From aloomis@whale.st.usm.edu Sun Aug 28 16:11:04 CDT 1994 Article: 2282 of rec.arts.tv.mst3k Path: nntp.st.usm.edu!whale.st.usm.edu!not-for-mail From: aloomis@whale.st.usm.edu (Austin George Loomis) Newsgroups: rec.arts.tv.mst3k,alt.tv.mst3k Subject: [MiSTied] MST Adventures 102 (I'm LONG with a short!) Date: 28 Aug 1994 13:22:02 -0500 Organization: Morden Cabal Interstellar Lines: 1239 Message-ID: <33qkka$1422@whale.st.usm.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: whale.st.usm.edu Xref: nntp.st.usm.edu rec.arts.tv.mst3k:2282 alt.tv.mst3k:27235 [The SoL. Mike leaps into camera range from the left. He is wearing dreadlocks and shades, and his jumpsuit is topped off by a denim vest.] MIKE: Yo! What it is? This be Vanilla Mike, rappin' atcha, and here's my posse. MC Kleer. [Tom Servo in shades and a backwards ball-cap.] MIKE: DJ Byrd Brane. [Crow in gold chains and leather jacket, ensconced behind a turntable.] MIKE: And Mizz Jip. [Gypsy in a caftan.] MIKE: We gonna blow the doors off the pigs -- [Comm lights flash.] MIKE: Chill a mo. We got Daryl Gates and Stacey Koon callin' in. [D13. Forrester has Frank on a treadmill; Frank is running after a donut, and looks like he's been chasing it for a week.] DR.F: Good evening, Robert van Winkle. It's time for the next inciting exstallment of Mystery Science Theatre Adventures. But first, to warm you up -- a little gem my spies found on alt.discordia . It was posted from anon.penet.fi, but I think you'll recognize who it's by soon enough. -- PUSH THE BUTTON, FRANK! [Frank pushes the button, conveniently located nearby, and the treadmill stops. His own velocity carries him face-first into the donut and over the treadmill's top to slam into the wall.] [SoL. Lights flash.] MIKE: Yo! We got Scandahoovia sign! [G,2,3,4,5,6...] >From an54588@anon.penet.fi Thu Aug 25 09:45:05 CDT 1994 [The guys are entering the theatre.] >Article: 6215 of alt.discordia TOM: Hail Eris. Let there be Slack. >Message-ID: <121303Z23021994@anon.penet.fi> MIKE [sings]: o/~ Finland, Finland, Finland...Finland has it all. o/~ >Path: illuminati.io.com! TOM [Marvin Martian voice]: How lovely. >uunet!cs.utexas.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net! >+ news.funet.fi!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi >Newsgroups: alt.discordia,alt.illuminati,alt.conspiracy,bit.listserv. >+ fnord-l,alt.drugs,alt.psychoactives,alt.magick,alt.politics. >+ libertarian CROW: The Ancient Illuminated Seers of Bavaria, a Discordian cabal, conspired to slip fnords and drugs into the food of libertarian magicians, making them actively psycho. TOM: That's very good. CROW: Thanks. I had a good teacher. >From: an54588@anon.penet.fi >X-Anonymously-To: alt.discordia,alt.illuminati,alt.conspiracy,bit.listserv. >+ fnord-l,alt.drugs,alt.psychoactives,alt.magick,alt. >+ politics.libertarian >Organization: Anonymous contact service CROW: The Sacred Pool of the St.Mark Baths. >Reply-To: an54588@anon.penet.fi >Date: Wed, 23 Feb 1994 12:03:11 UTC >Subject: THE CIA KILLED ROBERT ANTON WILSON MIKE: Oooh...spookee... >Lines: 41 CROW [too-perfect Dr.F voice]: Ah, Deep Thought. So close and yet so not. >Xref: illuminati.io.com alt.discordia:6215 alt.illuminati:1689 alt. >+ conspiracy:45010 bit.listserv.fnord-l:5143 alt.drugs:75188 >+ alt.psychoactives:5086 alt.magick:21171 alt.politics.libertarian:26095 > > >On February 21, 1994, noted science-fiction author and libertarian >activist Robert Anton Wilson was found dead in his CROW: Bathroom! >home, apparently >of a heart attack (see the Los Angeles Times, Feb. 22). His >death had come unexpectedly, and there had been no signs of ill health >beforehand. > MIKE: Why do I have the feeling I know what's coming next? TOM: Probably because you read the subject line. > Wilson did not die of natural causes. He was assassinated. MIKE: By... CROW: Drum-roll please... TOM: Rented-a-tented-a-tent... >Earlier on that day, Wilson was injected with a time-delay poison >based on shellfish toxin, CROW: The Argentine Death Oyster. It may not be blowfish, but what a way to go! >by an agent of the CIA's special >SUPER-SECRET BLACK OPERATIONS SQUAD, MIKE: I'm sorry, that's "SUPER-SECRET AFRICAN-AMERICAN OPERATIONS SQUAD" to you. TOM: The style _is_ starting to look familiar. >using a special microscopic >needle made of a plastic which CROW: Phillips Petroleum developed to help replace the environment! >dissolves in the body without a >trace. Wilson's body had been immediately taken and cremated and >the usuial step of an autopsy had been bypassed, ON ORDERS FROM >ABOVE. > TOM [voice of God]: THIS IS THE ALMIGHTY. DO NOT AUTOPSY ROBERT ANTON WILSON. I WANT TO BE ABLE TO RAISE HIM INCORRUPTIBLE. WITH ALL THE DRUGS HE DID, THAT NEEDN'T BE MADE ANY HARDER THAN NECESSARY. > It is clear why the power$ that be wanted Wilson dead. MIKE: Yep. Definitely looking familiar. >Wilson was a dangerous element; TOM [starts to hum the "Danger to Myself and Others" song] >the governments can only govern >if the majority does not question the system CROW: Who's pullin' _your_ strings? >(whoever currently >"rules" does not matter). The troublesome minority can be TOM: Taken out and shot. >dealt >with discreetly, by means of EXECUTIVE ACTION (assassination), CROW: This is McElwaine, isn't it? TOM: Yes! He _can_ be taught! >which is what happened with Wilson. MIKE: Wilson was taught? Taught what? CROW: How to mess with people's heads. >Wilson gained too wide an >audience, and his anti-statist, anti-government, pro-drug >views were becoming too accepted. He had to be killed. MIKE: I had to hit him quick -- he was beginning to make sense. >Earlier the same agencies (the CIA, NRO, MIKE: New Real Oddities? TOM: Next Revolutionary Orifice? CROW: Nudist Rioters' Office? >DEA and CFR/TLC/Bilderberg TOM: CFR, Trilats, Bilderbergers -- he's got everyone, just like a good little Clear. CROW: Don't forget the Psychiatric Abortionist Axis! >BOLSHEVIK SHADOW GOVERNMENT) had LSD/mind-expansion advocate Dr. >Timothy Leary "neutralised" by injecting him with a neurotoxin >which DESTROYS THE MIND, and ARTIFICIALLY INDUCES A STATE >SIMILAR TO SENILITY. TOM: OW! If my arms worked, I'd cover my ears! CROW: Y'know, Leary's done enough drugs over the years to fry his _own_ brain quite nicely without the Gummint's help. MIKE: Quit thinking, you'll screw up his rhythm. >This form of chemical lobotomy has been used on >dissidents for some time and has served the power$-that-be well. CROW: Oh yes. _Much_ better than the old icepick-under-the-eyelids routine. >They have the means to induce psychosic, suicidal/homicidal >tendencies, TOM [sings]: I got suicidal tendencies/but I can't kill myself... >paranoia, religious fervor and madness in >dissidents by chemical means (MK-ULTRA and other CLA$$IFIED >PROJECT$). > >Dissemination of this information is encouraged. MAKE 30 COPIES. TOM: Un-AUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION and DISSEMINATION of this IMPORTANT INFORMATION is ENCOURAGED! >------------------------------------------------------------------------- >To find out more about the anon service, send mail to help@anon.penet.fi. CROW: Shall we go? MIKE: Yeahh -- I think we've done about all the riffs we can on the anon auto-.sig. >Due to the double-blind, any mail replies to this message will be anonymized, >and an anonymous id will be allocated automatically. You have been warned. >Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to admin@anon.penet.fi. > [SoL. Mike is reading a printout of the Net.Legends FAQ.] MIKE: "The nice thing about McElwaine was that they acted...for every loon in the local galactic cluster." CROW: Well, that _and_ providing plenty for the Mads to send us. TOM: You call that _nice?_ You need a time-out. [Commercial sign.] MIKE: We'll be right back. CROW: Gumball-head! TOM: Racket-top! [The Bud Light guy is beaten to the limo by a blond Euroteen who gives him the Mentos Finger as the limo drives away.] [SoL. Crow and Tom in the time-out cubicle.] MIKE: Say you're sorry, guys. CROW & TOM [to each other]: You're _sorry!_ MIKE: No, say "I'm sorry!" CROW & TOM [to Mike]: You're sorry! MIKE: I give up. [to hexview] What do you think, sirs? [D13. Dr.F is eating the donut, which is wrapped around Frank's nose.] DR.F [looks up]: I think you will know fear, and you will know pain, and then you will DIE! Let the Mystery Science Theatre Adventure commence! -- PUSH THE BUTTON, FRANK! [Frank pushes the button with his nose, in the process bonking Dr.F's head against the console.] [SoL. Lights flash.] MIKE: We've got self-reference sign! > >From dayscott@max.tiac.net Sun Jul 24 16:29:29 1994 [They enter the theatre.] >Received: from max.tiac.net by whale.st.usm.edu (AIX 3.2/UCB 5.64/4.03) > id AA18203; Sun, 24 Jul 1994 16:29:28 -0500 TOM: And the Mads sat on it for a month? WHY? CROW: To make us squirm. >Received: (from dayscott@localhost) by max.tiac.net (8.6.8/8.6.6.Beta9) id >+ RAA29958; Sun, 24 Jul 1994 17:27:36 -0400 >Date: Sun, 24 Jul 1994 17:27:36 -0400 >From: >Message-Id: <199407242127.RAA29958@max.tiac.net> >To: ralphjr@uclink2.berkeley.edu, SCHOLR@delphi.com, majorcw@mail.auburn.edu, > kneale@noao.edu, aloomis@whale.st.usm.edu, gibbspr9@wfu.edu, > jlatta@ecst.csuchico.edu, Kevin_Murray@qmail.radonc.mcw.edu, > dflat@iia.org, adavidw@byu.edu, burton@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov, > PsykoBrain@aol.com, mcmillan@astro.psu.edu, > xrjdm@farside.gsfc.nasa.gov, nomad@iastate.edu, LUCKSTER@delphi.com >Status: RO > TOM [sings]: They make you believe it's the status-ro... MIKE: Status Ro? I thought she went off to join the Maquis. >Mystery Science Theater Adventures Number 102 Reel 1......... >"Wheel In The Sky" > TOM [sings]: "...keeps on turnin'..." > >In the not too distant future, December of '95 MIKE: Y'know, that's _not_ too distant, is it? TOM: No, but it may turn out to be too specific. >Dr. Forrester saw no reason to keep Joel and Mike alive >His experiments complete at last >Severed ties with the Satellite real fast CROW: Say goodbye to the Umbilicus! >It drifted off to an unknown place >The Satellite of Love was lost in space..... > MIKE: So which of you guys is Penny? CROW: I recline to answer, on the ground. TOM: Danger, danger! Warning, warning! >Joel and Mike were frozen, for over 300 years >The Satellite drifted all the way to the edge of the final frontier MIKE: And through the Gamma Quadrant wormhole. CROW: Right -- into Dominion space, like it said in 101. >Now keep in mind the S.O.L. was about to meet its end TOM: Where is your end, and where the hole in the ground? >So a ship crew rescued Joel and Mike, along with their robot friends.... > >ROBOT ROLL CALL >Cambot....Gypsy....Tom Servo....Crooow! > >Now in a refitted S.O.L., they tour the Milky Way >And think to yourself, "It's just a file", and let the story go where it may > >On MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER ADVENTURES!! > MIKE: Are these stories supposed to be true? TOM: The PRINCIPIA says all things are true, even false things. >(shot of the hall...the 7 doors close...Joel, Mike, and the bots are playing > poker. The monitor (used as a TV) is also on) > CROW [as Picard]: The game is five-card stud, nothing wild...and the sky's the limit. TOM: I think the Jack of Spades just winked at me. >JOEL (to Servo): OK I'll see your 50 and raise 100 > >CROW: And I'll raise you another 50 > >MIKE: Betting is just too easy when you don't use money! > MIKE: Just ask the crew of the Enterprise. >(shot of the small burnt-out circuits being used for chips) > >MIKE: ...but I think Gypsy and I will drop anyway...too much against us > CROW: All right -- drop and give me twenty! >TOM: And I bet all I have....read `em and weep! > >(Tom shows a royal flush) > CROW: How'd you do that? Your arms don't work? TOM: Well, neither do Stephen Hawking's, but he still showed his cards to Data! >CROW: AH! Tom wins....AGAIN!! > >TOM: It's easy when your face can't make expressions...I have the best poker > face in the entire domain! > >TV ANNOUNCER: And now it's time for the hottest game show on Tantalus III... > >TV CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!! > >CROW: Hey, my favorite show's on! > TOM: Yeah, you _would_ like a show like that! CROW: Oh bite me. It's fun! >JOEL: Isn't that that show where players have to throw up if they answer a > question wrong? > CROW: Of course, there's such a thing as going too far... >TOM: Yes!!! Vomit! Bile! Little stringy things!! Not much worse than TV > back in the 1990s! > MIKE: Yeah, after Limbaugh got his own TV show, the tube went to hell in a handbag. >(15 minutes into the show...everyone is watching) > TOM: The whole galaxy is watching! The whole galaxy is watching! >TV HOST: And who won the Phlegm Wars of '66? > >TV PLAYER: The Blaargisians? > >TV HOST: NOOOO!! The correct answer was the Spitwadics! Now let's spin the > wheel to see how you will LOSE YOUR LUNCH!! > >(Wheel spins and lands on area marked "Madonna's Armpit") > TOM: Y'know, she _did_ start shaving when her career took off. CROW: As long as the pictures are there, _I'm_ not gonna let her forget 'em. >TV PLAYER: No! Please no! > >(Picture of Madonna's armpit comes to a screen and MIKE: says howdy. >player vomits) > >CROW: Oh man! I feel really sorry for him! > >TOM: Nobody should have to take THAT kind of torture!! > >TV HOST (to player 2): You win!!! You win the grand prize of 500,000 plutons! > And you get to come back tomorrow when another chal- > lenger tries to make you.... > CROW: All together now... >TV CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!!! > >TV ANNOUNCER: If you would like to be a contestant on LOSE YOUR LUNCH, just TOM: send 1-800-666-3747 to the post office box not eligible to VISA or MasterCard owners. Allow $23.93 for delivery, CODs void with your complimentary gift. > call communication code 77226394756 and ask for Gert. > >(Mike gets on the vis-a-phone) > CROW: The vis-a-phone collapses under his weight. He falls and breaks his neck. >JOEL: Mike, what are you doing? > CROW: Just lying here bleeding slowly after the phone fell out from under me. >MIKE: I'm going to be a contestant! Did you see what the winner gets?? > Imagine what we could do with 500,000 plutons! > MIKE: Not a word, Crow -- not-a-word. CROW: What? I wasn't going to say anything! >JOEL: You don't even know what a pluton is! > >MIKE: Come on, Joel! It's gotta be what they use for money around there! > Besides, what have I got to lose....except my lunch, that is. > TOM: Spoken like a Mike Nelson who didn't read the preview for this episode. MIKE: Hey, _I_ didn't read the preview for this one...or did I? CROW: We'll tell you on the break. >(phone is answered on the other end) > >MIKE: Can I speak with Gert please?.....Yes.....Hello, Gert?.....I'd like to > be a contestant......Lose Your Lunch.....Your Lunch......LUNCH!....Yes > .....Mike Nelson.....well I have no address I'm in a spaceship.....the > Satellite Of Love.....18673684772.....Yes?.....Thank you. > >(Mike hangs up) > > >Scene II: The Television Network > >GERT: We have another contestant, boss! > CROW [as boss]: Please -- call me "Steve". >BOSS: Good. When will he be arriving? > TOM: In the scene after this one, probably. >GERT: 3 days. His name suggests he's a human!! > MIKE [Ferengi voice]: A hu-mon? This will be rich pickings! >BOSS: A human?? Well! It seems that Dandee may have his favorite food after > all. > MIKE: Did I miss something? TOM: The preview. >(A stagehand drags Player One (the loser) into the office) > >STAGEHAND: What should I do with him, boss? > TOM: Disembowel him with a rusty grapefruit spoon! >BOSS: Throw him to Dandee....I won't have Dandee losing HIS lunch! HA HA HA! > CROW: It's the Chirping Hellbeast! >(The stagehand throws him behind a door and locks it. Numerous chomping sounds > are heard behind the door MIKE: but not out in front of it where the cameras are. CROW: No grammar or spelling flames, remember? MIKE: Except where they change the whole meaning. CROW: Like saying "AHHH!" instead of "AAAH!" for screaming? MIKE: I think we've gotten all the mileage we can out of that. >followed by a loud...) > >DANDEE: (B U R P) > >GERT: Gruesome! > >BOSS: Well you know it IS the law here....anyone who loses on a game show has > to die!! Ups the stakes a bit, don't it? HA HA HA HA HA!! > [SoL. Mike is re-reading the printout of MST Adventures 101.] MIKE: Y'know, you're right! It _does_ have a warning in here! "...the winners win big and the losers lose their lunch -- and their lives!" CROW: Too bad _that_ Mike hasn't read these already. TOM: That would be impossible. No ficton can ever contain itself. CROW: Tell it to Anne Rice. TOM: Well...yeah, but they're published as fiction. CROW: My point exactly. How do you _know_ these stories won't happen? TOM: Well, now that we've read them, we'd have some kind of warning! [Commercial sign.] MIKE: We'll be right back. CROW: What if we forgot? It's been three-hundred-some years, after all! TOM: Yeah, but we were asleep for... [Penn Jillette announces the first American showing of the DOCTOR WHO 30th anniversary visit to EastEnders.] [Crow and Tom are back in the time-out box.] MIKE: Think parallel universes, guys. TOM: That's what I've been _doing!_ MIKE: Different versions of the same characters! CROW: You mean like the Earth-1 and Earth-2 Superman? TOM: Or is it more like the Superman comics and LOIS AND CLARK? MIKE: A little of both really. -- Tom, you mentioned fictons. Well, every ficton thinks it's the real world. CROW: Like, there's a world where Best Brains is a real company making these shows on Earth, and not just a duckblind for the Mads? MIKE [nods]: Nice and close to home. And they probably think _they're_ the real world. But all it is, is another reality level. TOM: That's very nice, but -- are these stories our real future? [Lights flash.] MIKE: Hold that thought. > >Scene III : Satellite Of Love > >(Mike is studying up on the history of Tantalus III) > >MIKE: And it says here that a mercenary group called the Burks tried to over- > throw Queen Damox in the Spam takeover of 2215. > CROW: Sometime around Spam Jake Day. >TOM: Man, these books read like one of Crow's science-fiction screenplays! > [Tom starts to open his beak, then shuts it again.] >CROW: I heard that! > TOM: What? I didn't say anything! CROW: I think he's talking to the Tom in the story. >JOEL: I still don't know how you expect to learn all of this in 3 days! > >MIKE: Well, I'll learn all I can and hope to get lucky! Besides, the ques- > tions are very general in content. > TOM: Who are you? CROW: And who are you...working for? >JOEL: Maybe it would be better if you studied somewhere quiet and relaxing. > Say, the bubble room? > >TOM: Yeah, there you can study in peace and quiet while we cause a ruckus over > here! > MIKE: P-A-R-T-Why? Because I _gotta!_ >MIKE: Well, OK > >(Mike enters the hall and sits down between doors 4 and 3...the bubble room... > soap bubbles fill the room while Mike relaxes with his books) > TOM: Hope the bubbles don't burst _on_ the books. >(Joel and the bots notice Cambot keeps staring toward their destination) > >JOEL: He just keeps staring at that place...I wonder why. > CROW: He's read the preview. TOM: He's read Scene II. > >Scene IV: 3 days later > MIKE: Time passes slowly on a weekend. TOM: A fly crawls up the wall. CROW: One of those iridescent flies of fall. MIKE: Time passes slowly on a weekend. >(Crow is quizzing Mike) > >CROW: And who was the captain of the Haratical Fleet in '36? > >MIKE: Blowdigger....Captain Jondo Blowdigger. > >CROW (flipping pages in one of the books): And the current President of the > Splaranatical nation? Hmmmmm? > >MIKE: That's easy, Marafa Gallopodophillo > >CROW: I think he's ready! > >MIKE: Ready as I'll ever be! It's just too bad that they don't allow any > outsiders in the audience! I was hoping you could be there to watch me > win 500,000 plutons! > MIKE: Or, alternatively, watch me die horribly as I get messily devoured. >JOEL: That's OK....we'll be watching you here. > CROW [as Joel]: Can I have your stereo? >MIKE: Well, time to go.....Porting 1 > >(Gypsy fires up the new transporter and Mike ports to the TV studio on Tan- > talus III) > >GYPSY (staring towards planet): Good Luck! > TOM [as Gypsy]: You'll need it. [SoL.] MIKE: Does it matter whether this is really going to happen? This story is almost good! TOM: You mean like Ratliff is almost good? Or that Dutch guy? CROW: Hey you on the ground! Why send us something this close to worthwhile? Are you going to bring us down soon? [D13. Dr.F is having the donut icing licked off his face by Frank, but suddenly shoves him away.] DR.F: That'll be enough, Frank. I don't want to have to replace your tongue with a live garden slug again. [to hexview] As a matter of fact, no. I simply want you gentlemen to get in training for the movie -- the theatrical one. [SoL.] MIKE: I suppose that's _one_ answer. [Commercial-sign lights.] MIKE: We'll be right back. [Zay you're out hunting wabbitz. (Zima commerzial with Looney Tunez)] [SoL.] MIKE: I do have one question about this story. What _is_ Dandee anyway? TOM: Kids come running to the great taste of Dandee! CROW: Tantalus-III makes the best damn Dandees in the quadrant, and nothin's gonna change that! MIKE: Never mind. I'll probably find out soon enough anyway. > >Scene V: The TV Studio > >(Mike appears in the office of the boss) > MIKE: Nice office, boss. Say, what's behind that big door? CROW [evil]: You'll find out soon enough, Mister Nelson...soon enough. >BOSS: Welcome, Mr. Nelson! We are glad you could make it to the show! We > just have a few things to tell you before you start. TOM: YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! HAH! > Number 1: The images we present if you miss a question may be too much > for most to bear. If you feel like you want to vomit, just do so! > Number 2: If you vomit, you can clean it up during the commercial > breaks! Remember, the name of the game is LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!! > Got it? > MIKE: No, actually, I'm stupid as a stump. Could you repeat that again? >MIKE: Yes sir! > >(Mike goes onto the stage and sits behind Podium 2) > CROW: Hey wait! I thought the returning champion was player two! >STAGEHAND: And on 5...4...3...2...1...go > CROW: Six, five, four, three, two... TOM [whispers]: Pizza. >TV ANNOUNCER: And now it's time for the hottest game show on Tantalus III.... > MIKE: A-one and a-two and-a... >TV CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!!!! > >TV ANNOUNCER: And here is your host, Bendar Tarkelleso!! > >(Crowd cheers) > >HOST: Hello and welcome to "Lose Your Lunch", the game of our planet's history > where the losers lose not only the game, but also their lunch! Kav, who > is our first contestant?? > MIKE [sings]: My name is Mud... CROW: He's player one, but he's behind podium two. TOM: Do you get the feeling this guy's been vaccinated against clues? MIKE: Be nice. >ANNOUNCER: He's a human from a starship known as the Satellite Of Love, Mr. > Mike Nelson!!! > >HOST: And our champion? > >ANNOUNCER: He's a Tantalan... > >(Mike is nervous) > MIKE [as Mike]: I'm not sure, but I think I'm toast. >ANNOUNCER: ...who won numerous awards for his knowledge of history... > >(Mike is worried) > MIKE [as Mike]: Yup. I'm toast. >ANNOUNCER: ...Mr. Hentad Jopewkias > >(Crowd cheers!!) > >HOST: OK, here are the rules. CROW: Oh, _now_ you tell us the rules. Real smooth, dickweed! >I will give you questions. If you get it > right, you get 10 points. If you get it wrong or do not answer, you > are shown a very disgusting picture. If you can stand it, you get 5 > points. If not, you will.... > TOM [as Mr. Rogers]: Can you say "Lose your lunch"? >CROWD: LOSE YOUR LUNCH!!!! > TOM [as Mr. Rogers]: I knew you could. >HOST: OK....first question to Mike. IN what year were the Splarkeds of > Hinter built? > >MIKE: 2166 > >HOST: That's correct for 10 points!! OK, Hentad. How did the Malarkans drive > out the Dizeqezoids in 2235? > TOM: By brandishing rusty grapefruit spoons in a threatening manner! >HENTAD: They doused them with chocolate. > >HOST: Correct for 10 points!! Mike, Why were the Palendids sad last year? > TOM: Because they finally saw what Comedy Central's fall '94 season did to MiSTydom! >MIKE: Because they had no food. > >HOST: WRONG!! The correct answer was "because their cable was out"! Now > let's spin the wheel to see how you can LOSE YOUR LUNCH!! > >(Wheel spins and lands on "Spoiled Cottage Cheese") > >TOM (watching from the Satellite): TOM [sings]: Take a page from the red book and keep them in your sights. Red alert...Red alert... >It's too vile! I can't look! > >(While Mike vomits at the sight of the slide, back aboard the Satellite, Cambot > is shaking almost violently) > CROW: Oh, _real_ smooth transition, Dayscott. >JOEL: What is it, Cambot? > TOM: BEEP plot point BEEP plot point BEEP plot point. >(Cambot projects a book of Tantalan law turned to one of the pages) > >JOEL: It says here that losing a Tantalan game show is punishable by death!! > MIKE [sings]: I'm a loser, baby...So why don't ya kill me? >(The TV shows the score as Mike-50 and Hentad-700) > MIKE: Damn, that was quick! >GYPSY: THEY'RE GOING TO KILL MIKE!!! > >(Joel gets on the vis-a-phone to the TV studio) > >JOEL: Yes, can I speak to Mike Nelson while there is a commercial?.....Thanks. > >(back at the studio) > >STAGEHAND: Mr. Nelson, communication coming in for you. > >MIKE: Thanks. > CROW: Don't mention it. The condemned always gets one last phone call. >(Mike takes the phone) > >MIKE: Hello.....Oh Hi Joel.............What??....Yeah right!.....You mean... > ...oh shit!.... TOM [as Timon]: Pumbaa! Not in front of the kid! >um...um....(gulp)....OK. > (to Stagehand) Sorry, gotta go, been nice knowing you... > CROW [as Mike]: Hold the door for me, would ya? I don't want it to take liberties with me on the way out. >STAGEHAND: You must finish the game! > >MIKE: But you see I have.... > MIKE: Only one Nathan Hale to risk for my Satellite. >STAGEHAND: You MUST finish or forfeit, which would mean you lose! > >(Mike gulps) > MIKE: I gulp. The other guy slurpees. >MIKE: OK....I'll finish. > >STAGEHAND: On 5...4...3...2...1...go > TOM: Pizza pizza bo bizza. >HOST: Welcome back to the game. Hentad is ahead with an astounding 700 > points while Mike has 50. Now all questions are double. This next > question goes to Mike. Who holds the world record for the longest > Kentasgop jump? > >MIKE: Uh....Genyd Daswejug? > >HOST: WRONG!! the correct answer is Federyt Lazegedt! Now let's spin the > wheel to see how you will LOSE YOUR LUNCH!! > >(Wheel spins and stops on "Naked Roseanne Arnold". Mike vomits) > MIKE: OH! Now _that_ was cruel and unusual! >(Many questions later..) > >HOST: And at the end of Round 2 the score is Hentad-2200, Mike-55. Mike, it > took a lot of willpower to keep from vomiting at the sight of 20th > century Earth singing star Lyle Lovett! MIKE: Not really. I just thought of how sorry I felt for Julia, waking up to that every morning... > When we come back, the final question! Players, set your wagers for > this category.....THE SPAM TAKEOVER. > CROW: Say, wasn't there a plot point established about the Spam Takeover back when Mike was studying? MIKE: Plot Convenience Theatre saves the hero's bacon again. -- Not that I'm complaining, mind you. >(Mike wages 55 and Hentad wages 2200. Goes to commercial) > TOM [as Mike]: Might as well bet the farm. Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. CROW: The commercial pits Mentos against Zima two falls out of three. TOM: No one will be seated during the famous Twerp Argument! >HENTAD: Nelson, you haven't got a chance! I know almost everything about the > Spam Takeover! You're Dandee fodder! > >MIKE: What? > MIKE: Dandee! The horrible beast that eats the losers! >HENTAD: Dandee, the grockel that lives here.... MIKE: A grockel, hmm? Thanks, Hentad, I was wondering what he was! CROW [as Hentad]: No trouble at all! You're about to die anyway... unless, of course, _I_ suddenly die of a horrible plot twist... >he always gets hungry after a > show! Did you actually think your death would be painless???? > MIKE [as Mike]: Well, I _had_ sort of _hoped_... >(back on the Satellite...) > >JOEL: Gypsy, can you port him out of there? > MIKE: And now, just to maintain suspense, Plot INconvenience Theatre. >GYPSY: No! There's too much TV interference. > >CROW: Is there anything TV DOESN'T interfere with? > >TOM: Hey guys, the commercial's over!!! > CROW: And Mentos wins by a nose! >(back at the studio) > >HOST: OK..you made your wagers and I see you both bet it all. Well, here is > your question.....What was the name of the Queen who was almost over- > thrown? You have 30 seconds. > MIKE: Yep. Plot Convenience Theatre. [mimes writing] Queen...what was that name again? CROW [as Mike]: Damox. >(cheesy tick-tock music plays. Hentad now looks worried) > TOM: HAH! Mister Spam Takeover Expert! CROW: Well, he _did_ say he knows _almost_ everything about it! >(Time runs out) > >HOST: OK...The answer is....QUEEN DAMOX! Let's see how you two fared. Mike > has...."Damox"! Correct! You now have 110 points. > Hentad has......NOTHING!! Your score has dropped to zero and MIKE > NELSON IS OUR NEW CHAMPION! > MIKE: This is like a really cheesy sitcom! >(Mike is speechless) > >HOST: Mr. Nelson??? Mr. Nelson!!! > TOM: Ground control to Major Mike! >(Mike comes out of it) > >HOST: What do you have to say now that you are our champion? > TOM [as Mike]: I'm just happy to be alive. -- Been nice knowin' ya, Hentad. (Not.) >MIKE: It's.....very nice. > >HOST: And you get to come back tomorrow! You are now 500,000 plutons richer! > MIKE: Are you out of your cotton-pickin' mind?! >MIKE: Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not. I got lucky this > time and I'm not about to try this again. Just let me clean up my > vomit and port out of here. I can't wait to spend my money! > >HOST: You heard the man! > (to audience) Good night! > CROW: Goodnight, Gracie. TOM: Goodnight, Babs. MIKE: Goodnight moon and the red balloon. >(off the air) > >STAGEHAND: Come on, Hentad....you have a dinner date with Dandee! > TOM: Wasn't that a movie with Wallace Shawn? >(Stagehand drags Hentad off the stage kicking and screaming. Sound of a door > opening and locking. Sound of much chomping ending with a...) > >DANDEE: (B U R P) > >HOST: Who are we going to fill the vacant space with? > TOM: Mindless idiots, I'll be bound. >MIKE: Just simply find two more suck-- players for the game! I'm gone! > >HOST: Wait, Mr. Nelson, before you leave, there is a little matter of tax that > should be addressed. Let's see.... CROW: Tax joke! Tax joke! TOM: Talk about cheap humor! > 25% for county tax > another 5% for game show tax > 20% of what's left for playability tax > 15% off the original amount for planet tax > 30% off of that for exercise tax > TOM [does some quick mental arithmetic]: So already, we're at 95% off. >(Host lists more taxes) > MIKE: What makes taxes so funny, anyway? CROW: I'm sorry -- that'll be a nickel Question Tax. >HOST: And that leaves you with exactly 34 plutons and 12 credits....enjoy! MIKE [as Host]: Don't spend it all in one place! > (to Audience) I need two players for a chance at 500,000 plutons! > >(Mike ports back to the ship) > >JOEL: So all that and you didn't even win MOST of the money! I guess there is > a lesson to be learned here. > MIKE: It's Life Lesson time. This _is_ a sitcom. >CROW: Yeah..only we don't know what it is. > TOM: In the immortal words of Calvin, "Live and don't learn, that's us." >TOM: Look on the bright side, Mike. At least you're not dead. Almost.... > very close....but you are not dead! > MIKE [as Mike]: It makes my web-toes tingle. >MIKE (sarcastic): Well thanks a lot! (to Gypsy) Take us as far away from this > place as possible....PLEASE! > TOM [as Mike as Picard]: Engage. >(The Satellite Of Love travels away from Tantalus III) > >(back on the planet..) > >HOST (to empty audience): Anyone??? Please??? We're talking 500,000 plu- > tons here!! Hello??? > [Tom and Crow makes noises of crickets chirping and frogs croaking] > >T H E E N D > > >PREVIEWS OF COMING ATTRACTIONS... > >#103 -- The Dark Half > After a sleep of almost 380 years, Crow's evil twin brother Timmy > returns to cause more havoc aboard the Satellite Of Love!! > CROW: The Twin-Screw Universal Controller...it's not just for breakfast anymore. >#104 -- Deep Space 13 > The Satellite crew comes across the descendants of Dr. Forrester and > TV's Frank in a remote space station located in the toughest part of > the galaxy. > TOM: Tonight on STAR TREK: THE MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATRE GENERATION. > >**************************************************************************************** MIKE: Once again, ASCII art of a centipede. TOM: Y'now, under HappyNet rules, that line would lead to 88 shurikens in the face for dayscott. >* From: gu093kmd@icsun.sunnet.ithaca.edu * >* > * CROW: I'm sorry, I can't read any more of this post. That line scrolled off the side of the screen and landed on Cambot, and now Mike's got to go put him back together. >* Addams (Always look on the bright side of DEATH!!) > * MIKE: Dirty pool, old man. Never again! >* * >* Mystery Science Theater Adventures is a work of fan-fiction not >intended * >* for profit, but only for fun reading. CROW: Or merciless dissection with a dull knife. >Any similarity to real persons, > * >* living or dead, is unintentional. MIKE: Oh yeah? What'm I? Chopped liver? > * * * >* Characters from Mystery Science Theater 3000 created by Joel Hodgson >and * >* Michael J. Nelson. Copyright 1988, 1990, 1993 Best Brains Productions MIKE: Oh, thanks for reminding me. My name's on the paperwork and I never see a penny of it. [[He leaves the theatre. The bots follow.] > * * * >* All other characters created by Emi M. Briet -- Copyright 1994 > * * * >* Mystery Science Theater Adventures -- "Wheel In The Sky" -- C 1994 > * >**************************************************************************************** [SoL.] CROW: So, is all that real or not? TOM: First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is. CROW: And what does _that_ mean, Servo Roshi? TOM: I hae no idea, but it _sounds_ profound as heck, doesn't it? MIKE: What do you think, sirs? [D13. Dr.F has Frank strung up by the thumbs and is beating him about the head and shoulders with a carrot.] DR.F [rolls his eyes]: PUSH THE -- oh right. [Walks over and pushes the button.] \ | / MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATRE 3000 and its related characters \|/ and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1994 Best ---o--- Brains Inc. All rights reserved. /|\ / | \ Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for INFO-POOBAH: entertainment purposes only; no infringement on the juliewa@aol.com original copyrights or trademarks held by Best WRITER: Austin Brains Inc. is intended or should be inferred. George Loomis (aloomis@whale.st.usm.edu,70415.1160@compuserve.com,zedd@io.com) And now...it's past my lunchtime.