Mystery
Usenet Theater 3000:
Winning
Love By Daylight
By
Stephen Ratliff
MiSTed
by:
Brendan
Herlihy
Kevin
Gowen
David Thurston
Original
Edit by:
Peter
Milan
Pink Boy
Buffet Edit by:
Brendan
Herlihy
======================================================================
[OPEN
ON: Exterior, Deep Space. Camera PANS,
swooping energetically
past the SOL, as GYPSY announces.]
GYPSY:
(excited) Tonight, Tom Servo goes for the largest payoff in SOL
history, as we play, "Who Wants to
Use Mike Nelson's Credit Cards?"
[Applause. CUT TO: SOL Bridge, darkened slightly, lit
with a faint
purplish light. At the desk are GYPSY, on the right, and TOM SERVO,
on the left.]
GYPSY:
Welcome back, everyone! Here with us
again is our champion, Tom
Servo.
How ya feelin', Tom?
TOM: (confident) B, Really Good, Gyps!
GYPSY:
Wa-ha! That's great. You know how the game is played...
[CUT
TO: Split screen. TOM is on the left,
and a graphic of the phases
of the game is on the right:]
USE MIKE NELSON'S CREDIT CARDS
* CLEAN TOILET WITH MIKE NELSON'S TUBE
SOCK
* DOG-EAR PAGES OF MIKE NELSON'S DIARY
* USE MIKE NELSON'S TOOTHBRUSH
* EAT POTATO CHIPS IN MIKE NELSON'S BED
* WEAR MIKE NELSON'S UNDEROOS
GYPSY:
As you can see, Tom has already achieved the "clean toilets with
Mike Nelson's tube sock" level.
TOM: Wow... I know that toilet needs cleaning...
and I think Mike's
down to his last clean pair...
GYPSY:
You know, even if you miss, you're guaranteed to use Mike's
toothbrush.
TOM: I gotta go for it, Gypsy!
GYPSY:
All right! He came to play, folks! Let's see the question!
[Spotlights
run down the walls as a dramatic descending chord plays.
CUT TO: One-shot of Tom. The question appears beneath him.]
GYPSY:
In 1994, after Joel Robinson escaped, who did Dr. Clayton
Forrester imprison for the rest of his life
on the Satellite of
Love?
A: Mike Nelson B: Ben Murphy
C:
Judy Tenuta D: Lick Me!
[Tom
stares at the question, deep in thought.
Thinking music plays.]
TOM: (despairing) Aw, man... I should know this, too...
GYPSY:
Take your time.
TOM: (muttering) Let's see... Judy Tenuta's
dead... or on cable, or
something...I know I've seen Ben Murphy
around here someplace,
but... (resolved) Gyps, I wanna ask the
audience.
GYPSY:
OK, audience, Tom needs your help!
Using your keypads, give him
your answer, now!
[CUT
TO: Another part of SOL. Crow is
standing by himself, darting
glances between Tom and the keypad,
snickering. He gleefully
pokes the keypad with his beak.]
[CUT
BACK: Tom, in split screen with a bar graph.
The graph jumps to
life with the results- a solid bar by choice
D.]
GYPSY:
Well there you have it. 100% of our
audience says, "Lick Me".
TOM: Damn.
The opposite of what I thought...
GYPSY:
The audience is usually right on these things, Tom.
TOM: I know, I know... Shoot. I don't think it's "Lick Me"...
but
they seem so confident! I... I gotta phone a friend.
GYPSY:
Who would you like to call?
TOM: Mike Nelson, who's been imprisoned on the
Satellite of Love for
five years? He mighta seen someone.
GYPSY:
OK, let's call!
[We
hear a phone ringing once, then a pick-up.
MIKE NELSON's voice
comes over.
A loud clock begins to tick.]
MIKE:
Yyyyyyello?
TOM: Mike, this is Tom. Listen, in 1994, who did Dr. Clayton Forrester
imprison for the rest of his life on the
Satellite of Love?
MIKE:
(after a beat) Tom, it's me.
TOM: (annoyed) Yes, I know Mike! *I* called *you*? Now can you help
me out here or not?
MIKE:
(frustrated) *Me*, Tom! Forrester shot
*me* into space!
Remember, you were there?
TOM: (dubious) You.
MIKE:
Me!
TOM: You're sure?
MIKE:
I'm sure!
TOM: (after a beat) You're sure.
MIKE:
I'm sure!
TOM: I'm thinkin' maybe Ben Murphy.
MIKE:
It's not Ben Murphy, Tom, it's me!
TOM: (another beat) You.
MIKE:
Me!
TOM: You're sure.
MIKE:
I'm sure!
TOM: You're sure?
MIKE:
(growling) Very, very sure!
TOM: OK.
OK. OK. OK.
Then, let me ask you this. Are
you sure,
like normal-person sure? Or more like a Wisconsin-dwelling, plaid-
jacketed, cheese-headed mongoloid kind of
sure?
MIKE:
(groaning) Lick me, Tom.
[Click. Dial tone.
The clock stops. Commercial sign
flashes.]
TOM: (grunting) Great. The mongoloid one.
GYPSY:
We'll be back, after this message from our friends at AT&T!
TOM: (desperate at Gypsy) Does it provide a service
of some kind?! Is
it bigger than a breadbox?! *DAMMIT, HELP ME YOU SADISTIC HARPY!*
[Gypsy
cringes. CUT TO: Logo, commercials.]
---
[SOL
Bridge, returned to normal. Crow is
reading a newspaper
labeled "SOL Gazette", with the
headline "SERVO BLOWS IT! Cries
Like
Little Weasel Baby". MIKE enters, in robe, hairnet, with towel
around
his neck.
He's annoyed.]
MIKE:
Crow, have you seen my toothbrush? I've
looked everywhere.
CROW: I
think Servo had it last, Mike. Last I
saw, he was headed
toward the computer to clean the mouse with
it?
MIKE:
What?! What made Tom think he could
just run off and use my
toothbrush?
CROW:
(sighing) Do you even *watch* TV?
[Flashing
console light thingy is go!]
MIKE:
Never mind. Alferd Packer is calling. [hits the lights]
[Castle
Forrester. PEARL and BRAIN GUY are wearing goggles, heavy lead
gloves, and protective aprons.]
PEARL:
Ah, hello, Nelson of a Preacher Man. Well, guess what time it is?
B.G.: And don't say it's time for a Devo revival.
I tried that one and
she hurt me.
PEARL:
You deserved it.
[SOL.
Normal.]
MIKE:
Well, judging by the goggles and all the lead and stuff, I'm
guessing it's time for your yearly
dental checkup.
CROW:
Um...got yourself some plutonium?
TOM: [shaken] Ludwig Plutonium?
[Castle
Forrester.]
PEARL:
Close but no enchilada, you poor dolts! It's time to smack some
Ratliff upside your pointy heads!
[SOL.
Much terror.]
MIKE:
Um...*gulp* So which one is it gonna be? N-n-not the one with
Wesley and Marrissa...
[Castle
Forrester.]
PEARL:
Sadly, no. That's why we're dressed like this; we've been trying
to bring "A Different Path"
down to acceptable levels. I mean,
if we sent it to you as is, it'd kill
you immediately.
B.G.: And where's the fun in that?
BOBO: [offscreen] Hey, Lawgiver, I think you left
the fridge open!
PEARL:
What? Bobo, no! That's not the fridge, that's the radiation--
[Horrible
WHOOSH and blast of light from left, as of a mountain gorilla
bursting into flame.]
PEARL:
--chamber.
B.G.: Stop, drop and roll!
BOBO: [offscreen] AHHHHH! IT HURTS! IT HURTS
REALLY A LOT!
[BRAIN
GUY heads left to put him out. PEARL shrugs.]
PEARL:
Ah, well. Until we can get that stenchcake ready for you, we've
got another incoher-a-palooza for you,
titled "Winning Love By
Daylight!" I think you'll be
pleasantly surprised by the improvement
in Ratliff's writing skills. I think
you'll be horribly crushed
by everything else.
B.G.: [OS] Hold still! Wait, roll into the sand!
BOBO: [OS] CORNELIUS! I'M COMIN' TO JOIN YA,
HONEY!
[SOL.
The lights! The bells! It's a madhouse!]
ALL:
AHHHHH! WE GOT RATLIFF SIGN!
[ 6 ]...
( 5 )... = 4 = ... / 3 \... > 2 <... (*)...
TOM: [sings] Readin' Steve again...Wish I didn't
have to read Steve
again...
>Winning
Love by Daylight
>
TOM: Losing lunch at Ratliff prose.
MIKE:
(three-card monte) Hey! Find the love,
find the love!
Ten gets you twenty, getcha home with
plenty. Where's she at?
CROW:
Um... middle! No, left! Your left!
>Prologue
TOM: Amateur writing.
CROW:
Hey, where's the header?
MIKE: I
guess this one slipped past the Radford computers.
>
> The bridge of the Enterprise was dimmer
than usual.
TOM: As, I expect, was the crew.
>
Marrissa sat in the
>center
seat.
CROW:
Two statements not at all unrelated.
> The red alert siren began,
but the typical bustle that
>accompanied
it
MIKE:
...indicated that dinner was now being served.
TOM: These Caravan starship cruises are great,
aren't they?
> was not there,
MIKE:
The crew got used to Marrissa setting off the alarm just to
make the crew jump.
> for all the crew
was Borg. Even Marrissa was
>Borg.
TOM: Last time on Hail to the Queen...
CROW:
Even Charro was a Borg.
MIKE:
Even singer-songwriter Paul Williams was a Borg!
TOM: Even Pat Buchanan... shoot, I've gone and
stated the obvious again.
Sorry.
> In a monotone voice, Shayna announced,
MIKE:
Another Ratliff fanfic is now underway.
Stand by for wildly
ridiculous plots, cardboard characters
and cheesy dialog off
the port bow.
>
"Intruders on all decks."
MIKE:
(Berzerk) Intruder alert. Intruder
alert.
> A Star Fleet Officer beamed into the
middle of the room.
ALL:
*NORM!*
> In the dim
>light,
Marrissa could not identify the officer.
ALL:
*JAY!*
>
The Star Fleet Officer
>opened
fire. Alexander was vaporized.
CROW: The
hunters come in to thin out the Ratliff herd.
It seems cruel,
but it keeps their numbers low so that
the Strawberry crop is
enough to support them.
TOM: Oh, his sinuses are going to be so clear
after this...
> The light of his
destruction
>momentarily
revealed the Officer's face. It was
Marrissa.
MIKE:
Sure enough, the only way Marrissa could be more annoying is if
there are two of her!
CROW:
The creator and destroyer. The alpha
and omega.
TOM: Did you know some Eastern religions depict
Marrissa with eight
arms and a serpent's torso?
> Marrissa-borg
>could
do nothing as Marrissa-Star Fleet took down each of her remaining
>friends
in turn.
CROW:
Why? Was she, like, duct-taped to the
command chair, or
something?
TOM: I know this is a dream sequence since it's
the same one I
have every night!
MIKE:
This fanfic is starting like "Blake's Seven" ended!
> First was her sister Jackie,
the young computer genius
>who
wanted to follow Marrissa's footsteps.
CROW:
Facilitated by the easy to follow bloody prints.
MIKE:
(Jackie) Fatal exception in line *AUUUGH!*
> Lynn followed, the young
girl
>turned
Star Fleet pilot vaporized at her post.
TOM:
(Lynn) Wait! I'm a minor character! I
barely know MarisAAAAUGH!
MIKE: Apparently
the new bean dip in 10-Forward was more powerful than
expected.
>
Shayna, the friend and
>practical
joker who had been keeping Marrissa laughing for years, was
>blasted
back from her tactical station.
CROW:
(Ris) Ha ha! Last taps! Gotcha last!
TOM: Exploding in a cloud of coughing powder.
MIKE:
Picard, the ambiguous father figure shamelessly plucked from a
better series, knocked back another
highball at Seven Slightly
Starboard.
>
Clara, Marrissa's friend and
>confidant,
was next to go.
CROW:
The St. Valentine's Day Massacre, as Ratliff introduction scene!
TOM: No complaints here!
> Finally Jay, all
vaporized and Marrissa could
>do
nothing but scream,
TOM: Wait, did I say "scream?" I meant
"giggle hysterically."
MIKE:
(Marissa, hysterical) It was *his* turn to do the laundry, you
fiend!
> as each blast
illuminated the laughing face of
>Marrissa-Star
Fleet.
MIKE:
(Ris) Death, blood, carnage, I love it!
TOM: (Berzerk) Got- the- humanoid.
CROW:
(same) Got- the- intruder!
> She
woke up, safe in her husband's arms.
"Another nightmare,
> Marrissa?"
Jay asked.
MIKE: (Ris)
Our marriage? You know it.
CROW:
(Ris) Yeah, I dreamed I was in charge of an entire
starship manned by a bunch of maladroit
teenaged midgets and--
hey, wait a minute...
> Marrissa wanted to deny it but couldn't. She wanted the comfort of her
>husband's
embrace,
TOM: But Jay would have to do.
> he would not let her deny
what she had gone though.
CROW:
I'm not in denial. I deny I'm in
denial! So there!
> She
>nodded.
> "Borg or Georgia," Jay asked,
pulling her closer.
MIKE:
Are those really the only two possible choices?
TOM: A whole absurd range of emotions in those
three words.
> "Borg."
TOM: James Borg.
> "I suppose you don't want to see
Martin
MIKE:
That nerd from "The Simpsons"? No way!
>
and don't want to talk about it?"
>Jay
asked. "You know you're going to
have to sooner or later."
TOM: (Jay) Like there's any way I can keep this
crazy dingbat from
flapping her jaw until dawn...
CROW:
(Jay) Why don't you torture a Romulan, sweetie? You'll
feel better!
> "Later," Marrissa mumbled,
falling into a deep dreamless sleep in her
>husband's
arms, knowing she was protected.
MIKE:
You're in good hands with Allstate!
TOM: The female condom, as endorsed by Princess
Admiral Picard!
>
>
>Chapter
One
>Feb
9, 2383. USS Enterprise.
>
> Doctor Jackson Johnson
TOM: Doctor ACTION Jackson Jameson Jingleheimer
Johnson Smith!
MIKE:
(announcer) Jackson Johnson, with his action Johnson!
CROW:
(same) Doctor Jack Johnson's back! And
this time... (coming down)
it's actually... pretty much like before, really.
> had gathered the
command crew of the Enterprise,
>sans
the Captain in his office. All of them
knew why they were gathered
>there.
TOM: Shayna's birthday. Kinda dumb, but there is cake!
> "Ladies and Gentleman, this meeting
isn't going to be easy," the
>Doctor
said.
CROW: I
lost a bet, and have to go from here on without the letter E.
> "As per Star Fleet
Regulations, I am recommending that our
>Captain
be
CROW:
...hung by the neck until dead.
TOM: ...torn apart by rabid apes!
MIKE:
...coated in buttermilk and send for a long walk through the
desert!
> relieved of duty
CROW:
*HOORAAAAAY!!!*
ALL: (sing) DING, DONG, THE WITCH IS DEAD! WHICH OLD WITCH?
THE WICKED WITCH!
> and be sent on a
vacation,
MIKE:
You mean they could have done that all along, and never DID?!?
TOM: *Permanent* vacation! Mwah-hah-hah-hah!
>
while receiving
>counseling
to deal with recent events and her changing life.
TOM: I knew that if she kept getting so far ahead
of her age,
menopause would claim her young!
> Comments?"
MIKE:
(crew) Is "counseling" when you stick bamboo shoots up her nails?
> "This has never happened to
Marrissa before," Alex said.
CROW:
Perhaps she should cuddle for a few minutes and try again.
> "I'm not sure
>how
she'll take it."
TOM: Or how high the body count will be.
CROW:
She'll take it like she takes any bad news, by savagely
destroying an entire civilization.
> "It's about time," Clara
said. "She should have taken time
off as soon
>as the
war ended. She needs time to get to
know Sara."
CROW:
Wink wink, nudge, nudge!
MIKE:
Uh, Crow, Sara is the daughter...
> "She needs to deal with her time as
Queen of the Borg," Martin Sussex
>said.
TOM: Have we added that to the list of titles?
MIKE:
Let me check the printout.
[Begins
to read through a seemingly unending printout.]
CROW:
Man, even Marissa's archenemies can't help heaping titles on her.
TOM: She's probably Speaker of the Sobnian
parliament by now.
> "Jay has told me about her
nightmares about it."
MIKE:
*She's* having nightmares? What about
us?
> "I don't think she should be given
time off alone," Jessica Gordon said.
ALL: BOOOOOO!
MIKE:
Yeah, stow it, ya Marrissa kisser!
Amber noser!
TOM: Unless it's in a nice padded room...
>"I
know my sister- in-law, she needs the support of her husband if she's
>going
to get though this."
MIKE:
Just before Jessica realizes this would mean Jay, and she
retracts her statement.
CROW:
She'll just fall to pieces without someone to feel superior to!
> "You've been silent, Jay,"
Doctor Johnson said. "What do you
think?"
MIKE:
(Jay) Wait, let me ask Ris. (touches cam badge) Honey, what
do I think?
TOM: (Jay) Support her? Me? You're forgetting
I've got a spine
like a soggy bread crust.
> "My wife needs to get away from
this ship," Jay said.
TOM: [Jay] Preferably by being beamed randomly
into space.
> "But, all her
>friends
and support is here, I'm not sure how she'll recover without that
>support."
MIKE:
May we suggest bouts of heavy drinking?
Works for us.
> "May I suggest, that you and the
Captain go to Essex,"
CROW:
May I suggest I get you a stepladder so you can jump up my butt?
TOM: Ah yes, nothing like going AWOL to perk up
your spirits.
> Martin
said. "I'll
>take
some leave and join you there to help out when she's ready.
MIKE:
They didn't need that much help with Sara, what's up?
>
I'm sure
>you
can convince your father-in-law to leave the Enterprise nearby.
TOM: Assuming he can remember where he leaves
ANYTHING anymore.
MIKE:
Sure, Star Fleet Admirals specialize in dropping their
responsibilities at the drop of a hat.
>
Essex
>is
a strategic target,
TOM: Oh?
> and with the Romulan
renegades out there, it does
>need
protection."
CROW:
Better pull troops out of Fort Knox and the Mid East oil fields.
> "Very well," Jay said. "I will see about getting the
Enterprise assigned
>to
protect Essex. Then we'll relieve
Marrissa of command,
MIKE:
Then strike the band, and release the hundred white doves
carrying ribbons marked
"Freedom!"
CROW:
(sobbing) I just never thought I'd live to see this day!
>
and I'll hand
>command
over to Clara.
TOM: Out of the frying pan...
CROW:
This sounds suspiciously like a mutiny.
MIKE:
In the *real* world, it would be.
> We'll spend whatever
time is necessary to help
>Marrissa
recover on Essex.
CROW:
Don't rush on our account!
TOM: This is like, the politest mutiny ever in
history!
> Martin, if you've
got leave time, spend some of
>it
on Essex, but not at Halifax Castle.
MIKE: The locals say it's haunted.
> I
think she needs some distance
>and
time to think."
CROW:
That's right, give her time to plan even more senseless
destruction.
> "I'll stay at the Royal Hunting
Lodge.
CROW:
At the Royal Order of Water Buffalo Lodge!
TOM: Royals are in season now.
MIKE:
Them's good eatin'!
>
It's not real close to your
>
place, but nothing is," Martin said.
MIKE: A
fact that the residents of Essex love.
> "Everyone for say Aye," Jay
asked.
TOM: Ratliff's entry in the 1999 Awkward Sentence
Competition.
>
Everyone stated Aye.
CROW:
Some three or four times!
TOM: Relieve Marrissa of duty? That's a big ole HELL aye!
MIKE:
(Jay) Guys, could you stop with the conga line? I can't
count the votes when you're moving
around like that!
> "I
think
>
that's everyone.
CROW:
Jay needs to pay a bit more attention to the narration.
TOM: How nice.
In the 24th century, your medical treatment will be
determined by voting.
MIKE:
Well, that's the way most HMOs do it now, anyway.
> Doctor, I'll call you when I
finish talking to Fleet Admiral
>Picard. Dismissed."
MIKE:
[Action Jackson Johnson] I don't have to leave, this is my office,
you leave!
CROW:
(dude) All right! Kegger on the
holodeck!
TOM: (chuckling) The thing with holo-parties is,
they only have
*light beer*! BOOM! Thanks! I'm here all week!
Enjoy the buffet!
>
> Marrissa was holding her daughter
tightly to her breasts.
MIKE:
(shielding his eyes) GAH! Dammit,
Ratliff, warn me next time!
CROW: A
moment that will be the crux of Sara's psychologist's career in
15 years.
TOM: The first sentence of any good paragraph
should draw the
reader in... to throw the text down and
*RUUUUN!*
>
Sara didn't
>appear
to mind,
MIKE:
For reasons that are incomprehensible.
TOM: She'd come to expect a lifetime of
smothering maternalism.
> but to Jay, this was
MIKE:
...a complete usurpation of his rightful place.
>
another bad sign.
TOM: Yes, the maternal instinct is harmful.
> Before
the Borg
>attack,
Marrissa had been a lot more relaxed around her newborn daughter.
CROW:
Now she seemed so rigid and mechanical.
Why?
>Now
she wouldn't let the little girl out of her sight.
MIKE:
Not that she could, anyway. The Borg
duct-taped the little
crumb-cruncher to her right thigh.
> In
fact, he was
>having
a hard time leaving as well, as Marrissa seemed to want him to be
>around
constantly, as if she was afraid something would happen to him.
TOM: Like he might spontaneously grow a spine.
CROW:
Damn victims of Borg assimilation!
They're such crybabies!
>That
was it.
MIKE:
So, there it is then.
> Finally, Jay had realized
why Marrissa was behaving like
>that.
CROW:
You can see the lightbulb go off over his head...30 watt.
> She was afraid.
ALL:
DUH!
TOM: Jay Gordon *is*, No Shit Sherlock!
> The Borg had used Sara to get to Marrissa so they
>could
make her their new queen.
TOM: They tried to stuff her full of royal jelly
and everything.
CROW:
She tried explaining that her duties as CEO of the Ferengi
Corporation kept her very busy as it
was.
> Sara had
been down in the ship's nursery,
>being
taken care of by the Enterprise's professional staff.
TOM: [Mob Don] Yous shall takes care of Sara, or
yous shouldn't
come back!
> Jay
knew that
>Marrissa
had felt uncomfortable leaving Sara in the nursery. Having the
>baby
kidnaped and used as a pawn to capture Marrissa, that had to have been
>the
last straw.
TOM: Yeah!
Enough of these hackneyed, derivative plots!
CROW:
Pawn to King's Horses three.
MIKE:
(Ris) We cut you day-care people some slack after you sold
Sara to that gypsy family, but this Borg
thing really tears it!
> "Marrissa," Jay began, sliding
up beside his wife.
MIKE:
(Jay) Can you be effeminate one this week?
> "Yes, Jay," Marrissa said,
totally engrossed in watching her daughter.
> "You need a vacation," Jay
said.
ALL: (sing) The Cay-man, Islands!
>
"Correction, we need a vacation."
TOM: Correction, you need to take a long walk out
a short airlock.
> "You know how unlikely that
is," Marrissa said.
TOM: (Jay) Oh right, I forgot you got your PhD in
"Unlikely" when
Wesley traveled back in time to date
Chelsea Clinton.
>
"There are still Romulan
>renegades
running around, and
CROW:
(Ris) ...several other alien races I haven't annihilated...
_yet_.
TOM: What I want to know is, just who are these
Romulan renegades
and why are they running about?
> two of the
four Nova Class ships are in for
>completion."
MIKE:
(Ris) And I need to do my hair. Just
look at it.
> "Actually, I just talked to your
father, and he's authorized a little
>vacation
for us,"
MIKE:
His exact words were "get her the hell out of my fleet for a few
days!"
> Jay said, embracing Marrissa
from behind.
TOM: Jay's taking a Different Path then?
>
"We can leave
>Clara
in command and spend some time away from the ship on Essex."
CROW:
Unless a horde of doppleganger aliens from beyond Galaxy 6
choose this inopportune moment to
invade. But what are the odds of
that, really?
> "I don't need a vacation,"
Marrissa said, switching the breast that Sara
>was
drinking from.
MIKE:
Oh yes, thank you for that little reveal, Stevarino!
TOM: (announcer, quickly) Topless Marissa comes
with all you see here.
Topless Marissa Actionwear sold
separately.
> "Yes you do," Jay said,
silencing his wife's protests
>with
a
CROW:
Please say phaser, please say phaser...
> kiss.
CROW:
Damn!
MIKE:
(Jay, clearing throat) Um, by the way, can I top that off
for you?
> "And you have no choice
in the matter. We've relieved you of
>duty
effect five minutes ago.
TOM: Great.
Duck and cover, someone's gonna die.
CROW:
(Ris) Yes, and I ordered the executions *four* minutes ago. Care
to cross me again, lackey?
> I handed command
over to Clara, who ordered
TOM: ...Szechuan take-out and a six-pack.
>a
course to Essex. We'll arrive in four
hours.
MIKE:
Which should be six to seven chapters of inaction later.
>
When we get there, we will
>beam
down to that nice castle of yours,
TOM:
--and you will march *straight* to your room and *think* about how
poorly you've behaved since the Borg
kidnapped you!
>
where you will spend at least the
>next
couple of weeks relaxing.
CROW:
Why does that sound so menacing?
> You will also
spend some time talking to
>Martin
about your recent experience.
MIKE:
You'll also combine the whole-grain goodness of oatmeal with
the great taste of chocolate. Not sure why, but it's on the
schedule.
> I
know you've been skipping your
>sessions
with him."
TOM: "Sessions"?
MIKE:
Best not to ask.
> "Yes, Jay," Marrissa said
submissively.
[All
sit silent for a few moments...]
CROW:
All right, who the hell are you, and where's Marrissa!
MIKE:
Since when do Marissa and Jay have a Promise Keepers marriage?
TOM: Marrissa Picard stars in "Stepford
Wives: The Next Generation!"
>
"Why don't you ever ask me if I
>want
time off?"
> "Because, my love, if I didn't take
the initiative
TOM: (Jay) Like you do for all the other parts of
our marriage-
> to make you take a
>
vacation, you never would,"
MIKE:
Jay taking initiative, Marrissa submissive.
Jeepers, Stevalicious can't
even keep his OWN characters straight!
> Jay said.
"You would do the same for me, if I
>needed
even half as bad as you do.
CROW:
And Ratliff's grammar checker goes half as bad as that is.
> Marrissa,
you've been deteriorating
>ever
since we got back from our little Borg adventure.
[All
snicker.]
CROW:
Only Ratliff could make a sadistically painful brainwashing sound
like a Nancy Drew mystery!
> If you
don't take
>some
time off you might not be able to command, and I know how much that
>center
seat means ..."
TOM: Yeah, if she didn't have the center seat to
sit in, she would have been
imprisoned for half of her actions by
now.
> "Jay," Marrissa interrupted,
putting Sara in her crib for the first time
>that
day.
MIKE:
Now put the shirt on, and no one gets hurt!
> "What would I do with out
you?"
TOM: (Jay) Oh, I don't know, I guess you'll just
have to find
somebody else to mix your gin and Drano
cocktails.
CROW:
(Singing) Oh the world, will be a better place...
> "Go crazy, most likely," Jay
said, pulling Marrissa back into his embrace.
CROW:
As opposed to now?
TOM: (sings as Icehouse) Yes, ya gotta be outta
your mind! Crazy!
MIKE:
OK. I call no more early-nineties John
Oates-produced
one-hit wonders.
TOM and
CROW: (whining) Miiiiike!
MIKE:
Sorry. It's called. No take-backs.
TOM: Doesn't matter. We gotta go...
(*)... >
2 <... / 3 \... = 4 = ... ( 5 )... [
6 ]...
[OPEN
ON: SOL. Mike is reading a copy of _Fool on the Hill_ by Matt Ruff for
no damn good reason other than I feel like
plugging it. Crow and Tom enter
from right.]
CROW:
Mike, we need to talk.
MIKE:
Can't talk now, guys, it's just getting to a good part--
CROW:
Mike, ever since you were attacked by the Borg, you've become
dangerously unstable. We're worried
about you.
TOM: So I'M in charge--uh, WE'RE in charge now!
[sotto voce, to Mike]
At least until Pinbeak's back is
turned...heh!
MIKE:
[puts down book] Uh...guys, I was never attacked by the Borg.
CROW:
Oh, Mike, I realize that denial is one of the tools you use to
cope, but this just can't go on! You've
grown so withdrawn, so
skittish and frightened!
TOM: BOO!
[Mike
jumps in surprise.]
CROW:
See? And when you tried to breastfeed Gypsy, that was the last
straw.
MIKE:
When I tried to...[shakes head] Oh, I see. You guys are doing that
whole intervention-slash-mutiny thing
like in today's experiment!
TOM: Yep. Now SURRENDER THE REINS, PINKY!
MIKE:
Well, okay. Lemme just get a simper worked up here. [puts on
simpering expression] Oh, Tom and Crow,
what would I ever do
without you?
CROW:
Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Missy. Well,
we're in charge now, so you just go back to your book.
TOM: Yep. Don't mind us as we shape your destiny.
MIKE:
Oh, wouldn't dream of it. Thanks for the patronization!
CROW:
No prob.
[Crow
and Tom exist right. Mike goes back to his book. After a moment,
several loud crashes are heard from
offscreen...then gunfire...finally,
a loud explosion. A moment later, a scorched
Crow and Tom reenter.]
MIKE:
Power struggle?
BOTS:
Uh-huh.
MIKE:
Bitter infighting?
BOTS:
Yup.
MIKE:
Finally resulting in a civil war?
BOTS:
Pretty much.
MIKE:
[checks his watch] Forty-five seconds. Wow, that's pretty good
time, even for you!
[Commercial
sign flashes. Mike hits it.]
TOM: We could probably get it down to thirty...
[Bumper
& Commercials]
[OPEN
ON: Theater. Everyone files into the
theater]
MIKE:
So I'm back in charge now?
TOM: For now, Nelson. But watch your back!
MIKE:
Oh, I will. [under his breath] Freak.
>
>Chapter
Two
CROW:
Electric booga-crap!
>
> Marrissa carefully studied the young lady
that Queen Victoria had
> hired
to watch over her daughter.
MIKE:
Potentially so much wrong with that sentence.
CROW:
(Ris) Hm, I see you were a student au pair for a Boston doctor.
How did that work out?
> The girl was wearing a standard navy blue
nanny's
>uniform
TOM: ...with a pith helmet and a tutu.
>that
was somehow familiar to Marrissa.
CROW:
And is practically perfect in every way, I'll bet.
TOM: (Ris) Oh right! That's what I make Jay wear to bed every
Thursday!
> She
had an air confidence
>to
her,
MIKE:
Air confidence! The confidence you
pump!
CROW:
By Nike!
> and according to her resume was very
qualified to watch little
>Sara.
CROW:
[Marrissa] Resume, shesume, what's your Kobiyashi Maru time?
> Marrissa wasn't sure though.
TOM: (Ris) Now, it says here your last charges
ran away to
"Never Never Land"? Could you elaborate?
> Actually, to be perfectly honest, she
>wasn't
sure she wanted anyone other than family taking care of her
>daughter.
MIKE: (gangster)
Maybe da family should take care of dis child.
>She
had promised Jay though, and Marrissa wasn't one to go back
>on
her promises.
> "Miss Halifax,
[All
snicker.]
CROW:
This sounds like the name of some pay-per-view dominatrix.
TOM: "Yes, Miss Halifax. Beat me, Miss Halifax..."
> you've applied to be
my daughter's nanny," Marrissa
>
stated, drawing up to her full 63 inches.
CROW:
5'3"...that's intimidating, all right!
>"What
makes you think you'd do a good job?"
MIKE:
(Halifax) The obscenely large salary you'll be paying me.
TOM: (nanny) Well here's a list of other
omnipotent beings I've
worked for.
CROW:
(Ris) Hm, Vishnu, Athena... oh, wow,
Katie Couric? Really?
> "I am experienced in childcare, and
I love the job," Serena said.
CROW:
And, I can stuff four boiled eggs in my mouth without
breakin'em. No kiddin'! Four!
> "You understand that this is a
temporary job, that will end as soon as I
>return
to the Enterprise," Marrissa said.
TOM: Sound familiar there orgo-boy?
CROW:
(Ris) After which I'll have you killed and your head prominently
displayed on the bridge. When can you start?
> "Yes, ma'am," Serena
responded.
CROW:
Ironicaly the two words that make up the majority of Jay's
vocabulary.
MIKE:
(nanny) I'll have fell in love with a chimney sweep and taken
your children through an animated dance sequence well before
then, ma'am.
>
"If you don't mind, I'd like to
>
meet my charge. And remember, I get
Tuesday and Thursday afternoons off."
CROW:
Must be league bowling days.
MIKE:
[Serena] Have to watch my anime then!
TOM: [Serena] Oh, and when the kid dies? I wasn't here. I mean, she walked
into a table. A *lot*.
> This take charge attitude pleased
Marrissa.
TOM: Yes, she would soon have a new victim...
>
She liked officers that
>
took charge.
MIKE: And who charged around laying depth charges.
CROW:
And charging them all on their large charge cards.
> True she usually wasn't the one bossed
around,
CROW:
Our only hope is she learns to like it, though.
>
but Marrissa found
>that
she didn't mind the thought of this young lady watching her daughter.
>She
seemed almost like family.
TOM: Except for that little moving tail sticking
out the back of her
neck.
MIKE:
The Ratliff method of subtly presenting foreshadowing etched onto a
16-ton anvil.
>
> Marrissa stood outside the nursery. Serena was inside with Sara, and
>appeared
to be getting along well.
CROW: Sara
had already bent the woman to her whim, which pleased
Marrissa to no end.
> So far,
Serena had changed diapers
>twice,
sung that ridiculous Achy Breaky song
TOM:
[Singing] Don't play that song, that Achy Breaky song...
> that Sara wouldn't go to
>sleep
without,
[All
snicker.]
MIKE:
It's nice to know no popular music will be written in the next 400
years.
TOM: Yes, the 24th Century can't get enough of
K-Tel's "Solid
Gold 90's"!
> and fed the little girl once.
TOM: But if Marrissa is breastfeeding, how can
Serena...
MIKE:
BOTTLES! Now don't pursue it!
>
Marrissa had been standing
>outside
the nursery for quite some time.
CROW:
Whining like the last puppy at the pet store.
> Jay had also been observing his wife.
MIKE:
(Jay) Yup, those are definitely horns forming.
And vestiges of a
tail.
>
This had been the longest
>
Marrissa had stayed away from Sara since the Borg took her.
TOM: Well, since she isn't technically away
yet...
>
It was a promising
>sign. He snuck up behind her and
MIKE:
Whacked her upside the head with a two-by-four.
CROW
& TOM: (Hacksaw Jim Duggan) HOOOOOOOOOOOO!
> embraced
her, kissing her neck.
MIKE:
Taking her by surprise. Trained instinct
took over, and soon Jay
found himself on the other side of the
glass.
>
"Now that
>we've
got some one to watch Sara, what do you say we go on a date?" he asked.
CROW:
(Jay) Let's make wild, passionate snuggle-nooky!
> Marrissa seemed to be trying to find an
excuse. She really didn't
>want
to leave her daughter. There wasn't one
though. "Okay."
TOM: Sex!
When there's nothing good on TV, sex really satisfies!
> It wasn't the most enthusiastic response
that Jay had ever gotten,
MIKE:
Nothing like that time he broached the subject of becoming a
lion
tamer.
> but
it would do.
TOM: (Jay)
Then I have my answer. I'm walking on
air!
> "Let's go down to that
private beach of yours."
CROW:
Women have such odd names for their personals.
TOM: Yeah.
What's with women, anyway?
MIKE:
Well, nothing per se...
> "Jay, I'd have to get a swimsuit
first," Marrissa said, as Jay pulled
> her
away from the nursery door.
> "Who says you need a
swimsuit?" Jay said.
ALL: *EWWWW!*
TOM: Not another skinny-dipping scene! What's that
make now? Three? Four?
> "It is a private beach, after all."
MIKE:
(moaning) "Horror at Party Beach 2" is definitely worse than
the original!
CROW: I
hope they at least provide a nice dinner for some lucky
family of horse flies.
TOM: Yes, she rules the universe by day, but
still finds time to be wet
and nude!
>
>The
Next Day Around Noon.
CROW:
Thank goodness for suggestive scene cuts.
MIKE:
Heisenberg Uncertainty Theater!
>
> Martin and Jay were walking though the
garden below the nursery.
CROW:
All right, a very disturbing suggestive scene cut.
TOM: (Mel Blanc as the Sheriff of Nottingham)
Those are the *King's*
carrots!
> The two
>had
met up after Jay and Marrissa had made an unscheduled return to the
>Enterprise. Jay bore the reason
MIKE:
Oh, the reason heard him talk.
TOM: (pity) Poor, poor reason.
> for that
return, in the form of a sling
>holding
his right arm.
MIKE:
Looks like he snuck up behind her once too often.
> "So, Jay, tell me why you returned
to the Enterprise?" Martin asked.
CROW:
It's Thursday. Make-your-own-fajitas
night at the commissary.
> "I was helping Marrissa up the
twelve foot cliff above the beach, when
>she
slipped," Jay explained,
MIKE:
"Slipped."
CROW:
(Martin) Uh huh. And I'll bet you got
that black eye because
you, uh, "fell", right?
TOM: (Jay) Yeah.
And there were these bullets at the bottom of the cliff?
So she kinda wedged six of them up
against her ribs and collarbone?
> walking by trellis covered in blue morning
>glories. "In the process of preventing her from
falling back onto the
>beach,
I pulled my arm out of the socket."
TOM: Good call on that one.
CROW:
(Jay) That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.
> "And what were you doing on the
beach so early in the morning?" Martin
>asked,
stopping to look at some small purple flowers.
MIKE:
Don't ask, and please please please don't tell!
TOM: Speak, then perform an action, please.
> "Watching the sunrise," Jay said, adjusting his sling.
TOM: Yes, that's right...speak, then perform an
action...
> "Oh, and how did you manage to get
down to the beach before sunrise."
CROW:
Can't we just leave something to the imagination here, Marty?
TOM: Who is this guy, anyway, a truant officer?
MIKE:
If Jay had any spine, he'd have told this prying clown to mind
his own business ten minutes ago.
>Martin
asked, moving on down the slate path.
CROW:
(Jay) Oh! Can I speak, then perform an
action?
MIKE:
(Martin) Sure. Just don't step on the
azaleas.
> "We were there all night," Jay
replied, a smile covering his face,
>as
he remembered the previous night.
TOM: Well, there goes my appetite for the next
few days.
> "Oh, so you spent the night on a
beach," Martin said.
CROW:
(Eric Idle) Is she a goer? Is she?
Eh? Nudge, nudge.
> "Well, I always wanted to try a
moonlight romance," Jay said.
>"Marrissa
certainly enjoyed it."
MIKE:
Or at least pretended to. I was so
excited that I didn't much care.
TOM: (Jay) Did you know jellyfish can scream?
> "Speaking of Marrissa, how is she
doing?"
CROW: (Jay)
Well, she was a bit sore, so we weren't able to do our
more interesting posi- oh, wait, that's
not what you meant.
> Martin asked, checking out the
>holly
bush,
MIKE: ...and deciding he liked it much better than
the ivy he
passed earlier.
TOM: (slyly) Say! Nice berries!
> before moving toward the castle
keep.
> "Well, she's a little better,"
Jay replied. "It took a little
>convincing
to get her to leave Sara behind with Miss Halifax,
CROW:
The beauty queen of Nova Scotia!
>
but once she got
>back
and saw that Sara was okay, she's not been quite so possessive of her.
TOM: She's decided Serena can just keep
Sara. What the hell.
MIKE:
She's taken to calling her "that teat-mangling succubus". Which
I think is a good sign.
>
In
>fact,
she spent an hour with Sara, then left for the North Tower."
CROW:
Yelling "Sanctuary!"
> "What's in the North Tower?"
Martin asked.
TOM: Severed heads. Kinda cool.
> "Marrissa's popular art
collection,"
TOM: Knowing the rest of the collection, she
should have plenty of
Leichtensteins, seeing as nothing else
has been created in 400 years.
> Jay
replied, pausing by the maze
>entrance. "Her buyers just bought an original
Neon Genesis Evangelion:
>Death
and Rebirth Poster,
CROW: And
they've put a bid on a very promising "Fish Police" cel.
MIKE:
Popular art is now considered to be old anime posters? I feel
sorry for painters and sculptors in the
future.
> and she's trying to
find the perfect place to
>display
it."
CROW:
May I suggest up her--
MIKE:
No you may not.
> "Is that movie any good?"
Martin asked.
MIKE: Well it's no "Cool World".
>
"I'm not into anime, so I
>
have no idea."
[All
snicker.]
MIKE:
Martin should use his open mind to teach med students the
anatomy of the brain.
TOM: (Martin) Does this taste good? I'm not into food.
CROW:
(Martin) Which one's shinola, again?
TOM: Isn't not being into anime a punishable
offense on Essex?
> "It's good, but I wouldn't take
Shayna to see it," Jay said.
"She's more
>into
shows like Oh My Goddess."
MIKE:
Oh. So Roseanne made it to the
2300's. Good for her!
CROW:
Of course! Culture has been at a complete standstill for 400 years, so
we need to rely on these late 20th
century mediocrities that our
audience can identify with.
> Martin stopped at the remains of a
gargoyle.
CROW:
They just finished filming "Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte".
>
"Jay, aren't the
>
gargoyles suppose to be on the castle?"
CROW:
So we're getting into Disney action toons now also?
> "They are, I wonder how that one
ended up there," Jay said. "I
hope we
>don't
have a structural problem.
MIKE:
Lord knows this story has enough of them already.
>I'll
call the architect later."
TOM: Is this going to be important later?
MIKE:
Probably not.
TOM: Foreshadowing! The sign of a quality comic! (quickly) And of a
few lonely fanfic writers who haven't a
clue what they're doing.
>
>Chapter
Three
MIKE:
Meanwhile, in a another part of the crap...
> Marrissa stood in the torpedo bay on the
Georgia.
CROW:
We can only wish.
>
It was filled with
>torpedo
casings holding a representative sample of the crew of the Georgia.
TOM: And 55% of them approved of the Federation
President.
CROW:
Wow, they took that "man the torpedoes" bit way too seriously.
> Not a single member of that crew had
survived, although the ship had.
CROW:
Ratliff gas again?
MIKE:
Probably. No kids on board, either.
>The
traditional dirge of a bagpipe playing "Amazing Grace" began as one
by
> one,
MIKE:
...bagpipe players were bludgeoned to death with their own
instruments.
CROW:
Attention Stephen: "Amazing Grace" is not a dirge. Repeat, NOT a
dirge.
TOM: Besides, with bagpipes, what he wants is a
pibroch, not a dirge.
> the coffins were launched out into
space, toward the inferno of a
>nearby
star.
TOM: (dramatically) Waste management solutions-
of the *future!*
MIKE:
I'm not dead yet!
> Suddenly Marrissa was on the bridge of
the Georgia,
ALL: YAHHH!
> an
insubstantial
>observer
to the last minutes of the ship's crew.
MIKE:
(Marrissa, haunting) I am the Annoying Blonde Twerp of
Christmas Past!
CROW:
Actually, that was a lot smoother than a lot of Ratliff's other
jump cuts.
>
Helpless to stop the
>images,
she watched as the crew died one by one,
CROW:
And finding that she oddly enjoyed it...
> leaving a young girl, who
>had
taken the helm when her own mother had died, to execute her Captain,
MIKE:
Ah, Marrissa's favorite dream.
>her
father's last orders.
[All
cackle.]
CROW:
(father) WHERE do you think you're going young lady? To the
escape pod? I don't think so!
MIKE:
(mother) You march right to that bridge and avenge our deaths,
or so help me, no 20th century anime for
a month!
> As the last
Romulan Warbird exploded on the
>screen,
the young dark haired girl died, a victim of a shard of console
>embedded
in her stomach.
TOM: Gotta hate those shards lodging into non
vital organs...
MIKE:
(wincing) Ugh. She's not gonna be one
of those who's constantly
lifting her shirt up asking you to feel
that, is she?
CROW:
Yeah. Her tummy's "shard" as
a rock! [Snickers.]
MIKE:
All right, just stop.
> Then Marrissa was before the young
girl's coffin.
TOM: (shocked) Tiny Tim?! Oh, no, not Tiny Tim!
> "Mary Celeste Kinsmore
CROW:
...Amber Flores Picard
>2370
- 2382" it was engraved.
[All
snicker.]
CROW:
Oh, and here's Amelia Earhart Hearst... James Hoffa
Worthington...
MIKE:
The irony police really need to pay Stephen a little visit
someday.
> It opened,
TOM: Count Floyd!
> and
a twelve year old Marrissa
>was
inside, dressed in the dress uniform she had worn back in 2370.
MIKE:
Yeah, I see that in my dreams often...
CROW:
(Ris) Oh right! That was the year of my
Sarah Bernhardt
fixation! She slept in a coffin, you see!
>Marrissa
turned to avoid the view of herself in a coffin, only to discover
>Jay
in a coffin.
MIKE:
Coffin? Jay's gonna be lucky to get
Hefty bag.
> She turned again.
CROW:
[Singing] To every casket, turn, turn, turn...
> Her
daughter lay dead inside a torpedo
>casing.
TOM: (car dealer) I'll bury any coffin, any
style, for $49.99!
> Marrissa screamed, she wanted to get out
of wherever she was, she
>wanted
to be safe.
> She awoke alone.
MIKE:
And her day got instantly much better.
> Marrissa had fallen asleep
in the North Tower watching
>anime.
MIKE:
Yeah, that's my usual reaction, too.
TOM: Explains the big ass eyes everyone in the
dream had.
>In
particular, episode 24 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
CROW:
(fanboy) Oh, yeah, total snooze-fest.
Not like Episode 12b,
subtitled letterbox version.
> She shook
>off
the last vestiges of sleep.
CROW:
She's a Vestil?
> Heedless
of danger, she sprinted down the
>staircase
to the courtyard between the tower and the Castle Keep.
MIKE:
The reanimated, festering corpse of Ensign Throwaway's waiting
for her on the stairs...
[Crow
snickers.]
>
She
>bounded
across the moonlit court yard.
[All
starting humming the Benny Hill music]
TOM: She meets the haunting spectre of Virginia
Senator Charles Robb,
demanding to know why he wasn't in the
"Time Speeder" rewrite...
>
Then inside, she took another flight
>of
stairs two, sometimes three steps at a time.
MIKE:
Man, if I'd survived capture by twenty-three hostile species of
alien only to die 'cuz I didn't use the
handrail, I'd be one
perpetually embarrassed cherub, let me
tell ya.
>
Down the corridor she
>rushed,
bursting though the doors of the nursery.
There she stopped.
MIKE: I
always do that, go downstairs then forget what I wanted to do.
> Her baby lay content in her crib.
TOM: Sara was reading "Brill's
Content"?
> At the sudden approach of her
mother,
>Sara
opened her eyes, awake but quiet.
TOM: She has not yet learned...
>
Marrissa picked her up, and moved
>to
take a seat in Jay's Mother's old rocking chair.
CROW:
(Ris) That's right honey, no crying, tears are a sign of
weakness. Tie the emotions into an agonizing knot.
>
Once there, tears
>began
running down her cheeks.
MIKE:
[Marrissa] Damn, so I bet the rest of the are still alive too.
> Sara
looked up at here mother in
>puzzlement. Her mother usually was happy to hold her.
CROW:
And had that pleasant Strawberry Schnapps scent on her lips.
MIKE:
(Marissa, re Sara) I was so sure you'd go up in value, like a
Beanie Baby.
> From behind the two, came Jay's
voice. "I was wondering when you
> would
come in from the tower," Jay said.
TOM: (Jay) Guess the shackles didn't hold ya,
huh? Ya mad?
> Marrissa looked up at her husband who
was now kneeling beside the rocking
>chair.
MIKE:
Above all else, she has trained him well.
> "I needed some time alone,"
she said, before looking back at her
>baby
girl.
TOM: And she vehemently contradicted herself.
> "I know," Jay replied. "What cause you to run in here so
quick?
CROW:
ExLax.
TOM: Jay Gordon *is*, Brute Man!
> I haven't
seen you go so fast since you took command of the Endeavor."
> Marrissa smiled at the memory.
TOM: All that gratuitous killing. All that violence. Those were
the days...
CROW:
Why do I have this image of Marrissa living in an old mansion
with a German butler and a dead chimp?
>
"I had to go fast back then.
MIKE: I
mean when there's only one bathroom on the ship...
CROW:
Those damn uniforms with the bull's eye insignia.
MIKE:
But it trained me on how to live life with a target on my back.
>
Taking
>command
of a ship when a planetary government has decided that it's to be
>destroyed
didn't allow for a orderly walk to the bridge."
TOM: Why are we calling back to stories I don't
remember?
> "So, what's bothering you?"
Jay asked.
> "It's that dream about the Georgia
again," Marrissa said.
CROW:
It keeps not coming true.
TOM: (Ris) It's that ol' sweet song! It keeps the Georgia on my mind!
> "Marrissa, it's time you get some
help," Jay said, taking Sara out of his
>wife's
arms.
MIKE:
And all that was found of Jay Gordon was his wedding ring,
snuggly fit around a lone, severed
finger.
> "You'll never get over
it if you don't, and I don't want to
>see
you hurting like this anymore."
CROW: I
want you to hurt in fresh, exciting ways!
TOM: She's almost...mortal.
MIKE:
She'll get over it, I'm sure.
> "Okay," Marrissa
snuffled. "I'll talk to Martin
tomorrow afternoon."
> "Good," Jay said, placing Sara
back in her crib. "Now come to
bed."
TOM: With Jay, sleeping is the lesser of two
nightmares.
> "Why do have a feeling I'm not
going to get much sleep tonight?"
> Marrissa
remarked,
MIKE:
(Brak) Cause I just ate beans!
TOM: So Marrissa's discovered she's a submissive
in bed. Neat.
CROW:
Tom?
TOM: Yes?
CROW:
AHHHHHHHHH!
> as Jay walked beside her on the
way to their bedroom.
> "I don't know," Jay replied,
picking up his wife in his arms.
TOM: Perhaps because you're so oversexed that
even a disturbing
vision of death doesn't take you out of
the mood.
CROW:
(Jay, laboring) Oof! Man! You been buttering your
strawberries, honey?
> "Perhaps
>it's
the famous woman's intuition?"
TOM: Oh, so just the opposite then.
> "Are you trying to give Sara a
younger sibling?" Marrissa asked as they
>entered
the bedroom.
CROW:
(Jay) Oh, is that how that works?
MIKE:
(Jay, slyly) The cure for bad dreams is a steamin' hot mug of my
non-dairy Love Creamer!
> "Perhaps I'm just making sure you
get to the bedroom instead of stopping
>by
your office to work on something," Jay replied. "Either way, you will
>end
up spending the night in my arms."
MIKE:
[Marrissa] Well, can't I just sever them and take them with me?
> "Ah, my favorite way to avoid bad
dreams," Marrissa murmured, as Jay
>lowered
her onto the bed.
MIKE:
And our least favorite way to GET bad dreams.
CROW:
(sings the International Coffee jingle) Celebrate the moments
of your sex!
>
> Next afternoon,
TOM: Oh, thank goodness.
> while Jay was
CROW:
...out on his paper route...
> out spending time with Martin,
>
Marrissa asked Serena to join her and Sara on a walk through the nearby woods.
> It
was a well maintained, paved path,
TOM: Once again Marrissa whips nature like a dog
'til it cowers at
her
feet!
> that made
it fairly easy to push Sara's
>pram.
MIKE:
Egg and pram? Egg bacon and pram? Egg bacon sausage and pram?
> The old Victorian style pram was modeled
after one that several of
>Marrissa's
ancestors in the House of Windsor, had used back in the early
>part
of the twentieth century.
TOM: As is most everything else in this fanfic.
CROW:
(Viking song) Pram, pram, pram, pram, pram, pram, pram! Wonderful
*pra-a-am!* Wonderful pram!
> Every so often,
the path opened into a
>clearing
with a bench in it.
CROW:
Screw that! Tell us more about the
pram!
> It was at one of these benches that Marrissa
>and
Serena stopped.
CROW: I
can't decide if I trust this or not.
> Serena looked at her charge.
MIKE:
American Express.
TOM: The pram has a taxi meter on it!
> Sara, spotting the familiar face, raised
>
her arms, reaching out, urging Serena to take her out of the pram.
TOM: I can't help reading that as Spam...and it
makes the story much
more fun.
MIKE:
(Sara) Lady, please! Help me!
I'm a boy! She cut my mojo
off and stuffed me in pink clothes!
>
As Serena
>picked
up Sara, she said, "I believe Sara wants to see more of the world
>than
her carriage allows."
CROW:
[Serena] Uh, I mean pram. Forget we
were speaking British
lexography.
TOM: Hmm, there's a koi pond over there... within
throwin'
distance, too...
> "You're so good with my Sara,"
Marrissa said. "I'll never be able
to
>
take as good of care of her as you do."
TOM: So now, you DIE!
MIKE:
Destroying the non Starfleet galaxy one world at a time doesn't
leave me as much time to enjoy my family
as I would like.
> "Nonsense, ma'am," Serena
said. "You just lack experience.
MIKE:
Have you ever been experienced? Not
necessarily stoned, but...
>
I've been
>taking
care of my younger brothers and sisters since I was ten, and I
>assure
you I didn't start out perfect."
TOM: Heads up!
> "No, you just ended up practically
perfect in every way," Marrissa
>smiled.
CROW:
Ouch! Ow!
MIKE:
What?
CROW:
It's Ratliff trying to hammer the Mary Poppins thing into us.
> Then frowning, continued. "I'm always afraid I'll do something
wrong,
TOM: Bit late for that.
>
and
>hurt
Sara. I never really got to deal a lot
with babies.
TOM: Except for that stint as Security Officer.
> I was
thirteen
>when
Jackie was born and a little too wrapped up in my Security Chief's job
>to
do much babysitting.
MIKE:
Maybe it'll begin to dawn why people don't enter the work force
until at least 18 or so.
> And when I did end up
babysitting her, I almost
>killed
her with an ice cream sundae."
MIKE: I probably shouldn't've made her eat the
dish.
> "Ma'am, children aren't that
fragile," Serena said. "You
can make some
>mistakes
and they won't go bad,
TOM: Then someone sure as hell messed up big time
with Marrissa.
> or have some sort of defect as a
result."
TOM: And again...
CROW:
You can even pull their arm out of their sockets and it pops
right back. Here, let me show you...
>Then
Serena smiled. "Of course, if you
saw my attempt at making a strudel
>this
morning, you know that food can."
CROW:
Ha ha, that wacky Serena. I can't see
why she was never in the
series.
TOM: So what'd she put in there, anyway,
gelignite?
MIKE:
(sings) For a spoonful of streudel, helps the arsenic, go
down!
The arsenic, go dow-wown!
Arsenic...
> Marrissa laughed,
MIKE:
[Marrissa] She will die slowly.
> remembering how the pastry had exploded, sending
flour
>all
over the kitchen.
TOM: Oh the humanity!
CROW:
She put a can of streudel in the microwave?
> Sara heard her
mother's laugh and quickly located
>her.
TOM: [Hudson] 500 FEET! 400! IT'S IN THE WALLS,
MAN!
> She once again held out her little arms,
asking for her mother's warmth.
MIKE:
Her mother IS Marrissa, isn't she?
> "I think Sara wants you to hold
her," Serena said, handing Sara carefully
>over
to her mother.
CROW:
(Sara) Yes! I crave more life force to
leech from your body!
> Sara smiled widely as her mother settled
her into her arms.
MIKE:
I'm sorry, pull that sentence over. Do
you realize how fast you
were pronouning back there?
> "You know,
>when
ever I hold Sara, it's like the rest of the world is gone,
TOM: Her one goal she hasn't yet accomplished.
>
and it's
>just
us two, in our own little world," Marrissa mused.
TOM: Which I rule, of course.
CROW:
Since she's in her own little world, do we still have to listen?
>
"Somehow, holding
>her
makes me feel appreciated and loved.
MIKE:
This doesn't all look good for ole Jay.
TOM: (Ris) Of course, she's not old enough to
disappoint me, yet.
> I
know she loves me, and I love
>her.
MIKE:
(sings) But I don't think she likes me anymore...
TOM: If a big purple dinosaur jumped out of the
woods right now,
ya think 'Ris would shoot it?
CROW:
Oh yeah. Most definitely.
> During the last part of the war, I use
to bring her with me to
>meetings,
just so I would have that good feeling to look forward to,
MIKE:
(Ris) ...especially when I was getting hammered by my superior for
excess carnage.
CROW: I
used to carry her into battle, breast feeding all the way.
TOM: Pretty lax business practices they got there
in Starfleet.
>
to
>retreat
to for a little while, when the news was bad.
Especially when it
>was
like when we discovered the Georgia."
TOM: So how did a Federation of thousands of
countries and worlds
come to name starships after U.S.
States?
MIKE:
Yeah, if it's anything like the UN, you'd have names like the
S.S.
We-Do-Not-Recognize-the-Right-Of-Israel-to-Exist.
CROW:
They should've done this for Mexico. I
wanna see Romulans cower
in fear from the steady advance of the
S.S. Chihuahua!
> Marrissa shuttered, as she remembered
the Georgia. Every man, woman, and
>child
been killed on that ship.
TOM: It was one of her finest moments.
MIKE:
They heard they were going to be in a Ratliff story, and they
understandably panicked.
CROW:
The cats survived, though. Odd that.
> The
image that stuck in the minds of
>everyone,
the image representing the crew of that ship,
CROW:
The thing that got our attention,...
TOM: The visage that haunts us to this day,...
> was
that of the
>girl
at the helm.
TOM: Yup, they were terrified that the underaged
crews were spreading.
> The girl was only
twelve. Death had frozen her at the
>helm,
her hands poised to make evasive maneuvers.
Her body was only marred
>by
one jagged piece of console which was stuck in her belly,
CROW:
Well, that would do it, I'd think.
TOM: Yup.
This is why you don't wanna skimp on your piercing.
> and
her jump
>suit
only stained by a single trail of blood going from that piece of
>console
down between her legs.
TOM: OK, here's some alcohol to keep down infection,
and don't take it
out for a couple of months, or it'll
close.
CROW: Do
we need to keep focusing on between the legs of 12-year olds,
Stevie?
MIKE:
You know, the fact that I remember the cover art for Warrant's
"Cherry Pie" just makes me
more revolted right now?
> Only one
other thing made her look dead,
TOM: Her flesh rotting off her skull?
>her
eyes which were filled with horror and determination.
CROW:
And real Wisconsin Cheddar!
> No
one who saw
>her
ever forgot her, the last person to die on the Georgia.
MIKE: Ol' what's-her-name.
CROW:
Yup, she just didn't have a good enough Kobyashi Maru time!
> But
that
>wasn't
what made Marrissa remember her.
Marrissa knew that if it had been
>the
Enterprise in the Georgia's place a dozen years earlier, she would have
>been
the girl at the helm, not Mary Celeste Kinsmore.
CROW: And remember to get YOUR Mary Celeste
Kinsmore only at Sears!
TOM: Oh-ho!
So it's empathy! Not, say,
excruciating soul-gnawing
*guilt* about being a role model for
*other* twelve-year-old girls
who should be at home playing with their
*Holly Hobby* instead of
something impossibly *dangerous* like
*PILOTING A STARSHIP INTO
BATTLE!!*
MIKE:
Tom? Come on. Been there. Done
that. Move on.
TOM: (growling) D'oh!
> Marrissa held her daughter closer. "Sara makes life worth living,"
>Marrissa
said. "I don't know what I'd do if
I didn't have here."
CROW:
So she's rather fond of the clearing also?
> They all sat in silence for a while as
Marrissa held her daughter in her
>arms.
CROW:
(sings tenderly) You and me against the world!
Sometimes it
feels like, you and me against the
world!
>
> The Moon Kingdom Restaurant was a
traveling restaurant.
TOM: Moon...
CROW:
Kindgom...?
MIKE:
(sings as Woody Guthrie) You can get, anything you want! At
traveling restaur-
CROW
and TOM: No Guthrie! Called it!
Jinx!
MIKE:
(grumbling) That was quick.
>
It was on
>
Essex for the graduation of cadets from Star Fleet's Fighter School.
MIKE:
Usually, it was near the end of the universe.
>
At least
>that
was the cover.
TOM: And you can't judge a cook by its cover.
CROW:
Ah! I'll bet this is gonna tie that
whole broken gargoyle thing
together!
MIKE:
Crow, please. You'll just get hurt.
> Alexis and Kasey didn't
spend all their time in the
>Kitchen.
CROW:
If ya know what I mean!
TOM: Well, bully for them. SO WHAT?!
> "Lunch crowd is coming
in," Alexis said as she entered the
>kitchen. "Looks like it's going to be a busy
one."
MIKE:
(waving hand) Hello? Excuse me? Would
you like to be in our
story?
If you could come a little closer to the plot, please?
> "You should have been here
yesterday," Kasey said.
CROW:
Ha, the wacky lives of random new characters.
> "Hey, I don't control when the
enemy attacks," Alexis replied.
TOM: I don't see who died and made you queen of
our new little world
that has never been seen before.
>"You
>better
start seeing what they want."
MIKE:
Well, you're a restaurant, so I'm thinkin' food.
CROW:
What our enemies want? Well, money,
power, and revenge, I guess.
Should I make that the Blue Plate
Special?
MIKE:
You see, this is a sign of Steve's growth, because now he's using
snatches of conversation to *imply* that
he knows what he's talking
about!
>
Alexis started to set up the Kitchen
>for
the lunch rush as Kasey went into the dinning room.
TOM: Which is right next to the dining room.
CROW:
And now, as a special request to Mitchell in Springfield from Jane...
here's chicken parmesan.
> The dining room served as shuttle bay
when the ship was in space, but
>after
four hours of hard work it was turned into a eight table wood paneled
>eating
establishment,
MIKE:
Well, they can use it as such in space, but it doesn't have as much
atmosphere...
[The
BOTS groan loudly.]
>complete
with brass lighting fixtures and tile floor.
TOM:
Wow! I'll bet they even have two kinds
of soup, and put lemon in
the ice water!
> Two young men entered the establishment,
taking a seat at the table
>farthest
from the door.
CROW:
Hey! Bring that seat back!
> Kasey pulled out
her order PADD and walked over
> to
them.
TOM: Marrissa often heads to Jay with an
"order" PADD, but that's a bit
different.
> Kasey identified them as her uncle Jay
and his friend Martin. She
>had
to hide that knowledge though, as in this time, she had not met them.
MIKE:
Wha?
CROW:
Could someone PLEASE just stop and explain who the hell these people
are, dammit!
>Okay,
she had, but only as a year old baby.
TOM: Mike, is Ratliff threatening us?
CROW:
Is this his way of saying, "Oh, the story's a little slow for ya?
Hell, I can make a whole *buncha* stuff
happen any time, guy. Just
say the word."
> "Welcome to the Moon
Kingdom,
TOM: [Muttering] oh merciful God in heaven...
MIKE:
Oh geez. Steve, pull this thing over,
I'm getting off!
>I'm
Kasey, I'll be your waitress this afternoon.
May I take your order?"
>she
asked.
MIKE:
(Martin, pathetic) But- can't we have menus?
CROW:
(waitress) No, you can't have menus!
MIKE:
(Martin) But what's the special?
CROW:
(waitress) Order now, and *maybe* I won't spit in your bread!
> "I'd like the Moon Princess
Pasta," Martin said.
[All
snicker.]
TOM: Good gracious man, have you no PRIDE?!
MIKE:
Ah, so nice that our century will be remembered by its Anime.
>
"Milk for the drink,
CROW:
Yes, Martin, milk IS for the drinking.
>
and a side of bread sticks."
TOM: (waitress) Would you like a Barbie doll to
play with while you
wait?
MIKE:
(Martin) Ha ha! No, I brought My Pretty
Pony. See? Look at her
long, pretty tail!
> "I'll have the Sea of Tranquility
Soup and Toasted Cheese Sandwich," Jay
>said.
"Root Beer for the drink, no sides."
MIKE:
And I'll have the Kitschy Quiche and the Dessert With a Really
Stupid Name.
TOM: Yeah, and bring me one of those drinks with
a little umbrella
in it.
CROW:
Come to think of it, this probably passes for haute cuisine in
England.
> "Very well, gentlemen," Kasey
said before returning to the Kitchen.
MIKE:
(waitress) Gimme a horse colon with phlegm and cat bones, and
crap on a plate, no urine!
> "So, she's finally decided to come
talk to me about those dreams,"
TOM: Ohhhhh..."those" dreams...
>Martin
said. "I was beginning to wonder
if she ever would."
> "Marrissa's always been
self-reliant," Jay said.
TOM: She even tried reproducing asexually.
>
"It's hard to get
>
her to admit that she needs help.
MIKE: A
new 12-Step program for maniacal galactic overlords?
CROW:
Hey, I can stop exterminating entire species any time I want!
> Generally, I
don't ask and just provide the
>help.
TOM: Well, it's nice Ris found a mental health
provider who’ll mind
his own business for a change.
CROW:
The line between husband and slave is very, very thin in
Stephen's world.
> It's easier on us both that way. She doesn't have to ask, and I
>don't
have to see her struggling to get something done after turning my
>help
down."
MIKE:
This way she just resents the implication she's incompetent!
CROW:
Oh my gawd. That was something else.
MIKE:
Ratliff has not lost his touch.
TOM: Trp[!
> "I'm surprised that hasn't impeded
her command abilities before," Martin
>said.
CROW:
No, I thought it was the basis of her command abilities.
> "Oh, she knows how to delegate when
it comes to her command,
MIKE:
...knows how to delegate torpedoes into the hulls of anyone who crosses
her...
>
it's just
>that
she hasn't learnt to apply that to her personal life," Jay replied.
TOM: Is it just me, or is Steve finally realizing
the absurity of preteen
commanding officers, and the reasons for
preteens being kids, not
officers?
CROW: Like when she tried to delegate the third
trimester to me. Man,
that was awkward.
>"You
should have heard her after we hired Serena to help take care of Sara.
MIKE:
Yes...take CARE of Sara...
TOM:
She's sorta souring on Serena surrounding Sara!
>Here
she was, having exhausted herself for the last three months taking
>care
of the baby, complaining that she didn't need the help."
CROW:
(Ris) I'll just try diplomacy. If she
keeps crying, I'll break
her leg.
> "That could have contributed to the
problem," Martin said.
MIKE:
That, and the constant destruction of worlds under her feet.
> "At her heart,
TOM: Her what now?
>Marrissa
can be a very insecure person.
TOM: What what now?
> You
remember her title collecting
>when
she was between twelve and thirteen?"
MIKE:
The bane of our existence? Yeah, I
think we remember.
CROW:
Aww, Ratliff's trying to cover up his past mistakes. Isn't it cute?
> "You mean
ALL: Sigh...
TOM: Do we have to?
MIKE:
'Fraid so.
ALL: (along with Jay in the story) Lieutenant
Marrissa Amber Picard, Princess
of Halifax, Heir to the throne of Essex,
Supervising Officer of the
Kid's Crew program, Chief of Security on
the Enterprise,"
>
Jay recited.
MIKE:
And her trusty servant Patsy! She has
ridden many miles-
CROW:
(cockney) What, ridden on a horse?
> "Did I leave any
out?"
TOM: (Martin) Just "wife of Jay
Gordon". Interesting...
> "I don't think so," Martin
said. "She's always wanted to be
some one.
TOM: Light up the sky, like a flame.
CROW:
The problem is that specific someone is God.
MIKE:
She shoulda had that gray spider in the barn write her name
in a web!
>And
as for her relationship with close friends,
TOM: Who asked?
>
well, Lord have mercy
>anyone
who harms her friends,
MIKE:
Lord have mercy on her friends, I say.
> her officers or
her ship, because no one else
>is
going to stop her from punishing them."
MIKE:
(Southern preacher) And there are whole civilizations yelling
an AMEN to that one, brother Ratliff!
CROW:
Does Martin think Jay is bugged?
TOM: (Martin, loudly) Ha! Yeah, that Marrissa is one great omnipotent
being, huh? And she's so thin! She's
gotta be what, nineteen?
Twenty?
> "That's the truth," Jay said.
MIKE:
(Lily Tomlin) And that's the truth.
Pppppppbt!
> "I
think it is to her advantage sometimes.
>We've
got one of the most loyal crews in Star Fleet.
TOM:
Loyalty through fear. Nice.
>
When Marrissa asks
>for
volunteers, the line stretches from the Forward lounge to the Aft
>Shuttle
Bay."
MIKE:
The Forward lounge is a bar, I take it.
CROW:
At which time, in another power trip, she has them turn around and file
out the bay doors.
> "Anyway, Marrissa is going to have
to face the fact that there are some
>things
beyond her control,"
TOM: Pesky things like Gravity and other laws of
Nature...that BITCH!
CROW:
(Jay) *BLASPHEMER! YOU SHALL DIE IN THE
PIT OF-*(catches himself)
Oh, damn. Sorry! Reflex response!
> Martin said, as
a monster appeared just outside
>the
restaurant's door.
ALL: *Huh?
What?*
MIKE:
Oh, hi Marrissa, we were just talking about you.
> He
was facing away from the door, so he didn't see it.
CROW:
It's "Where the Wild Things Brunch"!
> Jay had. "You mean like rampaging monsters planning to ruin
>
restaurants?" Jay said, with a note of fear.
TOM: [Martin] It's probably just the health
inspector in a bad mood. Pay it
no mind.
> "That would be an example, but your
imagination must really be working
>overtime
if that's what you thought of first," Martin said calmly.
MIKE:
You must divorce your creativity, Jay.
Merge with the soulless
collective.
ALL
(dully) Join us.
> "Well, considering one is about to
bust though the door," Jay said,
CROW:
This is a very odd monster-related conversation.
MIKE:
Yeah, most of your monster-related conversations go something
like, *"AAAAUGH! OH MY GOD!
WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE
GONNA DI-HI-HIE!"*
> as the
>door
was pulled off the restaurant by the brute force of the water
>elemental
like monster.
MIKE:
Jay better have a decent saving throw.
TOM: (monster) I had a reservation? First name, DIE!
> Martin turned around. "I wish I could say you were
hallucinating," he said.
[All
snicker.]
CROW: I
wish I knew what Ratty was hallucinating on.
TOM:
Martin is half-Vulcan, half-idiot!
> "Die, Jay Gordon," the monster
said,
MIKE:
Die-Jay Jazzy Gordon?
TOM: Hey, it IS Marrissa!
>
tossing the door toward Jay. Jay
and
>Martin
jumped out of their chairs and the door missed them, but shattered
>the
table.
CROW:
(Martin) My pasta!
MIKE: Heck
of a floor show this place has got.
> "Mars Fire Ignite!" came a
cry.
ALL: (hysterical) *WHAT?!*
MIKE:
Oh, for the love of all that is good and decent!
CROW:
Remember, Mike, this IS Ratliff.
Nothing good or decent here.
> It was from a young part Klingon girl
>dressed
in a sailor fuku who stood in the doorway to the Kitchen.
[All
fall in the floor in conniptions.]
MIKE:
(shaking his head) Oh... my... lord.
TOM: Stephen should really let the first layer of
bad dry before he
slaps on a second coat like this.
> The
left arm of the monster vaporized.
CROW:
Yeah, your low-carb diets'll do that.
TOM: You lose ten pounds fast, but it's mostly
water.
MIKE:
Brendle! Noooo!
> "Mercury Bubbles, blast!"
TOM: Hey, no cursing!
CROW: A
rather failed sales ploy by the car manufacturer.
> was a
second called attack, but not as
>successful.
TOM: Sailor Lawrence Welk is disappointed.
> Other than a concessive blow
backwards, the charge from the
>red-haired
Sailor Mercury who stood at where the door to the outside had
>been,
had little effect on the monster.
TOM: Well, next next time, they'd better pick a
more powerful weapon
than Scrubbing Bubbles...
MIKE:
Hulk TICKLISH! GRRRR!
CROW:
Just throw powdered gelatin at him and wait for him to set!
> Sailor Mercury's visor covered her face,
as Mars let lose another
>Fireball.
CROW:
Note, never get the beans at the Moon Kingdom.
> Mars's second attack took out the
monster's other arm, but the
>first
arm was already growing back.
TOM: [John Cleese] Tis but a flesh wound!
MIKE:
Set phasers on Jacuzzi!
>
"Mars, target the left heal," Mercury
>ordered.
CROW:
Ratliff can make even anime look uninspired.
MIKE:
Do they *want* to be healing this thing?
TOM: The monster's in heels? Well just make it chase you, it'll
fall over!
> "You got it," Mars
responded. "Mars Fire
Ignite!"
CROW:
FINISH HIM!
MIKE:
Shabon Spray, Ratliff Battle Sequence!
>
The fire ball left her
>clasped
hands and sped toward the monster who was rushing Sailor Mercury.
CROW:
Quick, back him into this enormous mug of Cup O'Noodles!
>The
impact vaporized the whole body, just centimeters before the monster
>would
have impacted Mercury.
CROW: And gotten her tight schoolgirl's outfit all
wet!
TOM: (Jay) Huh, great, thanks, you've steamed me
alive like a Maine
lobster. But nothing a few painful skin grafts won't cure!
Thanks a lot! (muttering) Ya big dumb Sailor Schlemozzels!
MIKE:
(Martin, moaning) I knew we shoulda called The Dirty Pair.
> The two Sailor Scouts exited the
restaurant,
MIKE:
...to the sound of appreciative applause.
CROW:
Encore! Encore!
TOM: (Scouts) Thankyouthankyou, we'll be here all
week. Enjoy the
buffet.
>
leaving Jay and Martin
>
behind a table.
ALL:
*Check please!*
[All
laugh.]
CROW: Oh, that's fun. I never get tired of that one.
> "Jay?" Martin asked.
> "Yes, Martin?" Jay replied,
peering over the table top.
MIKE:
(Jay, tenderly) I have always loved you.
> "Were we just attacked by a being
made of water which was destroyed by
>
two Sailor Scouts out of one of Marrissa's Anime shows?" Martin asked.
TOM: You know it's bad when even Ratliff's
*characters* aren't buying it.
> "It appears so," Jay said.
> "I hope we don't have to file a
report on this, because Star Fleet is
>going
to think we are crazy," Martin said.
TOM: This same Starfleet that allowed a preteen
to be captain?
MIKE:
Well, it's not like a giant space probe knocked out global
communications looking for a couple of
whales. I mean, *that's*
nuts.
> "Not you, you're a trusted Ship's
Counselor with a clean psychological
>profile,"
Jay said. "As for me, they expect
strange reports from Star
>Fleet
Captains."
TOM: It is rumored that many of Kirk's reports
were nothing but stream of
consciousness song lyrics...
MIKE:
Man! All this just 'cuz he asked the
waitress for more water!
CROW:
Next, the results of that trial! Oh
wait, the monster's dead.
Sorry!
No trial everyone! You can go
home now!
TOM: Let's us go...
[Commercials.
The most cinematic sci-fi experience of all...is still Star Wars.
But until Episode 2 comes out, here, have
some Farscape.]
[OPEN
ON: SOL. Mike is seated at the desk
with Gypsy. Each
is perusing a large menu adorned with the
silhouette of the SOL.]
MIKE: Hmm...
I know the food here is good, but the way they give novelty
space names to everything... I mean,
Borg's Head Ham... Saturnsby
Steak... the Soup of Tranquility? It kinda puts the "Rooty Tooty
Fresh and Fruity Breakfast" in
perspective.
GYPSY:
Who's paying? The Romulan RAM Chips
look yummy!
MIKE:
Anyway, I needed to talk about Marissa.
I'm real concerned that...
well, she's becoming...
GYPSY:
Human?
MIKE:
Oh, come on, Gyps. It's still Ratliff
we're talking about.
GYPSY:
That was a defensive response, Michael.
MIKE:
It's just that- aw, hell, let's face it.
Stephen's writing has
drastically improved. Not just the typos, either. He's grasped
that there's more to a story than
plot. He's actually getting
deeper into his characters now.
GYPSY:
This frightens you.
MIKE:
Well hey! Do we really wanna go that
deep into Marissa? I mean,
fairly or unfairly, Marissa is perceived
as a manifestation of
Stephen's dream woman. Watching him retro-fit vulnerability and
self-esteem problems into Her Royal High
Empress of the Universe is
a bit like watching a guy try to
rationalize a foot fetish.
GYPSY:
Stephen doesn't have to justify himself to you, Michael.
MIKE:
Oh of course not! Nor anybody! I'm just... dammit, Gyps, why
couldn't he have stayed *bad?*
[Gypsy
chuckles.]
MIKE:
I'm serious!
GYPSY:
Of course you are! Don't you see
Mike? You spend your life
cooped up in a satellite with two
child-like robots making jokes all
day and eating Ho-Ho's. As long as Stephen was more childish than
you, you could continue in your pattern
of arrested development.
MIKE:
(shocked) What are you saying?
GYPSY:
Peter Pan syndrome, Mike! If Ratliff
grows up, maybe you have
to, too!
[Suddenly
a huge hulking brown bear, dressed in a yellow shirt, blue
jeans and sneakers and wearing large round
glasses, comes roaring onto
the set.]
BEAR:
*BROOOOOOWRR!!!*
MIKE
and GYPSY: *AUGH!*
MIKE:
Oh my God, the lovable huggable children's character Arthur has
gone berserk! Run for your lives!
[The
bear viscious swipes Gypsy to the ground, and begins to move to
Mike, who dives under the desk. Suddenly, spinning in from stage
right comes TOM, dressed up in a precious
little Sailor's
Outfit.]
TOM: Halt!
[The
monster stops in surprise.]
TOM: I am the pretty princess Sailor Tom, eternal
warrior from
the Frou-Frou land of Lollipop
Lane! By the might of my girlish
hips, you shall be punished! SHABON SPRAY, JEF MAYNARD!
[A
laser light comes from Tom's head and hits Arthur in the eye.
It howls in pain and covers his eye, stepping
back. Now CROW darts
in dressed in an odd mauve leotard.]
CROW:
Oh! Um... WONDER TWIN POWERS, ACTIVATE!
(to monster) Hey Artie!
[The
bear unshields his eyes and leans toward Crow.]
BEAR:
Hwah?
CROW:
Lookie here.
[Crow
uses his mouth to snatch Arthur's glasses.
He howls again, and
blindly reaches out at Crow, who laughs and
ducks away. Crow runs
off-set, Arthur lumbers after him, and Tom
pursues.]
TOM: Ha-ha, that's right, back to Yosemite, you
Richard Scarey reject!
[Now
the bridge is empty. The camera holds
for a moment. Then
slowly, cautiously, Mike and Gypsy pop up
from under the desk. They
look at each other in apprehensive disbelief
for a beat. Then,
suddenly, they laugh.]
MIKE:
Ha! Ratliff! Maturing! That's a good
one, Gyps!
GYPSY:
(snickering) Yeah! I was totally
pullin' it out of my tube
there.
MIKE: So
you wanna split a Ho-Ho?
GYPSY:
Mm, snack cakes! Yummy!
[Lights.
Noise. Go quietly amid the noise and haste? I don't THINK SO!]
MIKE:
That'll have to wait--WE'VE GOT RATLIFF SIGN!!!
[ 6 ]...
( 5 )... = 4 = ... / 3 \... > 2 <... (*)...
>
>Chapter
Four
>
> Usually, Martin Sussex worked in his own
office on the Enterprise. It
>
was an office that he had spent much time making it comfortable and one which
>encouraged
people to relax.
TOM: That iron maiden in the corner just SCREAMS
"hug me!"
> It also reflected his personality,
CROW:
In that it was sparse and empty and existed only to provide a
place for Marrissa to define herself.
>
with the
>tan
velvet couches accessorized with red and white check blankets
MIKE:
So his office is in an Italian restaurant.
>
with
>frills
and blue pillows.
CROW:
And this says *what* about his personality?
TOM: Frills, velvet, and pillows...do the math
yourself.
> He had his
guitar for entertaining the younger
>visitors
(and occasionally a few older ones).
CROW:
Doctor Action Jackson loves a rousing chorus of Kum-Bay-Ah during
his sessions.
MIKE:
(Martin) OK! That was Cat Stevens. Now we're gonna do some
Joni Mitchell...
CROW:
(patient, desperate) No no! I feel a
lot better now! I'll
leave you to your tortu-
*practice*! Practice!
>
His books were at his side
>and
he knew about his patients before they entered the door.
TOM: Well, he ought to; he's stalked most of
them.
MIKE:
He decides who lives or dies!
CROW:
*Ahem*
MIKE:
Oh, sorry, Crow.
> Not this time though.
TOM: This time he's on a collision course for
wackiness!
> Of course he
knew Marrissa, but not as a patient.
CROW:
If you know what I mean...
MIKE:
Please no more innuendo about Marrissa.
>He'd
done her yearly fitness of command reviews,
TOM: And had the welts to prove it!
CROW:
So he's the one who's been so incompetent...
>
but they were quite
>shallow,
MIKE:
So they were a good analysis of Marrissa.
> since it was assumed that by the
time a person made Captain any
>serious
neuroses would have already surfaced,
[All
snicker.]
TOM: Unless one gets rapidly over promoted...
MIKE:
Star Fleet's run a lot like the U.S. Military. "He *must* be
a good commander! Otherwise why would we promote him?"
CROW:
Marrissa's father's tendency to yell out "all hands abandon
ship!" at odd, random intervals
somehow made it through the
medical screening, though.
>
and Marrissa had managed to
>avoid
any major trauma,
CROW:
Unlike her crews...
> until the Borg, that
is.
TOM: She was hunted down and imprisoned by the
Tracke! That was what,
a fan club?
>
In the case of Marrissa,
>she'd
gone too fast,
MIKE:
And Ratliff has taken step one, admitting the problem.
> and never really had a full evaluation, but
as long as
>she
did her job, Star Fleet really didn't care.
TOM: So rather than head off any future problems,
it's Starfleet's
policy to leave a captain in charge
until he or she flips.
> Martin did care, and he
>wished
he had done a better job. Martin had
entered College at 14,
CROW:
And he's eligible to diagnose being promoted too fast?
>graduated
with his Doctorate in Psychology at 19.
TOM: The five year doctorate program at Ratliff
University, where your
GPA is 20 minus your age!
CROW:
Jeez! Do adults do *anything* in the
future? Was Social
Security eligibility reduced to 26 or
something?
> With another year at the
>Academy
he had been assigned as Ship's Counselor on the Endeavor, before
>moving
to the Enterprise with Marrissa.
MIKE:
And having his life story retold each time he appeared in Ratliff.
CROW:
Shouldn't the psychologist on the Enterprise be, like, a shape-
shifting Mexican immigrant holographic
empath or something?
> He
had two years to help Marrissa
>before
she broke down.
MIKE:
(Tom Berenger) So he pushed it. And pushed it. AND PUSHED IT!
TOM: (breaking down in terror) ALL RIGHT! ALL
RIGHT! I'LL CHANGE MY
OIL! *sobs*
> Two years to prevent
it. He didn't.
CROW:
Smooth one there, Poindexter!
> So now he was here on Marrissa's turf,
TOM: Martin has lost the home field advantage,
and will not have the fans
behind him tonight, and that could hurt
him.
>
up in the transparent dome at
>
the top of the North Tower of Halifax Castle.
Marrissa was laying back on a
>lounge,
starring up at the sky, where several fighter craft were undergoing
>test
maneuvers.
CROW:
She's mesmerized by blood shed. It's
all her little drug.
TOM: Waitaminnit. Overhead?
CROW:
Hey guys! Dump your fuel! Now!
MIKE:
Yeah! Do it! C'mon! Future generations will immortalize you in song!
> Martin was perched on a
nearby lounge,
MIKE:
Not a shourte, mind you.
> quite
>uncomfortable,
actually, but then again, his comfort wasn't important here.
TOM: Though the bright orange walls did push the
point...
>"Marrissa,
I can't do anything for you if you just sit there and watch the
>clouds
and fighter craft," Martin said.
CROW:
[Marrissa] Well hello to you too, dickweed.
MIKE:
[Marrissa] But I see a duckie, and a horsie, and a civilization
getting crushed under my thumb, and a
choo-choo!
TOM: Pssst!
Hey, Sigmund, ever think about closing the curtains?!
> "Martin, do you think I make my
friends do things that they wouldn't
>normally
do?" Marrissa asked.
CROW:
Said the little brat who required the session be moved to her turf...
TOM: [Martin] No, making normal people do strange
things is what
Ratliff does. Although you're obviously an accomplice.
MIKE:
(Martin) Look, I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable
explanation for all your commanding
officers having voodoo dolls of
you impaled through the head with letter
openers.
> "I
mean everyone of them followed me into
>Star
Fleet. I arranged for them to serve
with me. Maybe they would be
>better
off if I hadn't."
CROW: I
think most of the galaxy would agree to that...
TOM: (announcer) Marissa Picard, in the holiday
classic, "It's A
Wonderful Reign of Terror!"
MIKE:
(Jimmy Stewart) Merry Christmas, decimated planet! Merry Christmas,
pool of blood! Merry Christmas, you
wonderful old pile of corpses!
> "What makes you think they
would?" Martin asked, curious as to the sudden
>question.
CROW:
Other than the fact you robbed them of the carefree days of their
youth.
MIKE:
Martin's not so smart. He's just
running the "Eliza" program
on his PDA.
TOM:
(Martin) Oh, so you think I make my friends do things that they
wouldn't normally do.
> "When was the last time someone
questioned my orders?" Marrissa said.
CROW:
Well, after she had the last one shot out the torpedo tube...
MIKE:
The guy before that is now a smoking pair of boots.
>"When
was the last time one of my officers left my command?"
TOM: [Marrissa] In one piece, that is.
CROW: Oh, I don't know. The last round of hangings was what, Thursday?
> "Marrissa, you have a gift for
command,"
MIKE: A
gift like a well-wrapped package bomb.
>
Martin replied. "In
tactics,
>there
are few people considered your equal.
CROW:
In getting people to list your accomplishments every chapter,
unmatched.
> You
inspire loyalty in those
>you
command.
MIKE:
They quickly become very loyal to getting themselves out alive.
CROW:
(Martin, dully) You are love, you are life, you are eternal.
Ave Marrissa. Nail yourself to a cross and call me in the morning.
> Everyone of your officers knows
that you won't risk them if
>it
weren't something that you couldn't do.
TOM: Unless its something icky she doesn't want
to do herself.
MIKE:
Wow, a forest of old-growth negatives!
Look!
> And
if it isn't something you
>could
do, then they know they were sent because you know they can pull it
>off."
MIKE:
Though her crews are used to keeping their wills very up-to-date.
TOM: And Amnesty International formally protests
Ratliff's systemic
torture of innocent logic.
> "You sound like one of those
academy professors spouting the attributes
> of
a good Captain," Marrissa said.
MIKE:
[Marrissa] And yet it's me you're talking about.
>
"Every time I send an officer out, I
>worry.
CROW:
Think how the *officers* must worry!
> I'm never sure some tactic I'm trying is
going to work.
TOM: But it does, as though some greater power is
looking down and
controlling my actions into perfection.
> I may
>project
the appearance of confidence, but it is just that, an appearance."
CROW:
Marrissa not having confidence...that's funny.
> "I'm no Academy Professor,"
Martin said.
MIKE:
(Martin) 'Cuz I'm like *way* past the maximum age cut-off of 13.
TOM: (Martin) I'm also not that irritating
groundskeeper back at
StarFleet Academy. Say, why don't you go pester him for a
change and leave me alone?
>
"As a member of your crew, and
>the
one that has to keep track of these things, I can safely say that your
>crew
admires you, respects you, and are glad they are under your command."
TOM: That's what I can *safely* say. Please put the knife down,
Marrissa.
CROW:
Stop buttering her up, Martin. Her ego
is just a few points
below critical mass already without
idiots like you piling it on.
> "Oh, yeah," Marrissa
said. "Lets see, I've got under my
command, a
>younger
sister who is crazy enough to want to follow in my footsteps
TOM: Though I follow in hers, so she'll set off
any traps...
>serving
as my Computer Security Officer."
> "She worships you,
CROW:
As does John Travolta, Tom Cruise and Kirstie Ally.
MIKE:
[Marrissa] And soon they all will...
> and you've always dealt with her
even-handedly," Martin
>said.
> "Then there is Shayna, ship's
practical joker," Marrissa said.
MIKE:
So you keep saying!
TOM: Shayna is like Drew Carey? Everyone *says* they're funny, but I'm
still waiting on the evidence.
>
"I must
>have
been insane when I made her my Security Chief.
CROW:
Oh? (clears throat, nervous) Would you
sign a statement to that
effect? As a pure
formality?
MIKE:
The day she replaced all the phasers with water pistols was the
breaking point.
>
Not only is her
>primary
background Engineering, but a clown like her ..."
TOM: A Killer Klown from Outer Space like her...
> "You know, some had similar
objections when you became Security Chief
>
back on the Enterprise-E," Martin said.
TOM: Well, all right, everyone did.
MIKE: E
for Eh, it's Star Trek, turn it to something else.
> "You
did a fine job, and so has Shayna.
CROW:
Our Romulan overlords can't praise you enough.
>True,
she had a hard time adjusting to the new position, but she's doing
>well
now. I'd say the respect of such a
person would be notable.
TOM: (Martin) Um... I said "notable",
not "laughable", right?
>
And you
>have
hers."
CROW:
So we have zombie-like loyalty of a sister, and the respect of a
practical joker...
> "But I'm not worthy of that
respect," Marrissa said, almost shouting.
MIKE:
So this is Ratliff trying to force some humility on Marrissa?
ALL: (genuflecting) WE'RE NOT WORTHY! WERE NOT WORTHY!
>"I'm
just a young lady,
CROW:
I'm just a girl, guess I'm some kind of freak!
> who has been married
just under a year, has a baby
>girl
she's trying to learn how to take care of, all while trying to run a
>Starship.
CROW:
But she'll find the lessons most worth learning... are from the
heart! Providence 3000! NBC Friday!
TOM: Is it a bad thing that I'm enjoying watching
her over promotion catch
up and bite her in the ass?
MIKE:
No, but don't mention her ass, please.
> I've got all these titles, jobs,
and duties to perform and I
>just
wonder, is there anything else.
MIKE:
Boys?
CROW:
Nickel slots at the Sands?
TOM: A LIFE?!
> Am I
just those titles, just those
>duties.
CROW:
With lack of a regular childhood...yes.
> When all those are taken away, is
there anything left?"
TOM: Just a large ego throbbing in her head.
MIKE: This is like if DesCartes were alive and writing
for Redbook.
> "Marrissa, you have done a lot for
your friends and the Federation,"
>Martin
began.
CROW:
And left unending scars on those who opposed them.
MIKE:
You crush more wills by 6 AM than most people do in a lifetime!
> "You've spent most of your life helping others
CROW:
(sings as Tom Lehrer) Like the widows and cripples in Romulan
towns, who owe their large pensions to
Marrissa von Braun!
> and never
>really
taken the time get to know yourself.
MIKE:
Huzzah! 20th century psychobabble
lives!
TOM: Apparently, nothing has been written on this
topic since Kahlil
Gilbran.
>
Perhaps it's time you did.
MIKE:
It's time you embraced your inner witch!
TOM: Please say we don't get a scene of
her..."getting to know herself."
CROW:
Well, this one time, at band camp, she...oh, God...[retches]
>You've
got enough leave time for your whole command crew, and even if you
>didn't,
I'd make sure you took some.
MIKE:
Careful, Martin, you're asking for the wrath of Marrissa...
TOM: Jeez, they throw her off the Enterprise,
they throw her out of the
castle...
CROW:
You'd think she'd get the hint by now.
>
You've got a nanny who can watch over
>Sara,
and Jay can stand some time alone as well.
MIKE:
(Ris) Well whaddaya mean by *that* crack?
CROW:
He can't even breathe without being told when to do so!
>
Pack up that backpack of
>yours,
and spend some time out in the wilderness, camping.
TOM: Breathe deep the gathering gloom!
> I've
heard how
>you
enjoyed it when you were younger, so I think it would be a good place
>for
you to start."
> "If you think it will help,"
Marrissa said, tentatively.
CROW:
(Martin) Hell no! But your hour's up.
TOM: (Martin) Actually, it won't. Instead, I recommend a vigorous
course of electroshock therapy to make
those nasty wrinkles in
your brain all smooth.
> "It will help, but only as much as
you let it," Martin said.
TOM: Now, the neo-Freudian movement says I must
talk to you about penis
envy...
>
"Just spend
>some
quiet time thinking about your life.
And after a couple days, we'll
>talk
again."
MIKE:
(Martin, under his breath) Damn it.
> "Okay."
>
CROW:
"Okay"? What kind of end to a
the scene is that?!
TOM: You get better closure in a Holyfield-Lewis
fight!
> "Are you sure this camping idea is
a good one," Jay asked Martin
MIKE:
She's gone, ain't she? Ante up. Where's that pizza we ordered?
> as they
>sat
in the living room of Halifax Castle, sampling wine.
MIKE:
Really roughing it, I see.
TOM: And sampling, and sampling...
CROW:
I'm wondering if we should start a chapter of AA.
MIKE: Syntheholics
Anonymous?
> "She needs time to get to know
herself again, without all the
>responsibilities,"
Martin said.
CROW:
Yes, 400 years in the future, psychiatrists are still full of
crap!
> She's been
in a position of
>responsibility,
putting others before herself, since she was twelve."
TOM: The way she selflessly traveled through time
to write a speeding
ticket... it's almost like Gandhi, really!
> "A little before that," Jay
said. "You forgot that first
command."
MIKE:
No we haven't, despite our best efforts that shower will always burn
in my mind like a brand. And they think MARRISSA needs a mental
work-up.
> "Oh yes, the famous first Kid's
Crew mission," Martin said.
MIKE:
Hell never was the same after it froze over like that.
>
"By the way,
>I
never found out how you met Marrissa."
TOM: This has the potential of being kind of
interesting, or really sad.
> "It's actually rather
embarrassing," Jay said.
CROW:
But so are the rest of Jay's memories.
> "Oh really," Martin said.
TOM:
(Jay) She... used a phaser to shoot "I WAS P-WHIPPED BY A
TWELVE-YEAR OLD GIRL" on my tuckus.
> "But I guess you'll keep prying
until you find out about it," Jay said.
MIKE:
Prying about what...oh, are you still talking about that?
TOM: I guess you'll just keep saying "Oh
really" until the story rusts
from disuse.
> "Most certainly, it's my duty as
Ship's Counselor," Martin said.
TOM: What, to pry into embarrassing memories that
others might not want to
bring up?
CROW:
(Jay) I'd be more agreeable to this if you had a lot more
barely-contained cleavage like certain
other Ship's Counselors...
> "Well, I was five, almost six, and
Marrissa had just turned seven at the
>time,"
Jay began.
TOM: (Martin) Yes, but IQs don't count.
MIKE:
It was eight minutes to nine, I'd finished ten months at
Leavenworth.
CROW:
At least it wasn't when he was sixteen, going on seventeen.
>
> The Enterprise was new to me,
CROW:
(Martin) Um... should I be calling you Ishmael, or something?
> and I was out exploring the deck near my
>families
quarters.
TOM: Turns out it was stacked against me, giving
a glimpse of my future
marriage!
> Marrissa lived on the
deck above, and was going around
>the
corner.
MIKE:
Which explains why she's so far around the bend.
> Her father called for her to come
back and clean her room.
TOM: But she realized that he was a foolish
grown-up that she could crush.
CROW:
He was a pile of smoking ash shortly after.
>She
looked back, said no, and stepped into an open access hatch, falling
>down
to my floor.
[All
snicker.]
TOM: (Riker) Ha!
And they all laughed when I dug a boar pit on
Deck Nine! Data! Get the spit ready!
CROW:
[Jay] Had I known what the next years of my life would be like, I would
have left her there...
> Normally, you'd expect her
to get some injuries from
>this
fall.
CROW:
Normally you'd expect OSHA to shut down Starfleet like a bad
memory!
MIKE:
Isn't this the plot to "If Lucy Fell"?
> She did, but I got more. You see, I was directly below the
>access
hatch when she fell.
TOM: (sarcastic shock) You don't say!
CROW: I
guess it's true. It takes a village to
maim a child.
> I got knocked to
the floor as she landed on
>me,
breaking my leg.
MIKE:
Thus marking the first time he was subjugated by her. Not the
last by far, though.
> Marrissa was horrified that she hurt me.
TOM: She hadn't yet learned what fun it could be.
MIKE:
Quickfire! GO!
> She picked me up and rushed me
>to
sickbay. No easy task since at the time
I was fifty pounds to her
>forty-one,
Marrissa always was on the short side.
ALL: (sing) WONDER WO-MAAAAN!
CROW:
And so early on Marrissa's super-inhuman abilities were displayed,
setting a course for the rest of her
life. And now you know...
The rest of the story.
>
When she got there,
MIKE:
The sickbay was bare.
CROW:
And little Jay got some.
[Mike
begins to protest, but comes up with only dry heaves.]
> she
>insisted
that they care for me before she would let them look at her.
TOM: Marrissa is like a fireproof Joan of Arc who
won't shut up.
>After
treating my leg, they checked her, and determined that she had
>carried
me half way around the ship with a broken arm.
CROW:
That's what she says when I ask her to do the dishes, anyway.
TOM: All right, Stephen, but we're beginning to
cross the line again, could
we back this thing up and start
over? Or at least let you carry 125%
of your weight with a broken arm...
> While we spent the next four hours in
Sickbay, we began to get to know
>each
other.
MIKE: A
thought that we would all live better lives without.
CROW:
(Ris) What? Five years old and not an
officer yet? Slug-a-bed!
Slacker!
> Meanwhile, Doctor Crusher went to
find out who left the hatch
>open.
CROW:
They were distinctly told to leave an AIRLOCK open.
TOM: Turns out it was Tyson Chicken, so nothing
was done.
> When I got home, my father told me that
the Ensign who had left the
>hatch
open
CROW:
...was given a big party with magic clowns and ice cream cake!
> had a cataloging job to do in
Sickbay, so I guess he was well
>punished.
TOM: [Zoot] Yes, we shall all get a good
spanking, then after the spanking--
MIKE:
The moral sects! Don't think I'm going
to let you get away with that one.
CROW:
Actually, he was forced to read Ratliff fanfics for a fortnight.
TOM: AAUGH!
That's cruel!
> I was surprised that Marrissa
spent the week grounded.
CROW:
Cause she's always been a bit of a live wire.
MIKE:
She could've made good money in the ship's arm wrestling contest.
>
She
>later
confided to me that it was probably a good thing,
TOM: It established her alibi.
> but at
the time,
>well
she wasn't very happy about it.
MIKE:
And soon after her parents died.
Coincidence?
>
> "So that's how I met
Marrissa," Jay said. "Not the
most romantic way to
>met
your future wife, but I can say that she just dropped in on me."
TOM: And, unfortunately, we all knew he was going
to say it.
CROW: I
can also say she crushed my body before starting to work on my
spirit.
MIKE: I
can also say my entire life is a *LIE!*
I'm not a captain, I'm
a *dancer!* And it's all Marrissa's fault!
Death to the
strawberry despot!
>
>
>Chapter
Five
>
> Marrissa stood on the top of
TOM: Jay's neck.
CROW:
(sings Daria theme} La-la-LA-la-la...
> Mount
Hilary.
CROW:
RIIIII-COOOOO-LAAAAA!
MIKE:
Oh, good to see Stephen's Clinton fixation progressing nicely.
>
She had always wanted to climb
TOM: Jay's neck.
CROW:
(sings) La-la-LA-la-la...
>this
mountain near Londonderry, but never really had the time.
MIKE:
And, before now, it wasn't there.
CROW:
So she sent wave after wave of bombers to raze it to the ground!
>
It was
>known
for it's view of
TOM: Jay's neck.
CROW:
(sings} La-la-LA-la--
MIKE:
ENOUGH ALREADY!
> the Capital and now,
the Star Fleet Fighter Training
>School.
TOM: Formally the Uncle Squiggleman Day Care
Center.
> The new palace, with it's purple
glass dome was easy to pick out
>from
the city.
CROW:
It was well within distance of a good mortar shot.
MIKE:
Just look for the hideous eyesore surrounded by rag-clad serfs
throwing rocks at it.
> Here she was, up on top of a mountain,
CROW:
All covered with cheese.
>
and she didn't know who she was.
TOM: (Marrissa, looking down) Wow. Look at all the little people
whose asses I own.
>But
then again many mountain climbers didn't know that.
MIKE:
Like Sir Edmund What's-his-face, and that other guy, with the
beard.
> It was
a long
>standing
tradition on many worlds for a person to climb a mountain to find
>themselves.
CROW:
Your dumb, clueless worlds, mostly.
MIKE:
Most mountains are equipped with "You Are Here" signs on the peak.
>Marrissa
sat on top of the mountain, and began to think.
> Who was she?
CROW:
[Singing] She's a bitch, she's a lover, she's a child, she's a mother.
MIKE:
Definitely, unfortunately, too much so, and we all feel sorry for Sara.
> Was she a Star Fleet
Officer? Was she a princess? Was she
>a
wife?
MIKE:
Was she a lonely goat herd, lay-de-oh-de-lay-de-oh-de-lay,
hee-ho?
> Was she a mother? Yes she was all of those,
TOM: (announcer) Plus the Mega-Fit fat burning
tablets, and your own
personalized menu plan! All for just twelve easy payments of
$49.99!
> but
without those
>titles,
those jobs, those responsibilities, Who
was she?
MIKE:
(pouting hands on hips) Who does she think she is?
> The purple glass dome of the Palace
caught her attention again.
TOM: And the rioters around it.
CROW:
Man. When they let Imperial Margarine
sponsor the new
palace, they should've kept more say in
the final design.
> She was
>heir
to this planet,
MIKE:
Oh! So that whole "This Land Is
Your Land" crap I was
force-fed in grade school? That was all just a lie?
> one thing that she
hadn't had any chance to get out
>of.
CROW:
And the suicide rate doubles on Essex.
TOM: (booming)
Marrissa! This is God! You're starting to bum
me out!
Do something!
> After all, you had to be born a
princess.
CROW:
Um... no. Grace Kelly? Remember?
>
Hopefully, Queen Victoria's
>upcoming
marriage would be a fruitful one,
MIKE:
She could do with a good peach.
> and
she wouldn't have the
>possibility
of ascending the throne hanging over her head for much longer.
CROW:
Yeah, well, this is a universe run by Stephen Ratliff,
remember?
TOM: Mike?
Is there another water elemental lurking in a
thicket somewhere, ready to leap out and
help Rissa find herself
by shootin' it?
MIKE: I
sense the different drummer to which Steve marches rat-a-tat-
tatting in the distance.
> Being a Princess wasn't something that
she could change,
TOM: But it is something that Ratliff can beat us
over the head with.
> and Marrissa
>didn't
think it really defined her. After all,
she just used the title,
>once,
twice, maybe three times a year.
TOM: Four if that bitch Leia was in town, horning
in on her franchise.
MIKE:
Other times, her other title, Lord High Galactic Dictator, was
sufficient for most tasks.
> Now, a Star Fleet Officer, that she'd
been since she was twelve.
CROW:
Which I feel must have been a clerical error.
>
At first
>the
position had been a way of following in both her biological and adopted
>parents
footsteps.
MIKE:
(sarcasm) Sure, blame the parents, why don't you?
> Then she found that
she enjoyed the job.
> Oh
it was a lot of work, but it was interesting.
CROW:
Wow, check out the colored smoke those Tracke give off when
they vaporize!
>
There was always
>something
new and different going on.
MIKE:
Floggings being her favorite.
> When
things got boring, Marrissa
>had,
in the past,
TOM: ...flew her ship into the Romulan Neutral
Zone, and fired her
phasers in random directions while
calling out 'You're all a
bunch of WUSSIES!' over sub-space radio.
> just asked for another
assignment, working toward her
>goal
of becoming Captain of the Enterprise.
TOM: As if there were any other starships in the
fleet.
MIKE:
And the moral: If life gives you lemons, whine until you can crush
several people under your fist.
>
When she found piloting
>starships
lacking challenge,
MIKE:
She tried drinking worm spit in the desert with Paul Atreides.
TOM: Or played chicken with passing freighters.
> she applied for
the post of Chief of Security.
TOM: When she had arrested everyone, she
appointed herself CinC
>Marrissa
was sure her father was going to have a fit when she somehow
>managed
to get the post.
MIKE:
So she had him stuffed and mounted in a corner.
> How she got the post
was still a mystery to her.
MIKE:
(extending an open hand) Shall we?
TOM: (sighing) I'm so, so tired, Mike.
CROW:
Two words: Large bribes.
>Then
there was the post as Fighter Commander.
CROW:
Let me guess, she had a record time on Wing Commander, so she got
the post by default.
>
That had been Marrissa's
>favorite
post until she got command of a starship.
CROW:
Look, we didn't buy any of this the first time around!
Flashbacks aren't helping!
TOM: Is it really such a good tactic to keep job
jumping like
this?
Isn't that what landed you here, Mike?
MIKE:
Marrissa, Space Temp!
>
Piloting, tactics, and
>command,
it had everything.
TOM: (booming) Camping! In the *future*!
[Crows
snickers.]
> Now she was Captain, USS Enterprise, she'd
met
>her
goal.
TOM: [sings] High flying, adored...
CROW:
So can she go away now?
>But
what was there left as a Star Fleet Officer?
MIKE:
Well... you could reprogram the replicators so that "Tea,
Earl Grey, Hot" makes it spray battery acid in your face.
>
Marrissa was
>fairly
confident that she could hold the Captaincy of the Enterprise as
>long
as she was fit to do so, but did she want to?
TOM: Give her a toy, she plays with it 15
minutes, throws it away,
and starts crying for another one.
CROW:
(impatient) Yeah, yeah. Look, is there
some *other* mountain
we could go to? One where the introspective megalomaniac
population isn't so damn thick?
>
She certainly didn't
>want
to take a desk job.
TOM: What if her job were to bore the desk?
> Her two months in
command of Star Fleet, and the
>last
three months as Military Governor of Romulus had taught her that.
CROW:
(hopeful) Romulans! Romulan spies could
be hiding in the
bushes, ready to jump out and SNATCH
HER!
MIKE:
(putting hand on Crow's shoulder) Crow, Crow, Crow...
>That
was a job she was going to do everything in her power to finish quickly.
TOM: Oh-ho, Ratliff should be slapped for even
*thinking* about
the phrase "finish quickly".
> Like it or not, she was now a mother.
MIKE:
Our words exactly.
>
Sara had not been planned.
CROW:
Which meant she loved her less.
>
But
>Marrissa
hadn't chosen to prevent herself from becoming pregnant either.
TOM: Trojan MA-A-A-AN!
CROW:
If only there were a "morning after" pill for reading "A
Gul's Revenge".
>She'd
never really thought about it before, but she wanted to have children
>with
Jay.
CROW:
But when she learned what it would entail...
> If for no other reason than to
have something to remember him by
>if
Jay were to fall in the line of duty.
MIKE:
That goes a bit beyond morbid.
TOM: Ah, yes, what child doesn't long to be
considered a souvenir!
> No
doubt about it, Star Fleet
>Duty
was hazardous,
MIKE:
Best left in the hands of teenagers!
>and
of the posts in the Command Staff of an exploring
>Starship,
only Chief of Security had a higher death rate than Jay's post of
>First
Officer.
CROW:
What about random security guards?
MIKE:
Please! *Cobblers* have a higher death
rate than Star Trek
officers!
TOM: Yeah, in twenty years, we got, what? Bre'r Tasha?
> Was that enough reason to have a child,
and was it her only reason?
MIKE:
Is this just Ratliff using a stream of consciousness to flesh out
his characters? And shouldn't he be doing so BEFORE writing
something?
>Marrissa
didn't think that having a child as a remembrance was a good
>reason
to have children. She loved Sara.
MIKE:
Broiled, baked, or even fried!
CROW:
(looking at Mike) And you think *I'm* bad...
>
When Marrissa picked up her
>little
baby girl she felt a wave contentment descend on her. She found
>great
joy in doing the simple things necessary to take care of her baby.
CROW:
Though she enjoyed the breast feeding a bit *too* much...
MIKE: I
just picture all the woodland creatures of the forest, jumpin'
off cliffs, tryin' to jam rocks in their
ears...
>Okay,
she didn't like changing diapers, but she didn't like mediating and
>she
took on that duty as a Captain enough times.
MIKE:
And she definitely doesn't like changing the diapers of fighting
diplomats.
TOM: (impatient) Look, Star Fleet is *not* an
allegory for life,
OK?!
If the kid's hungry, you can't spout some technodrivel,
wave a tricorder at it and make it go
away!
> Sara was not going to be an only child
if Marrissa had anything to say
>about
it.
CROW:
Sara was not going to be *only a child* if Marrissa had anything
to say about it!
TOM: Would it be bad to take extreme pleasure of
the thought of her barefoot
and pregnant in the kitchen?
> Marrissa wished she had another
sibling,
MIKE:
But... she does.
> someone to share the
>good
and bad things that had happened to her with.
TOM: Um, Stephen? Remember? Jackie? Name ring a bell?
CROW:
Someone to share the good things with, and blame the bad things on.
> She felt that no one
>could
know what it felt like to lose their parents like she had.
MIKE:
What with her being the first orphan in the history of the galaxy.
> A little
>brother
or sister would have.
CROW:
--thrown their body in the path of the bullet and saved them!
TOM: So she knows the terrible agony of losing
her parents at a young
age, and wants a sibling to go through
the same thing? That's
BEYOND evil, even for her.
> Marrissa looked forward to when Sara got
older.
MIKE:
(sigh) This mountain has crumbled into the sea by now.
CROW:
Plate tectonics have pushed this mountain clear to another
continent, by now.
>
There was a lot she'd
>like
to share with her daughter.
TOM: But feared that she would rise up by the
time she was 8 to take over
the universe.
> Marrissa
really hadn't had a Mom since
>hers
had died before her twelfth birthday,
TOM: (sings) "M" is for the massacre
she di-i-i-ied in!
> but
the memories of those times
>still
loomed large. The make-up lessons, the
discussions of what she'd
>done
in school,
CROW:
The target practice at the NRA rifle range...
> and learning how to cook,
MIKE:
(Ris) Mom? Insubordinate underlings go
in the oven for what,
ten minutes a pound?
> it
all brought memories that
>Marrissa
wanted to share with her own children someday.
CROW:
That's nice. Are we almost done with
this damned development?
> Of course, Marrissa wanted to be able to
do this with Jay.
TOM: What, make-up lessons?
> Clara
had
>expected
her to marry Jay for a long time. Jay
had always been there for
>her,
and she'd tried to return the favor.
CROW:
You see folks, marriage works best when all that passion stuff
is chucked out the door like a rancid
meatloaf!
MIKE:
Crow? You're just encouraging Steve to
write more sex scenes.
CROW:
Oh. Um, never mind, America! Be dull bored and placid! As
you were!
>
However, Marrissa seemed to need
>Jay
more than Jay needed Marrissa.
MIKE:
Sad when Ratliff can't keep his *own* characterizations straight.
> That had been one of the reasons that
>Marrissa
occasionally pushed Jay away.
CROW:
That, and she just wants to push him around, so she does, so she does.
TOM: Plus, he stands in front of open access
hatches so often!
> She had felt that she wasn't
giving
>back
enough into the relationship. Jay felt
otherwise.
MIKE:
Suffocated, if you will. But she didn't care what Jay felt.
> When Marrissa had problems with her
replacement as Fighter Commander,
CROW:
(Ris) No! You *can't* stick a
"Tickle Me Elmo" doll in the
cockpit and have it fly the plane! I explained this!
>
Jay
>had
been there to listen.
TOM: Or to glaze over and nod.
> Jay helped her
through her guilt when Jackie had
>nearly
died as a result of the vanilla ice cream Marrissa had given her.
MIKE:
Next time, try not cramming the entire carton down her throat
at once.
CROW:
Could you imagine the tombstone for that one?
>The
only thing she had helped Jay with was when his parents had died.
CROW:
She was right there holding the plug.
TOM: She helped him dance on their graves.
MIKE:
Jay has such wimpy tragedies.
>Somehow
that didn't compare with all the things he'd done What Marrissa
>had
done to deserve such a nice guy like Jay, she didn't know.
ALL: (sing) Karma Karma Karma Karma
Chameleon! You come and go!
You come and...
TOM: You know, some people count their blessings
when there’s a lack
of tragedy in their lives.
MIKE: Leave
it to Marrissa to make it a competition.
> A cold breeze ruffled Marrissa's hair,
and her stomach growled with
>hunger. It was time to go back to her camp.
CROW:
(confused) Camp? What the-?
MIKE:
Remember, about twenty pages ago? That
mannequin playing
Counselor Troi sent her camping?
TOM: Um, was that because the broken gargoyle's
friend attacked
that interstellar Perkin's where Sarah
Conner was waitressing?
MIKE:
Um... I guess. Maybe.
>
She took one last look at the
>view,
then descended from the mountain peak.
TOM: (sings, vindictive) Val-de-JEEEEZ! Val-de-BOOORED!
Val-de-CRUUUUD! Val-de-*SUCK-SUCK-SUCK-SUCK-SUCK-SUCK!*
MIKE:
OK, Tom. We know. Calm down.
CROW:
Can we actually have some plot now?
>
> Jay Gordon was walking along the shore.
CROW:
Guess not.
> The
red sand beach was unique in
>his
experience.
CROW:
It was built on a medical waste disposal site to save time.
> It was the exact color of the
panties that Marrissa always
>wore.
TOM: (polite) After you?
CROW:
(same) Oh, after you.
MIKE:
Together then.
ALL: (cry) *AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!*
> He missed Marrissa.
CROW:
Or, at least her panties, anyway...
TOM: She's been gone what, an hour? Get over it, man!
> She'd always been in
his life.
MIKE:
Like a malignant genetic disease!
> Back
when they
>first
met, she had made quite an impression.
ALL:
*Literally!*
CROW:
Wha wha wha whaaaaaaaaaa.
> He had a broken leg as a
>result
of her unexpected drop in on him, and she a broken arm.
TOM: This Ratliff Backstory Update brought to you
by Xerox! When you
need to say something over, and over, and
over again!
> Still, she
>had
stopped by every day, walking nearly the whole width of the saucer
>section
to find out how he was doing.
MIKE:
So he never recognized the classic signs of a stalker?
> It was an example that Jay had
tried
>to
follow.
CROW:
Every morning he looked in the mirror and asked, "How can I be
more annoying?"
> Marrissa had been there for him,
and he wanted to be able to do
>the
same.
TOM: Oh great, more character descriptions...
> Then Marrissa introduced him to
the joys of
ALL: (Much coughing and "ahem"-ing)
> command.
MIKE:
Like the Joy of Sex, but with shouting!
>
Okay, duties of
>command,
not all of them were joys.
CROW:
Only the parts that let her boss around others.
> He found
that he had a genuine ability
>for
organization and tactics.
TOM: And ice dancing, for some reason.
> good as
Marrissa, but not everyone
>could
be perfect.
CROW:
(mocking, pursing lips) Oh, nah evwymun comma *perfect*!
MIKE:
Sure she can, least she has been thus far.
> It was not until about a month after
Marrissa's parents had died that he
>learnt
how far from perfection Marrissa was.
MIKE:
I'm not convinced "learn" and "burn" are conjugated the same
way.
>
The science fair had been one
>of
the areas that he and Marrissa had constantly been tops in.
TOM: Ah, yes, the science fair! The seminal moment in every kid's
development!
> He had
won
>the
contest five times,
CROW:
Wait- isn't he ten? Did he win one in
kindergarten or something?
MIKE:
Well... maybe he split the booger atom, or found a cure for
cooties.
> and Marrissa four.
TOM: And he was thus slated early on as part of
Marrissa's "List," and
only got himself off through the
marriage.
>
But then again she had only
>entered
it four times. They weren't in the same
division, the fourteen
>months
between them usually assured them of that.
CROW:
Else there would be bloodshed.
>
That time had been
>Marrissa's
last entry, and his third.
TOM: Jeez, ya need a degree in advanced calculus
just to follow the
timeline of this piffle!
>
Marrissa had a rather good project
>on
subspace strings,
MIKE:
(Ris) And here is my Theory of Everything.
It revolves
around *me!*
> and won rather easily.
MIKE: I
always entered beginning nuclear theory for my science fairs.
>
Until Captain Picard had
>called
Marrissa daughter, Jay had never seen Marrissa cry.
TOM: Dead parents she can take in stride, mind
you.
CROW:
(confused) What, at the fair? Why-
(gives up) aw, hell.
Why do I even ask anymore?
MIKE: Steve fell down an access hatch into another
train of thought.
> She had
broken
>down
and cried in the Captain's gentle yet inexperienced embrace.
CROW:
Gentle yet inexperienced...fanfic cliché #83.
MIKE:
(Picard) Good work, Broccoli! I mean,
Barkley! I mean,
minor kid character I never thought I'd
see again!
>
He felt
>real
compassion for his friend, and tried to be there for her. Jay had
>talked
with Counselor Troi about Marrissa.
TOM: How she followed him... tracked his every
move... put slips of paper
labeled "poison" in his
sandwiches...
MIKE:
Troi agreed that she must be stopped, at which time Marrissa arranged
to have the saucer crash under her
piloting, discrediting her for life
in the Marrissaverse.
> He'd followed her advice,
>trying
to keep Marrissa involved, though her relentless organization and
>drilling
the Kid's crew
CROW:
Her "I wanna be a dentist" phase was not a happy chapter for
anyone.
> though that period was
driving his other friends
>insane.
TOM: Which says what about Marrissa herself?
> It wasn't until the Captain took
Marrissa to Earth for that
>vacation
that she began to recover.
MIKE:
She'd discovered booze and horse racing... the two friends who'd
never, ever leave her.
> Marrissa had come back from that trip
with her ensign's pip,
TOM: She'd cut it off when he got too fresh.
CROW:
And the ensign's head, too.
> and
probably
>set
her whole command crew's careers in motion with that one choice.
MIKE: I
notice the lack of adjectives with "choice."
>
Jay
>wasn't
complaining about that.
CROW:
Aloud, anyway.
> Star Fleet
had brought him many things he
>wouldn't
have gotten otherwise.
CROW:
The chance to be assimilated, for one.
> True, he
was now a twenty-three year old
>Star
Fleet Captain,
TOM: Washed up and over-the-hill.
> not a usual path, but
he could say that he had no
>regrets
in his career to date.
MIKE:
Though a large amount of dates in his career to regret.
CROW:
Except for that stint pickin' football games on Fox... man,
that was dumb!
> Even that six
month stint in the Judge
>Advocate
General's Office had been good for his career, though some hadn't
>liked
dealing with a thirteen-fourteen year old Chief Investigating
>Officer.
MIKE:
..who kept asking if the spy from the planet Kruludex didn't
have the dreamiest eyes.
TOM: I always get freaked out by lawyers aged
over a millenium.
> It gave Jay new insight on
Marrissa's time as Chief of Security,
>the
one post of hers that he hadn't had.
> In some ways, Jay had followed in
Marrissa's footsteps.
TOM: But in most ways, she carried him.
> The
only real
>difference
in their posts was that when he was a Lieutenant, he'd been
>Chief
of Operations, and Marrissa had been Chief of Security.
CROW:
Can we stop recapping every single previous Marrissa story?
MIKE:
Stephen's hybridized his introduction scenes with the repetition
of facts from previous stories, then
added his rich love of titles!
It's an entirely new kind of unreadable
scene!
CROW:
Hey, you're right, Mike! I dub this new
form- *backboredom*!
>
But then,
>Marrissa's
parents had been Security Officers, and Jay's father had been
>his
predecessor in Operations.
TOM: (cockney) But then, ah, African swallows are
non-migratory.
CROW:
(same) Oh, yah, I agree on that.
> Jay didn't
mind following in Marrissa's
>path.
MIKE:
As long as he didn't have to read about it!
>Once
he had decided to pursue Marrissa romantically back when they
>were
on the Stargazer, he knew that one of them would have to out rank the
>other,
TOM: So he bought some soap.
> and in addition to having a earlier
start, Marrissa was just plain
>more
talented.
TOM: Knave!
Marrissa is plain at *nothing*!
Begone!
> Marrissa had never said
that, though, and always asked
>Jay's
opinion in meetings.
CROW:
Which the crew came to call "Great Moments in Patronizing
History"!
> Marrissa tried to share as many of the
burdens of command that she could,
TOM:
The ones involving the garbage, mostly.
>and
as a result, Jay had learnt quite a bit about being Captain.
CROW:
And when he graduated, Marrissa gave him a iron glove of his own.
MIKE:
Like when you're captured by the enemy, just say you're the boss
and people'll do what you tell'em to!
> Once
>Marrissa
had returned from maternity leave, he'd been offered his own
>command.
TOM: Of the diaper patrol.
> But she was his life, there was no
way he was going to leave her.
TOM: Thus Jay's first error.
>Plus,
they were a family now.
CROW:
Oh, stay together because of the kids.
That always works!
> Little Sara had
been an unexpected surprise.
MIKE:
And they don't seem bashful saying so.
CROW:
It'll be part of future introduction scenes.
"I'm Marissa
Picard, this is my husband Jay, and my
daughter Sara we didn't
really want."
>
Not that it made her any
>less
welcome. Jay remembered the first time
he'd held his daughter.
CROW:
So can Woody Allen.
TOM: The first time he'd ripped Sara free of
Marrissa's grasp before
she could devour her... good memories!
>
She
>seemed
so fragile and small. And when Marrissa
held her daughter, her
>entire
being changed.
MIKE:
She became a blowfish of some sort.
> She no longer wore the
mask of command that Jay had
>only
occasionally got her to drop.
TOM: Though she did insist people wear ribbons in
their hair to
display their rank.
> It was as
if her whole being centered
>on
the little girl in her arms. Sometimes
he found it amusing when
>Marrissa
talked in baby talk to her little girl.
MIKE:
But when she did it with dignitaries, it was just upsetting.
CROW:
(Ris, playful) Capital gains *shouldn't* be taxed! All income
should be levied at the *same* rate! Yes it should! Yes it should!
> Here was the woman
who
>negotiated
with leaders, defeated vast fleets of enemy starships,
TOM: (Jay) Rocked me like a hurricane...
>
and ran a
>tight
starship, talking nonsense to the little girl sucking on her breasts.
CROW:
Oh, yes Ratliff, THANK you for slipping that little bit in there!
MIKE:
Put those chicken breasts down, young lady!
You're not ready
for solid food!
> But then again, Marrissa was almost a
different person when she was off
>duty.
TOM: Thanks to the sentinent, symbiotic parasite
that lived at the
base of her skull.
> Back when they were dating, Marrissa
always let Jay take the lead.
TOM:
(Ris) Oh, Jay, you're so BUTCH!
CROW:
Oh, pity dates. You know about those,
right Mike?
MIKE:
Oh, yeah. Too well.
>It
had surprised him a first. But he
quickly realized that Marrissa had a
>need
to be pampered and protected.
TOM: Spoiled.
MIKE:
Venerated.
CROW:
Deified.
> As
Captain, she tried to hide that
>need.
CROW:
(grandly) The need for speed!
> After all, she was in charge.
MIKE:
Like Alexander Haig?
> But in
that first five year mission
>on
the Endeavor, Jay began to notice how a simple thing like taking
>Marrissa
out for dinner could remove her from the pressures of command and
>allow
her to recover from them.
CROW:
And we don't need to hear the kind of emergency that would
require bedding Marrissa.
TOM: (Ris) Ah, yes, the plucked hen looks
luscious tonight.
> And when
he protected her, charging into
>battle,
there was no person more grateful.
MIKE: No
person *was* grateful! Stop pretending!
> Back
when they were children on
>the
Enterprise-D, Marrissa was always the person to chose the program on
>the
holodeck.
TOM: Any chance to improve that Kobiyashi Maru
time.
TOM: Oh, no, she chose a program of diet and
exercise with "Sweatin'
to the Oldies Volume 6"!
> Now, she rarely did. As long as it was fun, Marrissa was
>eager
to try whatever Jay suggested.
MIKE: I
don't really like this implication...
> That Forbidden
City Concubine program
>had
been especially well received during the first couple months of their
>marriage.
ALL: Ewwwww!
MIKE: I
bet Jay looked lousy in a kimono.
CROW:
Was Stephen's course in character development taught by
Jacqueline Suzanne?
> Jay heard the bells from the
chapel. It was time to get back. Alexander,
>Martin,
Patterson and Doctor Johnson were coming over for poker tonight.
CROW:
Oh, thank goodness that's over!
MIKE:
(Ris) Now where did I put those marked decks and
exploding chips?
TOM: Time to take a break...
[1...2...3...4...5...6...7]
[OPEN
ON: SOL Bridge. Tom and Crow are
talking amongst themselves.
Tom has a canoe on his head a la the
"portage" sketch in the
Invasion of the Body Snatchers episode. Crow has camouflage
fatigues on, an orange safety vest, and a
fisherman's hat with
lures festooned upon. Mike strides in coolly, gesturing with
his fingers a lot.]
MIKE:
Hey, hey hey, homies! Whattup?
[Crow
and Tom look at him in silence. Mike is
cowed.]
MIKE:
(apologetic) UPN was running a "Martin" marathon.
CROW:
Oh. Well, Michael, Servo and I were so
inspired by the
story today, we've decided to get back
to nature!
MIKE:
Ah! Great. I love camping.
TOM: Oh, not just camping Mike! We're going- (his voice deepens,
and seems to have an echo effect)
Camping! In the *future*!
[A soft
gong crashes. Mike whirls, darting his
head to find the
source of the noise. Once Crow starts talking he gives up and
returns his attention to the bots.]
CROW:
Thanks to our Official Starfleet Camping Kits-
[PAN
back a bit to reveal a large backpack with the words "Official
Starfleet Camping Kit", and Star Trek
insignia.]
CROW:
...which we ordered through the Sharper Image catalogue for a mere
$899.95, we are now able to partake of
the unique opportunities for
self-actualization afforded by (same
echo effect) Camping!
In the *future*!
[Gong
sounds again.]
MIKE:
(rummages through backpack) Hm, let's see, what kinda high-tech
gadgetry we got here... we got... (pulls
out a pill bottle) some
Prozac... (several books) the collected
works of Marianne Williamson...
(a small round device with an ugly
bearded man's picture on it)
an Official Robert Bork moral compass...
and- oh! (a piece of paper)
a gift certificate for one free
regression therapy session at a
participating Liz Arden.
CROW:
Already I begin to question the nature of my identity!
TOM: Me too.
Is it enough to be Tom Servo, the golden voiced Bertrand
Russellof his generation? Future Pulitzer prize-winning theater
critic? The robot equivalent of Albert Schweitzer? Is that really
*me*?
MIKE:
Well... no.
CROW:
It's all part of the moody introspection that is- (pauses)
MIKE:
(nodding, resigned) Camping in the
future.
TOM: (deep voice, echo) Camping!
MIKE:
(impatient) In the future!
TOM: *In the future!*
[Gong.]
MIKE:
Guys, not to question the quality of such fine, fine corporate
entities as Star Fleet and Sharper
Image, but did this thing come
with anything resembling... oh, maybe,
sleeping bags? Canteens?
A tent?
CROW:
(confused) Huh? Tent? What?
MIKE:
You know, things with which you might set up an actual *camp*.
It's what separates camping from hanging
around in the woods
waiting to die.
TOM: Oh, such "real-world"
accoutrements might have been fine for the
"layman" camper of the past,
Mike! But they can't change the fact
that... that....
[Crow
and Tom look at each other warily for a beat.]
CROW:
(softly whimpering) Um... we're cold an' hungry an' the crickets
sound like monsters an' I think we're
kinda lost a little bit.
TOM: (suddenly bursts into inconsolable grief)
Oh-ho-ho! I'm gonna die!
And I still don't know if my mother
loved me!
CROW:
(joining the cry) The shame!
TOM: The indignity!
CROW:
Of camping!
TOM: (crying) In the future!
[Gong. Tom and Crow go into full wail.]
MIKE:
(to Cambot) I'm gonna need a moment with my little Brownie troop
here, but we'll be right back. (to Crow, comforting) It's OK,
sweetie! You're not lost! Here,
here's your Official Robert
Bork compass, what does it say?
CROW:
(sniffles, reads compass Mike is holding up for him) Um...
"Slouching Towards Gomorrah".
MIKE:
See? Gomorrah's nice! Good shopping, close to the interstate!
[CUT
TO: Logo, commercials]
[Everyone
files into the theater.]
MIKE:
Jeez. I thought the Blair Witch kids snapped quickly.
CROW:
Yeah, well, they weren't camping--
TOM: *In the future!*
[Gong
sound again.]
>
>Chapter
Six
>
> Marrissa dropped her backpack in the
front hall. She'd walked all the way
>from
Londonderry,
CROW:
Via Habbleshire, Blumberton, and Whipplecob Dell!
> a good seven miles.
MIKE:
Speaking of rank.
> Her three
days on Mount Hilary had
>been
rather relaxing.
TOM: (Ris) It was kinda dull, 'til I found that
house with the seven
squirts to boss around.
> She had decided a lot
of things up in the clear
>mountain
air, and had lots of things she had to do as a result.
MIKE:
(Ris) OK! Step One: Develop ability to
photosynthesize my own
nutrients.
>
However,
>there
was only one thing she wanted to do now.
ALL:
*SALSA!*
>
There was this lovely hot
>tub
out on the terrace near the living room, and she was going to spend the
>rest
of the day in it.
TOM: (child) She was gonna put the cushions from
the couch over
it an' make it her own private fort!
> She headed towards
the terrace, after taking off
>her
boots and socks. As she walked, she
stripped out of her clothes.
MIKE:
Oh. See, this is good, because it's been
about ten minutes
since I wanted to pry my eyes out of
their sockets with my
own housekeys.
>After
all, this was her house, and if Jay saw her nude, maybe he'd be
>willing
to give her one of those massages that he was so good at.
CROW:
And if the help saw her, maybe their brains would melt out
their ears. That'd be cool.
>
And if
>that
lead to something else, so be it.
TOM: Oh no, please DON'T be it!
> "Going somewhere, Mara?" Jay
said as she stepped on to the terrace.
She
>was
down to her panties, her small, red, lace, panties.
MIKE:
Causing Mike pain. Intense,
psychological, scarring pain.
TOM: She wore that camping, huh? Probably makes Jay feel *real*
secure!
CROW:
(Ris) Um, honey? Martin says I have to
spend seven nights
grocery shopping in Vegas. Where's my leopard-skin bikini?
> "In to that hot tub to get some of
the aches and pains out," Marrissa
>said,
slowly removing her panties.
ALL: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
> "Mind if I join you?" Jay
asked.
ALL: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!
> "I'd be disappointed if you
didn't," Marrissa said.
TOM: Mike, it's no use, just disconnect me now.
CROW:
Well! That's, what, our third Marrissa
sex scene so far? Then I
think that settles it. God is dead.
MIKE:
(laughing) God isn't dead, Crow.
CROW:
Nope, sorry Mike! Can't deny it. God's dead, Ratliff killed
him.
Simple as that. Don't
argue. Don't even try.
> "I take it that you'll need the
tender caresses of Gordon Massage
>Inc.,"
Jay said,
TOM: (Jay) So I'll tell'em to come over. Say, sixish?
> stripping off the dark blue and
green jumpsuit he'd been wearing.
MIKE:
Oh, look, strip away the ugly old paint, there's a perfectly good
pasty white boy underneath.
TOM: Mike, Mike, I'm blind, I can't see!
> Marrissa spent some time admiring Jay's
well developed muscles.
[All
snicker.]
> She
would
>have
never guessed he would turn out like this when she first met him.
CROW:
Though when she had him p-whipped in under a day...
TOM:
This is Stephen looking in the mirror and dreaming, right?
MIKE:
Perfectly logical inference, I'd say.
>Then
again, he had been only five, and at just turned seven, she wasn't
>exactly
looking at men that way yet.
TOM: He was younger, and didn't need to be
crushed. Mentally, at least.
CROW: The
way she looked at Troi, however...
>
Marrissa lowered herself into the
>churning
hot water. It felt so good. She could feel the aches and pains
>melt
away. Jay took up a seat across from
her.
MIKE:
(Jay) Um... I can watch, right? I can
watch you from like,
back here in the corner, and I won't
touch you, or talk, or
even breathe!
>
He began to massage her
>right
leg. She moaned her approval.
MIKE:
Do we really need moaning? Do we really
need ANY of this?
CROW:
You know, I heard the creators of the movie "Species" read this
story a couple of times and still
couldn't create a sex scene half
as creepy?
TOM: Well... if you imagine the Jacuzzi as a big
Cuisinart... and Jay's
slowly reaching towards
"Pulse"... it's kinda engrossing, actually.
MIKE:
Don't, Tom.
> "So, Marrissa, how was the
trip?" Jay asked.
CROW:
Fun reading, compared to where this is going.
> "Relaxing," Marrissa
said. "I hiked all the way up to
the top of Mount
>Hilary,
and the view was wonderful.
TOM: But frigid.
> You can
see everything from
>Londonderry
to the Fighter School from there."
MIKE:
So, two things. That's what you can
see.
> "Whose idea was it to put up that
school in black gothic stone?" Jay
>asked,
CROW:
Anne Rice, maybe?
> switching legs
MIKE:
Nice thing about being a former Borg is interchangable parts.
> "I've always
wondered."
> "I understand the gothic air
traffic control tower was Admiral Sinok's
>idea,"
Marrissa said.
TOM: It was also his idea to have pilots wear
black pointy hats,
and cackle a lot.
> "Everything else
followed that building. He's
>really
big on having our bases look like they've been there forever.
TOM: In fact, he's done up himself to look like a
giant oak tree.
MIKE:
Hell, he should move'm to a public school!
CROW:
I've never pictured the fleet as having much of a Goth movement.
>
And
>you
have to admit that it looks like it's been there longer than
>Londonderry
does."
> "Marrissa, it looks like it's been
there longer than London has been on
>Earth,"
Jay replied. "I'm sure that taking
in the views wasn't all you did."
MIKE:
Though details of the other things we do not need.
TOM: (Jay) Come on! You conquered another civilization, didn't
you?
Hand it over!
> "No, I did lots of thinking, and
even tried my hand at fishing," Marrissa
>said.
CROW:
Tell me that's not a metaphor.
MIKE:
(Ris) Groupers aren't very organized, are they? Eh. They'll learn.
> "I didn't catch anything
though."
MIKE:
Had a good kill ratio, though.
> "I've never done that before,"
Jay mused.
CROW:
(Jay) I've always caught the limit! Ha
ha ha! That's one
thing I'm better at than you. So take that! Ha ha ha!
>
"Come sit on my lap so I can do
>your
back."
ALL:
(crying) NO-HO-HOOOO!
CROW:
Man, I'm gonna need a shower after this bath!
MIKE:
We've been in this bath for one page, and already my soul is
all prune-like and wrinkly.
> "Neither had I," Marrissa
said, as Jay massaged her back.
TOM: (Ris) Oop!
Jay, keep the Little Gordon off my private beach!
CROW:
GAH! (gags)
>
"When I was
>little,
my dad did a little fishing when we went camping, but I was never
>really
interested.
CROW:
Ah! Stephen's beginning to incorporate criticisms of his
work into his writing!
MIKE:
Literally.
> Too caught up in the horses, I think.
TOM: Yeah, he's into the bookies for 35
large. They'll be coming
after him shortly.
>
Ahhh, that feels
>good."
CROW:
Mike, please make this stop, I beg of you!
> "With all the practice I've gotten,
I'd hope it felt good," Jay said.
TOM: (Jay) I have no needs. I exist to serve. I... am Jellyman!
> "Yeah, I did ask for one every
night when I was in my last couple months
>carrying
Sara," Marrissa remarked. "I
probably should have gone up to
>check
on her first."
CROW:
But then we might have missed this whole scene!
MIKE:
(Jay) Um, actually, we kinda traded her for a pizza last night?
It was weird; no one had anything
smaller than a fifty.
> "Are you planning on going back to
stressing yourself over every minute
>you
miss with her?" Jay asked, worried.
MIKE:
[Marrissa] No, I'm down to only every 5 minutes.
> "I know I can't be there every
minute of the day," Marrissa said.
CROW:
So I've designed this cool plastic bubble to keep her in.
>
"It's
>just
that I love taking care of her.
TOM: Or I assume, once I started, I could.
> When I
hold her, I feel like I've
>done
something right, something good, and nothing else matters."
TOM: Though a feeling that nothing else matters
is nothing new to her.
MIKE:
(Ris) I can even tolerate the creepy touch of your lizard-like
hands on my back!
> "It wasn't until that first time I
saw you holding Sara to your breasts
>that
I saw you really relax," Jay said.
CROW:
And saw the readers tense and retch.
> "You aren't that different,"
Marrissa responded, sitting back against Jay.
> "I'd like to see what those Ensigns who
call you 'Mr. Grueling'
CROW:
Ah, Jay recruits from the "creatively-challenged" sector of Star
Fleet.
MIKE:
Jay the disciplinarian. Never seen him
show up.
>
would say
>when
they see you playing with Sara. And I
think you should be shot for
>using
'Achy Breaky Heart' to put her to sleep."
TOM: Hell, ya need a reason? You're getting soft in your young adulthood,
Ris.
CROW:
That image is either really funny, or really sad.
> "It works," Jay defended,
putting his arms around his wife.
> "I don't understand the appeal of
the piece," Marrissa said.
MIKE: (Jay)
You see, since apparently no new music has been written
in over 400 years, our choices are
somewhat limited.
CROW:
Glad to know that it's not just a contemporary thing that Cyrus goes
misunderstood.
> "Apparently, Sara does," Jay
concluded.
MIKE:
(Jay, more spoken than sung) Please break my wife...
my achy-breaky wife...
>
> Early the next morning,
MIKE:
The audience cheered that they didn't have to be around for last night.
> Jay woke up Marrissa with a kiss. "Rise and shine."
CROW: A
brand new plotless day stretches ahead of us!
> Marrissa took a look at the bedside
clock. "It's 0600 hours. Let me go
>back
to sleep." She turned over and
pulled the covers over her head.
> Jay yanked off the covers.
TOM: He's a playful and imp-like scalliwag, he
is.
> "Oh no
you're not. If I have to get up to get
>ready
for that damned Most High and Noble Order of the Heroic Defenders of
>Essex,
ALL: (dully) Heir to the throne of Sobnia,
Supervising Empress of
the Kid's Crew program...
> you are going to join me.
CROW:
(Jay) Panties or no panties, you're going!
MIKE:
Eww! That's an image I did _not_ need!
> Besides, I
need help to get into that
>ridiculous
armor that you insist that I wear for it."
TOM: (Jay) Can I do a couple of tequila shooters
first?
MIKE:
Could be worse, could be a kilt.
> "It happens to be an exact replica
of Henry VII's formal armor."
Marrissa
>said,
CROW:
Right down to the rotten tomato stains from his meetings with
the peasants.
> giving up trying to sleep and going to
her closet. "And stop adding
>descriptions
to the Noble Order of the Defenders of Essex.
MIKE:
-of Ulm!
> It's
not like
>they
need any more."
CROW:
Cause we know how much Marrissa despises titles.
> "Yes, your highness," Jay
replied, as he pulled her back against him,
>showing
that she wasn't really that high.
MIKE:
But everybody must get stoned!
CROW:
Irony! *That's* what Ratliff should try
using sometime.
>
"Tell me again why I have to run
>it
this year."
TOM: [Marrissa] It's good for a laugh.
TOM: (Ris) Well, remember last week, when you
came to me and
said, "Ooh! Let me run it this
year! Can I run it, huh, can I
huh can I can I can I?"
> "Because Clara's Father is on the
other side of the Federation,
MIKE:
What, he defected?
CROW:
Wouldn't you?
>
and you
>are
the highest ranking male member of the Royal Family."
CROW:
And that's a scary thought.
MIKE:
(Ris) Jay, get your codpiece out of your mouth! You have to wear that!
>
Marrissa escaped
>from
his embrace, and pulled out a blue dress.
"Do you think this will do?"
TOM: No, I think blue is all wrong for Jay. I'd go with a green!
> "What about Martin?" Jay
replied,
CROW:
Yeah, the blue would look better on him.
TOM: No, he's wearing a sheer backless evening
gown from Yves Saint
Laurent.
>
putting on the garments that went under
>his
armored chest plate. "And I'd go
with something more formal.
MIKE:
Like a declaration of war.
>
Try that
>13th
century Princess outfit."
[All
snicker.]
TOM: The progressive inbreeding of the royals
really shows in this
generation.
> "Martin is only a Earl,"
Marrissa replied.
MIKE:
He can't wear the princess outfit until he's a queen.
MIKE:
(Ris) Even Mickey Rourke the Fourth is an Earl! And he clips
his toenails with his teeth!
>
"You on the other hand, are a
>Royal
Duke,
CROW:
And that beats three of a kind!
> and husband of the current heir to
the throne. Until Victoria
>marries
William next month, there is no more senior male.
CROW:
[Marrissa] Though I use the term lightly.
TOM: Come on!
The queen's cousin's brother's former *roommate*
outranks Jay!
MIKE:
No. We're in Ratliff's "King
Ralph" continuity.
> The
dark green
>one
or the light violet one?
TOM: The violet would clash with Jay's eyes, I
still say green.
CROW:
Her stiletto comes in *colors*? Neat!
> "The green one, though the violet
one does bring out your eyes.
MIKE:
Better put'em back in before the public sees.
>
You know,
>all
these Royal titles can really get annoying sometimes."
> "I've given up on complaining about
accidents of birth."
TOM: Speaking of which, where's Sara?
>
> Marrissa was enjoying being the pretty
face this time.
CROW:
Must be a hell of a convention...
>
Usually she had
>some
sort of speech to give, or had to talk with some ambassador.
TOM: Or dispense some two-fisted street justice.
MIKE:
But today she was Marrissa: Air-head eye candy!
>
This
>time,
all the words were Jay's.
CROW:
(Jay, whiny/uncertain) Um... cole slaw?
Myopia? Patent
leather?
Squid!
> The Noble Order of the Defenders
of Essex
>was
a male order,
CROW:
(sings) Who controls the British crown?
TOM: (sings) Who keeps the Metric System down?
ALL: (sings) We dooooo! We dooooo!
> all the females in the
chapel were mainly there for the
>socializing
afterwards.
MIKE:
It's a medieval Tailhook!
TOM: (knight, slyly) Come to my room later and
I'll show you my
singing sword!
> Taking one of the 128
positions in the order was a
>high
honor,
TOM: Hence the presence of the females there...
CROW:
(slyly) Ah, the Camelot-Sutra!
MIKE:
All right, that's far enough.
TOM: You started it.
> and very rarely did less than a
hundred attend the annual
>meeting.
TOM: This is all just an excuse for the big
Prairie Dog Shoot
afterwards.
> She could see her father across
the aisle with the Doctor.
TOM: Beverly was complaining about another
non-speaking cameo, but Gates
needed the money.
>
She
>knew
that there would be a conversation after the meeting. Hmmm, Jay was
>adding
to the name again.
MIKE:
The Royal High Teenage Mutant Justice League of Anglomerica!
> A quick elbow
cut it short, and bruised Marrissa
>due
to the polished steel armor plate Jay was wearing.
ALL:
HA!
CROW:
Parenthetical comic relief! The Ratliff
battle scene of
the vaudeville world!
MIKE: Oh,
the whimsical world that is Marrissa's little planet! Ha ha ha!
Kill them!
TOM: (Ris) You can't stay in that armor forever,
Gordon!
Fight like a man! Come on, ya pansy!
> Fortunately
for
>Jay,
the ceremony was rather short.
MIKE:
One left jab through his visor and a flash of light later,
it was morning.
>
Unfortunately for Marrissa, the
>ceremony
was being followed by a long reception in her main hall.
CROW:
I'm beginning to fear that there is no plot to this.
TOM: When is there ever?
MIKE:
Oh, damn. The deejay's gonna do the
garter bit. It's so tacky!
> As the ceremony ended, Jay took
Marrissa's arm,
TOM: ...leaving her only with a bloody stump.
>
and led her out the chapel
>doors.
TOM: (sings) Goin' out the chapel, we got! Drunk, and got
ma-a-a-arried!
> The day had suddenly cleared from the
storm clouds which had been
>threatening
earlier.
CROW: A
neon sign saying "SYMBOLISM!" started flashing in the
heavens.
> The morning doves
cooed from their perches around the
>slate
covered court yard as they walked around to the main castle entrance,
MIKE:
(dove) Hey, guys! Ever see "High
Anxiety"?
TOM: (dove) Oh, come on, Earl! They're already covered in the
sickening filth of the story.
>that
of the great hall, the hundred five members and their ladies following
>them
in procession. They entered the high
oak arched chamber, and took up
>positions
by the door to greet their guests
> The first was the oldest member of the
order;
TOM: Oh sweet mother of Gandhi, no...
ALL: We have introduction sign!
>
Frederick James,
MIKE:
*Rick James?*
>
fifth Duke
>of
Holbrook.
TOM: First Superfreak of Hollywood and Vine!
> The white haired gentleman
was escorting his granddaughter,
[All
cough a bit]
>his
wife had pasted away some years earlier.
CROW:
His wife was still doing a nickel in Attica for possession of
a controlled substance and assault with
intent to funk!
MIKE:
Wait, "pasted away". We
missed a real good typo.
TOM: Eh, who cares.
>
Frederick shook Jay's hand.
>"Excellent
play on the order's name, Most High Noble and Penitent Order of
>the
Valiant and Courageous Defenders of the Most Holy Planet of Essex
>indeed.
MIKE:
If that's what passes for rolling down the isles humor, no wonder no one
shows up for the meetings anymore.
CROW:
(Rick) You're a very freaky knight, one you don't take home
to the queen mother, eh wot?
> I don't think I've heard so much
humor ejected in these meetings
[All
snicker. Crow shakes his head.]
CROW:
Oh, Stevie me boy, there are some problems a spell checker
can't begin to solve.
>since
the late King George was in his youth.
I must encourage Tory to do
>have
you do these things more often."
MIKE:
The Labor party be damned!
> "Now, Father, you shouldn't refer
to the Queen like that," his dark haired
>granddaughter
remarked,
MIKE:
(snicker) What? She calls her grandfather Father? Her mom
was her sister? She's her own niece? What the-?
TOM: This must be the *southern* part of England.
CROW:
It's Ratliff's little tribute to Mark Twain!
Mr. Twain
will now rise from the grave, hunt
Stephen down and eat his
brain.
> trying to lead him
past the couple.
CROW:
Jay's used to it, don't worry.
> "I'll refer to my god daughter any
way I please,
TOM: I will now refer to her as Stinky!
>
and Tory wants me to call
>her
that," Frederick said, as his granddaughter lead him away.
MIKE:
The ever enjoyable private lives of people we don't know.
CROW:
(g'daughter) Come on. I want to
introduce you to my cousin,
your uncle!
> Several more couples went by with just a
hand shake and a greeting.
MIKE:
(dully) Congratulations, I hope you'll be very idiot.
>
One
>old
lady treated Jay with a menacing glare.
TOM: Freaky random old ladies, just what the
story needed.
>
It seemed his conduct wasn't
>appreciated
by all.
MIKE:
(Jay) Perhaps that rubber-snake-in-the-toilet gag is getting old.
TOM: (old lady) You made us miss "Diagnosis:
Murder"!
> A couple of the ladies
were asking Marrissa about her
>daughter. All and all, it was a rather easy
beginning. Martin arrived
>with
Shayna as his escort.
CROW:
(laughing) Whoa-ho! Watch out! We all know what a
*practical joker* she is!
MIKE:
Huh-hyuk! Screwball hilarity can't be
far behind! Wooo!
> "Tell me again, why you couldn't do
this?" Jay asked.
> "Because you out rank me,
CROW:
Martin said, slipping Jay some deodorant.
> and it was the
Queen's idea, and she out ranks
>both
of us," Martin replied.
TOM: Suddenly his head *explodes*! It was filled with
*whipped cream*! It's all over Jay's armor!
MIKE:
Ha ha! Shayna! You lovable scamp!
> "Besides,
you did a good job."
> "Oh, renaming the order wasn't
enough to prevent me from doing it again?"
>Jay
replied.
CROW:
Suddenly Jay feels something wriggling in his helmet, and
it's a *black widow spider*!
MIKE:
He falls down dead!
ALL: *Shayna!*
TOM: (laughing) You're incorrigible! You nut!
> "I told you, Jay, that you'd get
stuck with stuff like this when you
>married
me," Marrissa said.
> "Yes, Mara, but you said I could
have fun with it," Jay replied.
TOM: Aw, cripes.
Is he gonna introduce a new nickname every
single episode?
>
"I'll
>talk
to you later, Martin."
> Next up was Fleet Admiral Jean-Luc
Picard, Commander, Star Fleet.
MIKE:
(Picard) Tea, Earl Grey, Hot.
CROW:
Story, Plotless, Insufferable.
>Actually,
they were just getting into the military contingent. A third of
>the
order was in Star Fleet,
TOM: Hell, everybody's Star Fleet. Only difference between them
and the Borg is no cool eyepieces.
> and he'd seen the most grins during the
>ceremony
from them. Of course, he still couldn't
read his father-in-law's
>expression.
CROW:
He's kinda in a bald mood right now.
Try again later.
> Some said that while on duty, Cmdr
Star Fleet
[All
cackle.]
MIKE:
Pat, I'd like to solve?
> had the
>definition
of a poker face. The only reason why
the 'on duty' label was
>there,
was due to the lunches he had with his children at the Admiralty.
TOM: You see, kids, sometimes, when a word has
been very, very bad,
it must spend eternity in a Ratliff
sentence, far, far away from
any thought it could possibly relate to!
> "Good Afternoon, Jay,"
Jean-Luc said. "How is the leave
going?"
MIKE:
(Jay) It already left, sir. Ha ha! Get it?
Ah, screw you.
> "It's been a welcome repose,
sir," Jay replied.
CROW: Strike repose, there's nothing to it! Vogue!
Heh heh!
> "May I hope that
some
>emergency
doesn't end it soon?"
MIKE:
(Picard) Ya better. I sure as hell
won't.
> "I'm not sure that I can stop that,
Jay," Jean-Luc said, allowing a trace
>of
tension into his brow.
TOM: The trace of tension must've done its
homework and cleaned
its room.
> "It looks
like we may have some problems on
>Romulus,
but that's a problem we can handle later.
CROW:
(Picard) And my procrastination therapy, but that's a "B"
priority right now.
>
Enjoy your leave and
>your
daughter while you can. They grow up
all too soon."
MIKE:
(sighing) You know, if anyone but Stephen had written that,
I'd know the double meaning was
intentional.
> "If you'd like to see Sara, she's
in the nursery," Jay said.
CROW:
(Jay) But since I know you, there's a pitcher of daiquiris
with our name on it in the billiard
hall. Let's rock.
>
"Lynn says
>that
she's bring Jackie down later."
> "I don't suppose you've read
Jackie's letter of protest?" Jean-Luc said.
TOM: Characters can't protest to the author. Jackie should know
better.
> "Jackie is protesting something?
I've never heard her complain before,"
>Jay
replied.
MIKE:
(Jay) Of course I do wind up doing a lot of singing with my
hands over my ears when Jackie's in the
room...
> "Apparently, Clara made her Acting
Chief Engineer," Jean-Luc said.
CROW:
Huh. Guess there weren't any qualified
*unfertilized
embryos* available!
>
"She's
>not
happy."
> "Let me guess, you're letting it go
until Marrissa gets back," Jay said.
TOM: (Picard) I'm letting everything go,
Jay. I'm surrendering to
nature's mysterious, unfathomable plan.
> "No one is filling Marrissa's top
posts until she gets back," Jean-Luc
>said. "I'm not going to get involved in
it."
MIKE:
Oh, the world does stop when Marrissa gets off. I'm glad
we cleared that up.
TOM: Once again, Jean Luc "All hands abandon
ship" Picard displays
the leadership that made him famous.
CROW:
*cough*STARGAZERINCIDENT!
> "Good idea," Jay said. "Check out the wine. It's the new Essex Hanover
>'75. Marrissa says it's nearly as good as the
'47."
TOM: But then, Marrissa thinks nail polish remover
was nearly as
good as the '47.
MIKE:
(Picard) No thanks. These days, I'm
huffing Klingon
industrial solvent.
> "I'll have to check it out."
>
> Marrissa was chatting with the Duke of
Holbrook
CROW:
Hey, Hal Holbrook's ancestors did pretty good for themselves.
>
when she spied her sister
>entering
the room. She was wearing a nice green
dress, with a rather short
>cascading
skirt.
MIKE:
And a bloody dagger tattooed across her bicep!
> It appeared to be one of
Garek's works. Jackie was
>proceeding
purposefully across the room.
CROW:
(Jackie) I am a messenger from Mua'Dib!
[Tom
snickers.]
> Her
eyes made contact with
>Marrissa,
and Marrissa decided that she better
MIKE:
...get the hell outta Dodge before Jackie got into one of her
screaming fits again.
>
talk to her soon.
> "Excuse me, your grace,
TOM:
-lessness...
> but I believe
that my little sister needs to have
>a
word with me," Marrissa said.
CROW:
(Duke) Oh, yes! Our vital trade
negotiations *must* be put
on hold so you can discuss whether boys
who use hair gel
are icky!
> "Go right ahead, I want to get a
word with Sir Jay," the Duke said.
"Your
>husband
is a real treasure.
MIKE:
You should bury him and hide the map.
> Don't let him
get away."
> "I have no intention of doing
so," Marrissa replied,
TOM: I designed my ankle-bracelet monitoring
system to prevent it!
CROW:
In fact, every night I chain him to the wall, just to be sure.
> before heading
>towards
her sister.
> They met by one of the window
seats. "Marrissa, you've got to
help me,"
>Jackie
said.
CROW: I
tried sending a message to Ben Kenobi, but I think the
"droid" I used was a garbage
receptacle!
> "What's the problem?" Marrissa
asked, as she sat down in the window seat.
> "Commander Sutter-Rozhenko
TOM: Of the Boston and Hyannisport
Sutter-Rozhenkos?
> decided to
make me acting Chief Engineer while
>she
was in command," Jackie began.
"I protested.
CROW:
(Ris) Protested?
MIKE:
(Jack) Well, I did cry, too. A
little. (pause) All right!
I held my breath 'til I passed out! But she still promoted me!
> I'm just not ready for
>that
yet, but she made me do it. It was okay
for a while, but now I've got
>two
section chiefs feuding over territory, another isn't listening to any
>of
my suggestions.
CROW:
(contempt) Shyah! You're a *girl*?
> The whole department is
falling to pieces around me and
>I
don't know what to do."
TOM: (Jackie) Calgon, take me awayyyyy!
MIKE:
(Ris) Well, the hold-your-breath thing sounds promising.
> "I just heard about your initial
letter of protest," Marrissa said.
"And
>frankly,
I'm surprised you've lasted this long.
MIKE:
That's right, build up her confidence.
CROW:
(Ris) I mean, sure, the poison was labeled "slow acting",
but my lord!
>
I plan on reprimanding
>Clara
for putting you in this position when I get back,
TOM: (Jack) Oo!
Is "reprimand" where you put her thumbs in those
cool little vices?
> but that
doesn't
>help
you now, does it?"
> Jackie shook her head morosely.
> "It's Vigat and Dudley fighting
over territory again, right?" Marrissa
>said.
MIKE:
(Ris) Ah, yes, my old nemeses Vigat and Dudley. I see
you somehow escaped from my Prison For
People Whose Names
Piss Me Off on the third moon of Rigel
IV.
CROW:
(Ris) Do what I'd do: Shoot 'em.
>Jackie
nodded. "Well, chose a dividing
line, and stick to it.
TOM: (Ris) Now you'll be tempted to divide them
crosswise, but
keep in mind that doesn't take very
long, so its deterrent
effect is lessened.
>Clara
probably has one listed. She really
gets tired of them going after
>each
other.
CROW:
Hey, it's been two paragraphs and *I'm* sick of it already.
> She's been complaining about those
two since I took command of
>the
Endeavor. As for Reed, if he doesn't
listen to orders, then relieve
>him,
MIKE:
Oh yeah. Fired by a girl. That'll solve things.
CROW:
Yup, morale will soar up to the same high levels it was at
when Ris was on board!
> or stop him from doing anything else
until he follows orders."
> "But they won't listen to me, I'm
only thirteen," Jackie said.
TOM: Oop!
Rational thought! Ratliff'll put
her on probation!
> "Jackie, when I was thirteen I was
Chief CONN officer on the
>Enterprise-D,"
Marrissa said.
ALL: (cry) *NO-HO-HOO! Not again not again not again!*
> "By the
time I turned fourteen, I was Chief
>of
Security on her successor.
MIKE:
By the time you were twelve I was *SICK OF YOU!*
TOM: (desperate crying) God, there's not even a
crappy incoherent
plot to fall back on! It's just *her*!
CROW:
(scared) Mike?
TOM: Talking!
And stripping!
CROW:
(sobbing) : Make him stop!
TOM: (hysterical) And stripping, and talking, and ruminating about
what she could be talking about,-
CROW:
Make Servo stop!
TOM: And then we see her *panties?!*
TOM and
CROW: (screaming together) *AAAAAAAUGH!*
MIKE:
Aw, guys! It's OK! Look, we're nearly through! Just around
the bend!
TOM: I'm *past* the bend, Mike! Beyond the bend! I'm never
coming back! Forget about me! Leave me
behind!
MIKE:
Not gonna happen, buddy. Come on. Riff through. You can
do it.
> Age does
not matter. Ability and rank do.
MIKE:
In the Land of Singing Pink Furbies with Fluffy Bunny Slippers!
>You
are simply the best Computer Security Officer the Enterprise has ever
>had."
CROW:
(Jack) But you created the post for me!
> "I'm the only one this Enterprise
has had," Jackie interrupted.
ALL:
D'OH!
MIKE:
Well, we still beat him to it. He's
learning, though.
> "That may be so, but you still
deserve the post as one of Clara's five
>Assistants,"
Marrissa continued.
TOM: So how many more does she need for a
coven? Seven?
> "I
don't know why you were made Acting
>Chief,
but I do know that you can do it.
CROW:
(Ris) You just need to cram eight years of schooling and
apprentice work into an all-nighter! Brew some coffee and
get cracking!
> You
directed a whole team of Star
>Fleet
cryptographers during the war.
MIKE:
True, you just told them where to shop, but that's a skill!
> Jackie,
you've shown your talents in
>the
area of leadership. Not much, but just
enough for the Command Team to
>take
notice.
TOM: (stoned musician) Close enough for jazz,
man.
> You'll probably be put
though many command tasks in the next
>couple
years.
CROW:
(Ris) I'll be commanding you to, like, eat your peas, be
home by six, play "The
Entertainer" on the piano for company...
> We may even decide to send
you to Command School some time
>down
the road."
MIKE:
Huh. So the decisions she made in the
clear mountain air
were that everything's just peachy, I
guess.
CROW: Yup!
No lessons learned here! Those
who ignore history
grow up to captain starships!
> "Really?" Jackie said, perking
up.
MIKE:
(Ris) No, not really! Ha ha ha! I can't believe you fell
for that! You'd be better off picking out my belly button
lint.
TOM: You'd think after Marissa, Star Fleet
would've made a
"Tara Lipinski" rule to deal
with these little brats.
CROW:
It was just as much a Michelle Kwan rule, Tom.
She
started early, too.
> "Really," Marrissa said. "You may not have come through the
unique events
>that
lead to my quick path to command, but that may be for the better.
MIKE:
Low body counts are good for business.
Keeps the grunts happy.
>
I
>was
always too driven, and I think it's caused me some problems.
CROW:
Problems *we'll* never see, but problems nonetheless!
> Then
>again,
Star Fleet went though two wars during the first five years of my
>career."
MIKE:
(Ris) Of course, I started both of them, but let's not
dwell on the past, shall we?
TOM: Hm, before Marrissa, peace, justice and
brotherhood...
post-Marrissa, wars, famine and
pestilence. Nah! I don't
see a connection.
> "You had problems?" Jackie
asked.
> "Of course I did," Marrissa
said.
MIKE:
You think it's easy stackin' bodies that high?
> "My career hasn't been
all smooth
>sailing
up the river of rank.
CROW:
"Up the River of rank." Yeah,
that's a pretty good description
of where we are right now.
TOM: Rank stories, rank character motivation...
just rank!
MIKE:
We're also short on paddles, Cap'n.
> In fact, I think
my rapid promotions in rank
>caused
the most trouble.
CROW:
(Ris) I got *so* rank *so* quickly...
MIKE:
OK, OK. We've milked this cow. Let's move on.
TOM: (Ris) My 19 pips placed severe stress on the
universe's
plausibility continuum.
> With you, we can
afford to take some time. And I
>promise
you, if you have any problems, you can always come to me."
MIKE:
(Ris) I'll take care of them "personally."
CROW:
Awwww! She's tugging at my heart! In fact she's about to
rip it out of my chest, I think.
TOM: (chuckling) That's good, Mike.
> "Thank you Marrissa," Jackie
said.
> "Oh, and one thing, anything you
ask with my proper name, it's unofficial,
>and
private," Marrissa said.
CROW:
(Ris) Ask me as "Queen Lord-A-Mighty" and I tear you a new one!
> "Include
the rank, and I take official notice
>and
act as such. It's a simple way I use to
separate the two roles."
MIKE:
(Jackie, bored) Eh, separate this!
> "I understand," Jackie said.
TOM: (entranced) Yes. I understand. Marrissa
Picard can restore
the greatness that was Britain.
> "Now
if you'll excuse me, I've got a father
>who
managed to forget my last birthday."
[All
chortle.]
CROW:
Jackie's had some Random Access Spite installed.
> "How did he manage to do
that?" Marrissa said. "I
think it's the first
>time
he's missed any important date."
> "That's what I intend to find
out," Jackie said.
MIKE:
(Jack, pleasantly) But enjoy your evening, and remember, I
always resented how dad liked you best!
> "I think Captain
Gleason
>is
looking for you."
> "I'll head the other way then. If I hear that Arnez V story again I'll
>die
of boredom."
CROW:
Irony!
MIKE:
Ratliff!
TOM: They'll meet for the first time, today! On, "He Didn't Really
Mean That- Did He?"
>
>
>Epilogue
>
TOM: Epilogue implies something *happened*!
CROW:
Steve's just rubbing our face in it now, isn't he, Mike?
> It didn't take Marrissa long to get back
into the swing of things on the
>Enterprise.
MIKE:
Caning is like riding a bicycle, really.
> No sooner than after she had
gotten Sara to sleep back on the
>Enterprise,
was she beginning to
TOM: ...browbeat her subordinates, just like old
times.
> handle
some of those things that had been
>left
undone in her absence. Most of that was
paperwork.
CROW:
Paperwork? That was the big revelation
she had on the mountain?
TOM: Well, remember, it's Mount Hillary. A bureaucratic peak.
>
She hoped to get
>most
of it done by the time she returned to Romulas.
MIKE:
Ah, Romulas, home of romance, remoras, and Ro-man!
> First thing she handled were the big
things.
[All
clear their throats.]
>
That being the Chief of
>Operations
job. She noted that her father had finally found a replacement
>for
her there, but Vice Admiral Data wouldn't be free for another week.
TOM: The amazing thing is after all this time,
Stephen still thinks
we care about stuff like this?
CROW:
Yeah, Steve sits in front "Voyager" screaming, "How can they
possibly infiltrate the Borg collective
without first completing
their org charts?!"
>She
moved the Second Fleet from Vulcan to Betazed,
MIKE:
Taz's first feature-length movie!
TOM: (sings) Come to Taz-Mania! Come to Taz-Mania!
>
and forwarded Commodore
>La
Forge's complaints about
CROW:
...not getting any for years on end...
> still being in
command to her father.
CROW:
The American with the French name complains to the Frenchman
with the British accent.
MIKE:
With a name like that, how did Giordi escape being a pirate?
>
Then the
>First
Fleet job, which she was going to have to keep, that didn't please
>Marrissa.
TOM: And the volcano erupted, wiping the tiny
tribal village off
the face of the earth.
> Promote Commander Ikari to fill
the Captaincy of the
>Evangelical.
MIKE:
To be honest, I pictured Star Fleet being a lot more secular.
TOM: Nah, you're thinking of Earth pre-Pope Kirk
I.
CROW:
(Shatner) Ah! Vay! Maria!
In! Exelsus! Deo!
> Transfer Lieutenant
Commander Saotome to be his First
>Officer. Hopefully that would be a good team.
MIKE; I
don't know if I trust Security Officer Spreewell, though.
> After an hour, she got to the
Enterprise. First up,
TOM: You know what this is, guys? It's Ratliff trying to sneak another
boring recital of introductions and
ranks past us.
CROW:
It's...hey, you're right! RATLIFF! YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE, YOU
SONOVA--
MIKE:
All right, relax...it's the epilogue...
>
complaint from
>Lieutenant
junior grade Jacqueline Picard, regarding temporary posting as
>Chief
Engineer. Attached note from acting
Captain Clarrissa
>Sutter-Rozhenko
explaining the action.
TOM: (Ris, dismissive) Oh right, Clarrissa
explains it all. Ha-ha.
CROW:
(introducing) Clarrissa, Marrissa.
Marrissa, Clarrissa.
> Attached evaluation of acting
First
>Officer,
Alexander Rozhenko of Lieutenant Picard as Chief Engineer.
CROW:
(grandly) And Murray Alper, as The Beaver!
>Slightly
above average marks, with notable improvement towards the end of
>assignment.
MIKE:
(reading) "Once she stopped, things improved dramatically."
> Hmmm, reasoning looks solid, but
better candidates where
>available. Then again, that would have taken the Chief
of Security over,
>no
that wouldn't have worked.
TOM: Man, seating people at a wedding reception
isn't this complicated.
> Jackie seemed to
have done fine, but a
>warning
to Clara was warranted.
CROW:
Perhaps a water moccasin in the bidet.
> Schedule an
appointment for tomorrow.
> Marrissa was deep into reviewing the
logs made in her absence,
MIKE:
(Ris) Hm, 9 AM, party... 10 AM, party...
11, talk about what a
great party they just had... Noon, party...
and 1, Weekly Staff Meeting
to discuss upcoming parties.
>
by the time
>Jay
got back to their quarters. He'd been
stuck reviewing cadets at the
>Fighter
Academy with Marrissa's father.
TOM: (Jay, wearily reviewing) Dazzling...
breathtaking... grabs you by
the throat and won't let go...
> Not
really the most exciting task,
>but
not really that boring either. Jay
snuck up behind Marrissa.
"Boo."
MIKE:
(Marrissa, bored) What a surprise.
CROW:
Eh. That's still cleverer than
"Candid Camera".
> Marrissa jumped in her chair.
MIKE:
Drew her phaser, and calmly created a new opening for Star
Fleet officer.
>
"Don't do that!" she exclaimed.
> Jay embraced her. "Don't do what," he said, before
kissing her.
TOM: (Ris) Well *that* for starters! Blech!
Fish lips!
> "Scare me that way," Marrissa
said.
CROW:
Scare me some other way. Tell me about
the next Ratliff story!
> Then
she noticed the tricorder in his
>hand. "What's that for?"
MIKE:
(Jay) My hand? Well I use it to
manipulate objects, but
that's not important right now!
> "I found it on the floor next to
the replicator," Jay said.
"Clara must
>have
left it when she upgraded our replicator's memory."
TOM: (Jay) When she was... um... scanning the
replicator's vital signs.
CROW: (acid)
Showed more brain activity than *some* people I
could name.
> Marrissa looked at the read out, turning
it so it scanned her better.
>"Jay,
you are a rotten liar," she said, reading the results.
MIKE:
Well, sure. Why break pattern now?
> "So, you're upset with the results
of our time off?" Jay asked, taking the
>tricorder
and dropping it to the desk.
ALL: (on top of each other) Well now that you
mention it/You bet
we're upset/*You didn't do anything!*
> He
turned her around.
> "Not really, I just wanted a little
more time between children," Marrissa
>said.
CROW:
She's pregnant again? Wow, the future's
really Catholic,
isn't it Mike?
MIKE:
(laughing) In this world, yeah.
> "Just tell me one thing, did this
figure into the timing of you
>forcing
my time off the Enterprise."
TOM: And there's the bell! The recriminations are off and running!
> "No, you needed it. This," Jay said, hugging her, "is
merely a bonus."
MIKE:
So sex is like a frequent flyer program, and babies are the
free trips to Houston?
> "You wouldn't say that if you had
to have them," Marrissa said.
> "This from the girl who once told
me that she enjoyed it and wanted a
>dozen
of them?" Jay asked.
CROW:
(Ris) I was talking about the chocolate-dipped shortbread
at Au Bon Pan!
> "I love children, and want lots of
them," Marrissa clarified. "I
don't
>like
most of the process of having them.
MIKE:
(Ris) Including that icky sex part!
TOM: (Ris) No committees, no paperwork- it's
nearly unmanageable!
>
Especially the last couple of
>months."
> "This time, I promise you won't
have to fight a war during them," Jay said.
MIKE:
(Ris) Oh, the war I liked. Throwing up
every morning?
That sucked ice.
> "When did you be acquire the gift
of precognition?" Marrissa asked, moving
>in
to kiss him.
CROW:
(Jay) You gave it to me last Christmas, remember?
TOM: (Ris) I thought I gave you the power to
animate the dead.
CROW:
Nah, that was Beverly. Remember, she
got in trouble when
she said it was easier to let her
patients die than treat
them?
TOM: Oh, right!
> All further conversation was lost to other
tasks, until,
>of
course, Sara woke up crying.
MIKE:
(Sara) Get me out of this fanfic!
>
>
>
TOM: Ha!
So it's a happy ending! Except
it's not much of an
ending, and I'm kinda torqued on the
whole, really.
MIKE:
Yeah, we don't end so much as stop, do we.
CROW:
Oh, like you'd prefer he kept going.
I'm sure.
[1...2...3...4...5...6...7...]
[OPEN
ON: SOL Bridge. Mike is shaking his
head, wobbling a bit, as if
he's just got off the Tilt-O-Whirl. Crow doesn't look that much
better.
But Tom seems strangely determined.]
CROW:
Wow.
MIKE:
Eyah.
TOM: Pretty much.
CROW:
I'm... so...
MIKE:
(exhaling) Wow.
TOM: Not since "Starfighters" have we
waded so deep into so
much nothing.
CROW:
Well, if you think of it as a character study... of a character
we never liked very much... guiding a
younger character to follow
her path to unlikability... (shudders)
Ugh. It's like your will's
being hit with a fish tied to a baseball
bat.
MIKE:
(uncertain) The writing was... better?
TOM: (too buoyant) Oh! Oh, yes, Mike! In fact,
worthy of Hollywood!
MIKE:
Oh, come on!
TOM: Sure!
In fact, it inspired us to create a little comedy skit,
which you'll find on the desk right
there.
MIKE:
(sincere) A comedy sketch? Wow, that's
unexpected.
Real creative of you guys.
CROW:
OK, we're in a big Hollywood movie studio, see? And you're
Board Chairman. Read the lines there.
MIKE:
OK. Ahem. "Well, I see my two best scriptwriters. Are back
from lunch!"
TOM: "Hi, J.C.!"
MIKE:
"You. Have a script?"
CROW:
"Yes."
MIKE:
"What is. The title?"
CROW:
"Ten Things I Hate About You."
TOM: (big delivery) "Yeah! It's about *Stephen Ratliff!*" Ha!
Ha!
Ha!
MIKE:
(putting script down, nodding lightly) OK, guys. I can see
where this is going-
TOM: (still enthusiastic) And-and-and you know
the great thing about
it, J.C.? It's that there's enough material for (suddenly
vindictive) *136 sequels!* And we're going to share *every single
one of them with you! Right now!*
MIKE:
(unsettled) Tom, I think we get the point-
TOM: For example! "ANOTHER Ten Things I Hate About You"! "Ten MORE
Things I Hate About You"! "National Lampoon's Caribbean Vacation,
Where I Think Of Ten MORE Things I Hate
About You!"
CROW:
(confused) Tommy, this part isn't in my script. Did you do
rewrites, or...?
TOM: "Saving Private Ryan, So I Can Tell Him
Ten MORE Things I Hate
About You!" "Schindler's List"!
MIKE:
(double take) Schindler's List?
TOM: Yes!
Of Ten MORE Things I Hate About You!
MIKE:
(walking away) That's it! I'm outta
here.
[Mike
exits, but Tom will not be denied, and he follows him, carrying
his list of sequels.]
TOM: (following Mike) "On The Twelfth Day Of
Xmas, My True Love Gave to
Me Ten MORE Things I Hate About
You!" That's a holiday release.
We're very hopeful on that. And action!
"The World Is Not Enough,
But Here Are Ten MORE THINGS I Hate
About You!" Come on, J.C!
*Let's make cinema history, god dammit!*
[Crow
is now alone on the bridge. After a
beat, the light flashes.]
CROW:
Oh! Mike Ovitz, Steven Spielberg, and
David Geffen are calling!
TOM: [offscreen] "Ten Things I Hate About
You That Wouldn't Die!"
"The List of Adrian Messenger,
Which Contains Ten MORE Things
I Hate About You!" "The
Matrix! Of A Spreadsheet! Of TEN MORE
FRIGGIN' THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU!!"
CROW:
I'll just get it, then.
[Castle
Forrester. Bobo, scorched and still smoking, is seated in front of
a computer. Pearl and Brain Guy are observing
from a safe distance.]
BOBO: So what's this story about, Lawgiver?
PEARL:
Why, it's about a nice girl named Marrissa! And a nice boy named
Wesley! And together, they do nice
things!
B.G.: It's all very nice, really!
BOBO: Oh, okay! I'll start reading.
[Bobo
peers at the screen for a moment. Then, the top of his head catches fire.]
BOBO: AHHHHH! [falls to the floor, trying to put
out his head. Brain Guy tries to
douse the flames with some of the
liquid from his brain pain. Pearl walks
up to the camera.]
PEARL:
Someday, Nelson...someday...
[Fade
out.]
Star
Trek: The Next Generation and all related characters and
situations
are trademarks of and copyright of Paramount Picture
Corporation
and Viacom. All rights reserved.
Mystery
Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and
situations
are trademarks of and copyright of Best
Brains, Inc.
All
rights reserved.
Stephen
Ratliff appears courtesy of Mutant Enemy Productions.
Grrr.
Argh.
Use of
copyrighted and trademarked material is for non-commercial
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review, and commentary purposes only; no infringement
on the
original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains,
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or
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No
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are or
should be implied. All characters in this work are
fictional
, and any resemblance to actual people,
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If so,
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Keep
circulating the posts.
Twang.
> "You mean Lieutenant Marrissa Amber
Picard, Princess of Halifax,
>
Heir to the throne of Essex, Supervising Officer of the Kid's Crew
>
program, Chief of Security on the Enterprise," Jay recited.
>
"Did I leave any out?"