MSTing - "Something in the Sting of G"
--- Part 4 of 8 ---
>"Does Hannibal know about this?" B.A. wondered aloud.
>
>Murdock crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Nope."
>
>"Man, we'd better tell him.
ALL: -sucker!
>He's gotta know about this before we get there."
ALL: -fool!
>
>"Uh...why?" Murdock asked pointedly.
>
>"What do you mean, sucker?
ALL: -fool!
> We gotta tell Hannibal."
>
>A wicked gleam appeared in Murdock's brown eyes and a naughty smile
>moved one corner of his mouth.
SCRATCH (screeching): Eeeeeeeeeelvis!
> "Do we really have to tell him?"
>
>Suddenly a corresponding gleam appeared in B.A.'s black eyes
PEARL: Whoap, looks like T tried to get fresh with Lefty Lopez.
> and a
>chuckle bubbled up from deep in his throat. "Yeah. Maybe the colonel
>should find this out on his own.
MADGE: Oh, now ya don't want your squadron commander learnin' about this
kind of thing on the streets!
SCRATCH: Yeah, they may teach'em the physical aspects of stripping, but
they'll leave out all the love!
> Faceman too. Pay them back for
>all the times I got tricked into flying.
>
>Murdock nodded. "And the crummy planes they always scammed
>and expected me to keep in the air."
MADGE: Ah, that good old A-Team spirit!
>"Riiight," B.A. drawled.
>
>With a little hop and skip,
GYPSY: Carl Lewis!
>Murdock grabbed his jacket and bag and
>deposited himself into the wheelchair. "We'd better go, B.A. Our team
>members are waiting."
>
>B.A. turned off the video equipment
SCRATCH: 12:00... 12:00... 12:00...
> and moved to take the grips of the
>hospital conveyance in his hands. "Hey, fool," he stopped suddenly.
>"I still ain't wearing no crazy costume.
PEARL: Oh, fine. We'll let Shaquille play "Steel". Happy?
> I don't care how much money
>we make."
>
>"No, problem, B.A.," Murdock assured him. "Hannibal said there was
>need of a parking valet/bouncer.
GYPSY: Whoa! How'd you pronounce "/" in the pre-Internet age!
> You just demand that job. That'll
>leave Face and the Colonel to take the waiters' jobs."
>
>"What about the dancer?
SCRATCH: He prefers to be called "The Artist". Or "Pope Purple the
First", either one.
>Face will never do a dance like that!"
>
>"I know," Murdock grinned, his eyebrows bobbing up and down rapidly.
>"But, I will."
>
>"You! Man, you really are crazy."
MADGE (Michael Palin): Tonight, on "It's the Mind", we discuss the
phenomenon of déjà vu. That extraordinary feeling...
>Shaking his head and muttering to
>himself, B.A. pushed his crazy and uninhibited friend out of the
>hospital.
PEARL: OK, pan over to a sinister doctor, crouching behind a corner with
a cell phone, whispering, "They're on their way. Now, to rid ourselves
of this meddlesome "A-Team"-- once, and for all!"
SCRATCH: Musical sting, and! Commercial.
>
>
[All groan as fanfic continues.]
GYPSY: No such luck.
>"Run into some trouble, Captain?" Hannibal asked when the pair finally
>climbed into the ambulance.
MADGE: Well, sure, you try hittin' the can with that side of beef hovering
over your shoulder.
GYPSY: Why do they go to all this trouble getting Murdock out? There's
probably a big juicy Medicare fraud ring right there in the hospital.
>
>"Nah, colonel," Murdock said quickly. "I just wasn't ready.."
PEARL: Awwww... that's OK, sweetie. We'll just cuddle for awhile.
> He held
>up his gray flight bag. "I forgot to pack."
SCRATCH: Oh, god forbid you forget your twelve pairs of "invisible"
underwear. Pfew!
>
>"Okay, B.A., let's get this mobile first aid kit back to it's owners
>and pick up the van.
GYPSY: You think the Team went through any gut-wrenching moral reflections
before stealing an emergency vehicle to use as Murdock's limousine?
MADGE: Is that a rhetorical question?
GYPSY: Well, not strictly, but...
>I told Tom Watters we'd be there at three.
PEARL: The love child of Roger Waters and Tom Waits!
SCRATCH: Cool!
>Uh, Face, you have the directions?"
>
>"Yeah.
SCRATCH: -fool! Oh, wait.
PEARL: Just pay attention, please?
> Take the 405 freeway to Venice Boulevard east, then
>north on Overland."
MADGE (morose announcer): If you, or any member of your family, dies
during the "repeating directions" scene, Lori Beatty will buy you
a free coffin.
>The highway sped past as Hannibal puffed on his cigar
>mentally going over the details of the weekend "Okay, guys, we need to
>assign jobs."
SCRATCH (Face): I'm the kvetch!
GYPSY (Murdock): I'm the head case!
PEARL (B.A.): I'm the fairy princess from the land of Nod trapped in the
body of an angry black man!
>"Let's see. There are openings for two waiters, a dancer and a
>valet/bouncer."
SCRATCH: Whoa/ho! Is that/where Murdock picked/that up?
>"I'll take the valet job," B.A. stated firmly.
ALL: -fool!
>
>Hannibal shrugged. "Okay. I guess you are best suited to the bouncer
>role. Face, you can be the dancer.
PEARL: Since you're the sissy of the group.
>"Me? Hannibal, I can't dance. And come to think of it,
>what sort of dancing would a man do in a night club?"
MADGE: Well if it involves pouting like a schoolgirl, you're a natural!
>"Tom said it's similar to Broadway and Vegas type stuff.
>Tap dancing maybe? Top hat and cane, I guess."
>
>Templeton Peck groaned. "Tap...Hannibal, I can't tap dance."
GYPSY (Face): My life's been aquatic ballet!
>"Sure ya can, Faceman," Murdock spoke up. "Just pretend, you're Gene
>Kelly.
SCRATCH (Face): OK. Ahem. DAMN YOU, ASTAIRE! You upstage me again I'll
take that cane and ram it SO FAR up your-
GYPSY: No. No. No. No.
>Do a few time steps, a clog, a couple of maxi-fords..."
>
>"Murdock! I don't even know what those things are!"
PEARL (Face): But I'm guessing they're really lame and humorless!
>
>"Take it easy, Face," Hannibal smiled. "Just fake it."
>
>"Fake it? Hannibal!"
MADGE: Aw, jiminy. Now he's gonna start writhing and moaning in a New York
deli with Billy Crystal. It's not that funny!
>"Well, Face, I can't do it," the colonel pointed out.
>
>"Why not?" Peck demanded.
>
>Smiling gleefully, Hannibal replied, "Too old."
SCRATCH (moaning): Oh, if this fanfic ends with John Glenn stripping to
"Touch of Grey", I will spew all over this theater!
>
>Lieutenant Peck moaned and sank back into his seat. "Then you might
>as well kiss this weekends profits good-bye. I'm not dancing."
PEARL (groaning): This is like every date I ever had in high school. You
know something? Boys suck!
>A small cloud of cigar smoke drifted around Hannibal Smith's head.
MADGE: Action-Smoker-Lingering-Odor-not-included.
>"Well, we need a dancer. Surely one of us can do it." He glanced at
>B.A.
>
>"Don't look at me, man!"
ALL: -fool!
GYPSY: Woo, every time you gather a group of cutthroat army fugitives to
bus tables in your strip club, it's just bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch,
bitch!
>"Uh...I took a jazz dance class at the academy one quarter," Murdock
>drawled from the back seat.
SCRATCH (Murdock): And let me tell you- Karl Malone is NOT as light on
his feet as you'd think.
>
>Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. "Really, Murdock?"
>
>"Better him than me," Face groaned.
PEARL: That's the thing! All for one, to hell with you!
>
>"Yeah," Murdock smiled. "I was pretty good at it."
>
>Hannibal's smile broadened considerably. "Great, Murdock, then Face
>and I can take the waiter jobs. I love it when a plan comes together."
GYPSY: Um, nothing's really "come together", has it.
MADGE: Illegal use of catch phrase! Fifteen yards! Repeat-
SCRATCH (crying): Repeat?
ALL (crying): NOOOOO!
MADGE: All right, just get on with it, then.
>
>In the rear view mirror, two pairs of eyes met and a secret
>smile passed between them.
SCRATCH (sings): OOOOOOOOH, sweet mystery of life! At last I found youse!
[Madge laughs.]
>Confident that the weekend would now continue without a
>hitch, Hannibal Smith relaxed and watched the passing
>scenery out his window.
PEARL (Hannibal): Aaaah... blue sky... open desert... cactus? Wetbacks?
Border patrol?! What the hell?!
> He felt excitement building inside. It was an
>old familiar sensation that sprang to life whenever his schemes fell
>into place.
MADGE: Scheme.
GYPSY: Mm-hm.
MADGE: Being waiters, this is their "scheme", then.
GYPSY: Looks that way.
MADGE: Hooooooooooooo, boy.
>Even when the plan was a simple and uncomplicated one like their brief
>stint as waiters, his mind soared with the idea of manipulating a set
>of circumstances.
SCRATCH: Pearl, can you help me later with my nefariously intricate scheme
to make some chicken salad?
PEARL: First I gotta pull off my insidiously complex machinations to grout
the bathtub.
SCRATCH: After, though?
PEARL: Sure.
> And, he had his team to thank for it all. They always came through,
>pitched in to take up the slack, smooth the rough spots, close the gaps
>and tie up loose ends.
GYPSY (Face): Uh, Hannibal? Weren't our clients not wanted for bribery
and arson when they hired us?
MADGE (Hannibal): Just a slack gap of a loose end, my friend! Just leave
a bloody tomahawk and blame it on the injuns.
> Yessir, they were the best. Look at the way
>B.A. jumped at the chance to play bouncer.
PEARL: Oh, please! He's a six-foot-five V-tapered muscleman. I don't
think we need a guidance counselor for this one!
> And Murdock, offering to
>take the dancer's job to help out Face. Now that should be fun.
>Watching Murdock do a buck and wing and a few shuffle-off-to-Buffalo's.
SCRATCH: You get the feeling Lori let a few years of her innocence die
in the dark, sweat-infused studio of a harsh Russian dance mistress
whose visage haunts her at night with the sour expression of a
betrayed dream, shouting, "Wrong! Wrong! Get up! Do it again!"?
GYSPY: Umm... not until now.
> Ah, the guys were a great
>bunch. So loyal, so dedicated, so selfless, so sincere.
MADGE (BA): The minute he turns his back, I'm fraggin' him!
PEARL (Face): Dibs on his wallet!
SCRATCH (Murdock): I want his shoes.
> His team. Smiling smugly, he turned to B.A. and inquired,
>"How much further?"
>
>"Should be the next exit.
GYPSY (Minniwegian mom): Oh, let's not wake the audience, though.
They're so cute when they're sleeping!
> What's the name of this place again?"
>
>Face tugged at his tie and quipped, "Some kind of furniture. Hepplewhite,
> Duncan Phyfe?"
MADGE: Aren't those villains from the Peter Patriot cartoons?
SCRATCH: No, that was Benedict. Duncan might be their Droopy Dog
ripoff, though.
>
>"Chippendales," Murdock corrected.
MADGE: The name said Chippendales. The quality screamed Queen Anne.
>A few minutes later the black van pulled off onto a four-lane
>boulevard that ran through the main section of Culver City.
SCRATCH: As signified by- what? Blockbusters? A TCBY?
>Hannibal
>watched the passing cross streets for the one marked Overland. "That's
>it, B.A. Take a left."
PEARL (BA): Let me see that map!
GYPSY (Hannibal): No, just drive!
PEARL (BA): What?! We're nowhere NEAR-
GYPSY (Hannibal): But that's the long way around. Just look for the
sign for Route 9. It's gotta be here somewhere.
>The van turned from the main road into a narrow residential street,
>reducing its speed considerably. "I thought you said this club was
>really hot, Hannibal. This don't look like no place for a night club."
>
>Hannibal searched the address. "There it is. On the left."
[ALL sigh.]
MADGE: You know, this scene was originally just a jump-cut to the strip
club, but Lori recognized the unique opportunity for character
development in map reading.
SCRATCH: It's cool seein' these innovations before they become cliched.
>
>B.A. guided the van into the empty parking lot beside a small,
>nondescript, beige-colored brick building.
PEARL: Public school by day, erotic dance hall by night!
GYPSY: I sold five-dollar wrapping paper for this?
>
>"It looks more like a dentist office than a night club," Face observed
>dryly.
SCRATCH: Wow, nothin' is what it seems in this fanfic!
MADGE: It's in the finest tradition of "Total Recall"! Like when Detroit
releases another crappy car, and they have to do a total recall?
>"Are you sure this is it?"
>
>Murdock strained forward in his seat and looked out, pointing to the
>understated sign that cut diagonally across the front of the building.
GYPSY: Well there's your problem! There's a sign blocking the entrance!
>"This is it. Says, Chippendales."
>
>"Hmmm, maybe we should suggest Clayton do a bit of remodeling. This
>exterior wouldn't draw flies," Hannibal uttered.
PEARL: Was it supposed to?
SCRATCH: Didn't that honey-and-rotting-meat franchise teach you anything?
> "Well, let's go talk to the manager. Maybe we can pick up our
>uniforms early."
MADGE (shocked): No! You'll ruin the delicate timing of your intricate
scheme!
>After the bright sunlight, the interior of the small club seemed dark
>and stuffy. The four members of the A-Team took several minutes to
>adjust their eyes.
GYPSY (Hannibal): So anybody read Kissinger's latest book?
PEARL (B.A.): No, fool! I'm too stupid!
GYPSY (Hannibal): Yeah, me too. May as well have skirt steak for brains.
> "Sure is intimate," Hannibal muttered to Face.
>
>"This dinky place brings in big bucks?" Face snorted skeptically. "No
>way."
SCRATCH: Oh, I dunno. Opium dens ain't exactly The Plaza, and they seem
to do OK.
>
>From the shadowed confines of the club, a slight, energetic man
>appeared, walking toward the men like a miniature dynamo.
MADGE: Richard Simmons!
GYPSY (Richard Simmons): OK, girls! Let's Deal-a-Meal!
> "You the
>guys Clayton sent over?" he asked without ceremony.
PEARL: So we're not in a Japanese tea house, at least.
> At Hannibal's
>brief nod he raced on. "Which one of you is the dancer?" Murdock
>raised his hand.
SCRATCH (Murdock, weakly): Um... I wanna live forever? Light up the sky,
like a flame?
>The man looked askance at the pilot then shrugged.
>"Go back to the dressing room, right back there. See Sonny. He'll
>help you with your routine."
MADGE: (Simmons): Of diet and exercise! With Sweatin' to the Oldies
Volume- what are we up to now, 13? 62?
>
>"Uh, I take it you're Tom Watters?" Hannibal managed to interject.
>
>"Yeah. Of course. Who else would I be?"
GYPSY: Any stereotyped homosexual male on network TV?
>His eyes darted to B.A.
>"You the bouncer? Good.
SCRATCH (Simmons): Start bouncin', honey! ONE, and TWO, and- work those
outer thighs, come on!
> See Dave in the office. Over there. He'll
>fix you up."
PEARL: He'll shore up your foundation while master carpenter Al looks
for water damage.
> Tom's attention next settled on Face and Hannibal, and he
>eyed them closely, the silver-haired colonel in particular.
MADGE (Tom): One word, darlings. Nivea!
> "I don't
>mind telling you, you're a good bit older than our usual men."
>
>Hannibal smiled blandly.
GYPSY: As opposed to some other George Peppard expression?
> "What I lack in youth I make up in
>experience."
>
>Tom wasn't impressed.
PEARL (Tom): Oh, Reagan might have fooled the country with that drivel,
but don't think you can bon mot your way onto my chorus line!
> "But then, we do have quite a few older patrons.
>It might be a fresh angle.
SCRATCH (Tom): An old guy dyin' on stage might go over with the punk crowd.
> Might even pull in a new cross section.
>Okay, follow me and I'll get you measured for your costumes."
MADGE (Tom): Let's see. We have Extra Large... and that's it. No one ever
asks for Small, for some reason.
>
>A bit bemused, Hannibal and Face followed the intense young man into
>the back of the building. "Uh, costumes?" Face questioned. "Clayton
>said uniforms."
>
>"Hannibal shrugged. "Costumes, uniforms. What's in a name, Face?"
GYPSY: A plot by any other name would smell as rank!
>
>Tom led the two into a small alcove off the main dressing room and
>pulled out a well-worn tape measure. He proceeded to measure in turn,
>their necks, wrists, waists, thighs, and inseams with the practice of a
>skilled tailor.
SCRATCH (Face): There's no call to be measuring THAT!
PEARL (Hannibal): Calm down, Face. What's in a batch? An area by any
other name-
SCRATCH (Face): Oh, stuff it!
PEARL (Hannibal): I don't have to. Heh-heh.
> After jotting down the numbers, he turned to the new
>waiters. "You can pick up your costumes an hour and a half before you
>go on the floor Friday."
MADGE: Go on the floor? It's the New York Crotch Exchange!
>
>"And when is that?" Hannibal asked.
>
>"Six o'clock. Be here at five thirty."
GYPSY: 5:30 is an hour and half before six?
SCRATCH: They move Daylight Savings to the middle of day for some reason?
They got Pope Gregory runnin' the joint?
>With that he left the men to
>find their own way out.
MADGE (Tom): And check in with me tomorrow, which is two hours from now!
>
>"Friendly fellow," Hannibal commented dryly.
>
>"Yeah. I get the feeling our supreme sacrifice for this weekend isn't
>exactly appreciated."
PEARL: Yeah, it ain't easy gettin' a lane at the Bowl-a-rama, and now
they're right back on the waiting list!
>
>As the two fair-haired members of the A-Team returned to the front of
>the club, they were joined by
SCRATCH: -their Aryan brethren to prepare for their march on Skokie.
GYPSY: Why do you test me so?
SCRATCH: Well, 'cuz I'm from Hell. I mean, come on.
>B.A. and a smiling H.M. Murdock.
>
>"All set fellas?" Hannibal asked.
>
>B.A. nodded and Murdock's smile broadened. "I've got to come back to
>practice, colonel. I've only got four days to perfect my act.
PEARL: Perfect your act? You're Robin Williams without the body hair or
the improv skills!
> Sonny
>is gonna help me--we got a great idea for a costume."
>
>"Oh, yeah?" Face asked, his curiosity piqued. "What is it?"
MADGE: An evening gown made of American Express gold cards!
>
>"I'm going to let it be a surprise." Murdock grinned. Even in the
>gloomy interior of the small club, his brown eyes twinkled brightly.
GYPSY: Lori? Turn down the twinkling, hon, OK? It's not healthy.
>
>"Okay, we're done too. Let's go and we'll be back Friday, ready to
>work." Hannibal smiled happily. "B.A., can you bring Murdock back for
>rehearsals?" The sergeant nodded. "Great." Pulling out a fresh
>cigar,
SCRATCH: Action-Smoker-Stained-Fingernails-not-included.
>Hannibal Smith led his band of merry men out into the daylight
>once more.
[All snicker.]
GYPSY: Merry men, huh.
PEARL (Hannibal): Yup! We rob.
MADGE (Face): Wasn't there another part to that?
PEARL (Hannibal): Can't think what.
>Face took one last look at the small, unimpressive club and shook his
>head. "This place can't make money. It has no atmosphere, no
>ambiance, nothing to set it apart from any other night club."
SCRATCH: Oh, wait, I got it! This is the one where that Face guy goes out
to book "Cowboy George", and instead? He books "Boy George"! Ha! See?
"Boy George"! Heh. (moans) Man, I gotta lie down.
>
>
>Friday, at five thirty sharp, Hannibal Smith and his trusted unit
>pulled into the lot at Chippendales. After parking the van in the
>designated area for employees,
MADGE: This fanfic has more parking than "The A-Team" had car chases!
> the four men piled out joining Hannibal
>as he took the last remaining draws on his cigar.
SCRATCH: Action-Smoker-Compulsive-Phallic-Behavior-sold-separately.
> "Well, are you ready?"
>
>Face groaned, but Murdock and B.A. were surprisingly cheerful. "Come
>on, you guys, we'll be late." Murdock urged as he started toward the
>rear entrance. "It wouldn't look good if Clayton found out we weren't
>here on time."
GYPSY (Murdock): Yeah, he might shoot us into space and force us to read
this story!
>
>"Good point, Captain," Hannibal agreed.
>
MADGE (muttering, resentful): They're right there. How late can they be?
>Once inside, the men split up. B.A. went to the front office, Murdock
>to the costumes. They're in there." He motioned them into the alcove.
ALL: Huh? What?
>It didn't seem possible, but the man's level of energy was double that
>of their previous meeting.
GYPSY: Who is? Murdock?
SCRATCH: Should there be a "Scene Missing" sign up here?
PEARL: Hello?! Focus, dammit! C'mon!
>He moved like a human hurricane, as if all
>his energy was compacted into a swirl around him. Watters thrust
>something black and shiny into Face's hands,
ALL (startled): Gah!
MADGE: Don't sneak up on us like that! God!
>then did likewise with
>Hannibal.
>
> "What size shoe do you wear?" he asked.
>
>Uh, 10 1/2," Face replied, looking more closely at his costume.
GYPSY (Watters): OK, you'll need half a size smaller, so I'm giving you
a 14EEE.
>
>"Okay, there's an assortment of black boots in the corner. Put those
>on," he gestured toward the clothing, "no underwear,
SCRATCH (Face): That's OK! We brought our own.
> and get back here
>so I can see how you look."
>
>Hannibal, who had pulled his outfit off the hanger, held up
>the shimmering black pants, if you could call them that. They looked
>more like satin long johns to him.
MADGE: Superman, NOOOOO!
> "Uh, you expect us to wear this?"
>
>Tom threw him an impatient glance. "Just put it on so I
>can look you over."
GYPSY (sings): Hey, look me over!
>
>"Put it on?" Hannibal repeated. "Maybe you'd better melt me down and
>pour me into them."
SCRATCH (slyly): Saaaaaaay...
PEARL (Hannibal): And then, maybe you better, like, gently fold me into
the batter, so I combine without reducing the egg whites.
>
>Face, in the meantime, had discovered the rest of their so-called
>costume. He held up three small bands of white. "What are these?" he
>asked.
MADGE: The Carpenters, Nelson, and Captain and Tenille!
SCRATCH: Ha! Small white bands! Such verbal frolics youse guys do have!
>
>"Your collar and cuffs. Now would you please get dressed? I've got to
>get ready for the crowd.
PEARL (Tom): I do a musical saw number that leaves'em crying in the aisles!
> I'll be back in five minutes."
GYPSY (Tom): So see you next Wednesday!
>Tom vanished out the door, leaving
>Face and Hannibal to contemplate their situation.
>
>Face wasted no time in voicing his distaste at their outfits.
>"Hannibal, he can't be serious. Where's our shirts?"
SCRATCH: Ah, Lucy and Ethel probably ironed them and they have big smoking
burn marks on'em, and the only thing they and Ricky have to wear for the
big TV audition are a couple of horse costumes.
>Hannibal held up the narrow bow tie and looked at his young friend. "I
>don't think we get any."
>
>"What! You mean we're going to serve drinks in these? Hannibal, the
>pants will be so tight they'll show every bump on our...never mind."
PEARL (Hannibal): Yours has bumps?
GYPSY: Please, the story's bad enough!
>Blue eyes narrowed as the colonel looked at the white collar and cuffs.
>"Wonder what sort of club this is?"
MADGE: Oo, I hope it's a billy club, and it beats them all into next week!
>
>"Oh, great. Now you ask. Why didn't you find out before, huh? We
>could be into some real trouble here, ya know. This place could be
>hot!"
SCRATCH: Before you whined it was a dud! Make up your mind!
>
>One eyebrow arched.
GYPSY (Spock): Fascinating, Captain.
> "No doubt. But Clayton is a good man.
MADGE: And a better woman!
>He wouldn't be involved in
>anything shady." With a shrug, Hannibal retired to the small dressing
>room. Face did likewise, complaining every step of the way.
>
[Pearl, Scratch, and Gypsy rise to leave.]
SCRATCH (Face, crying, whining): That step was hard! So was that one!
This sucks! Can I have a gummi worm?
[Logo, Commercials. Does the Florida orange juice "talking sandwich" still
bitch at you after you eat it?]
--- End Part 4 ---
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