watch it, Riker, there's a $200 fine for dumping. > >"I Guess CROW: Jeans for fans of Bill Cosby and Robert Culp. >your right, as always......". He smiled again the >relaxed deeper into the con. KATE: Man, even Riker got to go to the Con. *sniff* > > >BLOOP!!!!! [Tom makes straining sounds, then a sigh of relief.] >"LaForge to bridge...." CROW: Light a match, will ya? > >"Bridge here Mr LaForge, go ahead". KATE: Oh, *may* I? > >"Sensor pallets are now back online. It was just a small glitch >in the system, nothing to worry about......." TOM (as Irish cop): Move it along, Commander, nothin' ta see here. > >"What was the cause of the fault Geordi?????" KATE: Those Glitch kids; they get into everything. > >There was a embarrassed silence from the other end. CROW: Apparently Levar has read ahead in the script. > >"I'm waiting Mr LaForge" said Riker. KATE: I know, Will, I can see it in your eyes. > >"Well, ulp, the sensor fault was caused by.............." TOM: A herring! > >"Spit it out Geordi........" CROW: Bad Geordi! Drop it! Drop iiiiiit... > >"...caused by a discarded sandwich in the multiplexer unit" he >replied wearily. KATE: Oh, you have *GOT* to be kidding me!! TOM: I've seen that schtick used in about thirty Star Trek parodies, and this joker presents this as SERIOUS! CROW: The ironic this is that in the parodies, Riker was always the one who put it there. KATE: If there were ever any hope that fanfic could be good, this should kill it. TOM: *ahem* Uh, ix-nay on the ragging of anfic-fay. KATE: Oh, right! Sorry. >"I guess that one of my staff left it here >whilst working a double shift on the last inspection. CROW (as Riker): Did he leave any chips or pickle spears? >I'm sorry >Commander, it won't happen again". KATE: I'm cancelling eating privileges for my department. > >"I'm sure it won't Mr LaForge, especially since I will be >personally giving your engineering staff a lecture on cleanliness >at work. TOM: And I'm confiscating their Suzy Qs. >Riker out". > >The channel closed. [Kate hums the first few bars of _The Star Spangled Banner_.] >Riker looked pleased with himself. CROW: Well, he was the only one. >Deanna >looked accusingly at him. TOM (falsetto): Are you the one who's been rummaging through my unwashed lingerie? > >"You really enjoyed doing that, didn't you....come on, don't lie >to me, I know you too well...." CROW (falsetto): Or do you really want that teddy bear tattoo on your butt mentioned in front of the whole crew? > >"Was it that noticeable?????". KATE: Riker, you are more transparent than a vacuum. CROW: Hoover or Kirby? > >"So noticeable" she replied, ALL: How noticeable was it? >"that I didn't need to sense it. TOM: Oh, like you could sense anything. >You really can be incorrigible at times". CROW: That's why Worf wants to turn you into a cardboard box. > >"That's why I'm first officer" he replied with a grin. KATE: And a total smeghead. > > >Data was looking puzzled. CROW: "Why is Captain Picard dressed like Josephine Baker?" >Something was not right TOM: On Saturn III. >with the >sensor reading from system six ahead. KATE: Time for the next upgrade. >He doubted that the errant >sandwich would have a permeant effect, TOM: Thanks to Tums. >but something was >definitely amiss with the reading. CROW: "The owls are not what they seem"? The heck does THAT mean? >He queried the readings with >his onboard data storage, KATE: Where were you on the night of the 32nd? >could find no matching readings from >a past encounter, TOM: Let's see, there's Tasha Yar ... oo, five stars! >then decided that the best thing was to inform >the senior officer on duty. He swirled in his chair and faced >Riker. CROW: At this point Data realized that Riker was the senior officer, so he thought "To hell with it." > >"Sir, sensors are reporting a anomaly from system six up ahead. KATE: It's making me misuse indefinite articles. >However, I do not trust the sensors at the moment because of the >cleared fault". TOM: Geordi caught them dealing off the bottom of the deck. > >"What sort of sensor readings Data???" CROW: Well, the bad grammar, wrong punctuation, and poor spelling meters are working overtime. > >"According to readings, there are large amount of ferrous metal >in orbit around planet number six. KATE: Geez, you'd think an android would be programmed with better English subroutines than this. >Sensors read the metal as >mostly plain Iron to Steel and Steel laminates with a few modern >alloys sprinkled in. TOM: Served with fresh broccoli and a light white wine. >The presence of plain Iron is why I feel >that the sensors are still inaccurate". CROW: That, and the fact that we bought them second-hand from that Fred Sanford guy. > >" I agree, Iron is hardly likely to be used for space vessels. KATE: Never mind that it's one of the most abundant metals in the universe and easily mined from asteroids. Iron just doesn't fit in with our karmic aging-hippie new-age crystals-are-power-man universe. CROW: Kate, I think you need a vacation. >Continue on this course towards system six. TOM: Just watch out for the bunkers on the left of that par 4. >We will find out >then". KATE: Oh, it may be too late to avoid death, but at least we'll know. > >"Aye Sir" > CROW: You know, that reminds me of this joke. Sandy Duncan and Sammy Davis, Jr., are ... KATE: *ahem* > ____________ > > >Tree's whizzed past at a alarming rate, KATE: Oh, GROSS!!!! >the wind whistling past >his ears. There was no doubt about it, TOM: This script sucks. >Picard was having the >time of his life. CROW: Oh, this is gonna get warped. >His horse, Bessie, was showing no signs of >flagging. TOM: Hey, take this to alt.sex.bestiality. >Several branches shot by ominously close, almost >taking is hat off. KATE: In sunlight, that would have blinded the whole countryside. >Then suddenly, the trees cleared and Picard >found himself on a open plain with a glorious vista. CROW: Because when you're horseback riding on Rigel IX, they don't take American Express. >He turned >the horse in a tight circle and drew up. [Tom makes heaving sounds.] KATE: He said *drew* up, Tom. TOM: No, it's the whole script doing this to me. *hack* KATE: Oo, I'd better get some sawdust. >"Whoooaaaa, easy old girl". CROW: Hey, that's no way to talk to Bev! >The horse obliged him. TOM: Saaay... > >Another rider shot out from the same clump of trees KATE: The Klingons are coming! The Klingons are coming! >and headed >towards Picard. CROW: Excuse me, Mr. Picard, I'm your student loan officer, ... >As the horse got closer, Picard could make out >the features of Beverley Crusher, TOM: Odd thing for a horse to look like Bev. CROW: Pulaski, maybe, but Bev? >her long red hair billowing in >the slipstream. KATE: Along with voices. TOM: Ridiculous voices. >She closed then drew up alongside him. [Crow makes siren sounds.] KATE: Son, do you know how fast you were goin'? > >"One of these days" CROW (deep throaty voice): I'm going to break you into tiny pieces. >she said, "your going to loose your head >going through that thicket like that. TOM: He's already got a couple of screws loose. >It was murder for me to >try and keep up with you. KATE: Now I have that Poirot guy following me everywhere. >I can fix most wounds but loosing >your head is not one of them". TOM: Oh, if it gets loose, just use duct tape. > >"The Holodeck program would not allow that, and you know it..." >replied Picard. CROW (bad French accent): So sit and swivel, you stupid American woman who thinks she knows a thing or two about playing doctor. > >"Yes, true, but one day you will be riding for real and there >will be no computer watching over you to make sure you keep your >head down. KATE: And you'll be de-captain-ated. Haha! [Tom and Crow stare at Kate.] Get it? Because he'll lose his head ... and he's the captain ... and ... *sigh* Nevermind. >Just think of me as a Cassandra reminding you of your >mortality. CROW (falsetto): Enjoy life now, because you'll soon be worm food. >Besides, my back is killing me, TOM: Saaaaay.... >I think this horse >has a flat!!!!". KATE: I think Picard would prefer horses in heels. > >"Why didn't you ride side saddle and take the bridle path?" TOM (sarcastically): Oh, and I suppose you'd also like to see her barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, Captain Sexist. > >"Side saddle my dear captain, is for cissies" she replied, CROW: And coal miners' daughters... >"besides, I like a good ride in the country any day.....Race you >back to the stables?". KATE: Maybe we can roll in the hay... > >"Yes, why not.." and with that he leaned over and slapped the >horse hard on the hind quarters. TOM: *whinny* Flirt! >The horse took great exception >to this and shot off at a rate of knots. CROW: Oh, that's KNOT important! [Kate and Tom stare.] HA HA! Ha ... heh ................ ummmmm, yeah. > >"JEAN LUC.... I'll kill you...!!!!" KATE: You don't suppose she's going to put on a leather bikini thong like Sting's, do you? CROW: We can hope... >screamed Beverley as she >shot off, hanging on for dear life. TOM: I don't know how to make it stop! Goodbye folks! > >Picard's chuckling was cut short by his communicator badge >cheeping. CROW: Oh, you're no fun anymore >"Bridge to Captain Picard". KATE (nasally): White courtesy phone for Captain Picard. > >He slapped it. TOM: Aigh! We need to use velcro on these things. >"Picard here, what's the problem number one??" CROW: Well like my parents just called and we need to clean this place up before they get home, dude! > >"Sorry to disturb you Sir, but sensors have picked up a large >amount of ferrous metals in orbit around planet six. KATE: It's that Mars probe that NASA lost back in the 1990s. >We are >fifteen minutes from entering the system. Are you coming up to >the bridge to have a look?" TOM: Let me get my binoculars, first. > >"I'll be up shortly number one. CROW: I'm sorry to hear that. >I just have to put Bessie back >into her stable". KATE and TOM (singing): I hate to see The evenin' sun go down... > >"Good ride Sir?" TOM (singing): All you ever do is ride around, Jean-Luc KATE (singing): Ride, Jean-Luc, ride. CROW: Would you two knock it off? > >"Very good ride Will, and the good doctor enjoyed herself as >well, with the exception of a stiff back". CROW: Should have used the litmus saddle. > >The silent sound of a eyebrow on Rikers face, raising itself was >all too evident over the comm line. KATE: Well, we know where HIS mind is. > >"Very good Sir, Riker out". TOM: "Good"? It was GREAT. > >Picard paused for a few moments, looking at the view one last >time. CROW: Did I leave the iron on? >Then, taking up the reins, he cantered the horse back to >the stables. ALL (singing): Here comes the king. Here comes the king, Here comes the big number one. > > >End of part 1 KATE: Second verse, worse than the first. > > > >~~~ Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR] CROW: Blue wave, all in my brain ... >-- >| Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own. TOM: And he's welcome to keep them! Please!! Commercial we'd like to see: the lady in the art gallery who climbs into a car in a painting suddenly finds herself driving off a cliff in a landscape by that scary PBS painter with the big popcorn hair. MSTed by Richard Burton (T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov) and by Kate Wrightson (kwri...@moe.coe.uga.edu) Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with our writing this. This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. We intended no flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which were referenced in this MSTing. This MSTing reflects my and Kate's own personal viewpoints, and not always both of ours, and does not necessarly reflect the views of the University of Georgia, NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center, or my employer, Hughes STX. Path: nntp.gmd.de!newsserver.jvnc.net!news.cac.psu.edu!news.pop.psu.edu!hudson.lm.com!godot.cc.duq.edu!newsfeed.pitt.edu!gatech!bloom-beacon.mit.edu!news.kei.com!eff!news.umbc.edu!cs.umd.edu!newsfeed.gsfc.nasa.gov!usenet From: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov (T-Bone) Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k,rec.arts.tv.mst3k Subject: MSTed: Better the Devil You Know (5/8) Date: 15 Nov 1994 16:35:40 GMT Organization: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center -- Greenbelt, Maryland USA Lines: 1140 Distribution: world Message-ID: <3aao0s$95b@paperboy.gsfc.nasa.gov> Reply-To: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov NNTP-Posting-Host: lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Xref: nntp.gmd.de alt.tv.mst3k:41814 rec.arts.tv.mst3k:17297 [SOL. Kate, her back to us, is tinkering with some contraption that we can't fully see.] GYPSY: Thanks for everything, Kate. I appreciate the advice and help. KATE: You're welcome. I'm glad to ... [drops something metallic] Damn! You know, these flanchions with the grooved grollings ALWAYS roll to where you can't reach them. GYPSY: That's okay, I brought you plenty of spares. KATE: Thanks, Gyps. Shouldn't you be meeting Crow now? GYPSY: Yes, but it's good to let him wait for a bit. You know, to let him know who's REALLY in charge. [Kate and Gypsy laugh.] KATE: Just be careful, and remember, if you need me, I'm here. GYPSY: Thanks. Don't wait up. [Gypsy exits. Kate keeps working on this unseen contraption. After a moment or two, Servo enters.] TOM (singing to himself): ... and he cleans my clock. Yes, my man ... is a - HANDY man. (speaking now): Oh hi, Kate. You seen Crow? KATE: No, but he and Gypsy are on their ... [Notices Servo starting to shake] ... uh, no I haven't seen him. TOM (sighing): I guess I just have to face it. Crow and I have incompatible subroutines. I just have to accept the fact that he prefers ... WOMEN. KATE (sighing, her shoulders slumping): Tom, there's no reason to get melodramatic about it. Crow just likes Gypsy, okay? He thought it would be nice for someone to treat her well, since she hasn't gotten a lot of attention since Joel left. TOM: I know, I know. The worst part, really, is that I feel left out. KATE: The third bot makes the fifth wheel, huh? TOM: Exactly! They're off doing who-knows-what [minor shudder], Mike is at the Con, jokers to the left of me, clowns to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with you. KATE (sarcasitic): Well, gee, thanks. TOM: Oh, I didn't mean it that way, Kate. It's just that you're new here, and you'll be leaving soon, and it's just not the same. KATE: I know, Tom. That's why I've done this. TOM: Uh, done what? KATE: This. [Kate stands, brushes off her hands, and walks to the far side of the counter. Standing there is the contraption she was working on: a lavander version of Tom Servo, though not quite an exact replica.] TOM (stunned): What the heck is THIS supposed to be? KATE: Well, I figured that if a janitor could build you four bots and create all those inventions, a liberal arts major from the University of Chicago should be able to build you a new friend. TOM: Wow! Have you tried running him yet? KATE: He's booting up now. TOM: He is a rather HANDSOME devil, isn't he? What's his name? KATE: I was thinking of calling him Chad. TOM: Chad what? KATE: Ummmmmm, Chaaaaaad ... Chad N. Mycar. TOM: Wow, Chad N. Mycar, my own special friend. [Suddenly Chad springs to life.] CHAD (sounding eerily like Buddy from TKITH): And just how special AM I, sweetums? TOM: Uh, well, uh, ... CHAD (snuggling up to Tom): So, hon, what makes you tick? TOM: Well, I have four parallel Pentium ... CHAD: No, Silly! I mean, what are your interests? TOM: Oh. I really like music. All kinds, especially jazz and show tunes... CHAD: Oh, I know what you mean! That Judy Garland was SUCH a genius! TOM: And, *ahem*, uh, I, uh, (suddenly acting macho) I also like football and basketball. Love those Golden Gophers, ifyaknowhatImean. CHAD: Me too. TOM: Really? CHAD: Yes, Tom. Ever since I quit smoking, I've really gotten into athletics. Well, athletes. TOM (turning to Kate): Hey, New Blood, does he come with any other personalities? This one makes me all squishy but uncomfortable. KATE (wielding screwdriver): Sure thing. (Opens up a panel on Chad) Let's try this one. CHAD: Squishy is as squishy does, I always sa-- [Chad shakes a bit, then speaks.] CHAD (speaking now in a female voice): Hi Tom. I'm Chad, but please call me SeraServo. We're married now, right? I want to have lots of babies, Tom, I want to hear the pitter-patter of little external drives around the satellite, because we're married now, and you said you loved me ... TOM: Turn it off, TURN IT OFF!!! [Kate lunges for Chad.] CHAD: ... and for our honeymoon we stopped war and famine for all time, because we're marr-- [Kate breathes in relief and starts to make some more adjustments.] KATE: Sorry, Tom, let's try ... [There is a puff of smoke. Chad now wears a baseball cap, a backpack, and glasses.] CHAD (in voice of a simple albeit annoying child): You know, mayflies only live for one day, so they're all born as orphans, so if you want to make money, you should start an orphanage for insects. TOM: Oh, I know! And did you know (starts to adopt the same speech patterns) that stars are so far away that we don't know if they've exploded or not, so airlines won't fly there because it screws up your frequent flyer miles. CHAD: Well, my mom died during a dance marathon, which just proves that friends don't let friends rhumba drunk. [Lights begin to flash.] KATE: Did you know, that whenever those lights flash, the mads want us back in the theater, and we've got movie sign? MOVIE SIGN! [General chaos of movie sign; door sequence. Kate and Tom enter the theater.] >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative KATE: I hope Crow isn't too late. >From: paul.h...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) TOM: "Not since Isaac Newton sat in a bath and discovered that apples could stun Archimedes has one story been so boring." >Subject: Better The Devil You Know 4 [Crow enters.] CROW: Hi guys! Sorry I'm ... [notices the post] Oh, God, no! >X-Mail-Agent: GIGO unreg at shbbs vsn 0.99 pl1 KATE: How was your date? CROW: I'll tell you later. >Organization: Silicon Heaven BBS (2200-0630 UTC) (44-1626-834331) V32B TOM: Hike! >Date: Wed, 10 Aug 1994 23:41:02 +0000 CROW: What's de matteh, Auggie? >Message-ID: >Sender: use...@demon.co.uk TOM (singing): Here he comes, here comes Paul Hubbard! He's a demon on 'net! >Lines: 267 > >From: ph...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) KATE: Didn't he used to play bass with The Seeds? TOM: Well I -- Huh? >Better the devil you know. >by P.D Hubbard. KATE: Cover your face! Cover your face! > >Part 3. CROW: Parts is parts. > > >Beverley Crusher hated doing post mortems, especially when it was TOM: Warm weather. >someone you knew. On a ship of over a thousand, it was difficult >not to. KATE: So those darned ol' Federation personnel can just stop dying RIGHT NOW! >Ensign Sandra Cortez was no exception. CROW: That's no exception, that's my wife! >She had been a >enthusiastic member of the drama group TOM: Especially when they did "Old Calcutta". >and was well respected by >everyone who knew her personally. CROW: She wasn't liked, but they respected her meanness. >A terrible waste. KATE: But what a butt! > >The body of Ensign Cortez was laid out on a gurney, TOM: Which made Letterman's producer happy. >ready for >examination. CROW: You have sixty minutes. Use a number two pencil ... TOM: Oh, a RECTAL exam! >Doctor Cody stood by, KATE: Pumpkin Helmet and Nipple Tweakers at the ready. >ready to assist Crusher with >the biopsies. CROW (in sissy-boy voice): Just let me know if you need any help, Bev. >With a sense of forbidding, TOM: and a rush of excitement, >she peeled back the >sheet. KATE: Yech! Instead of excitement, I would have used some long-handled tongs. > >"Computer. CROW: Mmyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessss? >Start recording. Time 20:42 hours. TOM: Set speed to SP. >Post mortem of >Ensign Sandra Cortez, Engineering staff". KATE: And a good friend. >She paused for a >second, suddenly feeling nauseous. CROW: Wuh, shouldn't have ordered that pepper steak. >After a few more seconds, she >continued. "Exterior of body in a badly lacerated condition. KATE: This work has Brian Adams written all over it! TOM (singing): And it cuts like a knife ... >Little or no skin left on both sides of the torso with congealed >blood pockets covering the affected area. KATE: At least she'll be easy to field-dress. >A sample of the slime >covering the body has been dispatched to the labs for analysis. CROW: An educated guess is that she was attacked by a tobacco lobbyist. >A large gash is visible, extending from the base of the neck to >the pubic region. TOM: Huhhuh. Huhhuh. She said neck. >Weather KATE: Cloudy tonight with a chance of-- >this is the cause of death is at this >point debatable. CROW: Well it certainly didn't help. >Starting to examine wound close up". TOM: with Roy Firestone. Brought to you by Oldsmobile. > >Crusher CROW: Damn near killed 'er! >took a scraper and slowly cleared the dried blood from >the wound. KATE: Now what we'e doin' he'e, Bawb, is clearin' away de old blood... >A foul smell started to waft up from the body making >her wince in disgust. TOM: She had broccoli for lunch! Yech! >Suddenly she stopped, gently parted the >skin and looked into the uncovered cavity. KATE (imitating Don Adams): Thirteen? You in there? > >"Oh my God.........her heart has been removed". CROW: Get James Fransiscus! TOM: Crow, that was Tony Francioso! > > She pottered around KATE (nasally): I remember when I was growing up back in Hannibal, MO! >for a few minutes more, examining the area. CROW: Heh heh. >Finally, she started to stitch up the gash TOM: Prude. >and called in a >orderly to remove the body to stasis. KATE: Stasis? This is Star Trek, not Red Dwarf! TOM: Too bad. >Then, after finalising her >report and sending the samples to the laboratory, CROW: Junior, take you and your BR549 sign to Bela Lugosi's place! >she scrubbed >up and vomited in the sink. KATE: Nice Karen Carpenter imitation. TOM (singing): Just like me, They long to be Close to *HARUPHF* > > > > ____________ > > > >"Your report Doctor?" started Picard. CROW: *ahem* "'The Effects of Roosevelt's New Deal on Generation X' by Bev Crusher..." > >Stopping first to look around the room, Beverley Crusher grasped >her PADD KATE: That's illegal in Georgia, you know. >and started to read the report. The effect on the >officers present was not kind. TOM (as Worf): Quit droning, woman! >Troi immediately started to look >sick CROW: "How could you tell?" >and Geordi shuffled nervously in his seat. KATE: Funny, I'd always figured Levar to be more of a foxtrotter... >A killer on >board was the last thing to be expected. TOM: Except for the Spanish Inquisition. > >Riker cut in. CROW: Hey, dude, front row seats are handed out by lottery anyway! Get back in line, man! >"Doctor, are you telling us that someone flogged >the skin off Ensign Cortez, then gutted her and left her to >die?". KATE: Well DUH, Sherlock! > >"That is essentially it. TOM (as Riker): Is this person available for kids' parties? >It is doubtful that Cortez felt this >happening. She was, to all intent and purposes, CROW: Stoned off her cute little butt. >dead by the time >the flogging had finished". KATE: Kinda like an IRS audit. > >"Thank god for small miracles.." whispered Geordi. CROW: And for big-breasted bow-legged women! KATE: CROW!!!! > >Beverley continued. "A large amount of, for want of a better >word, green slime, was removed from the body TOM: And killed with a burning hands spell. (whispering) God, I am SO, so ashamed I know that ... >and sent for >analysis, results are not available at this time. That's all". KATE: Hee Haw! > >Picard collected his thoughts CROW (as Picard): Where's that thought of Bev in the satin-- Ah, here it is. >then addressed Worf. "Mr Worf, TOM: How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? >have security come up with anything???". KATE: Well, we thought of pop-up books. > >"Very little Sir. There are no traces of anybody being in the >room with Ensign Cortez. CROW: No body? Kate Moss must be behind this! TOM: Can't be, she has no behind. >The computer records indicate KATE: Riker keeps playing nethack during working hours. >that a >period of three minutes elapsed between Ensign Cortez entering >the room and the arrival of security, no one went in or out >between those times. TOM (British accent): So the murderer must still be in that room! CROW (Cockney accent): Or the murderer is able to warp time and space. TOM (British accent): Shut up, Baldrick. >Due to the short timescale it is highly >unlikely that a murderer had time to remove any clues, yet we >cannot find any. KATE: Ha! Like you guys ever COULD! >No hair, fingerprints, nothing. TOM: We did find a business card for some guy named John Hinkley, but you told us to clean up the place, so we threw it away. >A tricorder >was found in a battered state CROW: Oklahoma? >in the room and has been sent to >engineering to see if any clues are obtainable on it. However, >I am very doubtful of this". KATE: Our lab guys are total dinks. > >"Geordi?" TOM: Football practice!!! > >"My staff have been testing the tricorder to see if anything was >recorded on it. CROW: Turns out she was listening to some cool stuff: Velvet Underground's first album. >All we retrieved is a sound recording of Ensign >Cortez's screams, that really upset my staff. KATE: Probably didn't do her a hell of a lot of good, either. >However, a >radiation trace was found on the exterior of the tricorders case >and is currently being analyzed". TOM: Big help; it's probably infrared from Worf's body heat. > >"Will?" TOM: Chief? CROW: McCloud? > >"At this point, KATE: The rabbit goes around the tree, ... >whoever done it CROW: also stole my knowledge of grammar. >was either clever or not human. TOM: Or maybe both. >I can't believe that anybody on this ship would do something like >this. CROW: Apparently Troi hasn't told you what we all think of you, Polyanna. >It gives me the shudders just thinking about it". KATE: It makes me all tingly. > >BLOOP: "Bridge to Captain Picard", TOM: Bloop? Who is this Bloop character? > >"Picard here" > >"Ships sensors have detected a small city on the planets surface. CROW: Tell Riker they don't have a Denny's. >It appears to have no life forms present. KATE: Oh, it's populated by Deadheads. >However, traces of a >power source are registering on the sensors". TOM: It's that damn Energizer rabbit! CROW: Arm phasers. > >"Acknowledged, out.." replied Picard. KATE: But my name's not out! >"Will, form an away team >and get down there. TOM: And get the hell offa my ship! >It may be that the clues we are looking for >are in the wrong place. Dismissed". CROW: Klink, you ee-diot! > >Riker stood up. "Worf, Geordi, Data, with me. Lets go". KATE (singing): I love the night life baby! > > > > ____________ > > > > >Troi strolled down the corridor to her quarters. TOM (falsetto): I know I left that roll around here somewhere. >It was late in >the day CROW: I wonder who's on Letterman ... huh, Teri Garr and Marv Albert. >and she had a backlog of reports to clear along with a >condolence message to Ensign Cortez's family. KATE: "Dear Ensign Cortez's family, we're sorry your daughter was flayed alive, ..." No, that's too direct. >The away team had >beamed down TOM: But Geordi was still asking for a Seagram's and 7. >and there was little to do until they returned. CROW (falsetto): Time to get out Mr. Buzz-Buzz! > >She cocked her head to one side. KATE: Trumpy? >A strange whispering chant >seemed to emanate from somewhere. TOM: It's those damn monks again! How many cds have they released?! >Troi took a few more paces and >stopped to listen again. KATE: Puma? >The sound had stopped. CROW: Oh, that's right, Bev gave Wes a Close'n'Play for his birthday. >She paused a >few more seconds, then shook her head. TOM: Yoggidayoggidayoggida! >'It really is too late >in the evening' CROW (singing): And I went backstage to smoke myself a j! KATE and TOM (imitating the horn section): De-det de-det-de-DEH-det! >she thought as she continued down the corridor. >Reaching the end she turned the corner and stopped dead. ALL: Yay! CROW: I love it when the cast thins out. > >The lighting appeared to have failed along this stretch of >corridor. KATE: "And I'll have to wait four days before Engineering gets around to changing the bulbs. Crummy union." >Turning, Deanna tried using the comm panel to inform >engineering of the problem. The panel was dead. TOM: So she had the replicator make a passenger pigeon ... >She paused for >a few seconds more, then carried on down the corridor. CROW: Then she paused. KATE: After pausing, she paused to pause again. TOM: Having finished her pausing, she almost did something before pausing again, then decided to pause a few seconds for the second pause. CROW: Mr Hubbard, if you are reading this, DO YOU SEE HOW ANNOYING THAT WAS??? > > > > ____________ > > > >Picard was sitting in his ready room. KATE: I'm ready to heave, guys. How do you two stand all these bad fanfics? >He had'nt eaten in over >20 hours and food was the order of the moment. TOM: Oh, very punny. >Picking up his >current piece of reading material, CROW: "'You seem so tense, Geoffrey," she said as she remover her --" Hey, that's DIRTY! >he flipped along the pages KATE: Ah, screw you, book! >to >the point he left off whilst munching on lettuce sandwiches. TOM: Lettuce sandwiches?!?! CROW: Whatever did I give the wife? KATE: Nothing like a big ol' lettuce sandwich after 20 hours without food... > >A whispering noise started up, coming from every direction. TOM (as Picard): Look, Bev, I'm not in the mood for your role-playing. > >Picard turned in his chair and stopped dead. ALL: Yay! CROW: Another one bites the dust! >A strange glow was >starting to form at the far end of the room. KATE (in ethereal, scary voice): You will be visited by three ghosts tonight! >After a few >seconds, it resolved itself into the figure of a old man, TOM: Get out of my ready room, Old Man! >clearly >in agony, pointing at Picard. CROW: You brought the birds! > >"Oh my.....Father.........." KATE: Forgive me, for.....I have.......sinned............. > >"Jean Luc" hissed the voice. TOM (hissing): How long do you cook a pork roast? >"Leave this place, go......, save >yourself CROW (hissing): and your family lots of money at Shoe Carnival! (Shoe Carnival.) >and your crew before they suffer my fate, my >agony.....". KATE (hissing): Mylanta. > >"Father, you know I cannot do that......" TOM: It's part of my fraternity initiation. > >"GO.......Go while you can. CROW (hissing): The next rest stop is 300 miles down the road... >The devil himself has promised to >drink your blood at his banquet. KATE: Oh, so that makes me the guest of honor! >Save yourself my son. TOM (hissing): and redeem yourself for valuable cash prizes... >Already, >it is too late for the Betazoid........". CROW (hissing): Her soul is doomed for being an Orlando fan... > >"What do you mean?.....Oh my God...Troi". KATE: No! It can't be her! We were going to have an affair in the next fanfic! > >A blast of air cowered Picard into submission, blowing away the >figure of Picard's father. TOM: Apparently they serve baked beans and cauliflower in the afterworld. >Picking himself up off of the floor, >he raced out of the door, grabbing a phaser as he went. CROW (as Picard): Damn, now I have to change my uniform and shower again. > > > > ____________ > > > >Troi walked to the end of the corridor. KATE: Hello? Hel-lo-o! Boy, just try to get these DMV people to help you. >A smell of sulphur >suddenly sprung up from nowhere, ALL: Waah! >the chanting got louder. TOM: Hey, would you keep it down! Bloody Jesuits! >A >green slime started dripping down the walls onto the floor. CROW (falsetto): Hey everyone, I found out where Worf hid Wesley's body! > >Ensign Cortez stood at the end of the corridor. KATE: Selling drugs to Jennifer Capriati. > >"Sandra...." TOM: Fro-derick! >exclaimed Troi. "Your dead!!!!!!!" CROW: My dead WHAT? > >The form of Ensign Cortez slowly glided towards Troi who was >rooted in fear on the spot. KATE: Hey, who left this pot of fear in the corridor? > >"I have come for your soul, Deanna..." cooed the wraith. TOM: And also that cute green sweater with the blue ribbons. > >Finding her voice, she addressed the figure. CROW: I am NOT gonna pay a lot for this muffler! TOM: Then may I suggest this scarf, madam? >"You can't have my >soul. KATE: Riker has the title. >You don't exist . TOM: Oh? Then why are you talking to her? >There is no such thing as ghosts". CROW: The Titanic is unsinkable! KATE: Bush was out of the loop! TOM: Chuck Robb only got a massage from Tai Collins! > CROW (to Tom and Kate): That's one riff against a Republican, one against a Democrat. So no one should complain. KATE: They will. CROW: Oh I know they WILL ... >At this, the form changed into a demon, TOM: Mitch Miller??? >it's pointed tail >whipping behind its back and it's voice altering to a low >thunder. KATE: Barry White??? > >"Maybe you would like to feel the lash of my tail...." CROW: Oh, it's Bob Crane! >it >growled, then screamed a horrible demonic scream. TOM: That was Counting Crows, with "Rain King" on 99.1 HFS. >"I want your >soul for my collection. KATE: It'll look so cute with my Hummels. >Come Deanna, you know this is what you >want. CROW: Just like you really want a cigarette. >I can feel your heart yearning for it's release into a >eternity of suffering and torture". TOM: And improper use of indefinite articles... > >The demon reached out to her, it's clawed hand glistening in the >half light. KATE: Someone forgot to wipe his hands! You get back in that bathroom THIS INSTANT, young man! > >"Noooooooooo" she screamed. ALL: Yeeeeeeeees! > >Suddenly, a phaser burst hit the demon. CROW: Message for you, sir. >It staggered back and >shot obscenities TOM: Bullets might be more effective. >at the newly arrived Picard, then slowly advance >again. KATE: Losing all sense of verb tense. > >Picard upped the phaser to kill and fired. CROW (mumbling): Yer de Cure; I'm de Fixx. No, dat ain't right. Yo, Adrian, what's my line here? >the shaft of light >hit the demon and threw it back against the bulkhead. TOM: That shaft is one mean mo-- KATE and CROW: Shut cho mouth! >It lay >there, stunned for a few moments, KATE: You stunned 'im just as he was waking up! Norwegion Blue Demons stun easily. CROW: So do DePaul Blue Demons. >then picked itself up off the >floor and advanced again on Picard. TOM: Wouldn't be easier to advance on the floor? >A wind picked up KATE: Okay, who ate the burrito? >and >billowed around Picard and Troi. CROW (singing): The theeeeeeme from A SUUUMmer Plaaaaaaaaace... > >"You fool Picard. TOM: You fool him, I'm bitter. >You think you can hurt me, the devil himself. KATE: Sure, I'll just play my "Rosanne Sings Irish Ballads" cd. >Hurting me does nothing, CROW: Oh, it's FUN, ... >it only tortures the souls I have >collected. TOM: Well, since we know you have McCauley Culkin's, I'm for it. >Already I have plans for your father. KATE: Dinner, dancing, drinks, who knows where it may lead. >His soul will >burn a thousand agonies..." CROW: I'll force him to eat 1000 chili peppers and burn his gut. > >"The dead are gone and buried.." cried Picard. TOM: Then what IS that smell? You step in something? >"The living are >more important", KATE: A counterexample: Martin Luther King, Jr. and Al Sharpton. >and with that he opened fire again on the demon, >holding the trigger down. CROW: Amazing how the phaser fires when you do that! TOM: Ain't it, though? >The demon flew back in a hail of fire KATE (dj voice): From their second album, _October_ >and vanished, the lighting returning to normal. CROW: So, it was all a dream ... > >Troi staggered to her feet and looked in the direction that the >demon had disappeared. TOM: Boy, Deanna, Mom's gonna be pissed. >"Where is he?" she asked. KATE: Jamaica? CROW: No, she wanted to go! > >"It appears" TOM: WHERE!?!? >replied Picard, " that our demon is, to quote >Dickens, more gravy than of grave. KATE (British accent): Of course that's 'Dikkens' with two k's, the well-known Dutch author. >Come on, we've got to get to >the bridge and warn the away team". CROW: I pity da fool that mess with the away team! > > > > > ____________ > > > > TOM: What, there's MORE to this part? >The Turbolift doors parted allowing Picard and Troi onto the >bridge. KATE: Billy goat, billy goat, ... >Going to the communications panel, Picard tried to call >the away team. TOM: Fiji Island beachside! >No response was forthcoming. KATE: We're sorry; we are unable to complete your call... > >"Sensor sweep. CROW: Detector mop. >Where is the away team?" called Picard. TOM: They stopped at the 7-11. > >"The away team is still registering on the sensor's Sir CROW: What the HECK is a "sensor's Sir"? >but >someone or something is blocking our communications planetside. KATE: It's the planet, you moron; they're on the other hemisphere! >we have no way to contact them". CROW: Not even Western Union? > >He turned to Troi. TOM: Darling! Alone at last! >"It appears that someone is desperate for us >not to give the game away". KATE: Milton Bradley? CROW: Connie Hawkins? TOM: Alex Groza? KATE: Roger Brown? > > > > > >End of part 3. TOM: FI-nally! > >~~~ Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR] CROW: Yes, it's Buddy Guy with A Flock of Seagulls! KATE: Crow, you are OUT there, man! >-- >| Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own. TOM: And he can HAVE them. Commercial we'd like to see: Well, no commercials, really. MSTed by Richard Burton (T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov) and by Kate Wrightson (kwri...@moe.coe.uga.edu) Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with our writing this. This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. We intended no flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which were referenced in this MSTing. This MSTing reflects my and Kate's own personal viewpoints, and not always both of ours, and does not necessarly reflect the views of the University of Georgia, NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center, or my employer, Hughes STX. Path: bga.com!news.sprintlink.net!hookup!news.umbc.edu!haven.umd.edu!cs.umd.edu!newsfeed.gsfc.nasa.gov!usenet From: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov (T-Bone) Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k,rec.arts.tv.mst3k Subject: MSTed: Better the Devil You Know (6/8) Date: 30 Nov 1994 14:47:19 GMT Organization: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center -- Greenbelt, Maryland USA Lines: 1326 Distribution: world Message-ID: <3bi39n$7j@paperboy.gsfc.nasa.gov> Reply-To: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov NNTP-Posting-Host: lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Keywords: Pain, suffering, long, CON Xref: bga.com alt.tv.mst3k:24676 rec.arts.tv.mst3k:18524 >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative TOM: From the bowels of Hades comes... >From: paul.h...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) >Subject: Better The Devil You Know 5 CROW: The author paused before pausing, then wrote... >X-Mail-Agent: GIGO unreg at shbbs vsn 0.99 pl1 KATE: "unreg"? That means no Leonard Rossiter! >Organization: Silicon Heaven BBS (2200-0630 UTC) (44-1626-834331) V32B TOM: Ah, my favorite dMe star! >Date: Wed, 10 Aug 1994 23:41:03 +0000 >Message-ID: >Sender: use...@demon.co.uk CROW: We know, we know, get on with it. >Lines: 293 KATE (singing): "Sold my house, sold my car, lost my jooooob. Cocaine" CROW: Kate, YOU ... are one Gonzo chick. > >From: ph...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) > >Better the Devil you know. >by P.D Hubbard. TOM: The next five minutes of P.D. Hubbard's Internet Star Trek Religious Happening "Better the Devil you know" is brought to you by the makers of Louie's Wipe Out Pumice Hamburgers. > > >Part 4. > > >Things had been going badly for the away team on the planet. CROW: Charlie had them pinned down outside of town ... >A >bad transporter fix had beamed them into the middle of a fountain KATE: Onto International Street at King's Island. >which had quite clearly not registered on the transporter sensor >system. TOM: That's what you get for using Solaris. >Even more worrying was the loss of communications which >had happened almost immediately after they had beamed down. CROW: Well, drinking Jim Beam will affect your speech. >Climbing out of the water, they scanned the area whilst drying >off. TOM (singing): Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair... >Worf was not pleased. KATE (nasally): So he wore a pushup bra. Now THAT'S pleasing. >He had spent several hours the day >before with Mr Hohm fussing over his hair, getting it just right. CROW: Weeeelllll, seems there's a side to old macho Worf that we didn't know about! >A return trip to the barbers did not appeal to him one bit. KATE (prissy voice): I jutht KNOW he'll inthitht on giving me a perm! > >Geordi and Riker were just plain wet. TOM: Let's face it, they suck. >The only one not affected >by the water was Data. CROW: Too bad, I was hoping for a short- TOM: *ahem*! CROW: -circuit. TOM: Oh. >His synthetic skin was waterproof KATE: Thanks to RADAR! >and he >often conducted swimming lessons for the Enterprises Pre- >schoolers, both parties getting something out of it. TOM: So, Data's been reading about Michael Jackson again. >The >children for having a 'local hero' keeping a eye on them and Data >getting more information on life in general. CROW: You don't have to say anything more, Paul. > >Geordi looked up from his tricorder. KATE: Juns! >"Over there commander. TOM: There wolf. There castle. >The >power readings are being emitted from that domed structure. CROW: Picard!?!? How did he get down here? >No >life forms present". KATE: Yeah, that's what you said up on the ship. > >"Ok, we'll proceed towards the source. TOM: Everyone find your partner! >Everybody be careful, I >don't want to loose anybody". CROW: So no more liquor; you have to drive home. > >They observed the local architecture as they walked over. KATE: Hey, that was a KFC!!! >Much >of it was strange, TOM: ...resembling a strip mall... >as if different cultures had bolted on their >own buildings to the existing structures. CROW: I hate these Urban Renewal areas. >Many large concrete >rimmed pits were scattered over the courtyard area. KATE: Well, at least these aliens had storm grates. >Peering down >each of the holes, the scattered remains of many people was >evident. TOM: Looks like a Who concert in Cincinnati... > >"It looks like some mass slaughter house..." growled Worf. CROW: They're killing people in Amhurst! KATE: If Doctress Fruitopia is in there, I'm for it. TOM: Guys, that was "mass slaughter house", not "UMASS slaughter house". > >"Yeah" replied Riker, " but we can't help them now". CROW: So pass the KC Masterpiece. TOM: Only if it's BOOOOOLLLLD!!! > >They continued staggering over the uneven ground, KATE: Stagger, stagger, roll roll, ... >finally >arriving at a portal set in a stainless tristeel wall. TOM: Swordfish. CROW (as Groucho): I'm sorry, we've changed the pass-woid. >Data >scanned the entrance, finding no boobytraps TOM: Say, Kate, how do you feel about being stabbed by knives and drinking a glass of water? KATE: No. >or security sensors >of any kind, he stepped inside the doorway. A steel shutter shot >down, cutting Data off from the others. KATE: Max? Max! > >"Data!!!!!!.....Mr Worf, cut that door down". CROW: You're ugly and your momma dresses you funny! How's that? > >"Yes Sir". The phaser made light work of the metal surface. TOM: Put on your RayBans, everyone. >Finally, after several seconds, the metal sheet fell in with a >great crash. KATE: Well, at least a so-so crash. >Of Data, there was no sign. CROW: Nor of grammar was an accepted form to be seen. > >"I don't understand" exclaimed Worf. TOM: Exactly what use are Tchebycheff polynomials? >"There are no other exits >from that room yet Data has gone". KATE: So obviously Data has been taken to heaven by God. >"Wait a minute....., my visor is picking something up" said >LaForge. CROW: Damn, The Arrow is playing that stupid Boston song again. KATE: Which Boston song? CROW: Dunno, I can't tell them apart ... >He looked at several metal surfaces for a few seconds >then continued. TOM: What? What?! Continued WHAT??? >"There is another door in the wall, directly >opposite this entrance. KATE: Oh, you mean that large wooden thing with the knob? CROW: That's Riker. TOM: No, Riker IS a knob. >Some sort of power emanations are >escaping around the hairline gaps, KATE: Cool light show, man.. >I would have missed it >altogether without that source". CROW: And without RADAR. > >Riker came do a decision. TOM: Oh, I refuse to riff that line; it's is too easy. >"Worf, get cutting". CROW (Worf's voice): These three nuns get on a bus... > >"Aye Sir" KATE (in voice of comedian Randy Montgomery): The question: "What did the coat check girl say to Sammy Davis, Jr., after 'hat, sir?'" > >Worf started to cut into the metal for a few seconds, then >stopped. TOM: My hands won't do it, sir. >"The metal is much more compacted than usual. CROW: Newt Gingrich's ego sat on it. >It will >take time to cut through.." he said, then continued. KATE: Then he paused. TOM: Then he continued. CROW: Then he paused, then he continued pausing, then he paused from his pausing to continue. > >Geordi and Riker sat down, a long wait ahead of them. KATE: So, Geordi, how 'bout them Blazers, huh? > > > > ____________ > > > > >Up on the Enterprise, TOM: It's the Drifters' salute to ... oh, wait, I've done that one. >all was not a bed of roses either. CROW: More like an armoire of pomegranates. >Communications was still down with the away team. KATE: Wow, like this whole beaming down business is such a bummer, and now Data's like really strung out. >Another >worrying prospect was that their message to Starfleet command had >been bounced back at them a few hours later. TOM: Well run a traceroute, idiots! >They were totally >cut off from the outside world. CROW (as Picard): Just when I could use a scotch... >Finally, Picard knew what to do. KATE: Homebrewing. >He turned to a young ensign. ALL: Saaaaaaayyyyyy....... > >"Mr DeJano. TOM: I wasn't reading alt.sex.bestiality!!! >Prepare a class nine probe CROW: And make sure it has a sunroof and an automatic transmission. >and load it with copies >of KATE: _Amorica_. >all log entries and sensor reading since we first arrived >here. Dispatch it to the nearest Starbase to here". TOM: Sir, one of our probes was apparently disgruntled and opened fire on all the other probes with a phaser. > >A few seconds passed. CROW: So they paused... > >"Probe ready to launch Sir". KATE: He'll have to wait until noon. > >"Make it so". CROW: But it's a Ford, not a Singer! > >"Probe on it's way Sir" reported the Ensign. TOM: We're on our wayyy! > >Several things happened at once. KATE: They often do. >The deflector grid flipped TOM: ... and just went ape-sh*t silly. >on >almost immediately and a energy beam lashed out from the planet, >hitting the probe and blowing it into a million pieces. CROW: Boy, HBO is getting SERIOUS about people descrambling their signals. >Caught >in the blast, the Enterprise shook violently. KATE: Bridge lurch! [Kate and Tom lurch to the left, Crow to the right.] TOM: Uh, Crow, what were you doing? CROW: I was Kirk. > >Steadying her self, Troi turned to the captain. KATE: Do you smell raspberries? >"It appears" she >said, "that someone does not want anyone to know we are here". TOM: Boy, THAT really blows away her stereotype of always saying the blitheringly obvious... > >"That much is evident councillor. CROW: Tete de merde... >Scan for the source of that >energy beam". KATE: Start looking in that big scorched area. > >The comm panel sounded. "Crusher to Picard". TOM: Later, laterrrr.... > >"Picard here Doctor. Any results?". CROW: That beam knocked me on my butt... > >"The analysis results have come back from the laboratory on the >green slime. KATE: Mass spectroscopy indicates that it's grody! >Much of it's composition is unknown but it contains >a strong hallucinational agent which affects the reasoning and >reality processing areas of the brain". TOM: And thus the phenomenon of Deadheads is explained. > >"How strong Doctor?". CROW: Let's just hope Pat Robertson doesn't put this in the water supply. > >"So strong that when we tested a sample on a volunteer. KATE: It wiped out our ability to use commas. >we had >to restrain him on the examining table to stop him hitting the >ceiling. TOM: Then he turned into a black duck and cavorted to the horizon while shouting "W-hoo! W-hoo! W-hoo-hoo!" >He claimed that several dead relatives and the Devil >himself was after him. CROW: Oh, that was just his student loan officer. >This is potent stuff captain". KATE: Wonder what the street value of that is... > >"Good work Doctor". TOM: Oh, and get Keith Richards on the phone. > >"One other thing captain. CROW (falsetto): I left an earring in your room... >We took samples around the area that >Troi was attacked and found several signs of transporter >activity. KATE: Ask her why she needed a bushel of zucchini in her private quarters. >It looks like the slime is transported in from >somewhere". TOM: Probably from one of the law firms in the sector. > >"It appears that our Devil not so supernatural after all. CROW: Just supersonic. >Keep >me apprised Doctor. KATE: Well, we just have the consolation prise left, but if you insist. >Picard out". > >He turned to Troi. TOM (jumping): Dyew! Put on some makeup. >"It appears that we are dealing with a not >so formidable adversary after all". CROW: Just one that can gut an ensign in a flash. KATE: As long as none of the main characters get hurt, who cares? > > > > ____________ > TOM: This fanfic is flatlining!!! CROW: Good. > > > >"Nearly through Sir" called Wolf. [Kate bays at an imaginary moon.] >A few more seconds passed. TOM: So they paused. >The inner sheet of metal started to hinge inwards, then fell with >a great crash KATE: Ladies and gentleman, Aerosmith!!! >to reveal a long, badly lit corridor. CROW: It puts the lotion on its skin. > >"Good" exclaimed Riker. "I'll lead..." TOM: But there's no music. > >Wolf disagreed. [Crow growls.] >"Sir, as senior officer here I, as security >offer should lead". KATE: Woah, reread before you post, Paul! CROW: Friends don't let friends write fanfic drunk. > >"Not this time Wolf, TOM: What with your name changing... >lets go". CROW: Great, now Riker wants to cover "Ballroom Blitz", too. KATE: He's no Sweet. TOM: Hell, he's no Krokus. > >Proceeding cautiously down the tunnel, KATE: It's the NBC Sunday Mystery Movie! [Tom and Crow jump and shake as if receiving electric jolts.] KATE: Oh, sorry guys, I forgot. >Riker could not help >feeling apprehensive. CROW: And Geordi's thigh. >A few hundred yards along, the shape of >a figure approaching them was starting to become visible. TOM: Hi, can I interest you in an issue of The Watchtower? > >"Phaser's on stun" barked Riker. [All three start to bark and woof.] > >The figure got closer and closer, finally revealing itself as >data. KATE: Boy, that's a lot of printout. > >"Data, is that you?" called Geordi. CROW: No, it's Gandalf. OF COURSE IT'S ME! > >"yes. CROW: See? >The machinery used to snatch me discovered that I was not >human and let me go. TOM: So Coucescou would have been safe there, too. >I managed to find my way back here. ALL (singing): Fiiind yoooour waaaaaay back. >Sir, >I have made a startling discovery". ALL (jumping): Aigh! > >"Which is" replied Riker. KATE: Soylent Green is people! > >"It would be better if you followed me. CROW: Follow me? Eh? Know what I mean? >It is easier to look >than to explain". TOM: Well, easier for you... > >After traversing several more corridors, they finally emerged >into a large open chamber. At the centre of the room stood a KATE: Minotaur!!! >large glass column, filled with a clear solution. CROW: You dragged us all this way for a hexagonal aquarium? >Floating >inside was a strange looking humanoid, tethered to the glass >sides by electronic equipment and cords. TOM: Mary Shelly's "Ice Man". >Behind him stood small >glass jars, similarly wired, but with Brains inside them. KATE: Uh, let's see, that was episode 513, right? TOM: And The Simpsons' Halloween special. CROW: Look, Smithers, I'm Davy Crocket! > >Riker slowly circled the tank, looking first at the equipment, >then at the occupant inside the tank. TOM (French accent): And so Falco stays in ze deprivation tank, until 'ee promises nev-air to zing "Herr Kommisar" again. >Parts of it were heavily >stitched at major limb junctions and one leg was clearly feminine >in appearance. KATE: David Bowie? > >Geordi stood scanning the tube, CROW: Hey, the Giants are on! >a frown of puzzlement was >noticeable across his face. TOM: I just don't get The Kids in the Hall... > >"Commander" he called. CROW: You command 'er, I'm bitter. >"This is weird. KATE: I never would have guessed... >The occupant of the tank >appears to be made up of pieces of different people, of different >sexes and colours. TOM: Hey, it IS David Bowie! >It is alive, but barely". CROW: "Just like Gerald Ford" > >A dull humming noise shot across the room KATE: Grab that hum before it gets outside! >and the tube in the >centre of the room illuminated followed by a voice. TOM (imitating Penn): Next up on Comedy Central, ... > >"HUMANS.......Welcome.............." CROW: to the boomtown. > >"Who are you???" said Riker, addressing the entity inside the >tube. KATE: Bronson. > >"My name is not important. TOM: It is also not "Smith". >I am the last of the Hobs. CROW: I think they've got a tiger by the tail. [Kate slaps Crow for such a bad pun.] >I have >been waiting here for a eternity, waiting for your arrival". KATE: And your knowledge of using indefinite articles. > >"Our arrival?" > >"YES" the voice boomed. "Your arrival. TOM: We're stupid, not mental. >At last, transport for >me away from this place, CROW (singing with a blues voice): down t' where the southern cross the dog... >and so many FRESH bodies to choose >from". KATE: Clarence Thomas, Bob Packwood, Fatty Arbuckle, ... > >"Bodies to choose from??? Us???". TOM: No, the Cleveland Indians. OF COURSE YOU!!! >Realisation started to dawn >in Rikers head. CROW: He's gonna blow, he's starting to think! Take cover! >"What about the people you have snatched from >our planet". KATE: I traded them for junk bonds and lost my butt. > >"To survive for all these years, these eons, TOM: These geological periods. >I have had to take >humans for your planet for spare parts to extend my existence. CROW: And I have the receipts to prove it. >Thousand's of years ago, KATE: Not long after this fanfic began... >we came to your planet, TOM: Looking for a Motel 6 >openly to your >people, our intentions plain. CROW: Long pig filets. >You banished us, spun our names >into your folklore as a warning to others. KATE: Gave us melvins, wedgies, and wet willies. >Beware the Hob, the >imp, the destructor. TOM: The conjunction. >Is it any wonder we resorted to subterfuge >to survive? CROW: No, only that a race that clever would be dumb enough to be caught in a lousy Star Trek fanfic. >That is now in the past, KATE: Like Reagan's ... uh, ... CROW: Memory? KATE: I don't recall. >the time is the present. TOM: At the third stroke, the time will be one after the present. >With your ship, and it's spare part store, I can proceed to >rejuvenate my race". CROW: And get a kickass tan. > >"The brains in the tubes behind??" enquired Data. TOM (turning to Crow): See, I bet even Data could say "come with". CROW: Shut up, Iris. > >"Yes" continued the voice. KATE: Ah, Marv Albert's behind this. >"We will again be mighty. CROW: Jack. >You will >be the first. KATE: He asked me! He asked me! >The process is painless, TOM: Sure, just like circumcision. >the lobotomy will not >take long". CROW: Not with this crew... > >"And what about our lives" said Geordi. KATE: And what about the velveteen rabbit? >"We have a right to >existence ourselves". CROW: We have our right's! We have our rights! We're Callahans! > >"RIGHT TO EXISTENCE!!!!! TOM: LEFT TO ESSENCE!!!!! >Hahahaha, your puny existence would >not be missed by your passing. KATE: You need to establish a running game first. >You are nothing, food for the >strong. TOM: Well that's something we can build on! >We will win, we will prevail". ALL (singing a well-known fight song): Hurl! On the all time chokers! Hurl! On the Big Ten jokers! Hurl! Hurl! On Michigan! Vomit and spew! > >Several mechanical machines CROW: As opposed to the sick patients... KATE: Or the bovine cattle... TOM: Or the medical doctors... >emerged from the wall and started >towards the away team. CROW: It's payback time for sending us those Wesley episodes... > >Wolf addressed the entity. KATE: 2915 Baseline Road, Apartment 435, Boulder, CO 80303 >"Your race is past. TOM: NASCAR's the hip thing. >You have no >place in the modern universe". CROW: Get out of our way, old race! > >"You are wrong Klingon. KATE: "Klingon"? I thought he was a wolf... >Your race was one of those under >selection. TOM: Klingons must be inferior; no blondes. KATE: You used to work on Madison Avenue, right? >A pity it had to come to this but never mind. Give >yourselves up freely Humans, you have no other choice!!!". CROW: You will be killed by listening to James Taylor until your mind turns to mush. TOM: Shouldn't take long... > >"Over my dead body..." said Riker KATE: Well that IS the general idea... >and took aim with his phaser TOM: Say... >at the control gear surrounding the tube. He opened fire. CROW: How's about a little fire, Scarecrow? > >"NOOOOOOOOOO" screamed the entity as his life supporting systems >were fused beyond repair. KATE: I borrowed this from Michael Jackson!!! >Geordi lashed out with his phaser TOM: Geordi, there is a time and place for that >whilst Data and Wolf covered the rear. CROW: I TOLD you Worf had that side to his macho personality. > >A stray phaser blast cannoned into the glass tubes KATE: Now who's going to be the house band in _Xanadu_? >containing the >last of the Hobs, TOM: Hey, those comic tigers are an endangered species! >scattering pieces of brains across the floor. CROW: Is Zapruder filming this? >The entity gurgled KATE: Listerine fights gingivitis. >as his life sustaining processes shut down one >by one. TOM: Too bad he couldn't take some of the crew with him, huh? > >"I HAVE FAILED" it screamed into the thin air, CROW: I only got a 63 on my midterm!!! >"BUT NOT BEFORE >I TAKE YOUR PRECIOUS SHIP WITH ME.............". KATE: Hey, you can't take it with you, friend. > >"Everybody out" cried Riker as several sections of ceiling, >caught in a sudden blast from the life support equipment started >to fall. TOM (singing): Every time it rains it rains ceilings from heaven > >A section of girder fell down, narrowly missing Wolf. CROW: Yipe-yipe-yipe! >They >careered down the dark tunnels, KATE: Their careers headed straight to the sewers where they belonged. >the crashes of destruction >snapping at their heels, TOM: Funny, I always thought of Riker wearing flats or slippers. >Finally, they emerged from the >building, CROW: Taxi!!! >a large dust cloud following them, KATE: No more chili for you, Wolf. I mean Worf. >to a sullen sky, the >wind whipping around them. TOM: Ain't gonna be tied to your whippin' post! > >"What did it mean commander?" yelled Geordi over the sound of the >rising wind. CROW: It means our *ss is grass! > >"I don't know,....but the Enterprise is in trouble". KATE: You see, when one spaceship loves another spaceship very very much, ... > > > >End of part 4. TOM: I thought that was never going to end. Let's go. [They start to exit.] > > > > > >~~~ Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR] >-- >| Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own. [Door sequence. Gypsy and Crow are talking and joking. Chad and Tom are in some conversation about Watusi warriors and hysterectomies. Kate has a worried look on her face.] KATE: You know, I was just wondering: what do you think Mike is doing now at the Con? CROW: What? KATE: I said I was just wondering what Mike's doing. GYPSY: Who? KATE: Mike! TOM: Who's Mike? CHAD: You know, last year, my dad discovered a tribe in the Amazon, and they were all named 'Mike', except for the men. KATE: Chad, please. CROW: Who is this Mike character, an old boyfriend? KATE: Mike was the guy on the satellite before I got here! Remember? GYPSY: Was he the talking dog? TOM: No, that was Fletcher. Remember, he wee-ed on Crow! CROW: Oh, thanks for bringing back THAT memory! CHAD: You know, in certain villages in Romania, dog urine is considered a delicacy, because the dogs there can't pee and they explode after three years. [Kate rolls her eyes.] TOM (speaking with Chad's vocal rhythm): You know, if you take cranber- ries, and stew them like applesauce, they taste more like prunes than rhubarb does. KATE: HEY! Look, don't you remember Mike? Mike Nelson? [She looks one by one at the bots, who just stare back.] They guy who replaced Joel??? CROW: Was Joel the guy with the beard? KATE: Oh, never mind. [Hits a button.] [Deep 13. Frank is there by himself.] FRANK: Oh, hi, Ki- uh, Kate. What can I do you for? [Sat-O-Love] KATE: Is Dr Forrester there? [Deep 13] FRANK: He's busy getting ready for his date. Can I help you with something? [Sat-O-Love] KATE: I was wondering if we could find out what's happening at the CON. Since you guys didn't let me go, I figured that the least you could do is show me what's going on there. [Deep 13] FRANK: Wellllll, I really shouldn't, but as long as you promise not to tell Dr. Forrester, ... Just remember, it may get cut off suddenly because Clay is coming. Give me a minute to link the security camera feeds to the hexfield viewscreen. [Sat-O-Love] KATE: Thanks, Frank. I wonder how things are going: if there were a lot of Trekkie-ish people there, who had the best costume, what happened to la after I got beamed up here, ... CROW: Yeahsoundslikealotoffun. So, Gyps, feel like going for a walk in the starlight? TOM: Crow! Too soon! GYPSY: Let's hang out here for a bit. I wanna find out what happened to ... uh, to ... KATE: Mike. GYPSY: MIKE! Yes! Thank you! [Lights flash; back to Deep 13] FRANK: Okay, I've established a link between the security cameras and the hexfield. Just push the red button to changed cameras. Any broadcast or retransmission without the express written permission of the NBA is strictly prohibited. [SOL] TOM: o-KAY! Push the button, Kate. [Kate hits the button; the hexfield opens and the camera moves in so the view on the hexfield fills the tv screen. We see a rather orderly crowd of people all dressed very strangely.] VOICE/KATE: Oh, this must be the costume ball. Hm, I don't see la; I know she was going as Mr. B... [Suddenly someone dressed as a ninja jumps up on a table, pulls out a katana, and points it at someone.] NINJA: You! Why haven't you joined the info club yet?! Taste my steel! [The ninja leaps off the table and decapitates the poor sap in one smooth motion. He takes off his raiment to reveal that his true identity is ... Juliewa!!!] JULIEWA: Master Ninja Theme Song! [Juliewa then stalks off, looking to increase info club enrollment.] V/CROW: Boy, I guess she still hasn't gotten over working at Microsoft. [The view pans around to show the festivities. At one point, Trace comes into view, running from a tall woman dressed like Dr. F.] TRACE: Brenda, I have a restraining order! BRENDA: Yes! Restrain me! TRACE: Keep away from me! Security! Security! [They run offscreen; the camera continues panning. Suddenly it stops and zooms in on CreepyGuywithBots. He is showing his model of Servo to a group of people, who have a look of raw terror on their faces. We then see Mary Jo Pehl and Jeff Maynard sneak up behind CreepyGuy. Jeff clubs him with a Louisville slugger, then stuffs him into a gunny sack which Mary Jo is holding open. They cinch up the sack's opening, smile to the camera, hold up a roll of candy, and freeze.] MAGIC VOICE: Mentos. The Freshmaker. V/KATE: Let's try another view. [Camera view changes to a dark corner. Mikey Inglis is handing a $100 bill to Bridget.] MIKEY: Remember, call me "Dreamy". V/SERVO: Let's try another one. [We now see Kevin Murphy and Jim Mallon talking, standing in front of a table filled with food and a punch bowl.] JIM: Kinda scary, huh? KEVIN: Well, only one person seems to be totally out of it. [Erin, dressed as Jan in the Pan, approaches the table from behind.] JIM: Not really a bad ratio, if you think about it. [Erin picks up a glass of punch.] KEVIN: True. I was worried it might be more Trekkie-ish, but it's not that bad. [Trace and Brenda come running past the screen.] TRACE: Run away! Run away! BRENDA: Call me Serafi... [Jim and Kevin stare after them as Erin attempts to drink the punch without much success.] JIM: Then again ... [Erin is still having trouble drinking because of her costume, and spills the punch into her pan.] KEVIN: So, have your talked to the Universal People yet? [Erin picks up another glass of punch.] JIM: A couple of them. One wasn't overly impressed, but the other was cowering under a table, whimpering something about a ninja. [Erin spills more punch in her pan.] KEVIN: Oh, they must be working on a Chuck Norris deal. [Erin picks up another glass of punch.] JIM: I'm kinda worried about Julie; I think this whole business on the net is getting to her. [Erin spills punch in her pan again. She looks VERY frustrated, then inspired.] KEVIN: Yeah. Where's Mike, I haven't seen him in a while. [Erin suddenly dunks her head into the punch bowl and starts drinking very noisily.] JIM: There was some young lady looking for him, called herself S-- [suddenly noticing Erin drinking straight out of the punch bowl] Hey! What are you doing? KEVIN (picking up a french loaf and hitting Erin with it): Stop it! That's rude, unsanitary, and copyrighted by Blake Edwards! ERIN (sheepishly): I'm sorry, but this is my only scene! V/GYPSY: Where else can we look? V/KATE: Let's see. [We are now looking in a men's room. Frank is standing at the nearest urinal, his back to us. Five male MSTies, led by Pat Gomes and Larry MacGregor, file in and stand in front of the rest of the urinals. In unison, they unzip and put their legs up on the urinals.] FRANK (running from the room): AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa........ V/KATE: Boy, it looks like we can look ANYWHERE. I wonder if we can get the ELK lodge. Let's see ... [View changes once again, this time to a hotel room. The scene is a closeup of some luggage in a corner.] V/KATE: This must be it, that's la's luggage! V/CROW: Look around the room. [The camera pulls back and pans. What follows is a scene which is indescribable, particularly to young readers. However, it does involve Mike tied to a chair (and dressed as an Aryan milkmaid), la (dressed as a lumberjack and holding a riding crop), two llamas, a tube of squirt cheese, a bustle, a kazoo, an old Habitrail (hamster not included), a tube of tartar-control Crest gel, a bag of chocolate sprinkles, a handpuppet of Joey the Lemur, and a polar bear sitting directly in front of a fan turning at high speed. Suddenly the door bursts open, and a rather *ahem* healthy woman wearing sheer night attire and wielding several pencils is standing there.] CYBERMUFFIN: You're not getting him without a fight. Get your skimpy nightie out, girlfriend; it's wrasslin' time. V/ALL ON SOL: WAIGH! [The screen to the hexfield closes as the camera pulls back. Kate and the bots look frazzled. Cut to Deep 13.] FRANK: Sorry, Dr Forrester is coming. [SOL] CROW: Looks like he won't be the only one. GYPSY: And you have to miss all that! KATE: Actually, I don't feel so bad anymore. TOM: Too bad Trace can't say the same thing. CROW: Poor sap. Commercial we'd like to see: The plastic people from the Duracell commercial get caught in the rain, get a short, and melt due to internal electrical fires. MSTed by Richard Burton (T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov) and by Kate Wrightson (kwri...@moe.coe.uga.edu) Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with our writing this. This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. We intended no flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which were referenced in this MSTing. This MSTing reflects my and Kate's own personal viewpoints, and not always both of ours, and does not necessarly reflect the views of the University of Georgia, NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center, or my employer, Hughes STX. Path: nntp.gmd.de!dearn!blekul11!idefix.CS.kuleuven.ac.be!ub4b!EU.net!howland.reston.ans.net! news.sprintlink.net!hookup!news.umbc.edu!cs.umd.edu!newsfeed.gsfc.nasa.gov!usenet From: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov (T-Bone) Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k,rec.arts.tv.mst3k Subject: MSTed: Better the Devil You Know (7/8) Date: 12 Jan 1995 02:08:00 GMT Organization: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center -- Greenbelt, Maryland USA Lines: 839 Distribution: world Message-ID: <3f22u0$k3g@post.gsfc.nasa.gov> Reply-To: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov NNTP-Posting-Host: lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov Xref: nntp.gmd.de alt.tv.mst3k:43485 rec.arts.tv.mst3k:22479 [Kate, carrying Tom, and Crow enter the theater.] >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative TOM: Boy! I nearly blew a diode from that nightie. CROW: And from who was wearing it! I guess that photo we saw wasn't touched up! >From: paul.h...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) KATE: Whew! I'll never look at squirt cheese the same way again. >Subject: Better The Devil You Know 6 KATE (singing): If you knew 6-ie Like I knew 6-ie... >X-Mail-Agent: GIGO unreg at shbbs vsn 0.99 pl1 TOM: Kate, don't EVER sing again in my presence. >Organization: Silicon Heaven BBS (2200-0630 UTC) (44-1626-834331) V32B CROW: On sale at Sharper Image, Nordstrom's, and American Eagle Outfitters. >Date: Wed, 10 Aug 1994 23:41:05 +0000 >Message-ID: KATE: This is a fake ID, son. You are in REAL trouble. >Sender: use...@demon.co.uk CROW: Demon Co.? That wouldn't refer to Proctor and Gamble, would it? >Lines: 198 > >From: ph...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) TOM: Cran. Berry. Sauce. > >Better the Devil you know. CROW: Why no, I don't know. >by P.D Hubbard KATE: Why do I find Star Trek inane? (page 14 1/2) > >Part 5. TOM: The Undiscovered Country > CROW: Hey, wait a minute, any country has people in it, so it MUST have been discovered SOME time. KATE: Well, it only counts if white males do it. CROW: Oh, right. > >"Sir, communications are working again. TOM: We can put away the semaphore flags. >The away team is calling >us". KATE: They want to know if we have Prince Albert in a can. > >"On speakers" replied Picard. CROW: (dj voice): Hey, how ya doin'? It's 10 before the hour on WZPL. > > "Riker to Enterprise". TOM: Checkmate. > >"Enterprise here. Go ahead commander". KATE (a la Eastwood): Make my day. > >"We've had a encounter with a strange being down here CROW: Nessie? TOM: Bigfoot? KATE: Judy Tenuta? >who was >responsible for the disappearances on Earth. CROW: Oh, John Gotti. >He tried to use us >for his own ends TOM: That'll happen when you beam down to Frisco. >but we managed to put him off permanently. KATE: We showed him nudie pictures of Wesley. TOM: HE'LL never have urges again. >However, he was most insistent that he would 'exact his revenge' >on the Enterprise". CROW: Expect a bunch of pizzas to show up around 2:30. > >"Captain" said Troi, "I am sensing something from the planet..". TOM (falsetto): But it's so blitheringly obvious, forget it. > >Suddenly, the deflector grid snapped on. CROW (falsetto): I sense that the deflector grid will snap on. KATE: You know, I bet Sandra Bernhardt has a "snap-on grid". CROW: What? KATE: I'll explain it when you're older, dear. >The officer on tactical >cut in. TOM: Mind if we dance with yo' dates? >"Captain, the ship nearest to us, it's moving!!!!!" KATE: A ship orbiting a planet is actually moving?! That's Incredible!!!! CROW: Starring Sarah Purcell. > >A small ship, the 'Southern Cities' CROW: Loaded with Jack Daniels and goo-goo clusters. >slowly started to turn on it's axis, KATE: Bold as love. >it's bows coming around towards the Enterprise. TOM (singing): I saw her moving round the planet A yellow ribbon on her bow. KATE: That's "bau", not "bo" >The >turn slowly ground to a halt and then the impossible happened. CROW: A Star Trek fanfic made sense? TOM: The Cubs won the pennant? KATE: Bob Dylan could speak comprehensibly? >The ship started to move towards the Enterprise. CROW: How impossible could it be when we've seen it in countless episodes? TOM: This IS Star Trek... >A second ship >started to turn and move. It was almost as if the Enterprise had >suddenly become magnetic. KATE (singing): 'Cause you're a StarFleet supernova. TOM: Liz is so cool. CROW: What was that line about the volcano? KATE: Uh, later. > >"Sir!" called tactical, TOM: Undergarments are filled throughout the ship! >"I have five ships of various sizes all >on a collision course with KATE: Wackiness! >us....". CROW: Um, so remind me, how is the Enterprise' destruction a bad thing? TOM: No more movies. CROW: Like I said... > >"Red alert, shields up. TOM: Pork bellies down, soybeans unchanged, ... >will, we're under attack up here" said >Picard, "We'll have to get back to you.......". KATE: We'll let you know if we die. > >"RED ALERT : RED ALERT : THIS IS NOT A DRILL " the computer >voice intoned. CROW: This is a drill: *rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a...* > >Tactical called in. "Sir, the first ship is rapidly closing...". KATE: Crow, ... CROW: Okay, so I stole it from Red Dwarf, but it was called for! > >"Arm phasers and fire at will". TOM: KILL RIKER! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! > >A phaser shot lashed out at hit the old ship. KATE: At 11:15 the old cook ... oh forget it. >Her bows crumpled >inwards but she still kept coming at the Enterprise. CROW: Oh my God! It's coming!!! KATE and TOM: Biig Peterrr! >The >distance slowly closed. TOM: Y'know, we gotta quit doing those Bob and Tom jokes; nobody who reads this lives in Indy. KATE: What about Fritz and Jenny? CROW: And Pam, don't forget her. KATE: And then there's the students at IU and Ball State. CROW: And some people at Purdue must know. TOM: Okay, okay, I suppose. >Another shot hit the ship, folding the >plates down one side. KATE: And the cutlery down the other. >Finally, a third shot hit home TOM: Ball three! >and the old >wreck folded up. CROW: Get Ralph Nader on the phone! > >A second wreck crept up whilst the Enterprise was dealing with >the first and squarely hit the Enterprise amidships. TOM: Ooh, right in the holodeck! >The shields >mopped up the impact KATE: Not to mention the upchuck in 10-Forward. >and the old ship exploded into a million >bits. CROW (British accent): Which were VERY naughty bits for their time. >Shields are primarily designed as protection against TOM: Monthly bloating. Hee hee! KATE: Stop it. >energy weapons whilst deflectors only work best on distant >objects. CROW: But for nearby nonenergetic weapons, they just use dilithium buckshot. >There was no way they could protect against a large >metal structure KATE: like a '76 Buick. >which, like a old ram on a Roman galley, TOM: Ate every proper indefinite article in sight, then baa'ed contentedly as it chewed its cud. >shot >right through the hull and embedded itself in KATE: Our pop culture consciousness. >the side of >engineering tearing out several decks and exposing the warp core >to space. ALL: Warps. In. Spaaaaaaaaaaaace... > >"Engineering to Bridge" CROW (falsetto): I'm doing the DISHes... > >"Bridge here. Go ahead". > >"Sir, decks 26, 27 and 28 are exposed to vacuum. TOM: Two Kirbys and a Hoover are responsible. KATE: Kirby Puckett... CROW: Derwood Kirby... TOM: And Hoobert Heever. >Portside power >coupling is down and we have a leak in the PDT tank. KATE: Barclay got drunk and just couldn't hold it in. >Going to >secondary backup systems". CROW: But backup systems are secondary by default, so you must mean 'tertiary systems'. KATE: Paul probably thought that was a canine term. > >A large explosion rocked the Enterprise from stem to stern, >rolling her around. TOM (singing): We gonna rock this ship, Rock it stem to stern. > >"Engineering again. KATE: Defecation has contacted rotary oscillator. >Secondary systems have failed. CROW: That's why you were on TERTIARY!!! >We've lost >primary warp capability and the core is overloading. TOM: The Big Cheese gets his at low tide tonight. >Power is >marginal. KATE: Power is realizing Todd Rundgren sucks. >Shutting down core....". CROW: Signing my will. > >"Do what you can, bridge out". TOM: Think we can wade through? > >Tactical cut in. KATE: Mind if we dance ... oh, wait, we did that one already. >"Sir, portside phaser couplings are down. CROW: by six at the end of three quarters. >I >have a phaser coolant leak on decks 5 and 6". TOM: Yeah, well, that and sixty cents will get you a coke. CROW: You mean pop. [Kate emits a blood curdling scream, grabs the two bots, and bashes their heads together. Tom and Crow collapse to the floor.] KATE: God, that felt good! [Tom and Crow rise back up.] TOM: We're sorry. CROW: We promise never to mention carbonated beverages again. > >"It never rains but it pours," said Picard, KATE: Morton salt. >"...evacuate those >decks and flush to vacuum.....". [Kate acts as if pulling a chain as all three make toilet flushing sounds.] > >The viewscreen blinked into life CROW: Hap-py birthday! >to reveal TOM: A pushup bra. CROW (nasally): Now THAT'S pleasing. >the image of a being >within a glass tube. KATE: John Travolta! TOM: No, you're thinking of a plastic bubble. KATE: Oh, right. > >"Captain Picard" the voice hissed CROW (hissing): Could I interest you in a set of leather-bound encyclopaedias? > but the lips did not move. KATE: Now here's his friend; he's a woozle, and his name is Peanut. >"You see me so foully murdered by your hand. TOM (as Picard): Hey, handcheck, pal! I was on this ship! >I will exact my >revenge apon you and your ship". KATE (hissing): I'm giving your e-mail addresses to Canter and Siegel! >The screen blinked off. CROW: Ha ha! Made ya flinch! > >"Sensors have detected TOM: Joan Rivers' career. CROW: Boy, those ARE good detectors! >a tractor beam emanating from the planet >surface, KATE: It's coming from the Quad Cities Colony! CROW: What? KATE: That's where the John Deere factory is. Or was. It's so hard to remember which factories have shut down. >roughly 400 yards from commander Riker's position". [Crow opens mouth, reconsiders, then turns to Kate.] CROW: Should I let that Kama Sutra riff just slide on by? KATE: Probably best. > >"Is it trying to lock on us?". TOM: Game over man! > >"No Sir, it's not interested in us. KATE: Sensors indicate the tractor beam has taste in television. >It is being used to move >those old wrecks out there.......". CROW: The Rolling Stones in space? KATE: Do you honestly think the cold, irradiated vacuum of space could kill Keith Richards? CROW: No; it might slow him a bit, but he'd live. > >"Open a comm channel to the away team". TOM: Uh, that's the old name of this network; it's now Comedy Central. > >"Open Sir". KATE: Close Ma'am. > >"Picard to Riker". CROW: How do you feel about dying in a painful sacrifice, over. > >"Riker here Sir, what's going on up there?". TOM: A hat party. Idiot, what do you THINK is happening? > >"All hell has broken loose up here. KATE: Green Day tickets just went on sale. >Listen, get the hell out of >there, as quick as you can. CROW: Our sensors detected that CreepyGuyWithBots from the CON, and he's trying to corner you! >Clear the city because a lot of fire >power is on it's way down to you". TOM: With hugs and kisses. > >"Acknowledged Sir. don't worry about us, just hit the target". KATE: But you are the ta-- Oh, the target, right. > >"You have two minutes Will, TOM: Pick up your #2 pencil... >we are waiting for Phaser recharge >up here". CROW: Eh, know what I mean, nudge nudge. > >"Things that bad Sir?". KATE: No, we enjoy screwing around with our own lives. You moron! > >"That bad, move it Commander. CROW (nerdy voice): Uh, move what, sir? >Enterprise out. KATE (spritely): And bedecked in faaabulouth pink thequinth! >Engineering, can >you spare power for tractor beams?". TOM: Sorry, the combine and bushhog took all our diesel. > >"No way Sir, CROW: It's like totally uncool, man >you can have either have phaser recharge or tractor >beams. KATE: Go for the curtain! TOM: Take the box! >Not both. CROW: Or neither >We're just picking up the pieces down here". KATE: Pieces of our shattered love... > >"Understood. TOM: By WHOM? KATE: Not the author, obviously. >Bridge Out. CROW: Oh! 'scuse me! [Crow makes zipping sound.] >Tactical, time to impact?". KATE: Ehhhh, sure, I got a few minutes. > >"One minute, thirty seconds. Time to recharge, One minute forty >two". TOM: So they seem to be up a certain aquatic waterway without a particular locomotive implement. > >The seconds passed. CROW: So they paused. >The wreck got closer and closer KATE: Step by step ... >being pushed >by the tractor beam. TOM: Hello warriors! Come out and play-ay! >Then, a miracle. CROW: Gregory Hines showed up with a Roman racehorse! > >"Sir," called tactical, "We have Photon Torpedoes back on line". KATE: But they want to renegotiate their contracts. > >"Take aim at that wreck at fire. All tubes". TOM (singing): Step right in and don't be shy. > >Six photon torpedoes shot away from the Enterprise and screamed >through the vacuum towards the wreck. ALL (singing): We're out of the ship, We're out of the tube, We're out in the sky. >They hit with a blinding >flash, KATE: Huzzah! >instantly vaporising the old ship. ALL (singing) Love love love!!! > >"Phasers charged and ready to fire Sir....". TOM: Heads up, Citizens. > >Picard wasted no time. "Lock phasers on target and fire....". CROW (as George C Scott): Come on you sons of bitches, I'll phaser you myself! > >A continuous phased energy beam raced towards the planet's >surface, KATE: It's Photon Man! TOM: In Color! KATE: Well of course. >cutting through the atmosphere like a knife through >butter, TOM: *sigh* Like a tired old cliche' through alt.startrek.creative. >hitting the structure from where the tractor beam >emanated. CROW: Hey, they took out QVC! ALL: Yay! Woo-hoo! WoopWoopWoop! etc >The outer structure slowly began to soften and then >flow as the metal melted into molten rivers. KATE: "melting into molten"? Who wrote this, the Head Chairperson in Charge of the Department of Redundancy Department, Division of Repetition Sections? >Then, inside, TOM: The Pentium was calculating pi to be 3. >a >critical piece of equipment failed CROW: Oh, spare us the details from the technical manual! KATE: Actually, that's fine with me. TOM: I'm not disappointed. >and the structure blew up, TOM and CROW: Wooooo-hooo! TOM: Blew him up! CROW: Yeah, blew him up REAL good! Well, that's it for today ... TOM: May the good lord take a likin' to ya and blow you up real soon! >taking a sizable chunk of the surrounding land with it. KATE (bowing her head): Oh Lord, we beseech Thee, please let that moron Riker have been in the blast zone, and his having been a wanker in Thy sight, have snuffed it. > >From their vantage point, the away team surveyed the devastation. TOM: I love the smell of phaser fire in the morning. > >"Riker to Enterprise". ALL: Noooo! CROW: This idiot's tougher to kill than the coyote! > >"Enterprise here" came the crisp, relieved tones of Picard. KATE: He wet himself. > >"Nice shooting Sir. TOM: Well, better than John Starks. >That should have put the Hobs out of >business for good". CROW: Except for their government contracts. > >"I hope so number one. I hope so". KATE: After all, I've invested heavily in their competition. > >"Four ready for beam up". TOM: Well, five. Data met this chick in a fern bar downtown ... > >"Ummmmmm" replied Picard. "There's a problem there. CROW: We don't want you back. The other three are okay, ... >Due to a >lack of power, KATE: I don't pronounce you man and wife. >the transporters are off line at the moment. TOM: They got infected by a virus. >We >will be dispatching a shuttle to your position for pick up". CROW: Thank you for flying Air Starfleet. > >"Oh Joy. KATE: Steempy you Eedeeot! >Riker out". He turned to the others. TOM: Who's for Chinese? >"Well gentlemen, >we have a long wait ahead of us. CROW: Gridlock is still entrenched in DC. >What shall we do to pass the >time????". ALL: Wocka-chicka-wocka-chicka-wocka-chicka-wocka-chicka.... > >Data looked thoughtful. KATE: Tell me about the rabbits, George. >"I spy with my little eye, something >beginning with W ?". TOM: Wuss. CROW: Wimp. KATE: Whiner. ALL: Wesley!!! > >"Wrecked city" replied Geordi. "My go"..... > TOM: Wanker. CROW: Whinge. KATE: Wastrel. > > >End of part 5 > TOM: We're in the home stretch... > > > > > > > > > >~~~ Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR] KATE: Oh, sure, invoke The Sun God... >-- >| Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own. Commercial we'd like to see: Coors, Miller, and Bud turn any guy who drinks them into as big a wuss as the taste of the beers. MSTed by Richard Burton (T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov) and by Kate Wrightson (kwri...@moe.coe.uga.edu) Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with our writing this. This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. We intended no flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which were referenced in this MSTing. This MSTing reflects my and Kate's own personal viewpoints, and not always both of ours, and does not necessarily reflect the views of the University of Georgia, NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center, or my Path: nntp.gmd.de!dearn!blekul11!idefix.CS.kuleuven.ac.be!ub4b!EU.net!howland.reston.ans.net! europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.umbc.edu!haven.umd.edu!cs.umd.edu!newsfeed.gsfc.nasa.gov!usenet From: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov (T-Bone) Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k,rec.arts.tv.mst3k Subject: MSTed: Better the Devil You Know (8/8) Date: 12 Jan 1995 03:11:56 GMT Organization: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center -- Greenbelt, Maryland USA Lines: 512 Distribution: world Message-ID: <3f26ls$l0i@post.gsfc.nasa.gov> Reply-To: bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov NNTP-Posting-Host: lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov Xref: nntp.gmd.de alt.tv.mst3k:43486 rec.arts.tv.mst3k:22480 CROW: Coming up next: another totally unslanted opinion from yet another editor of The Daily Feed. >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative TOM: This week's special: Ratlipf mispellings ARRRrrr too fore won. >From: paul.h...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) KATE: For the evil you have done, prepare to meet Kali in Hell! CROW: That's a little strong, isn't it? KATE: Hey, _you've_ read this fanfic ... >Subject: Better The Devil You Know 7 TOM: Willie Mabon? KATE: Christian Laettner? CROW: Grant Hill? >X-Mail-Agent: GIGO unreg at shbbs vsn 0.99 pl1 TOM: Billy King? KATE: Mark Alarie? CROW: Danny Ferry? >Organization: Silicon Heaven BBS (2200-0630 UTC) (44-1626-834331) V32B TOM: Quinn Snyder? KATE: Bobby Hurley? CROW: Tommy Amaker? >Date: Wed, 10 Aug 1994 23:41:06 +0000 TOM: Uh, Art Heyman. KATE: Cherokee Parks. CROW: Jim Spanarkel. >Message-ID: TOM: Thomas Hill. KATE: Johnny Dawkins. CROW: Alaa Abdelnaby? >Sender: use...@demon.co.uk TOM: Chris Collins? KATE: Mike Krzyzewski? CROW: Vic Bubas! >Lines: 61 > TOM: Hee hee! CROW and TOM: Bubas! Bubas! Bubas! Bubas! KATE: Al-RIGHT! >From: ph...@shbbs.demon.co.uk (Paul Hubbard) CROW: Gee, Kate, lighten up... TOM: Yeah, he's just a former coach at Duke... > >Better the Devil you know. KATE: Hey, did the header just lap itself? >by P.D Hubbard. CROW: How can I make a bunch of money on a pseudo-religious organization? (page 36). > >Epilogue. TOM: Now lady trees can get rid of unsightly hair in the root area. CROW: Epilogue: New from Norelco. TOM: If you can grow it, we can cut it. CROW: Epilogue: Official Shaver of Loreena Bobbit. > > KATE: The Daily Feed. >The Enterprise was currently TOM: Hey, quit mixing your tenses! >on route for Starbase 312 for urgent >repairs. CROW: Somebody played that awful Foreigner song and now the crew needs lobotomies to get it out of their heads. >The damage was severe but nothing that a spacedock >couldn't cure. KATE: Or lots of liquor. >Most of the last day had been spent on the planet TOM: There was this little boutique that just was to DIE for! >cataloguing the Human remains found in the pits. CROW: Ensign Dahmer made quick work of it. >And it was a >heartbreaking job for the teams involved. KATE (weeping): Why couldn't Wesley have been killed? *sniff* >The finding of the >remains of a little girl, cuddling a small dog TOM: I guess Anastasia DID scream in vain. >brought tears to >the eyes of the women of the Enterprise. CROW: The men, of course, were all hardened bastards... > >Fourteen crew, including Ensign Cortez, had been lost on this >mission alone. KATE: Milk cartons were being distributed throughout the sector. >Fourteen people who would never be going back to >their loved ones. TOM: Fifteen, actually; Riker has never known love. >For Picard, this was the worst part about >being the commanding officer. CROW: Apparently this story took place before Ratliff's Kids Crew. >For days afterwards, he had spent >his time in the holodeck, KATE: Ignoring his duties, being a slacker. >riding Bessie, TOM: Saaaaayyyy.... >trying to put the horror >out of his mind. CROW: The pain was unbearable; he'll never see The Brothers Grunt again for as long as he lives. > >Picard was spending the morning with his horse, KATE: Of course >getting some >exercise TOM: He was bench-pressing a clydesdale? >when the entrance to the holodeck split the tree's apart >and Beverley Crusher walked in. CROW (falsetto): Can we play The Lumberjack and the Naughty Woodnymph again? *giggle* >She spotted him and walked over. KATE: Don't step in manuna. > >"Still trying to bury the thoughts?" she started. TOM: Oh, mention burial; THAT helps. > >"This has got to have been one of the worst missions I have ever >commanded. CROW: This script was even worse than _Encounter at Farpoint_. >All those lives lost because of my actions, or >inactions". KATE: Call me Captain Kevorkian. > >"But life goes on TOM: Long after the thrill of livin' is gone. >Jean Luc. ALL (singing): Oh yeah, I say life goes on. Long after the thrill of livin' is gone. >Remember, CROW: A little ditty 'bout Jack and Diane. >if it was'nt you in >command, on this mission, KATE: We'd ALL be alive now. >it would have been some other unlucky >soul who may not have been able to pull the mission off. TOM: Not to mention my leather nightie. >We done >alright out of this CROW: "We done alright"? Did Jeff Foxworthy co-author this? >just by pulling through". KATE: Well, there really isn't a riff I can use on that. CROW: Not during family hour. > >"I guess your right. TOM: No, my left! >Best to live with it as best as you can". CROW: But in this case, I'll make an exception. [Crow makes a shooting sound effect] >He paused for a few seconds then continued. KATE: As opposed to pausing for a few seconds then pausing some more. >"Now then Doctor, >can I interest you in a quite horse ride for a hour or two?". TOM: And as long as you have your spurs on, ... > >"Why do you think I came down here?". CROW: Two-for-one shooters? > >"Computer. Run program Dancer one. KATE: I want Sally Rand out here right now! >Standard saddle". TOM: Unfortunately, their holodeck uses pentium chips, so the saddle came out as stirrup pants. > >A computer generated horse appeared at the paddock. CROW (deep voice): I am Mister Eeeed! > >"Doctor, she's all yours...". KATE: But one warning: she likes to sit on bananas. > >And with that, they rode off. TOM: Another 14 dead; our work here is done. > > > > >The end? KATE: It is as far as I'm concerned! TOM: Let's go. [Kate picks up Tom; they leave.] > TOM: Cherokee Parks? KATE: Gene Banks? CROW: Jeff Mullins? > >~~~ Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR] >-- >| Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own. [Door sequence] [Gypsy, Crow, Chad, and Tom are at the Sat-o-Love counter. Tom, Chad, and Crow wear Hawaiian shirts; Gypsy, a strapless bikini top. Gypsy and Tom are wearing grass skirts. Each wears a lei, and Gypsy has one in her mouth. The other three bots are saying goodbye, faux-hugging and doing that phony Hollywood kiss on the cheek. Kate comes in, dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt over her jumpsuit and a goofy straw hat. She carries a small duffel bag, apparently with spare clothes. Gypsy places the lei over Kate's neck as she hugs all the bots.] GYPSY: Goodbye, Kate! CROW: Thanks for everything! TOM: We'll miss you. KATE: Chad, are you ready? CHAD: I have everything stowed into my backpack. KATE: Good. Well, ... CHAD: You know, backpacks were invented by Thomas Jefferson, so he could carry around smutty lithographs of his female slaves. KATE: Thank you, Chad. TOM: Kate, you and Chad have been enjoyed. So before you leave, we wanted to give a you a little gift. It's under the counter. [Kate reaches under the counter, pulling out an old Nike shoebox. She opens it, and pulls out a letter.] KATE (a bit sarcastically): Gee, I didn't expect this. CROW: Read it! Read it! GYPSY: We chose this one specifically for you. KATE (looking at envelope): Hey, it's from la! [She opens the envelope, pulls out the letter, and begins to read.] KATE: "Dear Kate: Dahlink! How goes it, girlfriend? We had a lot of fun at the CON, but we all sure missed you. Of course, we're all JEALOUS of you getting to riff away on the Sat-O-Luuuuuv." I feel so dirty when she says that. "I had a lot of fun. I got to spend some time with Mike, and I have the pictures to prove it. In fact, Fotomat says that from now on they will develop all my pictures for free." Huh. "Unfortunately, some people got mad when I tried to sneak Mike back home. Don't worry about your car or dogs. I changed flights, drove your car back to Georgia, and I am holding down the fort till you get back. Tasha and Miso say 'Hi, mommy.' They're good girls, even if they aren't KITTIES! Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing you soon. Luv ya, hon. xoxoxo, la." TOM: Huh. KATE: Well, as much as I'll miss you guys, I really miss Tasha and Misie. Hm, that's odd; I'll have to ask what happened with her and Mike. [Lights begin to flash.] Woop, Fry and Laurie are calling. [Kate hits the button; view switches down to Deep 13. The doorbell rings. Frank goes to the vault door and opens it.] FRANK (British accent): Ah, good evening, madam. Mr. Wooster will be here momentarily. [Steps inside, calls out:] Excuse me, Mr. Wooster, but your lady friend is here for this evening's pleasantries. DR F (entering, wearing his tux): Frank, what is with this Wodehouse schtick? And why have you kept her waiting outside? Let her in. FRANK: Very good, sir. [Frank walks to the door, and motions for her to come in.] DR F (turning to camera): Well, Kim, I'm so glad we had this time together. If Mike ever leaves, I'll keep you in mind. [SOL] KATE: No thanks! But if I come up here again, I gotta have my dogs with me. [Deep 13] DR F: Wrong! [Dr F's date enters, but the lighting is dim and we can't make out who it is.] I call the shots at this popstand. One of my rules is NO DOGS! [Dr F's date steps into the light; she is Cincinnati Reds owner Marge Schott. She is dressed in a polyester pants suit, smoking three cigarettes simultaneously, and has the stuffed corpse of the original Schottsie dragging on a leash behind her.] MARGE: Oh, Honey, dogs are so wonderful. *hack cough* DR F (getting all squishy): Oh, of course. MARGE: You know, I don't think much of that guy you got. I know some out of work baseball players who are broke and would love to play Steppin Fetchit for minimum wage. *hack spit* [Dr F looks all gooey at Marge.] [SOL] KATE: Hey, how come SHE can bring her bitch with her but mine have to stay at home? CROW: Schottsie ALWAYS brings Marge with her. [Deep 13] DR F: Of course. Well, the pod is ready for Mike. As soon as it arrives, you can get in and come back. Frank! [Frank pops up right behind Dr F.] FRANK: You called, Mr. Wooster? DR F: That's it! You're fired, Frank! You can pack up your bags and leave after your shift! FRANK (dropping accent): What? But ... DR F: Make sure Kate gets back safely. The last thing I need is another lawsuit. FRANK (stunned): But ... DR F: And make sure you drop off all your keys with the mole people. FRANK: But ... MARGE: Don't forget the security. DR F: Right, I'll have security check your boxes before you leave. FRANK: But ... MARGE: That's tellin' him, honey. DR F: Shall we go? [Offers his arm to Marge.] MARGE (taking his arm): Yes, I just love the burgers at Perkins. DR F (calling back as he and Marge leave): And make sure Mike doesn't try to sneak someone up to the satellite with him! He's skinny and sly enough to do that. [Dr F and Marge leave. Frank just stands there for a few minutes, stunned. He sees the stuffed Schottsie, and kicks it.] FRANK: So; that's what it comes down to. Fine, I'll show you. (Picks up a phone.) Hello, Sarah? Get me Mike in the pod launch bay. [SOL] MAGIC VOICE: The pod is now arriving. [Kate picks up Chad.] KATE: Well, that's our flight. We'll see ya 'round! TOM: Can we go with you? KATE: No, hon. This is where you belong, and Mike will need you here. Besides, between Chad and me, there won't be a lot of room. I'm not a petite person. I might be able to squeeze all of you in with me, but it wouldn't be at all comfortable. Well, goodbye! [Kate leaves, waving.] GYPSY: Bye, Kate! CROW: So long, Chad! TOM: Write if you get work! *sigh* Well, ... CROW: I wonder what this Mike guy looks like. GYPSY: I think he had light-colored hair. TOM: Well, whoever he is ... [Mike, looking frazzled and mussed beyond all belief, staggers into view.] MIKE: Hi guys! BOTS: MIKE! TOM: Where have you been? GYPSY: Are you okay? You look awful! CROW: I told you he was white. MIKE: Oh, I'm okay. It's just that those pods really aren't that big. If you're travelling solo it's no problem, but two is a bit of a tight squeeze, especially with the reserve air tanks. TOM: Two? What do you mean two? MIKE: Well, as his last act of revenge, Frank let me bring someone with me; a very close, personal friend. CROW: Bridget? MIKE: No, she's mad after what happened at the CON. Apparently she's run off to California to look for a guy named "Ingals" or something. No, this is a very special friend I met at the CON. GYPSY: Well, screw the mind games, Nelson, who is it? [From behind the counter pops up a very *ahem* healthy young woman in a skimpy nightie.] CYBERMUFFIN: Hi guys! BOTS: WAIGH!!! [The bots faint.] MIKE (surveying the damage): Hm. CYBERMUFFIN: Well. MIKE: I had planned to do some things with the bots, but I guess that will have to wait. So, Cyber, anything you want to do? CYBERMUFFIN (grinning at Mike and repetitively raising her eyebrows): Push the button, Mike. *purr* \ | / \|/ ---O--- /|\ / | \ VOICE of MIKE: MMMmmmmmmmm. Count slow. MSTed by Richard Burton (T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov) and by Kate Wrightson (kwri...@moe.coe.uga.edu) Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with our writing this. This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. We intended no flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which were referenced in this MSTing. This MSTing reflects my and Kate's own personal viewpoints, and not always both of ours, and does not necessarly reflect the views of the University of Georgia, NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center, or my employer, Hughes STX.