*TURN OFF YOUR LIGHTS*
(And give yourself a severe case of eyestrain)
(The future isn't what it used to be....)
"MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 6.7" (SEASON FOUR)
EPISODE 31: LINES-AS-Q PART 2 (PT. 1)
(A Star Trek: The Next Generation MSTing)
MSTed From the Desk of Megane 6.7 and Zoogz (megane67@rogers.com
)
(zoogz@yahoo.com
)
This is a MSTing of a work of fiction created by another author.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or
trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred.
Any random mention of certain anime characters, song titles, etc. are
the property of their respected creators/distributors/etc. Just covering
my own ass here folks....
"Star Trek: The Next Generation" is the property of Gene Roddenberry,
and all the distributors of his work.
"Lines-As-Q Part 2" is the property of David Hines and he's welcome to it.
I do not intend to offend him for making fun of his work like this but I figure
it's only a matter of time before someone does. Think of this as another
form of C&C. It's all meant in good fun. ;)
(This MSTing rated PG-13 for language and some mature content.)
(Cue "Mystery Science Theater 6.7 Love Theme" in 5... 4... 3....)
It's the not-too-distant future,
Last Sunday BC
There was this guy named Joel
Not so different from you or me
He worked at Gizmonic Institute
Just another guy in a red jumpsuit
He did a great job cleaning up the place,
But his bosses really hate him
So they shot him into space!!!!
Joel:
(OH... MY... GODDESS!!!)
Crow and Tom:
(IT'S MEGAMI-SAMA!)
(Instead of holding messed up video, Frank's holding a computer printout)
We'll send him crappy fanfics
The worst we can find (lalala)
He'll have to sit and read them all and we'll monitor his mind (lalala)
(Instead of where it shows the guys watching the movie, it shows them
ducking behind their seats for 'Artemis's Lover'.)
Now keep in mind Joel can't control
When the fanfics begin or end (lalala)
Because he used those special parts
To make his robot friends;
ROBOT ROLL CALL:
CAMBOT:
'Text only'?
Gypsy:
'Oh, my!'
Tom Servo:
'Sweet-o!'
CROOOOOOOW!!!
'I'm not a hentai!'
If your wondering how Joel eats and breathes
And other science facts (lalala)
Then repeat to yourself
*It's just a MiST*
You should really just relax
for MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 6.7!!!!
* * *
THE DELTA QUADRANT
"WE ARE THE BORG... YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED...
WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL
DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN...."
The oddly shaped satellite continued to show no signs of life as
the Borg cube slowly approached it. The vessel had appeared in the
Delta Quadrant by means unknown to the Borg, but that would soon
change once the ship was brought into the cube. Its technology would
be seized, its occupants assimilated, and the Borg would soon be brought
another step closer to perfection....
A tractor beam lanced out from the Borg cube, attempting to lock
onto the satellite only to be deflected by a shield. Likewise, a cutting beam,
normally used to slice sections of a ship's hull away like a knife would carve
a Thanksgiving turkey, proved to be ineffective. Undaunted, the Borg fired
a cluster of torpedoes designed to drain the energy of the shields as well as
the satellite... only to be quite surprised when they too failed to make any
sort of impression.
"LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND PREPARE TO BE
BOARDED... RESISTANCE IS FUTILE...."
A moment later, the satellite finally sent back a communication
of their own. "Up your nose with a rubber hose!" a voice taunted.
"NOSE IS IRRELEVANT... RUBBER IS IRRELEVANT...
YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED...." the Borg replied.
"Oooh! We're shaking! We're shaking!" a second voice giggled.
"Face it, you guys haven't been impressive since 'First Contact' and since
you have no hope in hell of tractoring us in, why don't you try assimilating
something more your speed... like tribbles!"
The tractor beam abruptly ceased, as did all other attempts to
capture the satellite, and the cube was silent for a long moment, its hue
gradually turning scarlet while wisps of steam leaked from various
sections. Finally, there was a response.
"YOU ARE IRRELEVANT... PREPARE FOR
ANNIHILATION...."
The cube suddenly lashed out with an impressive array of
firepower, raking over the shields of the satellite. A second volley finally
prompted the Satellite to perform evasive maneuvers as the Borg cube
charged towards them, all its weapons blazing.
"Hey! You guys better cut it out before we get mad!" the first
voice from exclaimed as the Satellite of Love struggled to prevent a
collision with the enormous cube while continuing to absorb a staggering
amount of energy from the Borg's weapons.
"ANGER IS IRRELEVANT... NOW DIE, YOU LITTLE
TURDS...." was the Borg's final response as they began jamming
transmissions.
* * *
SATELLITE OF LOVE
"Oh, you're just trying to kill us to be friendly then?!?" Tom
Servo retorted as the bridge shuddered again. "Captain, our shields are
buckling, what are we going to do?!?"
Crow T. Robot leaned forward in his command chair, scrutinizing
the Borg cube as it continued to hammer them with everything at its
disposal. His 'Wrath of Khan' Starfleet Uniform had oil spilled down the
front and his Skipper's hat had seen better days. As the satellite shuddered
once more, Crow bolted to his feet, yanked down his shirt, brushed off
some lint, adjusted his belt buckle, zipped up his fly, and exclaimed.
"All right, Borg, you asked for it! Mr. Servo, unleash....!"
"Guys? You in there?"
Crow and Tom glanced towards the holocabana doors to see
their creator, Joel Robinson, standing by the theater doors. "Oh, hey,
Joel! Come and join us!" Crow invited.
"What are you guys doing?" Joel asked as he noticed the
frozen image of the Borg cube on the viewscreen.
"Oh, just a little Star Trek: The Next Generation simulation we
whipped up in the Holocabana with a little self-insertion mixed in for fun!"
Tom replied cheerfully.
"Uh... why?"
"Training, Joel! Earlier today, we decided to contact Deep 13
and see if we could find out what our experiment was for this week.
While Frank wouldn't give us a direct answer, he did let it slip out that
it's a Star Trek: The Next Generation fic," Crow replied.
"Oh... you really shouldn't do that to Frank, guys. He's liable to
get hurt again if Dr. F finds out," Joel admonished.
"As opposed to being hurt the next time Dr. F does an experiment
on him?" Tom retorted.
"Point taken. So you created a goofy Star Trek scenario in order
to toughen up for the real deal?" Joel guessed.
"That... plus we had nothing better to do at the moment," Crow
replied.
"Oh? What about cleaning the loadpan like I asked you two to
do this morning?" Joel replied ominously.
"Uh, well, that is...." Tom and Crow stammered only to be
rescued by the theater's P.A. system as it crackled to life.
"Hey, guys! Sorry to interrupt, but Manny Calavera and Glottis
are calling...."
"Come on, let's not keep him waiting this time, guys...." Joel
said as he hurried towards the bridge, the robots following close behind....
* * *
DEEP 13
Dr. Clayton Forrester stood in front of the viewscreen, hands
clasped behind his back and looking quite pleased with himself as Joel
and the bots quickly made their way to the bridge.
"Ah, greetings, Brain Donors... good to see you're making more
of an effort to be prompt when I summon you...."
"Well, considering you nearly suffocated me the last time...."
Joel muttered.
"What was that?" Dr. Forrester inquired darkly.
"Nothing, sir," Joel wisely replied.
"That's more like it! Now pay attention, 007, while I unveil my
latest malevolent marvel!" Dr. Forrester replied as TV's Frank brought
out a silver tray with several rectangular boxes.
"Ah, summertime... the dawning of a new season is nearly upon
us. Joy... fun... a season in the sun is now less than a month away... but
with it, comes the end of another season... a season where a young man's
fancy turns to thoughts of love... a season where April showers bring May
flowers... which leads us into a season when some of us can barely breathe
between fits of sneezing, sniffling, coughing, moaning and yawning, all
thanks to hay fever and allergies making your life a living hell...."
Dr. Forrester took a deep cleansing breath before continuing.
"Yes, soon those poor shmoes with itchy red eyes, leaky red noses and
scratchy dry throats will find relief as pollination draws to a close until
next year... or so they thought."
An evil smile played across his lips as he rubbed his hands
together eagerly. "That's why I've taken the liberty to invent the first
ever... POLLEN-LACED KLEENEX!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!" Dr.
Forrester cackled as he abruptly gestured at the boxes on the silver tray.
"Frank, why not give us a demonstration?"
"Ohhh, I hate this part of the job...." Frank whined as he tenderly
pulled a Kleenex free of one of the boxes and gave it a cautious blow.
Moments later, Frank's nose began itching as he suddenly exploded with
a sneeze. Blowing his nose into the tissue didn't help as he sneezed again
and again. His eyes burned as he struggled to breathe through his abruptly
stuffed nose. Finally he dropped the offending Kleenex and fled to his room
while Dr. Forrester chuckled evilly.
"That's right, Joel, hidden within each of these seemingly innocent
tissues are millions upon millions of microscopic pollen particles! We got
ragweed! We got dust! We got goldenrod! We got 'em all! The more
you use them, the more congested you get! Now allergy suffers will be
subjected to allergies ALL YEAR LONG! And when they're forced to
rely on allergy medication on a yearly basis, guess who'll own a huge
chunk of stock in all the major allergy medication companies? ME!!!
BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Dr. Forrester sighed with pleasure. "Ahhhh... it's not easy being
EVIL... but damn if it ain't fun... but I digress... it's that time again, Joel.
Time to begin your fourth year of hell! Normally, I would be subjecting
you to an anime lemon to start the year off on a painful note, HOWEVER,
I've decided to shy away from anime for the moment and rather than pick
any old lemon, I've decided to try something a little... different." Dr.
Forrester smiled mysteriously.
"Here it comes...." Crow muttered.
"Steady." Joel whispered back.
"Yes, instead of bad anime fanfiction, which you obviously are
well-schooled in by now, your experiment this week will be a Star Trek:
The Next Generation fanfic... but then you already knew that, didn't
you?"
"H-huh?" Crow and Tom gulped simultaneously.
"Very clever, trying to get information out of Frank like that.
Fortunately, even HE wasn't aware of the horror I am about to subject
you to! So, tell me... have you ever heard of a girl named Marrissa
Picard?"
Crow and Tom gasped, their jaws dropping in horror while Joel
rubbed his temples and replied, "You're sending us a Ratliff story, aren't
you, sirs?"
"Oh, no, no, no, Joel, you are so wrong! This story merely
CONTAINS Marrissa Picard and her brethren... but it was written by a
Dave Hines who incidentally has self-inserted himself into the fic as well!
BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Tom and Crow began whimpering and clutching each other with
fear. "O-okay... that sounds pretty bad...." Joel was trying his best to
remain calm. "B-But we've handled self-insertion before and survived!
We can do it again!" Joel replied defiantly.
"True... but have you ever had to tackle a story from the halfway
point? Have you ever been thrust into the middle of a story with no idea
of what went on beforehand and STILL be expected to understand it
without going insane?" Dr. Forrester added while flashing a smile of
triumph.
Crow and Tom promptly fainted. "My god...." Joel whispered.
"Sorry, he can't get you out of this either!" Dr. Forrester gloated
as he trembled with girlish glee. "So prepare yourselves, Trekkies, for the
second half of Dave Hines 'Lines As Q' is now... upon you! Send 'em the
pain on a platter, Frank...."
Frank returned from his room, now heavily medicated, and
wobbled over to the file cabinet. "It'll bee there in jussa second, boss...."
Frank wheezed as he kept a respectable distance from the Kleenex boxes.
* * *
SATELLITE OF LOVE
Joel had managed to revive the bots and was trying his best to
reassure them when alarms wailed and multicolored lights flashed.
"OHHHH, WE'VE GOT FANFIC SIGN!!!" Joel cried out.
(Door 6: It's a metal door with no knob. Before you can do anything, it's
yanked off its hinges from the other side by a tow truck.)
(Door 5: It's an old fashioned elevator. Both sets of doors open for you as you
pass through.)
(Door 4: It's made of dominoes. You tip the lead one over and watch as
the pile slowly lowers until it's half its original size and you step over it.)
(Door 3: It's filled with cute stuffed toys. You cuddle them for awhile
before proceeding.)
(Door 2. It's solid black marble. An Akahn floats from behind you and
touches the door. The door vanishes.)
(Door 1: It's a castle gate that rises into the ceiling, revealing a drawbridge
that slowly lowers to the ground. You cross it cautiously, looking for moat
monsters.)
(Door .7: It's a swirling blue vortex. Suddenly a large hand reaches out of its
center and pulls you inside.)
Joel emerged from the vortex into the theater with Tom in his
arms, Crow emerging a moment later and following close behind.
Stepping over the air grate that prevented Tom from entering the theater
on his own, Joel placed him down on one of the theater seats and sat next
to him, Crow sitting on his right.
Tom: OK, let's have a quick refresher course on Marrissa Picard before we
begin! One, she's an annoying Mary Sue type character and uhh... uhh....
Crow: Ooh, I know! She can't get enough of them strawberries and umm...
shoot, there was something else... help us out here, Joel!
Joel: Uhh... err... plot contrivances are her best friend?
Tom: Yeah, that works! <taking deep breaths> Okay, we can do this... I
know we can do this....
>Chapter Nine:
Joel: <monotone> Chapter Nine... Chapter Nine... Chapter Nine....
>Marrissa walked down the corridors of her ship feeling better than
>she had in days.
Crow: Must've been the strawberry-flavored enema.
>Getting the full night's sleep had done her a lot of good.
>She would have to remember to thank Martin for his concern.
Tom: Suddenly, she paused as she noticed the red alert lights flashing
while the familiar voice of the computer announced a self-destruct
countdown only seconds away from completion....
Joel: <Martin> Heh heh, sucker!
>When she reached V.I.P. Quarters, Suite 13, she pressed the chime for
>admittance.
>"Yo!" came the voice from within.
Joel: <Alf> Come back later! I'm eating! Hey, get back here, Lucky!
Computer! My dinner won't stay still!
>The computer interpreted that as an invitation to ingress,
>so the doors parted for Marrissa.
Tom: <computer> Huzzah!
>Dave was lounging in a chair before the computer panel grinning to
>himself. He also looked a great deal more chipper than he had on the
>previous day
>"Mr. Hines," Marrissa began.
>Dave looked up and saw Marrissa. "Ahh!"
All: <giggles>
Tom: Finally! A logical reaction to Marrissa!
>Then Dave shook his head and tried again.
Joel: He's stalling! Give him a bit of choke!
>"Captain?"
>That's definite progress, thought Marrissa. "You seemed to be happy
>about something."
Tom: <David> Uh, yeah, I was just enjoying some... err... educational
programming with your computer.
Crow: <Marrissa> My GOD, what are those Orion Slave Girls DOING
with that Vulcan?!?
Tom: <David> Uhh... p-prospering?
>"Oh, yeah!" Dave swiveled the monitor around, and showed Marrissa
>a screen proudly proclaiming
Crow: ...another crash-free day on the Windows NT server!
>"Welcome to the Dave Hines HomePage!" with Dave's
>picture repeated over and over again in the background.
Joel: <monotone> Dave... Dave... Dave... Dave... Dave....
Crow: <Dave> And if you need to reach me, I'm DavieDuud on AIM!
>"HomePage?" Marrissa asked, confused. Then she remembered. "Oh, yes.
>Your so-called 'Internet'.
Tom: <Dave as Dr. Cal Meacham> MY internet? It belongs to the
WORLD WIDE WEB!
>After World War III, a surprising amount of data was recovered on that
>from old computers that somehow survived.
Joel: Luckily, Intel decided to use a Styrofoam casing for the Pentium 5
before the bombs dropped....
Crow: Unluckily, Blue Man Group was horribly burned to death while in
the process of filming the commercials....
>What has been found kind of stands as an 'online museum' to that era
>that everyone can visit."
Tom: <Dave> Cool! Can I visit the Cindy Margolis exhibit first?
Joel: <Marrissa> They even simulate the old days of connecting by
modem! All the pictures load slowly and it crashes every once in a
while!
>Dave scrolled the screen down to his counter and was a little depressed
>to see that the number was not much higher from what he remembered
>back in 1998.
Joel: <Dave> Not only that, but the Wesley Crusher fansites have survived
and DAMN IT, they STILL have more hits than me!
>Turning to Marrissa, he began, "Look, ah, Capt-"
>Marrissa interrupted. "Mr. Hines, you are not in my command, and I'm
>not on duty.
Crow: <Inspector Gadget> Slacker!
>I do prefer Marrissa."
>"Oh. Okay. Dave, then.
Joel: <Marrissa> No, that's YOUR name! We can't both be Dave!
Tom: <David> How about... Snugglebutt?
>Marrissa, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday.
>I was... um... having a really bad day."
Tom: <Marrissa> Apology accepted.
Crow: <Dave> Thanks... you strawberry sipping FREAK!
Tom: <Marrissa> HEY! I demand an apology for that!
Crow: <Dave> Sorry, you'll have to wait till tomorrow.
>"I know. I spoke with Martin before coming to see you. Effective
>immediately, you are no longer confined to quarters.
Joel: <Marrissa> You'll get to use nickels and dimes as well!
>Our current assignment lasts for another couple of days, after which
>we'll be returning to Earth, so you should be back home within a week.
Crow: <Dave> Nah, that's okay. Just drop me off on Risa and I'll
be fine. Really!
>Until then, here's a communicator pin, standard issue to all aboard.
>The computer can let you know how it works."
Tom: <Marrissa> Cause damned if I know how it works.
Joel: Oh yeah. Tap your chest. Real complicated.
>"Hmm." Dave said noncommitally, accepting the pin and attaching it
>to his t-shirt.
Crow: Would that be above or below the picture of Martina Sirtis?
Tom: Eh, I picture Dave as more of a Frakes fan, myself.
>"You don't sound too pleased."
>"It's just that... I really don't expect there to be much left on
>Earth for me after nearly five hundred years..."
Joel: <Marrissa> Aww hell, just get Jean-Luc to adopt you! Then
you can work in the vineyards!
Crow: <Dave> I can make wine coolers?!? Score!
>Consulting a PADD she had brought with her, Marrissa responded,
Tom: <Marrissa> Yes, Dave is a few parsecs short of a quadrant, isn't he?
>"Well, Martin has done some research and has found some living
>descendants of your first cousins, and..."
Crow: <Marrissa> ...he has received a court order from them, passed
down from generation to generation, forbidding you from coming within
fifty light years at all times....
>"Thanks anyway, but I wasn't that big on family when I was back home.
>I'm a bit of a lone wolf."
Tom: <Marrissa> Yes, I rather sensed that from your webpage.
Joel: <Dave> Just call me Terry Bogard, baby.
>"That's too bad. I've always felt that family, whether by blood, or
>adopted, was one of my most cherished treasures."
Crow: <Marrissa> Well, that, and having a nice author to make me
perfect in every way.
>"Yeah. I know, I've read all about it."
Tom: <Dave> Duneedon lent me his copy of the Herbertville Chronicle.
>"I was a bit curious about that. You claim to have read my history
>in what you refer to as 'fan-fics'?"
Crow: And the forth wall comes a tumblin down....
Tom: <Dave> Um, not exactly... Actually, your history is well-documented
by a series of text files known as 'MST-ings'. They commented on virtually
everything you did and every aspect of your missions.
Crow: <Marrissa> Ah. They spoke of my triumphs and how important I
was to the universe I presume?
Tom: <Dave> Well... you were on a par with the greats back at home!
Your shrine was right next to Oscar the Immortal and Dr. Thinker the
Incoherent!
>"Yeah. Short for fan fiction. From my best estimate, this is the
>fourth 'epoch' of your storyline, in which..." Dave trailed off. "I can't
>remember!"
>"What do you mean?"
>"I remember all of your stories up to a certain point... now in your
>time. That's it! I can't remember anything that happens after now!"
>"Maybe that's Q's doing, to make sure you can't change what happens
>with foreknowledge of events."
Tom: <Dave> Nah, it's most likely just a convenient plot device. Hey,
might as well be honest since the fourth wall is down....
Joel: <Marrissa> Luckily, I still have my magic eight ball... Wha!?
'Outcome hazy'?!? Son of a....!
>"Maybe... hey, maybe he'll erase my memory of the end scene in 'The
>Only Constant' too!"
>"What are you talking about?"
Tom: <Dave> Oh, nothing much... just a lemon fanfic that's got you and
Wesley Crusher falling in love and having LOTS of KINKY SEX....
Crow: Marrissa> W-What?!?
Tom: <Dave> Gotcha! Ha ha!
Crow: Marrissa> Ooooh! You are SUCH a dork!
>Just then, the intercom blared in Jay's voice,
Joel: <Jay as Martin Short> Somebody help me... I'M POSSESSED!!!
Crow: <Jay> Awwk! It's caught in my throat! Jay to Sickbay, medical
emergency! Dr. Heimlech to the bridge!
>"Captain to the bridge!" as the ship rocked.
Tom: <Marrissa> It's FALLING DOWN!
Crow: <Dave> My fair lady!
>Marrissa realized that they were under attack! Unfortunately, the next
>thing Marrissa realized was that she was in a transporter beam.
Crow: All right! Now scatter her atoms all over the universe! Go on!
Do it! DO IT!
Joel: Sadistic little robot, aren't you?
Crow: Bite me!
>Chapter Ten:
Tom: <Weird Al Yankovic> No, really... THIS is the last one... Honest.
>"Get those shields up, Mr. Lochard!" Jay barked from the command
>chair.
>"Trying, sir." Ross Lochard responded.
Joel: <Lochard> Give me a break, they're heavy!
>"No good. They hit the rear shield generator. Damage control teams
>have been alerted to the area."
>"Tell them this has emergency priority. Mr. Rozhenko!
Tom: <Damage Control> Yeah, yeah, we'll get to it when we're damned
good and ready!
Crow: All they need is Captain Kirk and this can be another episode of
Rescue 911.
>Keep the front of the ship pointed towards the enemy vessel!"
Joel: <Jay> That way they can keep us in their sights and get a clean shot!
Tom: I don't suppose the author could get to the REASON this attack is
taking place?
Crow: Reason, yes. Plausible, unlikely.
>"Aye, sir." Alexander responded.
>"Commander! I have identification on the enemy vessel." began Ross.
Tom: Luckily, the enemy vessel had their driver's license stapled to the
hull.
>"It's Trakce. The ship's name is the Gilkarn."
>Jay thought for a moment. No one he knew personally.
Joel: <Jay> Hmmmm, I once flew a Gilkarn in the Gamma Quadrant...
nah, couldn't be her.
>"Sir!" Ross exclaimed. "The Trakce have beamed two personnel from
>this ship to their's!
>Checking... they took Mr. Hines and..." Ross rechecked
>his readings, "...and the Captain, sir."
All: <bridge crew> HOORAY!!!
Joel: <Jay> Quick! Get us out of here before they change their minds!
Maximum warp!
Crow and Tom: <bridge crew> Aye aye, sir!
>"Mr. Lochard, I want them back. Try to target the Trakce shield
>generators. Gordon to Engineering."
Crow: Susan to Ten-Forward.
Tom: Mr. Hooper to Sickbay.
Joel: Big Bird to the Mess Hall.
>"Sutter here, Commander." Although most of the former "Kids Crew"
>knew each other quite well, they fell back to standard Starfleet protocol
>in situations like this.
Crow: Rig the workstations with squibs and lurch around violently when
the camera shakes?
Tom: Don't forget the dramatic posturing.
>"Lieutenant, the Trakce vessel we are engaging has kidnapped the
>Captain and our guest.
>Send whoever is most expert in Transporter systems to Transporter
>Room One."
Crow: <Jay> ...then beam that asshole into space for making the
Transporter systems so frigging complicated!
Joel: If he's anything like the cable repairman, don't expect him for a
few months.
>"That would be Lieutenant Sachs, sir, and she's on her way."
>Jay pondered what his next action should be.
Crow: Translation: Writer's block.
Joel: <Jay> How about... knight to queen's bishop four?
>Calling up a sensor schematic on the Captain's viewscreen, he saw that
>the Trakce were jamming all frequencies,
Crow: <Jay> Raspberry... Only the Trakce would DARE give me the
raspberry!
>ruling out a call for help. In any case, the battle would already be
>decided by the time help arrived,
Joel: <Jay> Pity for the Trakce that I'm so impatient. Ah well.
Tom: <Jay> I want us to have a nice quick defeat. Then we can knock
off for some Starfleet-sponsored counseling and massage therapy on Risa!
>and Jay was always a firm believer in the theory that universe helps those
>who helped themselves.
Crow: <Jay> Of course, if I help myself then I don't need the universe's
help... but if I can't help myself then the universe won't bail me out and...
arrrrgh, my head hurts!
Joel: Lawless AND godless. A perfect combination for a Starfleet
officer.
>His only choice at this point was to wait, and have a little faith in his
>remarkable crew.
Tom: <Lochard> This is the end! We're doomed, I tell ya! DOOMED!!!
Crow: <Rozhenko> I'm frightened, Captain! Hold me!
Joel: <Jay> Maybe if I strike a dramatic pose like that Riker fella... nope.
Well, I'm out of ideas!
>Though he did know one thing: if those Trakce harmed
>one hair on Marrissa's head, they would answer to him.
Crow: <Trakce> We're going to shave Marrissa bald!
Joel: <Jay> Errrr... is that your final answer?
>---
Tom: Hey look, it's a line! And it's masquerading as Q!
Crow: <chuckles>
>Marrissa felt disoriented.
Tom: <Marrissa> Strawberry flavored LSD... bad trip, baby... real
bummer.
Joel: <Dave> Uhhh... Dave's not here, man!
>She recognized the sensation of being transported,
Crow: <Marrissa> Mmmmm, feels like I'm buzzed on Jamie Jeans... errr,
I mean JOLT!!!
>but the phase inducers must have been barely within tolerance
>levels, and way below Federation standards.
Tom: <Marrissa> Gawd, why do I have to settle for being kidnapped by a
*lowly* transporter system! Like, I'm Marrissa Picard, you know? I
deserve to be beamed by the best!
>As she opened her eyes, she found herself and Dave in a brig.
Crow: <Marrissa> Well, Dave, looks like you're going to be my bitch for
a while... you know how to toss salad, right?
Joel: <Dave> Eep!
>Dave was sitting down, and shaking his head, not being used to the
>sensation of being transported at all.
Joel: Anybody get the feeling Dave doesn't get out much?
>Looking out through the forcefield, she saw an alien bridge,
>being manned by aliens distinguished by colorful hair ribbons. She
>knew this enemy quite well.
Joel: <Marrissa> Lady Lovelylocks... So we meet again.
>"Ah, the little princess has joined us. I do hope you'll be
>comfortable." said a voice from the command chair.
Crow: Nice to see Chairy still getting work after Pee Wee's Playhouse.
Joel: <Marrissa, tapping comm badge> Aww crap, Jay... send out the
Aestivalises! I'm in deep trouble here!
Tom: <Jay> This ain't a Nadesico crossover, Captain!
>As the chair swiveled around to give Marrissa a look at her enemy,
>she gasped.
Crow: <Marrissa> Captain Tylor!? How the hell did YOU get here?
>She recognized this Trakce and thought him to be long dead.
>"Ath Ressel." she said in an amazed voice.
Joel: Really? Sounded kinda flat to me. Maybe "ATH RESSEL?!?"
would've been better....?
Tom: Nah, sounds too hysterical. How about "A-Ath... Ressel!?"
Crow: Nitpick, nitpick, boy we LOVE to nitpick!
>Chapter Eleven:
Crow: Starfleet goes bankrupt and Marrissa is forced to take a job as a
galley chef on a Klingon ship, serving Gagh and Bloodworm pie?
Tom: Someday, Crow. Someday.
>"Not quite." said the enemy leader. "But I am glad you take the time
>to remember your victims. I am Ath Dralnok, brother of the Ressel you
>killed."
Joel: Grandfather of the Ressel you will defeat four or five sequels
from now.
>"I did not kill Ath Ressel."
Crow: <Marrissa> I merely worked him over with a two-by-four. It's
not my fault he was too much of a wuss to come out of his coma!
>"You do not admit that you caused him to fail in his mission?"
>"I didn't let him capture me, if that's what you mean."
>"Yes, and the Trakce Central Authority executed him for that failure.
>Therefore, I hold you responsible.
Crow: <Marrissa> Gee, with logic like that, I can't imagine how I was
able to outsmart you guys....
Tom: <Ath Dralnok> You're one to talk about logic! How many plot
contrivances have gotten YOU by, eh Marrissa?
>And worse, you have acted on several occassions to deny the Trakce
>their manifest destiny of expansion. Did you know, Captain, that
>Trakcean children are taught to fear you?"
Joel: <Trakcean children> Marrissa?!? Ahh!
Crow: Not to mention all ST:TNG fans and MSTies, far and wide....
>"No, I was not aware of that."
Tom: <Marrissa> But now that I think about it... that's kinda cool!
>"Because of this, I was ordered to take you for Trakce once and for
>all. It was a simple matter. When Ressel held you, he implanted a
>subcutaneous transponder set to only go off a few minutes ago, thus
>avoiding detection.
Joel: <Marrissa> Ohhhh... I was WONDERING what that plate in my
head was for!
>When we came to where your ship was at the time, it was a simple
>matter to locate you."
Tom: <Ath Dralnok> You tend to leave a mess wherever you go.
Joel: <Ath Dralnok> We just asked Ruri to use Omoikane's higher
functions... and there you were!
>Dave, who was busy trying to control feelings of nausea, finally
>spoke, "Mommy, make the bad man stop talking."
>Ath Dralnok looked at him.
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> I'm your mother now, pink boy!
>"As for the large one, he was a special prize. Our transporter beams
>aren't as focused as yours, so he was caught in the fringe of the
>transporter effect.
Tom: <Ath Dralnok> Hey Davie boy, how would you like to be our prize
tonight? Say, about nineteen hundred hours or so?
>His quantum signature is interesting. We shall subject him to scientific
>tests."
Tom: Translation: Anal probes aplenty.
Crow: <Dave> Hey, I ain't Scott Bakula! You got the wrong guy!
>Marrissa knew what the Trakce considered as "scientific tests", and
>knew that Dave had no hope of survival if they "tested" him.
Joel: <Marrissa> Their English finals are impossible! Even Shakespeare
himself couldn't get an A!
>Just then, the helmsman shouted,
Tom: <helmsman> Look out! WORMHOLE! Heh, just kidding.
>"Ath! The Earther's ship is approaching quickly!"
>"Idiot!" Dralnok roared. "You said that they would not be able to
>track us if we used the anamoly's emanations as cover!"
Crow: <helmsman> Sorry, sir. They must have used a tachyon pulse or
altered the sensors to pick up emanations or modified a class one probe
to detect our ship emissions or some other technological crapola that
Star Trek pulls out of its ass every frigging episode....
>"Apologies and mercy, A-..." The helmsman was cut off as the Ath
>pressed a control on the bridge and the helmsman simply disintegrated.
Tom: Ath Dralnok *IS* Dr. Evil!
Crow: <Ath> See? You're responsible for THAT death too, Marrissa!
>"Communications, signal for assistance. Relief pilot, take over."
>ordered Dralnok.
>Suddenly, the ship rocked,
Joel: <Relief pilot> No, don' gettup! I c'n DO thish! Now, letsee what
thish does... oops, we sheem to be shpining out of constrol! Huh? Me
drinkin' on doody? Gettaouthere! I'm ash shober as shugar!
Jus' uh...
jus' gimmeaminuteandI'llmerJanthfgrr... *clunk*... ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz....
>and Dave and Marrissa noticed the brig forcefield shut off. In their
>arrogance, the Trakce had failed to remove the duo's commbadges.
Crow: Plot Contrivance anyone?
Tom: Shyeah right! And I suddenly grew legs!
>"Picard to Endeavour! Beam Mr. Hines aboard!"
Crow: <Jay> Aww, but we're making pretzels tonight, Captain!
Can't we beam up Mr. French's instead?
Tom: <Marrissa> *HINES*, you moron! Not HEINZ!
Joel: <Ross> So he's the one with the fifty-seven varieties?
Tom: <Marrissa> ARRGH!
>As she turned to Dave, he tossed something at her and said, "Catch."
Joel: <Marrissa> Mr. Hines! This is no time for Frisbee!
>The world dissolved around her.
Tom: Who needs global warming when we have Marrissa?
Crow: <Marrissa> This is just like the time Krypton blew up and my first
parents were forced to put me in a rocket capsule!
>The next thing she knew, she was standing in the Endeavour's transporter
>room, holding an extra commbadge. She saw Shayna Sachs at the controls.
Joel: <Shayna> Glad to have you back, Captain. And sorry about the
beard, we're checking all transporter systems for the problem now....
Crow: <Marrissa> Beard? What beard? *scratch scratch*
YAAAAHHHHHH!?!
>"Shayna, lock on to a human life sign over there, and beam him over
>here."
>"I can't, sir.
Tom: <Marrissa> Why not?
Joel: <Shayna> I, uh... l-lost the key, sir.
Tom: <Marrissa> Oh lovely. And that was the last spare too. <sighs> Oh
well, might as well knock off for the day. Replicator, a strawberry
smoothie please?
>The Gilkarn's shields are up again, and..."
>Marrissa didn't wait for Shayna to finish, as she raced out of the
>transporter room and towards a turbolift.
Joel: ...only to have her face bounce off the closed doors as they failed to
open on cue.
Crow: <Shayna> ...as I was about to mention, sir, we've been ordered by
Starfleet to change all the door mechanisms so they only open when
someone says 'Shh!'.
Tom: <Marrissa> Damn you, Kirk! Damn you to hell!
>---
Crow: The 100 millimeter dash. Just one of the many sports that never
really caught on.
>Back on the Gilkarn, Dave smiled to himself as Marrissa disappeared.
Crow: <Dave> Now, what was that about capturing a prize, Mr. Ath?
>Shouting, "I like this part!", he raced out of the brig, and clotheslined
>down Ath Dralnok.
Joel: <Dave> <singing> Ooh, rock me Amadaeus! Ooh, rock me
Amadaeus! Ooh, rock me Amadaeus! Ooh!
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> I put in forty hours a week for *this*?
>"That's for having a brig on the bridge!"
Joel: <Dave> And... and this is for not taking our communicators! And...
and this is for not being a cool race like the Borg! And... and... this one's
for my webpage! WHY WON'T ANYONE VISIT MY WEBPAGE?!?
WHY?!?
Tom: Hey, it's hilarity... so it MUST be hilarious.
>Dave turned towards the rest of the crew and smiled.
Crow: <Dave> Don't make me silly. You wouldn't like me when I'm silly.
>One of the Trakce soldiers was fumbling for his disruptor, but
>Dralnok screamed, "Not on the bridge, you idiot!
Tom: <soldier> Well, where do you suggest I fumble for it then?!?
>Take him down with hand-to-hand combat!"
Tom: Thumb wrestling! Best three out of five!
Crow: <soldier> Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man... bake me a cake as
fast as you... HI-KEEBA!
>The Trakce couldn't quite get a handle on Dave's combat style,
Joel: Luckily for Dave, the Trakce had never seen a Billy Quan sketch.
Crow: Kids! Be Like Dave!
Tom: <Dave> Behold the awesome power of the Curly-Ken!
Whoop whoop!
>though as he leapt around the bridge, hopping on consoles, and
>occassionally yelling things like "Whee!" or "I'm being a bad little
>bunny!".
Tom: Y'know, we're coming DANGEROUSLY close to Ryan Landek
territory here....
>However, Dave's luck couldn't hold out forever.
Crow: <Lady Luck> Oooh, I'm going to give you such a PINCH!
Joel: <Dave> Hey, no fair! Marrissa's luck just keeps going and I run out?
>A Trakce underling caught his leg and caused him to trip, smacking
>his chin on a panel.
>In the background, Dave heard Dralnok yell, "No! You've doomed us all!"
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> You've activated the doohickey that controls the
whatchamacallit that unleashes the thingumabob!
Joel: <Dave> I-Is that bad?
Crow: <Ath Dralnok> I HAVE NO IDEA!!!
Tom: Oops, speaking of doohickeys, mine just went off... time for a
break, guys....
Joel: Groovy, let's take a walk.
Crow: I hear ya.
(Joel picks up Tom and follows Crow out of the theater.)
* * *
SATELLITE OF LOVE
"Boy, that last scene was goofy, wasn't it? And speaking of
goofy, here's something we hope you'll really like!" Joel exclaimed as the
camera faded to black for a moment before fading up to a stillshot of
Dave Hines.
Crow: Only way he could be goofier is with dog ears, a long nose, and a
"hyuck" laugh....
Tom: Just man the slide machine, Henny.
(A question mark is superimposed over the stillshot.)
Tom: Kids! How would YOU like to experience the thrill, wonder and
whimsy of beating the living crap out of the Trakce?!? Well, now... YOU
CAN! From the talented people that brought you RENEGADE, prepare
yourself for adventure with 'Dave Hines' Battlerama'!"
(Stillshot of Dave Hines assuming the crane position before a mystified
Trakce solider)
Crow: This is sure to make Seanbaby's new Top 20 list....
Tom: How many times have you purchased a video game with your
favorite licensed character only to find out as you play that it actually...
<gasps>... SUCKS! Whether it be a lame game engine, crappy graphics,
product placement overkill or just plain half-assed programming, licensed
games rarely if ever cut the mustard! Hell, they barely even dent the stuff!
But no longer, for your prayers have forever been answered by the
awesomeness of 'Dave Hines' Battlerama!'
(Stillshot of Dave Hines launching a dropkick worthy of Erik Watts at
another terrified Trakce solider.)
Tom: Yes, you'll have SECONDS of fun as you help Dave kick keister
and chew pack after pack of Bubbalicious as you control Dave aboard
the bridge of a Trakce ship!
Crow: It combines the fast paced gameplay of the original Final Fantasy
with the dialogue of Metal Gear!
Tom: He jumps, he bounces, he closelines, he even TALKS!
(Stillshot of Dave Hines's face.)
Dave: 'I'm being a bad little bunny!'... 'Whee!'... 'A winner is me!'...
'Whee!'... 'All your base belong to us!'...
Crow: And he even has the classic Golgo 13 four-dot zingers. Wow.
(Stillshot of Dave Hines using the Three Stooges Eye Poke on Ath
Dralnok)
Tom: And so much mor... well, actually, that's all he can say... BUT
THAT'S NOT ALL! For 'Dave Hines' Battlerama' is proven to be better
with women AND kids alike! Isn't that right?"
(Stillshot of Gypsy)
Gypsy: Huh?
(Stillshot of Mary-Kate Olsen taken from an episode of 'Full House')
Mary-Kate: <tape recording> You got it, dude!
(Stillshot of Dave Hines leaping towards several Trakce with a pair of
karate chops.)
Tom: 'Dave Hines Battlerama' boasts more on-screen enemies than Smash
TV, more blood than Resident Evil and more swearing than Conker's Bad
Fur Day. Sure, it could be an empty boast, but with those kind of
promises, CAN YOU AFFORD TO TAKE THAT CHANCE?
(Stillshot of the Army of Darkness Movie Poster with Dave Hines' head
superimposed over Bruce Campbell's)
Tom: Yes, 'Dave Hines' Battlerama' will make you play until there's
nothing left of your thumbs but a pair of huge, gooey, swollen, pus filled
blisters!
Crow: So be sure to ask your parents' permission first.
Tom: In fact, we're so sure you'll like this game that we've included a
money-back guarantee! If you're unsatisfied with the game in any way,
send us your name, address and the telephone numbers of as many of
your friends as possible and we'll send you FIVE DOLLARS of your
money back! That's right, FIVE DOLLARS! What, are you deaf? I
said FIVE DOLLARS!!! And don't worry about us, we'll more than
make up the loss as we sell your contact information to anyone with
the right amount of moolah!"
Joel: Tom? Sorry to interrupt but it's commerical sign....
Crow: Anyone see the irony of that after reading this?
Tom: Already? Uh-oh, I'd better wrap it up! Uh, er, um... that's 'Dave
Hines Battlerama'! Order today, offer unlimited, visit Dave's Hines
webpage and tell him he sent ya cause I really don't want the blame!
This is Tom Servo announcing!"
Crow: <Red Skelton> Good night and may God bless.
Joel: Uh, right. Anyway, we have commerical sign.... *tap*....
TO BE CONTINUED IN 'LINES AS Q PART 2'
(PT. 2)....
Hiya! I hope you're enjoying this MSTing so far! As with my other
multiple part MSTings, there's lots more fun and weirdness to come, so
don't skip it or you'll only be missing out on some great riffs and skits. ;)
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