MSTing: "Windmills of the Gods"

--- Part 4 of 4 ---

[OPEN ON: Theater.  MIKE and bots take their seats.

> Edward turned to the children. "You two finish your dinner. Your
> mother and I would like to have a little talk."
> "Don't we get a vote?" Tim asked.
> "By absentee ballot."

CROW: Then it's settled. Miami Mayor Xavier Suarez is the next 
   ambassador to Romania!

> Edward took Mary's arm and led her into the library. He turned to
> her and said, "I'm sorry if I sounded like a pompous ass in there.

MIKE: I'd meant to sound like a condescending patrician.

> It was just such a-"
> "No. You were perfectly right, Edward. Why on Earth should they
> have chosen me?"
> When Mary called him Edward, he knew he was in trouble.

TOM: Not going anywhere for a while? Grab a Snickers.

> "Honey, you'd probably make a great ambassador, or ambassadress, or
> whatever they call it these days.

CROW: Ha! These kids today, with their ambassadresses and their Puff
   Daddies and their fiber optic communication networks...

> But you must admit it came as a bit of a shock."
> Mary softened. "Try thunderbolt."

MIKE: Oh, the new Thunderbird wine-Jolt cola cocktail! Hits the spot,
   and keeps on hitting!

> She sounded like a little girl. "I still can't believe it." She
> laughed. "Wait until I tell Florence. She'll die."

CROW: Die? Ooh! Tell the kids! Oh please please please tell the kids...

> Edward was watching her closely. "You're really excited about this,
> aren't you?"

MIKE (Edward): At first I thought you would outgrow this nationally
   acclaimed foreign policy expert thing, but you're really serious!

> She looked at him in surprise. "Of course I am. Wouldn't you be?"
> Edward chose his words carefully. "It is a great honor, honey, and
> I'm sure it's not one they would offer lightly. They must have had a
> good reason for choosing you."

TOM: You're dangerously unqualified and could bring us to the brink of
   nuclear war, but I'm sure they had a good reason.

> He hesitated. "We have to think about this very carefully. About what 
> it would do to our lives."
> She knew what he was going to say, and she thought: Edward's right.
> Of course he's right.
> "I can't just leave my practice and walk out on my patients. I have
> to stay here. I don't know how long you'd have to be away, but if it
> really means a lot to you,

CROW: If it means a lot to her? It's an ambassadorship, not the flippin'
   presidency of the 4-H club!

> well, maybe we could work out some way where you could go over there 
> with the children and I could join you whenever-"

MIKE: You can grab this great opportunity, or you can love me and the
   kids. Your choice honey, no pressure...

> Mary said softly, "You crazy man. Do you think I could ever live
> away from you?"

TOM: Oh, that's healthy.

> "Well- it's an awfully big honor, and-"
> "So is being your wife. Nothing means as much to me as you and the
> children.

MIKE (Mary): Except liquor. And corn dogs. Oh, and the ponies of
   course.

> I would never leave you. This town can't find another doctor like you,
> but all the government has to do to find a better ambassador than me is
> to look in the Yellow Pages."

CROW (as headline): President Nominates AAAAA Plumbing!

> He took her in his arms. "Are you sure?"
> "I'm positive. It was exciting to be asked. That's enough for-"
> The door flew open and Beth and Tim hurried in. Beth said, "I just
> called Virgil and told him you're going to be an ambassador."

MIKE (as Virgil): Oh really, how fascinating. So can I sleep over or
   what?

> "Then you'd better call him back and tell him I'm not."
> "Why not?" Beth asked.
> "Your mother has decided she's going to stay here."
> "Why?" Beth wailed.

CROW: Damned good question.

>"I've never been to Romania. I've never been anywhere."

TOM (Beth): Well, in the literal sense that's not true, but my heart is
   crushed! Wait- that's not true either. Oh, curse my Edwin Newmanesque
   sense of exactitude!

> "Me neither," Tim said. He turned to Beth. "I told you we're never
> going to escape from this place."

MIKE: OK, I've changed my mind. I like him now.
CROW: Yeah, the only character with a brain in his head.

> "The subject is closed," Mary informed them.
>
> The following morning Mary dished the telephone number that the
> President had given her. When an operator answered, Mary said, "This 
> is Mrs. Edward Ashley.

ALL (disgusted): D'OH! JEEZ! COME ON!
TOM: "Mrs. Edward Ashley." So that's the name on her doctorate, hm?
CROW: Yup, guess her book jacket has blurbs from Mrs. Steve Albright
   and Mrs. Dennis Thatcher.

> I think the President's assistant- a Mr. Greene- is expecting my call."
> "One moment, please."
> A male voice on the other end said, "Hello, Mrs. Ashley?"
> "Yes," Mary said. "Would you please give the President a message
> for me?"
> "Certainly."

MIKE (Mary): "Dear Hack: Cram it!" Oh, wait, I don't want to him to get
   mixed signals.

>"Would you please tell him that I'm very, very flattered by his offer,
> but my husband's profession ties him down here, so I'm afraid it would
> be impossible for me to accept. I hope he understands."
> "I'll pass on your message," the voice said noncommittally. "Thank
> you, Mrs. Ashley."

TOM (Mary): Wait, what am I doing?! Stop! Of course I'll be ambass-

> The line went dead.

TOM (Mary): Oh, bugger.

> Mary slowly replaced the receiver. It was done. For one brief
> moment, a tantalizing dream had been offered to her. But that was all
> it was. A dream. This is my real world.

CROW: Wow, who'd've thought Robert James Waller ripped off Sidney
    Sheldon!

>I'd better get ready for my next political science class.

MIKE (Mary): Right then! Chapter Twelve: Ambassadors are highly
   respected, well paid government representatives who do little work, 
   go to lavish parties and I'M GONNA JAM MY HUSBAND'S SCALPEL UP HIS-

>* * *
>
>Manama,

ALL (sing): Doo-doo, da-doo-doo!

> -Bahrain

TOM: Whoap, here comes Bahrain again.
CROW: Falling on my head like a tragedy.

> The whitewashed stone house was anonymous hidden among dozens of
> identical houses a short walk from the souks, the large, colorful
> outdoor markets. It was owned by a merchant sympathetic to the cause of
> the organization known as the Patriots for Freedom.

MIKE: Oh, how Manama-nous of him!

> "We will need it for only one day," a voice over the telephone had
> told him.

TOM: Huh, fear of commitment. How very male.

> It was arranged. Now the chairman was speaking to the men gathered
> in the living room.

CROW (Chairman): Guys? Look, stop watching Springer and listen a sec, OK?

> "A problem has arisen," the chairman said. "The motion that was
> recently passed has run into a difficulty."
> "What sort of difficulty?" Balder asked.

MIKE: One of the really hard kinds.

> "The go between we selected- Harry Lantz- is dead."
> "Dead? Dead, how?"

TOM (sarcastically): Of a broken heart. How do you think he died, Baldy?!

> "He was murdered. His body was found floating in the harbor in
> Buenos Aires."
> "Do the police have any idea who did it? I mean- can they connect
> this to us in any way?"

MIKE: Well as long as they don't find his "Dark Branch" corporate Visa
   card...

> "No. We're perfectly safe."
> Theos asked, "What about our plan? Can we go ahead with it?"
> "Not at the moment. We have no idea how to reach Angel.

CROW: Della Reese would know! Baldy, get her agent on the phone!

>However, the Controller gave Harry Lantz permission to reveal his name 
>to him. If Angel is interested in our proposition, he will find a way to
> get in touch with him. All we can do now is wait."

TOM: So. Pettite- four?

> * * *
>
> The banner headline in the Junction City Daily Union read: JUNCTION
> CITY'S MARY ASHLEY DECLINES AMBASSADORSHIP.

MIKE: "PREFERS CODEPENDENT RELATIONSHIP WITH SUFFOCATING QUACK".

> There was a two-column story about Mary, and a photograph of her. On
> KJCK, the afternoon and evening broadcasts carried feature stories on 
> the town's new celebrity. The fact that Mary Ashley had rejected the
> President's offer made the story even bigger than if she had accepted
> it. In the eyes of its proud citizens, Junction City Kansas was a lot
> more important than Bucharest, Romania.

CROW: What a sad, sad thing to be proud of.

> When Mary Ashley drove into town to shop for dinner, she kept
> hearing her name on the car radio.
> "...Earlier, President Ellison had announced that the ambassadorship
> to Romania would be the beginning of his people-to-people program,

TOM (radio): ...which quite frankly we're sick of hearing about already.

> the cornerstone of his foreign policy. How Mary Ashley's refusal to
> accept the post will reflect on-"
> She switched to another station.

MIKE (radio): "-the turtle known as Gamera is once again flying over
Tokyo."

> "... is married to Dr. Edward Ashley, and it is believed that-"
> Mary switched off the radio. She had received at least three dozen
> phone calls that morning from friends, neighbors, students, and 
> curious strangers.

CROW: Some of which were friends, neighbors, and students.

> Reporters had called from as far away as London and Tokyo. They're
> building this up all out of proportion, Mary thought. It's not my fault
> that the President decided to base the success of his foreign policy on
> Romania.

MIKE: It's not my fault I'm thick as a rubber mallet.

> I wonder how long this pandemonium is going to last. It will probably 
> be over in a day or two.

TOM: Mary Ashley really needs a big sister to talk to about this.
CROW: Yeah! Someone who'd lend a sympathetic ear, then lovingly take her
   aside and slap her 'til her face bleeds!

> She drove the station wagon into a Derby gas station and pulled up
> in front of the self-service pump.
> As Mary got out of the car, Mr. Blount, the station manager, hurried
> over to her. "Mornin' Mrs. Ashley. An ambassador lady ain't got no call
> to be pumpin' her own gas. Let me give you a hand."
> Mary smiled. "Thanks. I'm used to doing it."

CROW (Mary): Distasteful as it is.

> "No, no, I insist."
> When the tank was filled, Mary drove down Washington Street and
> parked in front of the Shoe Box.
> "Mornin', Mrs. Ashley,' the clerk greeted her. "How's the
> ambassador this mornin'?"
> This is going to get tiresome, Mary thought.

MIKE: Yeah, well I'm five chapters ahead of you, girlfriend.

>Aloud, she said, "I'm not an ambassador, but I'm fine, thank you."

TOM: There's not really any other way she could say it.

>She handed him a pair of shoes. "I'd like to have Tim's shoes resoled."
> The clerk examined them. "Ain't these the ones we did last week?"
> Mary sighed. "And the week before."

MIKE (Mary): Here's twelve cents. Have one of the Nike people work on
   it for an hour.

> Mary's next stop was at Long's Department store. Mrs. Hacker, the
> manager of the dress department, said to her, "I just heard your name 
> on the radio. You're puttin' Junction City on the map. Yes, sir. I 
> guess you and Eisenhower and Alf Landon are Kansas's only political big 
> shots, Mrs. Ambassador."

CROW (as Bob Dole): Oh, right. Bob Dole doesn't need this. Drop your
   bags, Liddy, we're going to K-Mart.

> "I'm not an ambassador" Mary said patiently. "I turned it down."
> "That's what I mean."
> It was no use.

TOM: "Friends" was going to be on the air forever!

>Mary said, "I need some jeans for Beth. Preferably something in iron."

MIKE: A wood burning stove?
TOM: Bessemer steel?
CROW: One-A-Day Vitamins?

> "How old is Beth now? About ten?"
> "She's twelve."

TOM: Hey guys, let's see who can do the sickest riff.
MIKE: OK. Once, twice, threes... shoot!
CROW: Ready to date Jerry Seinfeld.
TOM: Ready to pursue anorexia as a path to Olympic gold.
MIKE: Ready to outwit an Ol' Miss grad.
TOM and CROW: Hey!
CROW: Oh, so all Southerners are stupid, huh, Nelson?
MIKE: But you said... the sickest... with the Seinfeld and the anorexic-
TOM: Oh, just save it, bigot.

> "Land's sake, they grow so fast these days, don't they? She'll be a
> teenager before you know it."
> "Beth was born a teenager, Mrs. Hacker."

TOM: Now there's a painful delivery!

> "How's Tim?"
> "He's a lot like Beth."

CROW (Mary): Which reminds me... Do you have two copies of the latest
   Babysitter's Club book?

> The shopping took Mary twice as long as usual. Every one had some
> comment to make about the big news. She went into Dillon's to buy some
> groceries,

MIKE: And a leopard skin pillbox hat!

>-and was studying the shelves when Mrs. Dillon approached.
> "Mornin', Mrs. Ashley."
> "Good morning, Mrs. Dillon. Do you have a breakfast food that has
> nothing in it?"

TOM: Sure, Honey Coated Sugar Smacks. Diggum!
CROW: Well what about Apple Jacks? Can't be much of anything in them.
MIKE: Rice Crispies always struck me as being the most insubstantial
   breakfast food.

> "What?"
> Mary consulted a list in her hand. "No artificial sweeteners, no
> sodium, fats, carbohydrates,

CROW: That leaves water and styrofoam packing material.

>caffeine, caramel coloring, folic acid, or flavorites."

TOM: The Flavorites sound like little animated creatures that hide in the
   hollow tree, move things around and make the Keebler elves go mental.

> Mrs. Dillon studied the paper. "Is this some kind of medical
> experiment?'

MIKE: Of course not! Now get me 12 rabbits, 24 eyelid clips and some
   Revlon cosmetics!

> "In a sense. It's for Beth. She'll only eat natural foods."
> "Why don't you just put her out to pasture and let her graze?"

CROW: Because that would be repeating a joke, breaking an inviolable rule
   of comedy.
MIKE: Unless it's a running gag.
TOM: The Great Zamlok! Huzzah!

>Mary laughed. "That's what my son suggested." Mary picked up a package
> and studied the label.

MIKE (reading): "Warning! The Surgeon General has determined..." oh,
   hell, that can't be important.

>"It's my fault. I never should have taught Beth how to read."

CROW (Mary): Although that toilet training thing is starting to make
   a lot of sense. Maybe when we get a toilet.

> Mary drove home carefully, climbing the winding hill towards Milford
> Lake. It was a few degrees above zero,

MIKE: That's not much of an incline for a hill.
TOM: More like a skateboard park for Walter Matthau.

>-but the windchill factor brought the temperature down well below zero,
> for there was nothing to stop the winds from their biting sweep across
> the endless plains. The lawns were covered with snow and Mary
> remembered the previous winter when an ice storm had swept the county

TOM: ...but still didn't get any Oscar nominations.

>-and the ice snapped the power lines. They had no electricity for almost
> a week.

MIKE: For dinner, they stuck pencils in frozen burritos and called'em
   Acapul-pops.

>She and Edward made love every night.

CROW: And war every day.

>Maybe we'll get lucky again this winter, she grinned to herself.

TOM: Well, I could see how she feels. No electricity, no lights, no way
   to read "Windmills of the Gods".

> When Mary arrived home, Edward was still at the hospital. Tim was
> in the study watching a science-fiction program.

MIKE: Doctor Who Meets Seinfeld.
TOM (as dalek): Exterminate! No soup for you! Yadda yadda yadda.
CROW (as the Master): I am the Master- of my Own Domain!

> Mary put away the groceries and went in to confront her son.
> "Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"
> "I can't."
> "And why not?"
> "Because I don't understand it."
> "You're not going to understand it any better by watching Star Trek.

MIKE: Not even the black-and-white cookie episode?
TOM: Not even the creme horn of death episode.

> Let me see your lesson."
> Tim showed her his fifth-grade mathematics book. "These are dumb
> problems," Tim said.

CROW: Tim's a rebel. He doesn't play by your rules, man. Wild hearts
   can't be broken.
TOM (as teenage girl): He just needs to find the right woman and settle
   down. Now if I were his girlfriend...

> "There are no such things as dumb problems. There are only dumb
> students.

MIKE: That passage got Sheldon on the banned list at The Helen Keller
   School for the Mute.

> Now let's take a look at this."
> Mary read the problem aloud. "A train leaving Minneapolis had one
> hundred and forty-nine people on board. In Atlanta more people boarded
> the train.

CROW: Olympic Security teams screen all passengers. How long before the
   train blows up?

>Then there were two hundred and twenty-three on the train. How many
> people boarded in Atlanta?" She looked up.

TOM: How many were bored in Atlanta? Well the population is what, a
   million?
MIKE: No, "boarded", Tom.

>"That's simple, Tim. You just subtract one hundred forty-nine from two
> hundred twenty-three."

CROW: Sheldon's math textbooks must thicker than the Koran.
TOM: 'Cuz there's no numerals, is what you're saying.
MIKE: Bet even the page numbers would be spelled out. "Page Two
   Hundred Forty-Three... Page Two Hundred Forty-Four..."

> "No, you don't," Tim said glumly. "It has to be an equation. One
> hundred forty-nine plus N equals two hundred twenty-three. N equals two
> hundred twenty-three minus one hundred forty-nine. N equals seventy-
> four."
> "That's dumb."

TOM: Huh. Algebra. What a load of crap. Huh-huh. Whoo!
CROW: Boy, Ashley must be tons of fun at faculty parties. "There's
   Professor Newton. Idiot. Professor Fuller- rube! Professor
   Hawkings?  Total spaz."

> As Mary passed Beth's room, she heard noises. Mary went in. Beth
> was seated on the floor, cross-legged, watching television, listening 
> to a rock record, and doing her homework.

MIKE: Oh, true multi-tasking. She must be running on OS/2.

> "How can you concentrate with all this noise?' Mary shouted.
> She walked over to the television set and turned it off and then
> turned off the record player.
> Beth looked up in surprise. "What did you do that for? That was
> George Michael."

CROW: You answered your own question, sweetie.

> Beth's room was wallpapered with posters of musicians. There were
> Kiss and Van Halen,

MIKE: Oh, yeah. The Kiss poster was on more 80's teenagers walls than
   Dionne Warwick or even the Bay City Rollers.

>-Motely Crue and Aldo Nova and David Lee Roth. The bed was covered with
> magazines: Seventeen and Teen Idol and half a dozen others. Beth's
> clothes were scattered over the floor.
> Mary looked around the messy room in despair. "Beth- how can you
> live like this?'

CROW (Beth): Well, the respiratory system converts the oxygen in the 
   room into-

> Beth looked up at her mother, puzzled. "Live like what?"
> Mary gritted her teeth. "Nothing."

TOM: Oh, live like nothing. She's a Thoreau freak.

> She looked at an envelope on her daughter's desk. "You're writing to
> Rick Springfield?"
> "I'm in love with him."
> "I thought you were in love with George Michael."
> "I burn for George Michael; I'm in love with Rick Springfield.

MIKE: I burn for Blue Oyster Cult.
CROW: Well, they're burning for you.

> Mother, in your day didn't you burn for anybody?"
> "In my day we were too busy trying to get the covered wagons across
> the country."

TOM: Now, wait. There is no way Mary Ashley was not a teenager in the
   sixties.
MIKE: Well, they didn't really have a sixties in Kansas. There,
   Civil Rights just meant Holsteins could mix with the Gurnseys.

> Beth sighed. "Did you know Rick Springfield had a rotten
> childhood?"
> "To be perfectly honest, Beth, I was not aware of that."

CROW (as Johnny Carson): I did not know that. That is some weird, wild
   stuff.

> "It was awful. His father was in the military and they moved around
> a lot.

TOM: I would wager this does not reach the "Zlata's Diary" level of
   suffering.

>He's a vegetarian too. Like me. He's awesome."

MIKE: He has the strength of ten gerbils!

> So that's what's behind Beth's crazy diet!
> "Mother, may I go to a movie Saturday night with Virgil?"

CROW: It's "Titanic", so we won't be back 'til Monday morning.

> "Virgil? What happened to Arnold?"
> There was a pause. "Arnold wanted to fool around. He's dorky."
> Mary forced herself to sound calm. "By 'fooling around', you
> mean-?"

TOM: Cartwheeling, ventriloquism, juggling rotten fruit.

> "Just because I'm starting to get breasts the boys think I'm easy.
> Mom, did you ever feel uncomfortable about your body?"

MIKE: Every time I sit in a beanbag chair, dear.

> Mary moved up behind Beth and put her arms around her. "Yes, my
> darling. When I was about your age, I felt very uncomfortable."

CROW: I know this is supposed to make me like Mary Ashley? But I don't.
MIKE: Yeah, I mean it's not like this is Superstring Theory of Parenting
   or anything.
TOM: She's basically telling her daughter she's not a hideous freak.
   Other than disqualifying herself from running a modeling agency, 
   what's the point?

> "I hate having my period and getting breasts and hair all over.
> Why?"

MIKE: Getting breasts all over?
TOM: Uh, Mary, this might be a tad more serious than puberty.
CROW: You might want to give Linda Blair a call. And if she offers you
   some pea soup, duck!

> "It happens to every girl, and you'll get used to it."
> "No, I won't." She pulled away and said fiercely, "I don't mind
> being in love, but I'm never going to have sex. No one's going to make
> me. Not Arnold or Virgil or Kevin Bacon."

MIKE: Although Michelle Pfeiffer does make my skin go all tingly...

> Mary said solemnly, "Well, if that's your decision..."
> "Definitely. Mom,

CROW: -who do I talk to about having test tube baby?

>-what did President Ellison say when you told him you weren't going to 
> be his ambassador?"
> "He was very brave about it," Mary assured her. "I think I'd better
> get dinner started."

TOM (Mary): We're having oysters on the half shell, garnished with
   powdered rhinoceros horn. And there will be no taking any 976 
   calls during supper, young lady!
MIKE: Tommy? Can we take it down a notch or three here?
TOM: Sorry.

>
> Cooking was Mary Ashley's secret bete noir. She hated to cook, and
> consequently was not very good at it, and because she liked to be good 
> at everything she did, she hated it even more.

CROW: Hating it even more made her still more worse at it, although 
   not as much more worse as when she was bad at it originally.

> It was a vicious circle that had partly been solved by having Lucinda
> come in three times a week to cook and clean house. This was one of
> Lucinda's days off.

TOM: Well. That was one roller coaster of a paragraph, huh guys?
MIKE: Caution! Filler may be hot!

> When Edward came home from the hospital, Mary was in the kitchen,
> burning some peas. She turned off the stove and gave Edward a kiss.
>"Hello darling. How was your day? Dorky?"
> "You've been communication with our daughter," Edward said. "As a
> matter of fact, it was dorky. I treated a thirteen-year-old girl this
> afternoon who had genital herpes."

CROW: The Great Zamlok! Huzzah!
TOM: D'oh, jeez. Mike! Crow took our running joke and twisted it into a
   tool of the devil!
CROW: Did not.
TOM: Did so!
MIKE: All right, both of you simmer down. If you can't play nice with
   your friend Zamlok, maybe he shouldn't come over anymore.

> "Oh, darling!"

CROW (sings): Please believe me!

> She threw out the peas and opened a can of tomatoes.

TOM (Edward): Aw, wait, honey! Give peas a chance!

> "You know, it makes me worry about Beth."
> "You don't have to," Mary assured him. "She's planning to die a
> virgin."

CROW: Our little girl- planning out her cold, lonely existence 
   without the comfort of love. I'm so proud!

> At dinner Tim asked, "Dad, can I have a surfboard for my birthday?"

MIKE: Sure, if I can have an ANNULMENT for mine.

> "Tim- I don't want to rain on your parade, but you happen to live in
> Kansas."

TOM: Ugh, that's rain, snow, and sulfurous meteors descending from above.

> "I know that. Johnny invited me to go to Hawaii with him next
> summer. His folks have a beach house in Maui."

CROW: The vacation spot cats ask for by name!

> "Well," Edward said reasonably, "if Johnny has a beach house then he
> probably has a surfboard."
> Tim turned to his mother. "Can I go?"

MIKE: For the last time, we can't afford a bathroom!

> "We'll see. Please don't eat so fast, Tim. Beth, you're not eating
> anything."
> "There's nothing here that's fit for human consumption."

TOM: The asparagus is wilted, and this Chardonnay borders on vulgar!

> She looked at her parents. "I have an announcement to make. I'm going
> to change my name."

CROW (Beth): To Beth Ashley.
MIKE: But you are-
CROW (Beth): Yes, but to a different Beth Ashley. That way I don't have
   to change the stationary.

> Edward asked carefully, "Any particular reason?"
> "I've decided to go into show business."

TOM (Beth): I'm going to be the next Anna Nicole Smith! Is grandpa
   married?

> Mary and Edward exchanged a long, pained look.
> Edward said, "Okay. Find out how much you can get for them."

CROW: Ask for $50 K... settle for car fare home!
TOM: Hey, maybe they sold'em to Steven Spielberg so he could make
   "Goonies".
MIKE: It would explain a lot.

> 8
>
> In 1965, in a scandal that rocked the international secret-service
> organizations,

MIKE: -the fine propaganda they usually spread was replaced with 
   Folgers crystals.

>-Medhi ben Barka, an opponent of King Hassan II of Morocco, was lured to
>Paris from his exile in Beneva

CROW: Come to Paris. Aw, c'mon, come to Paris! I'll be your friend?

>-and murdered with the help of the French secret service. It was
> following this incident that President Charles De Gaulle-

TOM: -after mistaking some garden slugs for his first course...

>-took the secret service from the control of the premier's office and
> placed it under the aegis of the Ministry of Defense.

CROW: Under the aegis of Kathy Lee!

> Thus it was that the current minister of defense, Roland Passy,

MIKE: Hey, now just a minute, you filthy French perverts! Oh, wait.
   Never mind.

>-was responsible for the safety of Marin Groza, who had been granted
> sanctuary by the French government. Gendarmes were stationed in front 
> of the villa in Neuilly on twenty-four -hour shifts, but it was the
> knowledge that Lev Pasternak was in charge of the villa's inner 
> security that gave Passy confidence.

TOM: Ewwww... those last six words sound like a tampon commercial!
ALL: BWAUGH!!!
MIKE: God! I never wanted to hear that!

> He had seen the security arrangements himself and was firmly convinced
> that the house was impregnable.

CROW: Now they're doing diaphragms!
ALL: BWAUGH!!!
MIKE: Stop it! Stop talking!

> In recent weeks, rumors had been sweeping the diplomatic world that
> a coup was imminent, that Marin Groza was planning to return to 
> Romania, and that Alexandru Ionescu was going to be deposed by his 
> senior military officers.

TOM: Oh yeah, you know Matt Drudge is the one who broke that story.
MIKE: Get out.
TOM: No really! Although originally it was about Ionescu, his intern, 
   and a bottle of Palmolive liquid.
CROW: They caught him- soaking in it.

> Lev Pasternak knocked on the door and entered the book-crammed
> library that served as Marin Groza's office. Groza was seated behind
> his desk, working. He looked up as Lev Pasternak came in.
> "Everybody wants to know when the revolution is going to happen,"
> Pasternak said.

MIKE: Well good morning to you too, jerk-wad.

> "It's the world's worst kept secret."
> "Tell them to be patient. Will you come to Bucharest with me, Lev?"

TOM (as Groza): Seeing as how I'm not dead, and all.

> More than anything, Lev Pasternak yearned to return to Israel.

CROW: To buy once again those nifty souvenir harpoons at the 
   Whaling Wall.
MIKE: "Wailing" Wall, Crow.
TOM: Oh, "whaling" instead of "whaling". That's so different, Mike.
MIKE: No, you... It's a homonym for- oh, skip it.

> I'll only take this job temporarily, he had told Marin Groza. Until
> you're ready to make your move. Temporarily had turned into weeks and
> months, and finally into years. And now it was time to make another
> decision.

TOM: Yeah- uh, four pieces Original Recipe... aaaaand four extra crispy.

> * * *
>
> The telephone call came ten days after Harry Lantz's body was found.

MIKE: CNN reports it was found with a cold upon its chest.
CROW: Congressional attempts to rub it out with camphorated oil fell 
   three votes short of passage.

> The Controller was in the middle of a staff meeting in the conference
> room when the intercom buzzer sounded.
> "I know you asked not to be disturbed, sir, but there's an overseas
> call for you.

TOM: Nah, he should get a simpler buzzer. This is way too task-specific.

> It sounds urgent. A Miss Nemusa Munez is calling from Buenos Aires. I
> told her-"
> "It's all right."

CROW: Not feelin' too good myself.

>He kept his emotions under tight control.

MIKE (as Shatner): Must... remain... bland... and uninteresting!

>"I'll take the call in my private office." He excused himself, went into
> his office, and locked the door. He picked up the telephone. "Hello.
> Is this Miss Munez?"

CROW: Mr. Mooney's Mexican cousin!

> "Yeah." It was a voice with a South American accent, coarse and
>uneducated. "I got a message for you from Angel. He din' like the nosy
>messenger you sent."

TOM: Well, you really have to give Karl Malden a chance. Ever see 
   "On the Waterfront"?

> He had to choose his words carefully. "I'm sorry. But we would
> still like Angel to go ahead with our arrangement. Would that be
> possible?"
> "Yeah. He say he wanna do it."

MIKE (as Munez): In de road. Angel say no one will be watching us, 
   so why not?

> The man held back a sigh of relief. "Excellent. How shall I
> arrange his advance?"
> The woman laughed "Angel, he don' need no advance. Nobody cheats
> Angel." Somehow the words were chilling.

TOM: Really? Why, I'll have to try that with beer some time! How handy!

>"When the job is finished, he say you put the money in- wait a minute- I
> got it wrote down- here it is- the State Bank in Zurich. That someplace
> in Switzerland." She sounded like a moron.

CROW: She's Angel.
MIKE: Yup, no doubt. Evil people downgrade you, you're the instrument 
   of their destruction. Every time. Ho-hum.

> "I'll need the account number."
> "Oh, yeah. The number is- Jesus. I forgot.

TOM: Sounds like one of those America On-Line free trial membership
   passwords.

> Hol' on. I got it here somewhere." He heard the rustle of papers, and
> finally she was back on the telephone. "Here it is. J-three-four-nine-
> zero-seven-seven."
> He repeated the number. "How soon can he handle the matter?"
> "When he's ready, senor. Angel say you'll know when 'ees done.

CROW (Munez): De leetle red timer weel pop up.

> You'll
> read 'bout it in the newspapers."
> "Very well. I'm going to give you my private telephone number in
> case Angel needs to reach me."
> He gave it to her slowly.

TOM (dully, slowly): He... belonged... to... the...
MIKE: Slow Talkers Association of America, we know Tom.

> * * *
>
> Tblisi, Russia

TOM: Slow... Talkers...
CROW: Association of America, Bob and Ray reference, we're with you buddy.

> The meeting was being held in an isolated dacha on the River Kura.

TOM: Association... of... Ameri-
MIKE and CROW: OH WILL YOU STOP ALREADY?! Cut it out!
TOM: All right, all right! Jeez, ya philistines.

> The chairman said, "Two urgent matters have arisen. The first is
> good news. The Controller has had word from Angel. The contract is
> moving forward."

MIKE: Although good defense could set him two. But that's double dummy,
   really.

> "That's very good news!" Freyr exclaimed. "What's the bad news?"

TOM: The cat marked your shoes as his territory.

> "I'm afraid it concerns the President's candidate for the
> ambassadorship to Romania, but the situation can be handled..."

MIKE: We'll just daub some cold club soda on it.

> It was difficult for Mary Ashley to keep her mind on the class.
> Something had changed. In the eyes of her students she had become a
> celebrity.

CROW: Almost as famous as Squealer, the State Fair's champion racing pig!

> It was a heady feeling. She could feel the class hanging on her words.

TOM: Yeah, she's practically the Emeril of Western Civ.
MIKE (as Emeril): Kick it up a notch. BAM!
TOM and CROW: SHUT UP!

> "As we know, 1956 was a watershed year for many of the Eastern
> European countries. With Gomulka's return to power, national communism
> emerged in Poland.

ALL: (snore inhale... snore whistling)

> In Czechoslovakia, Antonin Mavorony led the Communist party. There 
> were no major political changes in Romania that year..."

MIKE: Zzzzz. Huh? Wha? I'm up, I'm up.

> Romania... Bucharest... From the photographs Mary had seen, it had
> to be one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. She had not forgotten
> any of the stories her grandfather had told her about Romania.

TOM (Mary): Like when Bobby was made school safety monitor- in Romania-
   and had to rescue that girl's cat out of the condemned house and 
   got all dirty- in Romania- and he put to much soap in the machine 
   and a tarantula bit Peter!
CROW: In Romania.
TOM (Mary): Yes!

> She remembered how terrified she had been as a little girl by his tales
> of the horrible Prince Vlad of Transylvania. He was a vampire, Mary,
> living in his huge castle high in the mountains of Brasov, sucking the
> blood of his innocent victims.

CROW: He must have run a Slavic HMO.

> Mary was suddenly aware of a deep silence in the room. The class
> was staring at her. How long have I been standing here daydreaming? she
>wondered.

MIKE: And was she getting paid for it? If so, why stop?

> She hurriedly continued her lecture. "in Romania, Gheorghin-Dej was
> consolidating his power in the Worker's Party..."
> The class seemed to go on endlessly,

TOM (sobbing): We know!

>-but mercifully it was almost over.

CROW (bawling): Lies, lies, nothing but lies!

> "Your homework assignment will be to write an essay on the USSR's
> economic planning and management, describing the basic organization of
> the government organs, and the CPSU control. I want you to analyze the
> internal an external dimensions of Soviet policy, with emphasis on its
> positions on Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Romania."

MIKE: Oh, and you also have to sod my lawn.

> Romania...Welcome to Romania, Madam Ambassador. Your limousine is
> here to drive you to your embassy. Her embassy.

TOM: Well, the bank's embassy, technically. Two years left on the
   mortgage.

>She had been invited to live in one of the most exciting capitals in the
>world, reporting to the President, being in the center of his people-to-
>people concept.

CROW: Look, lady, there IS no people-to-people concept! Wake up! It's a
   meaningless campaign slogan! It's a thousand points of light, 
   a shining city on a hill, a bridge to the twenty-first century!

>I could have been a part of history.
> She was roused form her reverie by the sound of the bell. Class was
> over. Time to go home and change. Edward would be back from the
> hospital early. He was taking her out to the country club for dinner.
> As befitted an almost-ambassador.

MIKE: She's starting to sound like the almost-Marissa.
TOM (Marissa): Knave! I should almost seal you in a Jeffries tube 
   for that!

> * * *
>
> "Code Blue! Code Blue!"

CROW: Madonna put one her bras on backwards!

>-the crackling voice sounded over the loudspeaker throughout the 
> hospital corridors. Even as the emergency crew began to converge on the 
> ambulance entrance, the sound of an approaching siren could be heard.

MIKE: Oh, sorry, that's just my five-year-old. We encourage him to
   express his sorrow.

> The Geary Community Hospital is an austere-looking three-story brown
> building perched on a hill on St. Mary's Road in the southwest section
> of Junction City.

CROW: That lived in the house that Jack built!

>The hospital holds sixty-six beds,

TOM: No symbolism there.

>-and has two modern operating rooms and a series of examining rooms and
> administrative offices.

MIKE: But- how many examining rooms? How many offices?
TOM: Gah, must be one of them suspenseful details he's saving for the
   end.
MIKE: Oh, that's not fair! I'm on the edge of my seat!

> It had been unusually busy Friday, and the ward on the top floor was
> already filled with injured servicemen who had come to town form nearby
> Fort Riley, home of the 1st Infantry Division, known as the Big Red 
> One,

CROW: Isn't that chewing tobacco?

> for their weekend R and R.
> Dr. Edward Ashley was sewing up the scalp of a soldier who had lost
> a bar fight.

TOM (rough soldier): That'll learn ya to question Alvin Ailey's 
   influence on American dance theater!

> Edward Ashley had been a doctor at Geary Memorial Hospital for thirteen
> years, and before going into private practice he had been an air force
> flight surgeon with the rank of captain.

MIKE: That's the rank surgeons have. This just proves Sheldon saw
   M*A*S*H* once.

> Several prestigious hospitals in large cities had tried to lure him 
> away, but he preferred to stay where he was.

CROW: Maybe he was trying to impress them with his ability to play "Red
   Light - Green Light", and they never turned their back to him.

> He finished with the patient he was working on and looked around.
> There were at least a dozen soldiers waiting to be patched up.

MIKE (nurse): Now who's your primary provider?
TOM (soldier): The U.S. Government.
MIKE (nurse): Oh, a welfare cheat. Please fill out these forms and get
   the hell out of my country.

> He heard the sound of the approaching ambulance siren. "They're playing
> our song."

CROW: Robert Klein!

> Dr. Douglas Schiffer, who was tending a gunshot-wound victim,
> nodded. "It looks like M*A*S*H in here.

TOM: Yup, you were right.
MIKE: Yeah, it was so obvious he had to cop a plea.

>You'd think we were in some kind of war."

CROW: It's like this every time Pat Buchanan takes a speaking tour.

> Edward Ashley said, "It's the only war they have, Doug. That's why
>they come into town every weekend and go a little nuts. They're
>frustrated."

TOM: But they've occupied city hall and taken hostages!
MIKE (as John Rambo): Now I can't even hold a job.. PARKING CARS!!!!
   YAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!
CROW (evenly): Michael? Don't, ever, do that, again.
TOM: Ever! I can't believe I stopped a Bob and Ray riff for you.
MIKE: Man, is it me, or are we all just testy today?
CROW: Yeah, I think is was a bad idea for all of us to quit coffee at
   the same time.

> He finished the last stitch. "There you are, soldier. You're as good as
> new."

TOM: Uh- you did have nine fingers when you came in here, right?

> He turned to Douglas Schiffer. "We'd better get down to emergency."

CROW: That's where Major Bellows hides the stroke mags!

> The patient wore the uniform of a private, and he looked to be no
> more then eighteen years old. He was in shock. He was sweating
> profusely and his breathing was labored.

MIKE: Cripes, they may have to do a Cesarean.

> Dr. Ashley felt his pulse. It was weak and thready. A splotch of blood
> stained the front of his uniform jacket. Edward Ashley turned to one of
> the paramedics who had brought in the patient.
> "What do we have here?"

TOM: A relationship based on lies and incredible sex, sir.

> "A knife wound to the chest, Doctor."
> "Let's see if his lung is collapsed." He turned to a nurse. "I
> want a stat chest X-ray. You've got three minutes."

MIKE (as temp): Cool. Two minutes to break, grab a microwave popcorn,
   maybe a smoke, then back here one minute after that.

> Dr. Douglas Schiffer was observing the jugular vein. It was raised.

TOM: Whoa, someone's havin' sweet dreams, heh-heh.

> He looked over at Edward. "It's distended. The pericardium's probably
> been penetrated."

CROW (Schiffer): Wait!  No, it's just wet.  He left it out in the rain
   again.

>Which meant that the sac that protected the heart was filled with blood,
> pressing against the heart so that it could not beat properly.
> The nurse who was taking the patient's blood pressure said, "Blood
> pressure's dropping fast."

TOM: The doctor who listened to the nurse said, "I'm listening to you,
   nurse."
MIKE: The reader reading this reading material said... aw, why bother.

> The monitor measuring the patient's electrocardiogram began to slow.
> They were losing the patient.
> Another nurse hurried in with the chest X-ray. Edward scanned it.
>"Pericardial tamponade."
> The heart had a hole in it. The lung was collapsed.

CROW: Mark Harmon was boring the cast with his St. Elsewhere stories.

> "Get a tube in him and expand the lung." His voice was quiet, but
> there was no mistaking the urgency in it. "Get an anesthesiologist.
> We're going to open him up. Intubate him."

MIKE: The nurse put the patient in an egg and placed him under a nice 
   warm light bulb... Oh, "intubate"!
TOM (chuckling weakly): He thought it was "incubate", you see...

> A nurse handed Dr. Schiffer and endotracheal tube. Edward Ashley
> nodded to him. "Now."
> Douglas Schiffer carefully began to push the tube into the
> unconscious soldier's windpipe. There was a bag at the end of the tube,
> and Schiffer began to squeeze it in a steady rhythm,

MIKE (moaning): Oh-ho-ho-hugh, I can't go any lower than this.
CROW: What is with you, Sheldon? A guy is dying, and still with the
   double entendres!

>-ventilating the lungs. The monitor began to slow, and the curve on the
> monitor was completely flat. The smell of death was in the room.

TOM: Nope, sorry, that was me. Must've been the black-eyed peas.

> "He's gone."
> There was no time to wheel the patient up to the operating room. Dr.
> Ashley had to make an instant decision.

MIKE: Let's see, what else can we bill this guy's widow for?

> "We're going to do a thoracotomy.

CROW: I think that's a flower, Ed.
TOM: Who cares, let's do it anyway. It's on Blue Cross's nickel.

> Scalpel."
> The instant the knife was in his hand, Edward reached down and slashed
> it across the patient's chest.

MIKE: Oh, man. First, do no harm? What's that all about?

> There was almost no blood, because the heart was trapped in the
> pericardium.
> "Retractor!"

TOM: This is never going to work, and you're an awful doctor.
MIKE: That's a DEtractor, nurse.

> The instrument was put in his hands,

ALL: AAAAUGH!!!

>and he inserted it into the patient's-

ALL: NOOOOOOOOO!!!

> chest to spread the ribs apart.

[All breathe a sigh of relief.]
MIKE: Oh, thank you. See? There is a god! I told you there's a god.

> "Scissors. Stand back!"
> He moved closer so that he could reach the pericardial sac. He
> snipped the scissors into it, and the blood released from the
> imprisonment of the heart sac spurted out, hitting the nurses and Dr.
> Ashley.

CROW (nurse): My dress!
TOM: Well no one told you to wear Armani in the O.R., nurse.

> Dr. Ashley reached in and began to massage the heart.

CROW: Yeah, well it may start with a massage, buddy, but tomorrow
   morning that heart's going to wake up alone, stare at the phone and
   wonder why you won't call.

> The monitor began to
> beep, and the pulse became palpable.

MIKE: Unlike the tension.

>There was a small laceration at the apex of the left ventricle.
> "Get him up to the operating room."
> Three minutes later the patient was on the operating table.
> "Transfusion- a thousand cc's."

TOM: I'm Batman.
CROW: You are not, Clooney! Do the scene.

> There was no time to match blood type, so O negative- the universal
> donor- was used.

MIKE: Just no damn point to any of it, is there.

> As the blood transfusion began, Dr. Ashley said, "A thirty-two chest
> tube."

TOM (as tailor): With a 14 collar! French cuffs!

> A nurse handed it to him.
> Dr. Schiffer said, "I'll close, Ed. Why don't you get cleaned up?"
> Edward Ashley's surgical gown was stained with blood. He looked at
> the monitor. The heart was strong and steady.
> "Thanks."

MIKE (Edward): Yup, sure feels good, saving lives. Of course, the author
   only injured him so I'd have something to do.

> Edwards Ashley had showered and changed clothes and was in his
> office writing up the required medical report. It was a pleasant
> office, filled with bookcases containing medical tomes and athletic
> trophies. It contained a desk, an easy chair,

CROW: Boy, even the chairs are easy in a Sheldon novel.

> and a small table with two straight chairs. On the walls were his
> diplomas, neatly framed.

MIKE (laughing as preppy): Oo! How quaint. In Connecticut we simply duct
   tape them to the wall, you know.

> Edward's body felt stiff and tired from the tension he had just gone
>through. At the same time, he felt sexually aroused, as he always did
> after major surgery.

TOM: Oh, Edward. You'd feel the same way after an autopsy.

> It's coming face-to-face with death that magnifies the values of the 
> life force, a psychiatrist had once explained to Edward. Making love 
> is the affirmation of nature's continuum.

CROW: I thought that was compost.
MIKE (laughing): You've got a point, there.

> Whatever the reason, Edward thought, I wish Mary were here.
> He selected a pipe from the pipe rack on his desk,

TOM (as pothead): What smokes and sounds like a bell?
ALL (same): BONG! Huh-huh. Whoo!

>-lighted it, and sank into the easy chair and stretched out his legs.
> Thinking about Mary made him feel guilty. He was responsible for her
> turning down the President's offer, and his reasons were valid.

MIKE: Because great political futures aren't for everyone, you know.

> But there's more to it than that, Edward admitted to himself. I was
>jealous. I reacted like a spoiled brat. What would have happened of the
>President had made me an offer like that? I'd probably have jumped at
>it.

CROW: Then again, he is a man and all.
MIKE: Yeah, and what with Mary being a woman- it's just totally
   different.

> Jesus! All I could think about was that I wanted Mary to stay home and
> take care of me and the kids. Talk about your genuine male chauvinist
> pig!

TOM: Ha! I never read a book that's ten years old and twenty years behind
   the times. How novel!

> He sat there, smoking his pipe, upset with himself. Too late, he
> thought. But I'll make it up to her.

MIKE: I'll buy her some bubble bath- chicks dig that stuff.

> I'll surprise her this summer with a trip to Paris and London. Maybe
> I'll take her to Romania. We'll have a real honeymoon.

CROW: So he'll make it up to her, by forcing her to have sex with him?
TOM: I have one word that's going to save their marriage: Chippendales!

> The Junction City Country Club is a three-level limestone building
> set in the midst of lush hills. The club has an eighteen-hole golf
> course, two tennis courts, a swimming pool, a bar and dining room with 
> a large fireplace at one end, a card room upstairs, and locker room
> downstairs.

MIKE (as Robin Leach): It's the playground of the Kansas jetset! No
   square dancing for these Andrew Corn-agies, as they boogie oogie 
   oogie to the wee hours of daybreak!

> Edward's father had belonged to the club, as had Mary's father,

TOM: Wouldn't it tie it all together if Lev Pasternak's father got
   blackballed?
CROW: Make a nice little plot circle.

>and Edward and Mary had been taken there since they were children. The
> town was a closely knit community, and the country club was its symbol.

MIKE: Yes, it's Ronald Reagan's America, where the government is your
   enemy, and country-club snobs tie the community together!

> When Edward and Mary arrived, it was late, and there was only a
>sprinkling of guests left in the dining room. They stared, watching as
> Mary sat down, and whispered to one another. Mary was getting used to
> it.
> Edward was looking at his wife. "Any regrets?"
> Of course there were regrets. But they were castles-in-Spain
> regrets about the kind of glamorous, impossible dreams that everyone
> has.

TOM: You mean, the sort of impossible dream that was just seriously
   offered to you.

>If I had been born a princess; if I were a millionairess;

MIKE (sings): Yie-dle, deedle, deedle, die-dle, deedle deedle deedle dum!

>if I received the Nobel Prize for curing cancer; if.. if... if...

CROW: Then you shall be a man, my son. Er, daughter.

> Mary smiled. "None, darling. It was a fluke that they even asked
> me. Anyhow, there's no way I would ever leave you or the children.

TOM: And it's not like Edward could take a LEAVE OF ABSENCE OR 
   ANYTHING!!!

>She took his hand in hers. "No regrets. I'm glad I refused the offer."

MIKE: And I'll be even gladder after I drain this li'l ol' bottle!

> He leaned across to her and whispered, "I'm going to make you an
> offer you can't refuse."
> "Let's go," Mary smiled.

CROW (as narrator): Later that night!
TOM (Mary): Edward, turn off that PlayStation and come to bed!
MIKE (Edward): Aw, honey! I'm in the middle of fighting Seraph Sepiroth!

> At three o'clock in the morning, the phone exploded into sound.
> Edward sleepily reached for the instrument-

ALL: AAAAAAUGH!!
TOM (crying): He did it again, Mike! He did it aga-ha-hain!
MIKE: There was no reason not to say "phone" there except to give us
   nightmares!

>-and brought it to his ear. "Hello..."
> A woman's urgent voice said, "Dr. Ashley?"
> "Yes..."
> "Pete Grimes is havin' a heart attack. He's in pain somethin'
> awful. I think he's dyin'. I don't know what to do."
> Edward sat up in bed, trying to blink the sleep away. "Don't do
> anything. Keep him still. I'll be there in half an hour."

CROW (as voice on phone): Oh, thank heaven! Let me tell you where he is,
   he's-

> He replaced the receiver, slid out of bed, and started to dress.
> "Edward..."
> He looked over at Mary. Her eyes were half open.
> "What's wrong?"
> "Everything' fine. Go back to sleep."
> "Wake me up when you come back," Mary mumbled. "I think I'm going
> to feel sexy again."
> Edward grinned. "I'll hurry."

MIKE (Mary): Oh, don't I know it.

> Five minutes later, he was on his way to the Grimes farm.
> He drove down the hill on Old Milford Road toward J Hill Road. It
> was a cold and raw morning, with a northwesterly wind driving the
> temperature well below zero.

TOM: Weather on the eights- only in a Sheldon novel!

> Edward turned up the car heater. As he drove, he wondered whether he
> should have called for an ambulance before he left the house. The last
> two "heart attacks" Pete Grimes had had turned out to be bleeding 
> ulcers. No. He would check it out first.

MIKE: 'Cuz even if it's real, there's no reason the guy can't walk to 
   the hospital.
CROW: So says - "The Best Surgeon in Junction City, Kansas"!

> He turned the car onto Route 18, the two-lane highway that went
> through Junction City.
> The town was asleep, its houses huddled against the bitter, frigid
> wind.

TOM: So- it's cold, then.
MIKE: That would be the impression I am left with, yes.

> When Edward came to the end of Sixth Street, he made the turn that
> took him onto Route 57 and headed toward Grandview Plaza.

CROW: Boy, things have sure changed since the AMA merged with the AAA.
TOM: The travel service is nice.
MIKE: Yeah, but I'm still thinkin' the ambulance should be free even 
   for hospitals farther than fifty miles away.

>How many times had he driven over these roads on hot summer days with 
>the sweet smell of corn and prairie hay in the air, past miniature 
>forests of cottonwood trees and cedars and Russian olive trees, and 
>August haystacks piled up alongside the roads?

CROW (sings): The answer my friends, is blowin' in the wind...

> The fields had been filled then with the odor of burning cedar trees 
> that had to be destroyed regularly because they kept taking over the 
> crops.

MIKE: Smells like... victory!
TOM (ominously): O Cedar TAKES your life easier!

> And how
> many winters had he driven on this road through a frosted landscape, 
> with power lines delicately laced with ice, and lonely smoke from 
> far-off chimneys?

MIKE: Well, none, actually. They usually wintered in Vale.

> There was an exhilarating feeling of isolation, being encapsulated in 
> the morning darkness, watching fields and trees fly silently past.

CROW: Pullman. Hunt. "Twister".
TOM: Movie. Stupid. Refund.

> Edward drove as fast as possible, mindful of the treacherous road
> beneath the wheels.

TOM: Yeah, look, I'll worry when the treacherous road ISN'T beneath
   his wheels, thank you.
CROW: Eh, I think you won't be waiting very long there, Tommy.
MIKE: Yup, sounds like Edward's gonna be driving a subcompact here in
   a minute.

> He thought of Mary lying in their warm bed, waiting for him. Wake me up
> when you come back. I think I'm going to feel sexy again.

CROW (as echoing voice): Federal agents from Washington... 
   Washington... Washington...
MIKE: He was man who wore mental spats... spats... spats...
TOM: Let go, Luke!

> He was so lucky. I'll make everything up to her, Edward promised
> himself. I'll give her the damnedest honeymoon any woman ever had.

CROW: I'll send her and four pints of Ben and Jerry's to Tahiti!

> Ahead, at the intersection of highways 57 and 77, was a stop sign.
> Edward turned at Route 77, and as he started into the intersection, a
> truck appeared out of nowhere.

MIKE (as truck): Hi! I'm Spunky, the Ten-Ton Plot Twist!
CROW: Uh, Mike, the plot has to be going somewhere before it can be 
   twisted?
MIKE: Aaaah... ya got me. Can't argue.

> He heard a sudden roar, and his car was pinned by
> two bright headlights racing toward him.

TOM (sings): And if a ten ton truck!  Crashes into us!...
CROW: Well, this is still better than "Maximum Overdrive".

> He caught a glimpse of the giant
> five-ton army truck bearing down on him, and the last sound he heard 
> was his own voice screaming.

TOM: No! Wait! You can't stop there! What about the truck? Did it
   continue down Route 77, passing Exit 34N to Lebanon? Did it make 
   the turn-off at Russell, accelerating to 60 miles per hour so as 
   to make the light at Pine Street! DAMN IT, SHELDON, YOU CAN'T LEAVE 
   US HANGING LIKE THIS!
MIKE (picks up Tom): Oh, yes he can, guys. We're done.
CROW: I'm inspired, Mike. I'm going to write my own political thriller.
   I'll call it, "Filler Material Surrounding Ten Pages of Explicit Sex".
TOM: Yeah, with the shocking twist ending that you're not allowed to 
   write any explicit sex.
CROW: Aw, Mike, he ruined the ending!
MIKE: It's for the best, Crow. Come on.


/ * \ ... = 2 =... > 3 <... [ 4 ]... ( 5 )... | 6 |...

[CUT TO: SOL Bridge. Tom and Crow are in their cowls again, snickering
 conspiratorally amongst themselves. Mike, in his normal jumpsuit, comes
 in with a telegram, smiling but parentally miffed. Tom and Crow shush
 each other as he comes in.]

TOM: Oh, hey, Mike. Crow and I were just discussing the humdrum, 
   everyday occurrences that make up our lives on the SOL!
CROW: Yeah. I sure am glad Gypsy turned down a life of glamour and
   political intrigue to take care of us and call our algebra homework 
   dumb and feed us cereal we won't eat. But say! Isn't that a seemingly
   harmless piece of paper in Mike's hands that could change our lives
   forever?
MIKE: This is a telegram for Gypsy. It seems her husband was killed in a
   car crash.
TOM and CROW: Awwwwww!
TOM: That grips me in tears like a crocodile, Michael. (snickers) Poor
   Gyps.
CROW: Yeah! (snickers) And with nothing to fall back on but an
   ambassadorship to Romania, too! What a raw deal fate has twisted!
MIKE: Yeah. Kinda funny, what with Gyps not being married and all. That
   seem kinda funny to you, Crow?
CROW: Oh, so the fact that Gypsy is now a widow, is comedic to you. You
   are a very sick man, Nelson.
MIKE: Uh-huh. Tom? You wanna contribute anything here?
TOM: Oh, you mean did Crow and I vote on yet another nefarious resolution
   while our so-called Chairman was setting the VCR to record Keenan?
MIKE: Something like that.
TOM: Pants.

[CROW and TOM break up laughing. Mike nods, pleasantly, waits for them to
 finish.]

MIKE: That's... that's very cute. Could I for a moment perhaps point out
 to you budding Plumbers that there already IS an ambassador to Romania!

[CROW and TOM freeze.  They look at each other.]

TOM: Huh. Guess that makes firing the research assistant seem like a
   false economy.
CROW: Oh, great. 6,000 lbs of cranberry gelatin down the drain.
MIKE: Oh, no. You didn't
TOM: Yup. Right down the Okeefenokee.
MIKE: Cranberry gelatin? But that's silly!
CROW: Yeah, well. We were bored. Can we go to the arcade now?

[Gypsy enters.]

GYPSY: No arcade for you two until every speck of dessert product is
   cleaned out of the Everglades!
CROW (sighs): Grab a spoon, Nelson.
TOM: There's always room for Jello- damn it. The horror. The horror.
MIKE: Ugh. Whaddaya think, Pearl Lynde?

[CUT TO: Van interior. Pearl is behind the wheel in a panic. The van is 
 under assault from some unseen horror, rocking it violently, and we hear 
 the planet roaring in the background.]

PEARL: Oh, does poor Nelson have to eat some nasty gelatin? EAT ME,
   WALTER! I got problems of my own.

[OBSERVER opens the van door, breathless and terrified. He has to pull
 some evil-looking tendrils off of his body to get in. We see them enter
 the van threateningly.]

OBSERVER: Ah! Back, you! Pearl!
PEARL: Yeah, yeah, OK. I know. Yes, you can sit up front. But no
   stickin' your head out the window during takeoff!
OBSERVER: Your consideration, though appreciated, is misplaced. The
   tendrils of the planet have invaded the van! They'll drag us back
   to hell!
PEARL: Hey, buddy, I ain't occupying no hell where I don't collect 
   $600 per tenant in maintenance fees for mowing the damn lawn! 

[Pearl pulls out the cigarette lighter from the dashboard.]

PEARL: Wreck my condo, will ya?

[PEARL jabs the tendrils with the lighter. The planet roar becomes a
 screech of pain, and the tendrils withdraw.]

PEARL: Ha! Not as fun as an eviction notice, though. (gets behind the
 wheel) Funny, never pictured antibodies like that. (accelerates and
 takes off)
OBSERVER: Rest assured, antibodies are infinitely worse! The planet
   analyzes your genetic make-up, and creates an entity which matches you
   strength for strength. It may look nothing like you, yet you know
   instinctively, it's your complete and horrible opposite!
PEARL: Oh, sort of a Paulina Poriskova-Ric Ocasek kind of a thing, huh?

[Suddenly we hear out the window:]

BOBO: Whoa! That's some mean kudzu they got growin' here!
OBSERVER: Bobo? Pearl, that sounds like Bobo!
PEARL: Huh? Nah, nah, that's the clutch, it has the same sort of grating
   tone as Bobo, but-
OBSERVER: We have to turn back! Never leave a man behind! 

----------------------------------------

He was a man who wore
mental spats.

----------------------------------------
Copyright 1998 Brendan Herlihy