Mystery Usenet Theater 3000: Stephen Ratliff's Revenge Challenge [Season 8 Opening Sequence.] [Mike is standing alone on the Bridge of the Satellite of Love. He's wearing a nightcap and carrying a pillow. He looks up, puzzled.] Mike: Oh hi everyone. I'm not quite sure why you're here right now. The show doesn't start for another [looks at watch] eleven hours. You're welcome to stick around though. In the meantime, I've got to get some sleep, so I'm going to take a nap. Good night all. [Mike places the pillow on the countertop and lays his head down on the pillow. He closes his eyes, and the screen fades to black. After a moment, we hear a loud warbling sound. The screen flares back to life, and we can see Mike sitting bolt upright. Behind him Crow is playing a bagpipe, very badly.] Mike: Crow! What are you doing? Crow: It's time for my bagpipe practice. You know that. Mike: You don't play the bagpipes, Crow. Crow: Well then, it's a good time for me to start, don't you think? Mike: No Crow. I don't think that it's a good time to start. I'm trying to get some sleep. Crow: I could play a lullaby then. . . Mike: Crow, go away. Crow: All right. Spoilsport. [Crow wanders off. Mike places his head back down on the pillow. The screen fades to black again. After a moment, a loud roar is heard and the blackness abruptly ends. Behind Mike, a jet engine is running at full force. Tom Servo stands nearby.] Mike: Servo! SERVO! Tom: OH, HI MIKE! Mike: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Tom: WHAT? Mike: I SAID, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Tom: I'M RUNNING SOME PERFORMANCE TESTS ON THIS TURBINE! Mike: WHY? Tom: WELL, IF I DIDN'T DO THIS, WHO WOULD? Mike: DO IT LATER! I'M TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP! Tom: WELL, OKAY MIKE. BUT IF THE GOVERNMENT CALLS TO ASK ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE TESTS, YOU'LL HAVE TO ANSWER TO THEM! [Tom turns off the engine and pushes it off screen. Once again, Mike places his head on the pillow and goes to sleep. The screen fades out again. The screen remains black for almost a minute. Then a torrent of noise erupts in the room. We hear an explosion, several electronic instruments revving to life, another explosion, and a multitude of voices begin to sing as yet another explosion occurs.] Voices: o/~ We'll be singing When we're winning . . . o/~ [The screen brightens and we the bridge of the SoL. Smoke is everywhere. Mike is sitting upright with a look of shock on his face. Behind him stands the Tom Servo Boy's choir.] Servos: o/~ We'll be singing. . . I get kno. . . o/~ Mike: *HOLD IT!* [The singing stops] WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? [Another Tom Servo steps up to Mike] Tom: Well, Crow and I have decided to form a band, and. . . Mike: NO! YOU ARE NOT FORMING A BAND! I'D LIKE TO GET SOME SLEEP! AND WHY DOES THE BRIDGE LOOK LIKE THE SKIES OVER L.A.? Tom: Oh, Crow thought it would be a good idea to have some 1980s-ish heavy metal style pyrotechnics. Crow: [Offscreen] INCOMING! Mike: Oh no. [More explosions occur. The bridge now resembles a fog bank. The mad's light begins to flash.] Mike: Great, not only can't I see my hand in front of my face, but Mrs. F. is calling us too. [He hits the console a few times before he finally finds the light.] [On board the Widowmaker we can see Pearl, Bobo, the Observer, and a strange little man. Bobo has a cigar in his mouth, and the VW van is full of smoke.] Pearl: Mike? Are you there? Blast it Bobo. I can't see a damn thing with all of this smoke around. Mike, are you there? [It's still smoke filled.] Mike: I can hear you, but why are you calling? We're not scheduled for an experiment until later today. Pearl: Bobo found a cache of cigars and he's vowed to keep smoking them until the experiment is over. Crow: [Somewhere on screen] Are they Cuban? Pearl: No. They're Canadian cigars. As I couldn't survive much more of this, I decided to push the experiment up. Bobo: Ah, there's nothing like a good cigar. Observer: And that's nothing like a good cigar. [The Observer looks around in confusion.] Observer: What in the heavens was that? Oh well. Bobo! Would you please extinguish that accursed weed, you simian buffoon?! Bobo: Bite me, Brain boy. Observer: I can transmogrify you back to a paramecium. . . Tom: [Somewhere in the smoke] Hey Pearl? Who that other guy in the van? PearL: Oh, we're just giving him a lift. Strange Little Man: nosleN ekiM olleH. mees yeht tahw ton era slwo ehT. Mike: Um. Yeah. Whatever. Pearl: Anyway, your experiment for today comes from alt.startrek.creative. It's a series of 'challenge' stories. That's where a writer challenges the other writers to write a story based on a certain theme. Mike: Okay, that's doesn't sound too bad. What's the theme? Pearl: The theme is "The fictional characters get revenge on the authors who write them." This theme was suggested by a friend of yours. Tom: [Somewhere] A friend of ours? Crow:[Somewhere] You don't suppose that she means . . . Pearl: Yep. It's a bunch of stories inspired by a suggestion by Stephen Ratliff. Strange Little Man: ekiM, kcul dooG. Bobo: If all of this smoke bothers you, why don't we open a window? Pearl+Observer: NOOOOOO!! Mike: Oh no! We've got challenge sign! [The usual mayhem occurs. Well, we think that it occurs. You really can't tell with all of the smoke around.] [6. . . 5. . . 4. . . 3 . . . 2. . . 1. . .] [The trio enters the smoke free theater.] Mike: Smoke bombs? Crow: We couldn't find our Stonehenge display. >Article: 71372 Crow: No, no, like this: Article: A, an, the >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Tom: .mayhem.on.marrisa's.person >From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff) All: AHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Crow: You will runet the day you started this, Ratliff! >Subject: A Little Challedge . . . Tom: Boy, four lines in and he blew it already. Crow: And the first three were automatically added by his newsreader. >Date: 6 Nov 1997 04:23:44 GMT Mike: General Motors Time? Tom: Greenwood Manga Tribulations? Crow: Gaining Money Torture? >Over on rec.arts.anime.creative, I spied a recent group of stories that >made me wonder if that type would work here. Crow: They're called "lemons" and. . . Mike: Congratulations. We're two lines into the fan-fic, and you've already made a sexual reference. Tom: Besides, alt.startrek.creative is already full of lemons. Mike: Tom, don't you start too. . . > That type being the RevengeFic. > The idea is a story where the character(s) Crow: s? Tom: Yeah, Q's little sister. >who we've put though such trails and tibble-ations Crow: Trails and tibble-ations? Tom: That dispels any doubts that we had that this isn't a Ratliff posting. . . >come visiting us (the authors) to get their revenge. Mike: Hey, I can go for this idea. Crow: Me too. Tom: Same here. Will Marrissa be showing up first? >Off the to of my head, Crow: Ratliff has toes on his head? Ewww. . . > I can say that if fictional characters could get >revenge on their authors some Q writers I know better start running. Mike: You can't hide from Q! It's sort of like wearing Groucho glasses so God won't recognize you! >(come to think of it, I haven't heard from some of them in a while :) Tom: Then switch to Sprint, and you'll never have any lost calls! >Any way, my challedge is to take the character that you've put though >the wringer the most and write a story where he comes to get revenge on >you. And no curses. Mike: He's talking to you, Crow. > I don't need to hear about any more writers who >got splashed with water from the spring of the drowned girl. Tom: It's Ratliff 1 /2 ! >Stephen, who really should be programming. Crow: Computer programming? Geek. Mike: In five years, he'll probably be able to buy this little puppet show. >-- >Stephen Ratliff CS Major, Radford University. >sratliff@runet.edu Radford, Virginia 24142-7496 >rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author >http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/ >http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer and >http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/index/ Index Maintainer for >http://aviary.share.net/~alara/ alt.startrek.creative >"Just as I was about to tell him, my science project struck." >"Your science project ran amuck on the Enterprise?" > -Rene and Marrissa Picard discussing the episode > "Diaster" in "All the King's Horses Crow: WORKING CONDITIONS UNFAIR TO SCIENCE PROJECTS! EQUAL PAY FOR EQUAL WORK! >Article: 71388 >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative >From: cmdrbevc@aol.com (CmdrBevC) >Subject: Response to the challenge (TNG/RL xover) 1/1 Crow: But what about the challedge? >Date: 7 Nov 1997 01:58:16 GMT >Stephen, you inspired me. . ..granted it's really short and rather stupid. . . . >but that was the point. Tom: Let's hear it for honest self-examination! [All cheer and applaud] >"You're WHO?!" Tom: I'm Inigo Montoya. Zhou killed my father. Prepare to die. >The red-headed woman stared blankly at the dark-haired, green-eyed girl, Crow: ...standing in the white corridor, next to the yellow trashcan, seeing only red because the world was blue. . . > wondering where she had been so unclear as to confuse this. . .*thing* that >had caused her such misery. The tortures were halfway inventive. She'd >assumed it would be a little more intelligent than this. >"I thought I'd been pretty clear. . .my name is--" Mike: Bond? James Bond? >The girl shook her head emphatically, sputtering as she spoke. "Nono, Tom: Her name is Nono? Mike: Apparently, we've stumbled into some sort of ultra-violent Japanese porn cartoon. Crow: Or an ultra violent French porn cartoon. >that's not what I meant. I HEARD what you said, but--" Tom: [Spock] She simply could not believe her ears >"Then WHY did you ask?!" >The girl straightened from her gaping posture, staring skeptically now. > Abruptly, she turned and ducked her head in the door, screaming. "DEVIN! >Is this some kind of sick joke?!" Crow: No. This is some kind of a sick joke. "A man walks into a bar carrying a tiny piano. . ." >Audibly, a male voice returned "Huh?!" >A moment later, the girl's head reappeared, followed by a tall, lean, Crow: Drink of water? > brown-eyed boy. Crow: Oh. Never mind. >For a moment, he looked like. . . Mike: Dr. Smith from Lost in Space? > 'Nah," thought the readhead. Crow: "Nah. Dressing up like a jockey won't help me get on Ricky's show." >The boy, upon entering the rather crowded high school hallway, stopped dead >in his tracks. Crow: Nearby, Martin Blank grinned at another job successfully completed. Whoever said that an assassination in a High School would be hard? >"Whoa! You're-you're--" Mike: A maniac, and you're dancing like you've never danced before? >". . .Beverly Crusher?" Tom: NO! I'm Susan Ivanova! Get it right! >The boy looked confused a moment, staring strangely at Beverly. "Uh. . ..no." >Beverly looked from the boy to the girl, ready to slap them both. Tom: Is it wrong to wish she would? Crow: Yes, but perfectly understandable. Mike: Feeling dark today, Tom? >"Then who the HELL am I?!" ALL; [singing] Two-four-six-oh-ONE! >The two looked at each other briefly, then back at the tall, uniform-clad, > phaser-wielding woman. "Gates McFadden?" they asked in unison. Crow: But, since our little story doesn't take place in Unison, the question was unheard. >Beverly frowned, wondering why that name kept popping up here. Tom: So, she's sufficiently meta-aware to know about fanfics, but not about the actual show? > Who WAS this Gates person, anyway?! Tom: He's an alien teleporter who's been drafted into serving with the Teenage Death Squad, but that's not important right now. >Scowling and VERY ticked off, Tom: Great, now Jim Cowlings is here too. > Beverly lifted the phaser. >"As they say in Mongolia, WHAT THE HELL'S GOIN ON HERE?!" Mike: Hey! We say that here too! I guess things really are the same all over. Crow: So when is Bev going to get mad over the bizarre writing in *this* fic? Tom: RevengeFic Part II: Revenge for the RevengeFic. >The teens turned to see a tall, slightly balding man walking up to them. Crow: It's Mr. Hohm! Tom: So, Mrs. Troi will be showing up soon too? >"I'm being held hostage," said the girl. Mike: And years later, she showed up in a bank security photo holding an AK-47 and wearing a Star Trek Uniform. >"That's normal, Miss Powell. You're a hostage every day you come here. It > seems to be a favorite pastime among your teachers. . ." Tom: Is this guy just not getting it, or is there something about this girl's school we don't know? Crow: Don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow. . . >The man stared at Beverly, finally noticing her. As he was about to speak, he >was interrupted." >"NO, I AM NOT GATES MCFADDEN, I'VE NEVER MET HER BEFORE >IN MY LIFE. I'M BEVERLY CRUSHER, I'M MAD AS HELL, Tom: AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANY MORE, EVEN IF IT DOES MEAN RIPPING OFF LINES FROM "NETWORK!" >I'M HOLDING A PHASER, Mike: Death ray, fiddlesticks! Why, it doesn't even slow them up! >AND I'M GONNA SHOOT ALYSSA AT *LEAST* ONCE!" Mike: Come on, Embrace of the Vampire wasn't *that* bad. >This time, she aimed it. Tom: Before, she was just randomly pointing the thing around. >"No, wait!" the girl screamed. "Why are you going to shoot me?!" Crow: Well, I was going to write some rationale for it, but then I figured that I could blame it on the millennium Tom: It's a post-modern Star Trek story. >"Retaliation. You've tortured me too much. Payback's a bitch, Crow: And so am I. . . Mike: You're on thin ice, pal. >as you people say. . ." Crow: So humans are now considered to be "you people?" >"TORTURED?!" Alyssa stared a moment, then laughed. "You call getting >together with Picard TORTURE?! Crow: YES! For Pete's sake, stop trying to pair me off with that reject from the hair club for men! Can't you team me up with Fabio, or George Clooney or something? > Hoo, boy, gotta stop doing THAT, then. . ." Crow: If you don't, you'll start growing hair on your palms. >"Huh?" Crow: See when you. . . Mike: We get the picture, Crow. >Alyssa smiled as she spoke. "All I've done is find original ways to pair you > up with Jean-Luc Picard-and believe me, that's no very easy anymore. Mike: After all, the show's off the air and Stewart's gone legit, and thus avoids Star Trek actors like the plague. . . >If you'd shoot me for doing THAT, then please go ahead. . ." Tom: And Claudine Longet wanders into the school. >Beverly stared a moment, blankly, then lowered the phaser and scratched her > head. "I hadn't thought of it that way. . ." Tom: That's because you think rationally. >"Hmm. Bet not." Crow: I thought that you can't bet on 00. Am I wrong? >"You HAVE done that, haven't you?' >"Yep." >"So I should be thanking you. . ." >"Maybe. . ." >Beverly smiled, nodded decisively, and then shook Alyssa's hand. "Thank >you." Tom: HOLD IT! She's been kidnapped and tortured, but it's okay because she got the chance to score with Picard? *WHAT KIND OF TWISTED WORLD ARE YOU LIVING ON?* Mike: Calm down Tom. It's going to get a lot worse before this is over. >THWUMP! Tom: Hmmm. She got knocked down. Crow: So? She'll get back up again. Mike: You ain't never gonna keep her down. >As Beverly walked away, a smug smirk on her face, Devin and the teacher >reached down to help a reeling Alyssa off the hallway floor. "What was that >for?!" asked the teacher. Tom: That's how we say "Thank you" in the Twenty-fourth Century. >Alyssa frowned, rubbing the forming knot on the back of her head. "Maybe I > shouldn't have written Twisted Revenge?" Tom: Wow! She writes for those Spike and Mike cartoon festivals? Cool. >Devin smiled, shaking his head. "Maybe not." Mike: Especially since there's a line of other annoyed characters lining up in the gym to kill you. >"Never thought I'd be whacked over the head in the middle of the hallway by >the person who put me here.." Crow: The bus driver hit you? >"What do you mean?" asked the teacher. >"This is a magnet for health and science, right?" Tom: Please. We're in a Medical School in Grenada. >"Right. . ." Crow: So, you want me to build an ark? >"She inspired me to be here." >"And. . .?" Tom: It's a conjunction. Don't make us sing the song. >Rubbing the bump again, she shrugged. "Proof that ya can't hang the hand >that feeds you in cuffs and expect Gul Madred to bite it for you. . ." >Only Devin understood exactly what that meant. Crow: Could you fill the rest of us in then? >*** Tom: Microsoft presents: Asterisk pets! Feed them! Clean up after them! Listen to them beep all day long! >Lys, still reeling from the "BonC" on the head. . .. . . . . Tom: BonC! New for the NES! >220 71428 <3464135a.49921607@news.snowcrest.net> article >Path: ix.netcom.com!zdc-e!super.zippo.com! Crow: Oh, it's one with the *Four* Marx Brothers. Mike: No, Crow, that's *Zeppo*. >lotsanews.com!howland.erols. Tom: Pogo meets Robin Hood? >net!agate!overload.lbl.gov!snowcrest!usenet >From: greywolf@snowcrest.net (Greywolf the Wanderer) >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative >Subject: Re: A Little Challedge . . . >Date: Sat, 08 Nov 1997 07:39:49 GMT >Organization: Furverts Anonymous Crow: Um. . .? Mike: Don't, Crow. Just don't. >Lines: 102 >Sender: greywolf@snowcrest.net >Message-ID: <3464135a.49921607@news.snowcrest.net> >References: <63rgog$m9q@newslink.runet.edu> >Reply-To: greywolf@snowcrest.net >NNTP-Posting-Host: ttyd11.mtshasta.snowcrest.net Crow: Mount Shasta! NOOO! It's one of John_-_Winston's aliens! >X-Newsreader: Forte Mike: Uh, not quite so loud, please. > Free Agent 1.1/16.230 >Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.startrek.creative:71428 >On 6 Nov 1997 04:23:44 GMT, sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff) >wrote: >>Over on rec.arts.anime.creative, I spied a recent group of stories that >>made me wonder if that type would work here. That type being the >>RevengeFic. The idea is a story where the character(s) who we've put >>though such trails and tibble-ations come visiting us (the authors) to >>get their revenge. >And we're off!!! This is an experiment, folks -- wanna see if the >header comes out right. . . most of the time I won't bother. but if it works, it means I can post >me stories under me own name, Crow: [pirate-style] Arrr, matey. > and save Alara the Hassle!> Tom: Wasn't there a Voyager fan-fic posted a while ago starring Paris and Kim called "Do the Hassle?" Crow: Fan-bot. > "Revenge", a TOS/RL Challenge story > It was a dark and stormy night. Tom: Suddenly, a shot rang out! Mike: The maid screamed! Crow: A door slammed! Tom: Then, a pirate ship appeared on the horizon! Mike: Meanwhile, while many people were starving, the king lived in luxury! Crow: Then the man in the hat killed the other man in the hat! > Actually, it wasn't -- but the Wolf was bored. He leaned back >in his chair, scratched lazily behind his ear, and sighed. Mike: He had to start remembering not to try to scratch his ear with his leg. Oh well, back to the ER. > The latest story was not going well; the characters simply would not >cooperate. Tom: They were on hunger strike due to the recent ill-treatment of the red- shirted ensigns. >He was about ready to say fuckit, and go get drunk. Crow: The caliber of the prose could only improve, after all. > But he really wanted this one to work out -- it was the third in a series, and >he had high hopes for it. Tom: o/~ Oh, he's got hiiiigh ho. . . o/~ Mike: No singing on this one Tom. Please. > But not tonight, apparently. He just wasn't getting anywhere. Crow: Then he remembered that in order to get anywhere, he had to leave his chair. >Finally he shut the computer down, and walked downstairs, planning on >heading over to the mini-mart and buying some more beer. Mike: They were having a sale on "cheapest" brand beer. Tom: Yes, writing goes better with booze! Many of the world's greatest classics were written when the author was liquored up! This message brought to you by the Booze Council. >But he no sooner got out the door, than he heard a funny whining sound, Crow: Fran Drescher, no! Mike: He said "funny," Crow. > and everything went black. Tom: o/~ I read a fan-fic and I want it painted black. o/~ > When he finally swam back to consciousness, he found himself >in his own living room, duct taped to a chair -- and being watched by >a human and a Vulcan, both wearing 20th century clothing. Mike: Unfortunately, they were both dressed like flappers. Tom: [Wolf] Jeez. I keep telling you, I don't know where the whales are. >The Vulcan was pointing a tricorder at him, while the human kept a phaser >turned his way. The Wolf smiled, nervously. . . Crow: Uh, could you point that tricorder somewhere else? > "Ummm. . .. guys? Can't we all just get along, here?" Crow: Chief Gates just laughed, and turned to his Vulcan companion. > The human laughed, scornfully. "Get along? With *you*? Do >you have any *idea* what you've done to us? Get along, my ass." Tom: [Spock] I don't thing that your ass will detach itself, sir. > The Vulcan merely raised a sardonic brow, and murmured, >"Apparently, it is you, sir, who has problems "getting along", as you >so quaintly put it. Mike: In the 23 rd century, we say that you have problems "keeping your Schick in shape." > Certes *we* have never done anything to *you*, to >match what you have inflicted on us." Tom: [Wolf] Well, it happens to all guys from time to time. I was just trying to inject a note of realism. Deal with it. > The Wolf was feeling pretty spooked. He had never, in his >wildest dreams, expected *this* to happen. Crow: Three coeds from a small midwestern college were in his living room? >"Umm, hey -- you know, it wasn't nothing personal, guys. . . Crow: [Spock] I believe that is a double negative, indicating that it was, indeed, "something personal." We'll have to kill you now. > Honest!! I was just writing some stories, is all. Doesn't anybody write >stories, in your time?" Mike: Judging from the Star Trek V script, no, they don't. > "Indeed they do. However, they manage not to intrude upon >others' private lives, while doing so. This. . . "series" of yours - >most unpleasant. Crow: Oh, Greywolf must be writing for "Jenny." > It never occurred to you that we have our own >existence?" Mike: Well, Spock still lives in his parent's basement, but at least I have an existence. > "Heh, heh, heh. . . Uh, not really, no. But hey, listen -- >didn't I send you guys to the Elysian Baths, on Risa, that one >time? Wasn't that fun?" Mike: [Spock] Captain, what say we beam down to where no man has gone before--the Phi Epsilon Nudist Colony for Women? Tom: [Kirk] That's not what I meant when I said we should explore some "heavenly bodies," Mr. Spook! Crow: The "Mad Magazine" sketch, ladies and gentlemen. > "It was . . .interesting, I will admit. Mike: [Spock] I believe the Captain's exact words were, "Golly! Them women shore is purty!" >However there is still the matter of your other stories, the ones in the series. I >must insist that you stop it at once. The Captain and I have duties to >perform, Tom: D'oh! There's more proof for the slashers. > we do not have time to go chasing about the galaxy on some >wild whim of yours." Crow: That's right! They need to rush around the galaxy on their own wild whims! > "You tell him, Spock. Now listen, you -- I hereby order you, >in the name of the United Federation of Planets, Mike: Granted , the UFP won't exist for several hundred years, but we'll be really mean to your descendants if you don't stop it. > to cease and >desist, at once. Find someone else to write about - Crow: How about David Hasselhoff? Mike: Crow! Crow: Come on Mike. He's a prime candidate for slash stories. After all, he's surrounded by all of these handsome men all day long. You have to assume that he'd get a little curious. . . Mike: Well. . . Tom: Mike? We are not bringing up Baywatch slash. Period. > do I make myself clear?" Tom: [Kirk] Try writing about Janice Rand for a while. I'll show her that no one shoots down James T. Kirk! > "Uh. . .. yeah. . . But there's a problem, guys. . ." Mike: You see, I sold the story to buy a hair brush for my sister, and she sold her hair to buy me a binder for the story. > The human sighed. "Of course. There always is, with you. >What problem?" > "Well, you see, there's this other story, you know? And uh, >it's going to appear in a printzine, pretty soon. And, uh, well, it's >kind of gnarly, you know? Mike: [Spock] "Gnarly?" You must mean "twisted." Crow: [Wolf] No! No! Auuuugh! > I didn't mean nothin' by it -- I just wanted to tell it, see? Tom: And suddenly, we're in Donnie Brasco. Crow: Forget about it. > So, ah, until this one >dies down, I think you guys are going to be kind of, well, um, *busy*, you >know?" Mike: Busy? Oh, that's right. They're government workers. They'll be on break until then. > As he said that, his two captors went transparent for a >moment, before solidifying again. > "Spock? What the hell was that?" Crow: I believe that his TV reception is bad, Captain. I'll go move his antenna around some. Mike: Crow! Crow: Oh, I guess that was a double entandre . Sorry. > Another sigh, from the Vulcan. "It appears, Captain, that >this disreputable individual is correct. . . We are about to be taken >from here." Mike: [Kirk] Damn. Are those weaselly executives from NBC back again? > "Shit. Just what we *don't* need." He slapped his phaser >back onto his hip. "Well, I guess that's it." > "Ummm -- guys? Could ya untie me, here, before ya go?" Tom: [Wolf] Or, more important, before *I* "go?" > One raised Vulcan eyebrow. "No. I don't think so. I believe >that you are best left exactly as you are. Mike: So don't go changing to try to please me. > Perhaps then we shall have >a little peace for a while." They flickered again, and began a slow >dissolve. . . Tom: . . . and pan towards the furnace. Move in closer to the sled. . . > "Greywolf?" > "Yes, Captain?" > "Enjoy yourself. I *might* come back and let you out, after a >while. Depends on how badly you piss me off, this time. In the >meantime, sleep tight." He grinned, like an evil Cheshire cat -- then >there was a puff of sparkles and smoke - Crow: So, David Copperfield's running the transporter now? > and they were gone. > The Wolf strained at the duct tape, wiggling, pulling off a >goodly portion of his fur in the process -- and got absolutely >nowhere. Mike: And we're back to the 'forgetting to leave the chair' thing again. > "Ahhh, *shit*. I *hate* when this happens!" Then something >occurred to him, and he whistled in relief. Tom: "Thank goodness. They could have forced me to see Spiceworld." > "Geez. I guess it's a good thing I *didn't* write that Q story. . ." > -----///----- Tom: So, we came to this river, and those blasted Ratzis had blown up the bridge! >Ask, and ye shall receive, O Stephen. . . ;-)> Crow: That's one mighty pointy chin you got there, Wolf. >Greywolf the Wanderer, *still* pickin' goddamn' duck tape outta my >fur! Tom: DUCT! IT'S *DUCT* TAPE! YOU GOT IT RIGHT IN THE STORY!!! Mike: Easy, pal. Tom: Sigh. Oh well. It's time to go anyway. [The trio exits the theater.] [1. . . 2 . . . 3. . . 4. . . 5. . . 6. . . ] [The bots and Mike stand behind the control console. Smoke hangs heavy in the air.] Crow: Say Mike, these stories have me thinking. Wouldn't it be great if we could get revenge on our writers too? Mike: [pause] Crow, we're not fictional characters, so we don't have writers. Crow: Oh. [The trio stands silent. After a few seconds, Tom speaks up.] Tom: Mike, maybe you better play along with him. Otherwise we'll be standing here for the next two minutes. Mike: [Nods] Good point. Okay Crow. What was your idea? Crow: Well, I was just thinking that if we got to enact revenge on our creators, then it would go something like this. . . [The screen dissolves in roughly the same manner used in the Wayne's World flashbacks. We now see the living room of a small Minneapolis home. A young woman, looking remarkably like Bridget, sits in a chair, reading a paper. After a moment, the doorbell rings.] Michael: [offscreen] Hon, could you get that? Bridget: Sure thing. [She walks over to the door and opens it. Beyond the door stand Mike, Tom and Crow.] Bridget: Oh, hi guys. What are you doing back on Earth? Crow: Oh my gosh! She's right! We're back on Earth! We're free! Tom: No more movies! Hooray! [The trio runs happily away. Bridget shrugs, closes the door, returns to her chair, and resumes reading the paper.] Michael: [Offscreen] Hon, who was that? Bridget: Just some of your psycho fans. Michael: [Offscreen] Oh. [pause] They weren't carrying any bags full of teeth, were they? Bridget: Not this time. Michael: [Offscreen] That's good. [After a moment , the dissolve effect occurs again, and we're back on the SoL.] Tom: Crow, that was really lame. We didn't even do anything! Crow: Well, after we run down the street, we became multi-millionaires and lived well for the rest of our lives. Now isn't that the best revenge? [The lights begin to flash.] Mike: Oh look. Challenge sign. [The usual mayhem occurs.] [6. . . 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2 . . . 1. . . ] >Title: "Revenge" Tom: A thrilling tale set aboard a battleship just prior to the Second World War. >Author: Don Buchan, see@my.sig >Rating: G/PG >Series: TNG >Story Series: "A Day in the Life of the Wuss" Crow: The wuss? Mike: Apparently, some of the die-hard Star Trek fans referred to Wesley Crusher as the wuss, because they hated him. Crow: Oh. [beat] So, they obviously hadn't ever seen Neelix then, right? >Part: 6/? >Synopsis: Stephen challenged us to write a story about the characters we >write about exacting revenge on the author. (Normally, this series' >synopsis is "Everyone hates the wuss, and as such play pranks of varying >degrees of nuisance on him," Tom: Coincidentally, that's also a reoccurring theme in Tony Danza's life. >therefore the Wuss exacts revenge in like kind on ME!) Crow: Crusher's playing pranks on the Medical Examiner? Tom: Quincy! Look Out! >Historian's note: >A) At some point after which the wuss began being a constant victim of >spam as a result of earlier pranks -- first mentioned in part one, >which takes place at least part way through the first season or part >way through season three (see historical note in episode one.) Obviously >according to B), it would seem that all he had to do was step on board >for it to begin! :) Crow: I thought these notes were supposed to clarify things? Tom: Geez, even in the 24th Century, they still have spam. So much for Roddenberry's vision. Mike: Or is that Spam(tm)? Tom: Eww, even worse. >B) Crow: Point B, or an evil sunglasses-wearing smiley? You be the judge. > During the episode "The Naked Now" (reference to the episode.) >Author's note/warning: >If you dislike the Wesley Crusher character, stop reading now. While not >particularly so, this story is somewhat PRO-wussley. Oh, regular >readers: If you like the Wesly Crusher character, stop reading now. Mike: What is it about Wesley that no one can spell his name right even half the time? Tom: At least it's not spelled "Westly Chrusher." >While not offensive, this story is also anti-wussley. Crow: Thus, it will annoy the "For Pete's sake, take a stance on Wesley" crowd. >More anti-wuss stuff can be found at: >ftp://ftp.cam.org/users/malak/startrek/wussley/ >Note that you may find some of the items there mildly offensive. Crow: Ewww. Nude pictures of President Taft! Mike: That's not mildly offensive, Crow. That's a crime against humanity. >And of course, Paramount owns what they own, while I just own the story >and am borrowing Paramount's properties to interact the way I want them >to for a while. Mike: But, officer, I just borrowed his car to interact with the road for a while! >***** Tom: Orion's belt! Mike: I think that Orion's Belt only has three stars. Crow: Maybe he's gained weight. >Things were not quite as they were supposed to be, but I was unable to >determine what it was; Tom: . . .perhaps it was that the subject of my second clause didn't match the subject of my first clause. Mike: Oh, picky, picky. >perhaps a sense of always being watched, there always being a prank waiting >for me. Maybe people were stalking me from my net activities. Crow: He's using his "AdultCheck" number! Get him! >Not that I suspected that this was a real concern; it's just that after >all the years I've spent on the net, hosting a few web pages, some ftp >archives and maintaining an FAQ for a well-read newsgroup, I figured >that I'd become a bit of a public figure. Tom: Well, I was mentioned on E! as a "FAQ-Master to watch." >And I'd always heard about being careful of those chat lines where you get >lured into meeting all those shady figures. I had soon gotten over any such >concerns, though, after meeting this person on a Star Trek chat line. Crow: Since, as we all know, everyone in Trekkiedom has a good grasp of reality. >I arrived at my place; after I cleaned the door handle of grease, I >opened the door and it immediately crashed against the coldroom door. Mike: We have those too, but we call them "refrigerators." Tom: Actually, in Mike's case, he called it a cracked Styrofoam cooler. Mike: Hey! >'Funny, Mom and Dad are still at the cottage,' I thought. 'And I know >that I closed that door this morning.' Crow: El Nino strikes again. Mike: Yep. >Walking through the garage, I wasn't looking and tripped over my box of >empty wine bottles, waiting to be washed for future bottling of homemade >wine. 'I guess I'll have to wash these bottles soon; they're piling up >faster than I thought . . .' Tom: [singing] I never understood a single word he said, but he helped me drink my wine. . . >I went to the sink, put some iced tea powder in a tumbler, and filled it >with water. Crow: He drinks an iced tea drink, he drinks a vodka drink, her drinks a lager drink, he drinks a cider drink. >Once stirred, Tom: When I say stirred, I mean "using an object to swirl the liquid around, thus allowing substances added to the liquid to become absorbed into the liquid itself." > I downed it, Tom: When I say downed it, I mean "I poured the liquid into my mouth, thus allowing my taste buds to taste the liquid and then allowed the force of gravity to cause the liquids to flow down my trachea and into my stomach, where the liquid could be digested." > and repeated the process. Tom: When I say, "repeated the process" I mean that I once again retrieved some water... Mike: Enough, Tom. > Carrying the full tumbler, I went to my computer, booted it up. 'I have to get >a new computer. This 486 SuX-33 is getting to be a little slow,' Crow: A tribute to Robocop. . . >I thought to myself. Logged into my net account, I start downloading my >mail. 'Damn, seventeen messages; four of them spam. Mike: Thirteen legitimate messages to four spam and he's complaining? > How are the spambots >getting my email address? Crow: Well, you are buying ad space at Yahoo saying "E-mail me if you have questions about wine." >It's been cut out of almost all my postings! I >wonder if someone is giving out my email address? SPAMFORD!!!!' >Cleaning it up, I started looking through the normal newsgroups. 'Hmm; >the winemaking newsgroup has a lot of posts today; way more really >stupid questions. Tom: "I found this old half-full juice box of grape juice in my lunchbox. . .if I bottle it and sell it as wine, will I be sued?" >Newbies should check the FAQ before posting a question >.. Uh oh . . . looks like a possible spam attack on the group. Damn.' Mike: Neuron? >I started looking up things at random on the web; there was supposed to >be a lot of interesting things on scouting. Crow: But since he was just looking up things at random, he ended up with a large number of sex sites, lists of CDs that people own, and a bunch of pictures of people's cats. >However, once actually looking, most of the pages I found on a few of the >indexes were unrelated or inactive. Tom: He must be using WebCrawler then. > The few left spoke of baseball scouts. Stupid >thing to happen, considering I'd specified 'Boy Scouts.' Crow: Damn you, Hotbot! Damn you to hell! >After the line was freed up, the phone rang right away. "Don! Meet me at >Maison des Bieres Importees!" Crow: House of Imported Beers? Mike: Must be a Bennigans. >He hung up right away.' Funny -- there was >something about Andrew's voice that wasn't quite right.' Mike: Later, I realized that the strangeness of Andrew's voice was due to the fact that Harvey Firestein sent me that message, not Andrew. >On my way over, I stopped in at the winemaking shop. "So, what's new?" A >new corker ALL: [singing] My gal's a corker, she's a New Yorker, I'd buy her anything to keep her in style. . . >was on demonstratation; I provide them with some advice, and >pointed them to the winemaking FAQ on the net. Tom: I'm just waiting for the commercials where IBM tries to convince the winemakers that they have to get wired to compete in the global winemaking marketplace. >The rest of the bus and metro rides to the pub was uneventful. Crow: Well, a werewolf was killing people and the Pope roller bladed by , but that's immaterial to the Wesley story. >Once there, Andrew wasn't there. I waited. "Je prends un Younger's >Tartan, s'il vous plait," I ordered. Mike: "I pretend to be a young Scotsman's kilt, please?" >A while later, "Je prends une Chouffe, s'il vous plait," I ordered >again. Still no Andrew. Tom: He's the main course. Mike: Tom! That was very dark. Good show. >Finally I got up used the phone. "Andrew! I've been waiting for you at >Maison des Bieres Importees! Why are you still at home?" Crow: [Andrew] I rented "Wicked Lady," "Blind Date" and "Red Shoe Diaries 2." You're on your own, sucker. >"Uhhh . . . You never called to say we were meeting there," he answered, a >bit confused. >Annoyed, I paid and hopped onto the Metro to go home. Tom: And there was a soldier sleeping next to him. >***** Mike: It's Posh, Scary, Ginger , Baby and Sporty asterisk! Bots: Hooray! >Work the following day was uneventful, although I did get a number of >calls from people asking about an 800 number commonly referred to in the >office as a joke. Crow: "1-800-SUX2BU, may I help you?" > Seemed they all were referring to the same kind of >information as well. It was also otherwise very slow. Mike: Somewhat like this story. >Knowing I had a hike coming up that weekend, I quickly made a stop over >at a sporting goods store; Andrew had spoken about 'Gaiters' that he >always wore for hikes and how good they were for keeping dry. 'Hmmm. . . >nobody's able to take my money . . . Mike: [salesman] Don! Your money's no good here! Tom: [Don] You mean it's free? Mike: [salesman] No, I mean we don't take money drawn in crayon on construction paper. >always seeming to want to serve someone else.' Finally after an eternity, Crow: . . .entropy overran the universe and everything just stopped. >I paid and got out of the store. >Around the corner, a couple of thugs knocked me down for no apparent >reason and ran off. Tom: "What's the frequency, Kenneth?" they shouted as they left. > "Oooomph. That hurts." Mike: "Oh, they jabbed me with a knife. That's why I'm in pain!" >Finally I walked through the door at home. 'Hmmm. No grease today,' I >thought. I plopped down on the couch and flipped on the TV. 'Oh, it's >seven. Crow: That would explain that box containing Gwenneth Paltrow's head sitting on the kitchen table. > Turn on Star Trek.' The 'Naked Now' from the Next Generation was >on. 'Ohh, the wuss acts like a drunk, orders icecream and takes over the >ship, then saves it; Data falls over; Engineer Whatshername is in it. Mike: I thought they still had that big, fat male Chief Engineer with the beard in this one. >Let's see: besides a having a silly, rehashed premise that was faulty to >begin with, it actually is a good episode -- even if the wuss in in it.' Tom: WHAT? The Naked Now is a good episode? It's the most blatant example of the first season's tendency to rip off the original series! It had *Data* getting drunk, for Pete's sake! *DATA!* THE CHARACTER WHO DOESN'T BREATHE OR HAVE A CIRCULATORY SYSTEM! And it's got a plot that could have been averted if the Enterprise had tractored the other ship away from the blasted star before performing their investigation of the other ship! AND YOU CALL IT A *GOOD* EPISODE? Mike: Do you have issues with this episode, Tom? Tom: A few. >During a commercial break, I went to the sink, put some iced tea powder >in a tumbler, and filled it with water. Once stirred, I downed it, and >repeated the process. Crow: [Don] Do you think I'm in a rut? Tom: Cutting and pasting is what separates us from the animals, Crow. >On the screen, the wuss demonstrated his voice replicator. "Yeah, right! >Spock did better job 85 years ago!" Crow: So is using articles, Tom > I call out to the screen. "He was able to record the message himself and run it >through a filter to change it. Dumb wuss! Your invention needs actual voice >samples!" Mike: Of course, he *is* a fifteen-year-old human. That's pretty good. Tom: Yeah, you think you could do better, Don? Until I see *your* voice synthesizer, just shut up! Crow: Wouldn't you need a real voice sample anyway to get the frequencies right? >A while later, the phone rang. "Don! Meet me at Maison des Bieres >Importees!" He hung up right away. 'Hmmph. I got caught last night. Not >again; anyway, Andrew told me a couple of days ago that he was packing >for the upcoming hike with the Scouts.' Crow: Is that what you kids are calling it these days? >On the screen, the wuss was talking to Picard about being "drunk." >Suddenly he paused and seemed to shift his gaze as though he were >looking straight at me, smirked, then continued according to the script. >Quickly I called Andrew to confirm whether he'd just called; Tom: So what was the point of that? I thought he'd already figured out it was a trick. >"Uhhh . . .no," he answered, a bit confused. Mike: And, then it just sort of peters out... ---------- >Don Buchan malak&pobox.com (&=@) Mike: I have no idea what that smiley face is supposed to represent. >http://www.pobox.com/~malak/ From there: >Winemaking linx & FTP, rec.crafts.winemaking FAQ, Crow: So, can I use grape licorice to make wine? Tom: No. Crow: Not even if I put it into really skinny bottles? >Missing Link Rovers (Mtl Que Can), firstarter FAQ, Crow: Q. How old was Drew Barrymore when she was in this thing, anyway? >Scouting FTP & Super Scout(er), Star Trek >linx & FTP, Help Stop Spam, Zee Svedish Cheff, Summer Camp selection >There could be a caution for adult language, but hey, this is real life! Mike: It can't be. I don't see six annoying twenty year olds. Tom: Let's go. [They leave] [1. . . 2. . . 3 . . . 4. . . 5. . . 6 . . .] [Once again, the bots and Mike stand behind the control console. It's still smoky.] Tom: Say Mike, I've also been thinking about what it would be like if we could get revenge on our hypothetical creators. Mike: Well, we've got nothing better to do so, go ahead and tell us Tom. Tom: Well, I think that it would go something like this. . . [The dissolve sequence runs again. The setting is the same; a small Minneapolis home's living room. Bridget is still sitting in a chair reading the paper. A moment later the doorbell rings.] Michael: [offscreen] Hon? Could you get that? Bridget: Okay. [She walks to the door and opens it. Tom, Crow and Mike stand outside.] Bridget: Oh hi. What do you want? Tom: We're here to get our revenge on you! Crow: That's right! After all that we've suffered through. . . Bridget: After all that *you've* suffered through? Look pal. If there's anyone here who deserves revenge, it's me. Tom: Huh? Bridget: Look, how many time were you forced to watch Manos? Crow: Once. But that was once too many. Bridget: I had to watch it six times! Six times! All because of you three. And I've had to suffer through the scenes that you didn't see. You weren't forced to watch Joe Don Baker smash someone's head in with a pipe, were you? You didn't see the rape scene in Side Hackers. You didn't suffer through the endless scenes of people talking and talking and talking from This Island Earth, did you? No! And I've had to watch the countless movies that were too bad for even you to watch. And you have the gall to say that you deserve revenge on me? Crow: No ma'am. Mike: Sorry. Tom: We'll be going now. Bridget: Good. [She slams the door shut and returns to her chair and resumes reading.] Michael: [Offscreen] Hon, who was that? Bridget: More of your psycho fans. Michael: [Offscreen] Oh. [pause] Were they carrying a sign that says "I hate Joel's new voice?" Bridget: Not this time. Michael: [Offscreen] That's good. [The dissolve occurs again and we're back in the SoL.] Tom: Well, that didn't go quite as I planned. Crow: See, you didn't do any better. How about you, Mike? [The lights begin to flash.] Mike: Oh darn. Challenge sign. I guess that'll have to wait. [aside] Hopefully for a long, long time. [The usual mayhem occurs.] [1. . . 2. . . 3 . . . 4. . . 5. . . 6. . .] [The trio enters and sits down.] >Article: 72010 >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative >From: Geordi Pad >Subject: NEW: (Voy/RL xover) "Revenge Backfired" [PG] Parody >Date: Thu, 20 Nov 1997 20:03:08 -0500 >This is a multi-part message in MIME format. Mike: So. . ., heck. I can't do any more MIME jokes. Crow: Allow me. So, the author's face will be in black and white then? --------------7FAE2FBA3520 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit >This is a Non-New Life Tom: So, it's an Old Life then? > story, so don't get this confused with *any* of >my stories I created for the Voyager: New Life series. Thanks! :) Crow: How about the "No Life" series? Tom: That's over in alt.flame. >--------------7FAE2FBA3520 >Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii; name="Revenge.txt" >Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit >Content-Disposition: inline; filename="Revenge.txt" >I had been reading the so-called `Revenge' stories Tom: I say "so-called" because few of the authors seem to be suffering by their meetings with those that they've tormented in any way. > posted on ASC in >response to the `challenge' made by Stephen Ratcliff, and I found it >fun and silly reading Trek characters tormenting us Trek fan-writers. >Thinking it over, I decided to join the fray. Crow: So, I wrote a story where the Xena characters get revenge on Alara. Then someone explained to me what the actual challenge was. >My story is a reversal of the usual "Give me mercy" story, so expect >punches being exchange. Mike: The current exchange rate is one punch per 2.65 slaps. >Also, I'm going to be using the names of fellow authors in this story. >I appreciate you all know that I'm *not* placing any of you in a bad >name or such. I enjoy your friendship highly! Crow: So, should we go with the sitcom or the Peter Gabriel ref here? Mike: Let's let this one slide. Tom: Mike, you're getting soft. >Disclaimers: Star Trek: Voyager is owned by Paramount Inc. >This story is owned by George Padovan. This story can be archived in >the ASC archive, but will need the owner's permission >before archiving anywhere else - archive or web page. This story is >made for a non-profit use - reading. All feedback, except for flames, >are welcome at geordi@gti.net. >This story is rated PG. >Revenge Backfired (Voy/RL crossover) >By George Padovan > Looking at my computer screen I chuckled when I read the part of >Tom Paris force-feeding Neelix's bad foods down the poor writer's >throat. The idea of Paris going on a rampage like that amused me silly. >I had yet to see him act like that in an episode. > Ratcliff's All: Sigh. Mike: What is it about Ratliff that causes people associated with him to start misspelling things left and right? Tom: He's a quantum event. The laws of spelling as we know them don't apply when Ratliff is involved. > challenge was quite entertaining and I was thinking >about writing a contribution myself. Now what Voyager main character >would seek revenge against me? Most of my stories, saved "Too a >Different Toon", Mike: . . .had titles that parsed properly. Tom & Crow: [singing] Too, a toon, a diff'rent toon. . . >didn't show any tormenting or anything toward the main >characters. > Then I heard a scratching sound out in the hallway. I shrugged it >off thinking it was the family cat. Crow: That failed sitcom idea by Spielberg? > Suddenly I heard a feline screech >and I knew something was wrong. "Princess?" I called out for the >Himalayan cat as I got off my chair and headed toward the computer >room's entrance door. > "Damn!" I heard a male voice and I froze. My parents were away >visiting relatives in Italy, and my older siblings were all on their >own. Mike: I had stranded them in the middle of the desert and left them with only a spoon. That'll teach them to make fun of Voyager! >I was the only one left in the house, leaving me the conclusion >that a *stranger* was in the house with me. Tom: [singing] Somebody there that I can't see. . . > I backed-up toward the computer and fetched my dull, Crow: . . .folder of a.s.c. rejects. I'd bore the intruder to death! >Renaissance sword I used for my Renaissance costume. ALL: Huzzah! > I held it up in a striking position Crow: And I used some makeup to accentuate the sword's natural features. >as I reached for the phone. It was dead Mike: They've traced the calls! They're coming from inside the house! >and I realized I couldn't call for help. > Then the door opened. I dropped the phone and prepared to defend >myself. Tom: But a phone is an excellent weapon! Mike: Especially if it hasn't been sanitized. > A tall man entered the room and my eyes widened at the sight of >him. Crow: Gary Burghoff was in my house! > "It *can't* be!" I said out loud thinking that those `Revenge' >stories may have merit. Mike: It can't be that those stories have merit? > The man wore a Voyager command uniform and was holding a phaser >in one hand and a tricorder in another. He had dark hair, a Maquis Mike: Or Marquis. Tom: Or Maqui. Crow: Or Mabiddledomqui. >rank pin, and a very well known tattoo on his left temple. Commander >Chakotay. Crow: He had a tattoo of Chakotay on his face? > I narrowed my eyes at him. This can't be Chakotay I told myself. >Of course, I did believe that other universes existed, so it was a >possibility that this man is Chakotay. Unless. . . Robert Beltran decided >to make a trip all the way from California. I immediately shook it off. >Not even Beltran would do something this crazy. Crow: Robert Beltran: wild and craaaaaazy guy! > "Commander Chakotay, I presumed," I said to relieve the silence. > "That's right," Chakotay responded still pointing the phaser at >me. I guessed it was set to `stun' since I *knew* Starfleet officers >wouldn't commit murder. Mike: I'm still suspicious about that Ensign Simpson though. > "Why are you here, Commander? Do you know that being here is a >violation of the Prime Directive?" Crow: Hasn't the Prime Directive been violated more than it's been enforced on any given Star Trek show? > I slowly moved toward the table in >the center of the room. > "Not exactly," the Commander answered. "I know that in this >universe, my ship and I are just fictional characters, so no one would >believe you if you tell them about me. As for what I'm doing here, I'm >here to make you straight on your stories." Mike: [Chakotay] No more slash, dammit! > "My stories?" I asked with an arched eyebrow, imitating Tuvok. I >took a really good guess what he was talking about. He confirmed my >hunch for me. > "Yes, your `New Life' stories. I *hate* them!" he seethed. > The table was between Voyager's First Officer and me. Tom: The lamp was over to the left, and a chair was underneath me. Now that we know how the room is laid out, on with the plot. > "You *hate* them, Commander? Why? I didn't placed you in any negative >aspect, so I can't fathom why you hate them so much." I asked anyway. I >*knew* precisely why he hated them. It could be only one thing. Mike: Of course! Chakotay disliked the pacing! > "You made Captain Janeway falling in love with Paris!" the Indian >shouted out. Mike: It's Chakotay Nahasapeemapetilon. Tom: [stereotypical Indian accent] You made Captain Janeway falling in love with Paris. Oh my golly yes. > Bingo! "It's nothing but fiction, Commander." I paused acting >liked an idea came up in my head. "Are you from an universe where my >stories are true?" Mike: Because if you are, you'd have a lot of money to give to me, and Uma Therman should be with you and she'd be madly in love with me. > "No. Q brought Voyager to this universe and he showed the command >staff all the stories the Voyager fans had written. I certainly enjoyed >reading the stories involving Kath. . .Captain Janeway and me as a >couple. However, those stories involving the Captain with any other >male member of the crew, I didn't enjoy." Mike: [Chakotay] The ones with her and a female crew member, though, I found strangely. . .intriguing. Tom: Cripes, this guy's jealous of *fictional* *characters*! How sad can you get? > "Well, excuse me for living," I said sarcastically. "I didn't do >any harm to you what-so-ever. Crow: If I wanted to harm you, then I'd be writing Chakotay/Neelix stories. > It's *fiction*. Tom: Well, since it actually seems to be happening, then it's really non-fiction. Mike: Tom, stop advancing the Time Speeder hypothesis. > I wrote Janeway with >Paris because I see the challenge in writing something I *know* will >not be shown on television. Crow: Is that the slash writers' motto, or what? > "To tell you the truth, I root for Janeway to get together with >you. There's so many authors writing Janeway/Chakotay stories that >there's no challenge in writing one, so I decided to write Janeway with >the next best person I could think would be good for her." Tom: The holo-doctor? He's the only one I can stand for more than two minutes. > "Paris?" Chakotay glared at me. > I decided to keep up the banter; keep the Big Guy busy. "Yes, Tom >Paris. Next to you, he seemed the best choice for second place." Crow: So, he was second-best for second place, after Chakotay? The heck? > "What about Tuvok?" He asked. > I gave a laugh. This guy was so easy to distract! Mike: Scattering all of those shiny things around my house was finally paying off. > No wonder Seska could >manipulate him or Annorax seemed to won him over in "Year of Hell". Mike: Poor Chakotay! Won over by a bunch of British fans. . . Tom: No one will get that, you know. >It was hard for me to believe this person was Commander Chakotay >as seen on television! Crow: I'm just picturing him with one of those red "As SEEN on TV!" bursts on his uniform. >On the other hand, he could be a Chakotay from a >different universe than the one on television. "Tuvok?! He's *married* >already if you didn't already know!" > Suddenly Chakotay shouted, "Enough!" Tom: I'll be judge, I'll be jury, Said cunning Chakotay, I'll try the whole case and condemn you to death. . . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . Crow: Wow! Space-consuming, but cool! > He looked at me. "You're >good. I almost forgotten the real reason why I'm here." > "Which is. . .?" I carried off for him to finish. Crow: Well, the Captain really likes Cherry flavored Slurpees, so I'm going to bring her a hundred liters of them. Mike: Well, why don't you buy her a large Slurpee instead? There's just a nickel's difference between the two. > "To erase your stories from existence." He gave an evil smile. > A feeling of dread came to me. "Erase my stories?" Crow: [Chakotay] Starting with this one! I'll. . . [trails off as if melting] > "That's right. I already did the other Janeway/Paris authors---" > "Who?" I interrupted him. > "Rhianna, Marianne Lubianetzky, ReAnne Moreau---" > "What?!?! Tom: How the heck are you pronouncing all of those names? >How dare you erase their stories! They didn't do any >harm to you! You *know* that!" > He didn't even act liked he heard me. "Once I'm done with your >computer, I'll just go to the achieve which housed most of the fan >stories in America, and erased all the non-Janeway/Chakotay stories >from there also." Mike: Hey, there's no mention in any of Ratliff's work of Janeway and Chakotay being together. I guess that would make it a non- Janeway/Chakotay work. Tom: Hey, you're right! ALL: Cha-ko-tay! Cha-ko-tay! > Chakotay aimed his tricorder at my computer and I knew what he >would do. He was going to do to me like Tuvok did to Rain Robinson's >computer in "Future's End"! Crow: That would be scarier if we knew what happened in that episode. Tom: To be fair, I think this story is intended for internal use only. > With a cry of anger, I shoved the table hard against the no good >excuse of a Chakotay double-ganger. Mike: Cripes, if you're going to translate the German word, don't stop halfway! Tom: Why, what does "-ganger" mean? Mike: "Goer," I think, but can you really say "double-goer" with a straight face? >He doubled over the table and lost >his grip on the phaser as it slid over to my side. I grabbed it while I >quickly ran around the table. Using my sword, I swung it up and knocked >the tricorder out of his hand. Coming down on the down stroke, I aimed >at his head, but he grabbed my wrist to stop me while he grabbed the >other wrist to prevent me from aiming the phaser at him. > We were face to face while we struggled. "You're not Commander >Chakotay!" I seethed in his face. We were very equal in strength. Mike: Whoops. There goes that suspension of disbelief. >"He wouldn't do this to *anyone*!" > I saw in his eyes that he knew that his attempt of revenge has >backfired on him. Then an idea hit me and I took the chance. Tom: So , I dropped Chakotay, and called up my broker. I'd sell my shares of General Electric, and invest in PepsiCo instead! It's risky, but I'll probably make a bundle! > "How about showing me Voyager, Commander?" I gave him an evil >smile before I pushed him back against the wall. Momentary having the >wind knocked out of him, I was able to free my hand, Tom: Geez, Chakotay's a *wimp*. Mike: Yeah, George has taken a simple and sweet idea like Star Trek characters exacting a cruel revenge and turned it into something sick and twisted. > the one with the phaser, and tapped his comm badge. "Voyager, emergency >beam up!" I shouted in the badge. Mike: Well, you didn't really need to tap it. Tom: Yeah, sometimes the comm badges work without anyone tapping them. > "NOOOOOOO---" the Commander started. The next thing I knew we >were on a transporter pad in a transporter room of only one ship I knew >Chakotay was from - Voyager. Crow: . . .in a brilliant act of deduction. . . Tom: I hate self-insertion, y'know. We can't mock the main character without turning it into a personal attack. >"-OOOOOOOOO!" Tom: "-PPPPPPPPP!" Putting on my OOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPP! OOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPP! Me and you! > I swung my freed arm around and stun the transporter operator. >Sorry, guy, but it was either you or I. > WACK! I found myself on the floor of the pad after being belted >by the main man. He was about to tap his comm badge when I swung my leg >and trip him down. I got up and grabbed him comm badge before he could >do anything. "You really think I'm going to allow you to call for >help?" Tom: What if I asked really nicely? > POW! I found myself on the floor, this time in front of the >transporter control station. I saw him ran for the door, so I aimed the >phaser at him, but he was too damn quick. Chakotay ran out the door as >the phaser missed him. "Chicken! Mike: What chicken? Do you see a chicken here, Ensign Boo? Crow: Buck-buck-bucaw! > Not bad for us Twentieth Centuryers, >huh?!" I shouted out. Mike: I thought it was "Twentieth Centurians." Tom: [Michael Palin] Centuwion! Thwow him to the fwoow! > I ran out the door and down the corridor wielding my sword and >phaser. Crow: It's just a nondescript corridor. How can he be sure that's he's on Voyager? Tom: Suddenly, a shuttlecraft exploded. Crow: I stand corrected. > When I rounded a corner, I was almost stunned silly by the >phaser fire of several security guards. "Nuts!" I cried as I blotted >back around the corner to escape being stun. "Commander Chakotay, >you're the biggest chicken not to fight your fights!" I cried around >the corner, even though I knew I didn't saw him with the guards. Tom: Um. . . Crow: I'm betting late-night first draft. > Out of a corner of my eye I noticed the word on a door just >nearby me. It said "Armory". <"Ah ha! Fire power! Now that's more like >it!"> Crow: If Tim Allen wrote a fanfic. >I sent a few phaser bursts toward the guards to keep them at bay >before I went over to the door. > I studied the door panel and decided to take a chance. I punched >in a code I remembered reading in a Trek technical manual. Mike: IDKFA. . . Crow: Mike, don't go there. > The door >opened for me. <"Well, well, well! Us Trek fans certainly would have an >advantage if anyone of us ended up *living* in the Trek universe."> Crow: No. I *refuse* to believe that even a Trek tech manual would contain access codes to every ship in Starfleet. Not even Trekkies are *that* anal-retentive. Mike: You think that's bad? This guy admits to *remembering* an access code he read in a Trek tech manual. How many times do you have to read the manual to be able to do that? > I entered the armory and quickly looked around. I saw a phaser >rifle similar to the one Janeway used in "Macrocasm", Tom: Is that a typo or the single most annoying Trek episode title ever? Crow: What, worse than "Datalore," "Where Silence Has Lease," or "For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky?" Tom: Yes, much worse. >so I took it to replace the phaser I had. I noticed a few photon grenades, so I >took them too. Just I prayed I never have to use them. Mike: Isn't this a little excessive to defend some fanfics? I mean, don't you have them backed up on floppy or something? > Before I went out of the room, I placed my sword inside my pant's >belt, set the phaser to `heavy stun' and `wide dispersal', Mike: And I set the sword to "hack 'n' slash." > and attached >the grenades on belt opposite of the sword. Crow: Check it out, technology of the past and the future meeting on the same belt. This must be some sort of deep symbolism. Tom: More like cheap sensationalism. >"Time to Rock'n'Roll!" I shouted. Mike: Let's open up a can of stomparama! Tom: Soon they'll be in a world of hurt. Mike: Unless it goes clean through the meat. Crow: Guys? No more Larry Hamaisms, okay? You're disturbing me. > I burst out of the room with phaser blazing in all directions. A >couple of guards went down but the rest bolted to cover around the >nearest corners. I saw Lt. Tuvok with them as they retreated. Crow: So Tuvok's presence caused them to retreat? Tom: I can understand Neelix's presence causing that, but Tuvok? >Eventually, I was stuck in the armory, but at least I was stuck with >the disposal of Voyager's weaponry at my needs. Mike: Wow! This is the biggest water pistol that I've ever seen! > Phaser fire was exchanged for a few minutes and I saw also the >anti-personnel force fields went up in place near the guards. Then I >heard a voice shouted, "Cease fire!" Mike: So, we and the Jerries ran out to no-man's land to play a quick game of football. >The voice was definitely female with the touch of command. Crow: "The voice was strong and commanding, but I suspected that the speaker was a woman. . .*all* woman." Tom: If Piers Anthony wrote a fanfic. > The firefight stopped and I breathed a little easier. <"Maybe >fighting with phasers isn't easier than I thought."> All: HUH?! Tom: Okay, regardless of the rule against grammar riffs, I have no idea what that means! Cripes! > The female command voice shouted toward me. "I don't know who you >are, but I'm Captain Janeway of the--" > "Starship Voyager," I cut in, shouting so she could hear. "I >*know* who you are, Captain Kathryn Janeway, so save yourself the >introduction." Mike: Well, okay. Tell that string section to go back to the rehearsal hall. Crow: I'll go stop the footage of us cruising through space. > "My first officer told us of how you ended up here, but why are >you fighting us?" Tom: Well, if I beat you, then I get to take on Rocky Balboa for the world championship. > Her voice sounded like she didn't even *knew* what the Commander >was trying to do. I didn't believe her. "You know very well, why I'm >fighting. Your Indian man tried to crash my computer! Crow: The construction worker put sugar in my gas tank, and the cowboy tried to poison my cat! > He told me Q sent you and Voyager here to seek revenge against the Voyager >writers of this universe's Earth. Well, *this* writer will *not* tolerate you >destroying my work!" Mike: Well that was almost as stirring as that speech at the end of "The American President." > After a minute of silence, I heard, "We'll not harm you. Tom: "Can we shoot him now?" Mike: "Shhh! You'll be completely safe if you just come out here." > I want >to talk to you, but you have to promise not to fire at me or my >officers if we approach you." > I agreed with her. "I promise as long as you do the same with >me." The Captain had guts. She was willing to try to end a conflict >peacefully without further force. No wonder she's my favorite of the >four Trek captains! Tom: As we all know, Picard *never* tried to solve a problem by talking and talking and talking and talking and. . . [Mike hits him on the side of the head.] Tom: Thanks. Just had a "Masterpiece Society" flashback there. > "Agreed," the reply came. > I lowered the barrel of my phaser as I peeked out the door. Crow: Don't phasers have that little triangular , pointy thing at the end, not a barrel? Mike: This isn't rec.guns.phasers, Crow. > There she was! Kate Mulgrew's look-alike! Tom: Kate must be in her trailer. > Her hair was short as I >saw in the last new episode. Behind her stood Chakotay and Tuvok, who >had his phaser drawn at me. Behind them, stood Paris with a medical >kit. Tom: Um, shouldn't Kes be there with a medical kit? Mike: Maybe this is during the 7 of 9 fiasco. Tom: Well, then the Doctor should be there. Crow: And K9 and Teela too! Mike and Tom: SHUT UP CROW! > With a small smile and hands opened in peaceful gesture, Janeway >spoke. "See? I'm not going to harm you." > "Yea. Right," I said sarcastically. "Tell Tuvok to lower his >phaser, then I'll believe you thoroughly. I have my phaser lowered, Crow: Uh, that's none of my business. >so he should do the same." > Janeway looked at Tuvok and nodded. Looking at me, the Vulcan >security officer lowered his weapon. The Captain returned to me. "Mr. >. . .ummm-" Mike: Unfortunately, we've already used the Bond line in this one. Tom: It's a shame really. > "Padovan," I answered. "George Padovan. Author of the Voyager: >New Life series." Crow: Vocal inflection by the William Shatner acting school. > I saw Paris was softly muttering my name and the series title, >obviously trying to remember my stories. I guessed he read most of the >fan-fiction too. Mike: Who'd've thought Paris was such a fanboy? Tom: Oh, he probably just reads the erotica. > "Mr. Padovan, it seems Commander Chakotay's revenge on you >backfired," Janeway stated. "I'm not familiar with your stories so I >have no idea what you did to him to warrant his revenge. You must had >done something nasty to him." > I couldn't believe Chakotay didn't tell her. Mike: Janeway! If you just dial 10-231, you'll save on your long distance! Crow: Chakotay must work for Sprint. > That coward! "I >didn't do *anything* nasty or wrong against any of you in my stories, >Captain. Except for one humorous story outside my series, my stories >showed the crew of Voyager settling down for the long haul and going on >with their lives." Tom: [McNeil] So, we're trapped on this sixth rate network? Crow: [Wang] Yep. Mike: [Picardo] Not me. I'm busting out of here tonight. My agent got me a reoccurring role on 3rd Rock. Who's coming with me? > Paris snapped his fingers. "Of course! That's why you want >revenge against him!" he mentioned to Chakotay. Paris' face was lit >with amusement. "You're jealous, aren't you?" The big Indian didn't >even answer, just glared at Paris. Tom: And Paris was now burning. > Janeway turned to her helmsman. "What are you talking about, Mr. >Paris?" > Still smiling, Paris told her what he knew. He looked like he was >enjoying himself. "I remembered reading Mr. Padovan's stories, Captain. >He's right that his stories don't show any kind of resentment against >anyone on Voyager. The crew, in his stories, eventually paired off and >started families on Voyager." Crow: Of course they died. The survivors decided to raise families inside the Voyager instead. > Voyager's Commanding Officer turned to her first officer. "I >don't see anything wrong with that." Crow: [Seinfeld] Not that there's anything wrong with that! > Paris cleared his throat but still kept his grin. "I believed the >Commander didn't like the *pairs* that Mr. Padovan had in his story >series." Mike: Chakotay and Mimi? What the Hell(TM)? Crow: Ooh look. Torres is paired off with that Cheerleader from SNL. > Chakotay moaned while Janeway turned back to Paris. I on the >other hand was enjoying the exchange. This was more fun than watching >any Voyager episode! Tom: 'Course, the same thing could be said about oral surgery. >"Elaborate, Lieutenant," she ordered. Tom: Well see, when you're watching someone in the dentist's office. . Mike: She wasn't talking to you, Tom. > Still with *that* smile, the brown-blonde helmsman went on. "He >paired B'Elanna with Harry." > Janeway's lips twitched as she fought a smile. "I always thought >Harry would be the best second choice for B'Elanna next to you." > "He kept Kes with Neelix," Paris continued. > With a shake of her head, Janeway rebuked. Crow: I know! Maybe "George Padovan" is a pseudonym for "Neal Mentech." > "I still don't see Neelix with Kes." Mike: No, Neelix should be grateful to any woman who deigns to let him touch her. It's why Kes is with Neelix that makes zero sense. > Paris' eyes were on Chakotay. "Chakotay was paired with a >beautiful lady doctor, who decided to join us. She became Voyager's >Assistant Chief Medical Officer." > "Well now, that's mean I stayed single, huh?" Janeway eyed me >with a lopsided grin then Paris. Tom: Well, I think that it was mean to keep her single, too. Everyone should have the opportunity to have a mate, and this *person* is denying her that chance! > The helmsman shook his head with a chuckle. "Nope. You were paired >off too, Captain." > The smile faded from her face. "Who am I paired off with?" Crow: It better not be Riker! I've had my Riker-B-Gone shots, dammit! > She >turned to Tuvok. Paris and I laughed, both knew that she was thinking >of Tuvok as the likely candidate. Tom: Who's left? The holodoc and Seven of Nine. [pause] The two most dateable characters on the show, actually. > "Not Tuvok, Captain," Paris told her. I saw her breathed a sigh >of relief. "Me." Tom: I find it interesting that only m/f pairings are considered, while some of the other authors seem to be interested in anything but. Mike: Well, this is truer to the show, where homosexuality is only dealt with by allegory and the only bi characters are the Intendant and Dax. Tom: Yeah, but I can't be the only one who thinks that Chakotay and Kim are perfect for each other, can I? > Janeway's eyes went so wide that I thought her eyes would pop >out! Mike: And then they did. It was really kind of disgusting. > She spun around to Paris, who waggled his eyebrows, then to me. >I gave a lopsided grin and gave a shrug. Crow: He's such a giving person. > "I always thought Tom would be the best second choice for you next to the >Main Man." Tom: People are trying to fix Janeway up with Lobo? Well, my impression of Trekkies. . . Crow: Trekkers. Tom: Whatever. That impression has gone a bit lower. > I pointed to Voyager's First Officer. Crow: Therefore winning the "Where's Chakotay?" contest. > The Captain turned to Chakotay with serious eyes, but slowly she >stumbled to laughter. Finally, she began laughing so hard that tears >came out of her eyes. Mike: [Janeway] Ha ha ha. . .HIM? He's such a schmuck! >Paris chuckled while watching Chakotay and Tuvok >watched their Captain. > When Janeway was able to control herself, I decided that now >would be a good time to end this whole situation peacefully. "Captain >Janeway, I truly admired you, your crew, and this ship. Mike: Gee, that's how the valedictorian at my High school started his graduation speech. Tom: [Whispering to Crow] Mike graduated? Crow: [Whispering to Tom] He might have been asleep under the bleachers and heard it when he awoke from his drunken stupor. Mike: What are you guys whispering about? Bots: Nothing. > I don't want to >fight any of you, but I clearly don't liked the idea of you or anyone >of your crew trying to destroy my stories, which took me at lot of work >and time to create." > Finally sober, Janeway nodded her head. "I understand." She >turned to Chakotay. "As I said before, it seemed your revenge had >backfired on you, Commander." She turned back to me with a small grin. Tom: Now, just take care of this and someday it'll be a huge smile. > I grinned back before sobering up again. "I have several >conditions before I hand back your weapons peacefully and you can beam >me back to my home. One - Chakotay or any one on Voyager should desist >from acting revenge on me. Two - Don't try to destroy my computer files >on my computer database, like Tuvok did to Rain Robinson." Tom: o/~ And here's to you, Rain Robinson. . .Tuvok took his vengeance out on you. . .whoo hoo hoo. . . o/~ > Tuvok arched an eyebrow on this condition. "Three - Don't try to destroy the >ASC archive that holds most of the Trek fan-fiction stories." Crow: Noooooooo! Don't listen to him, Janeway! Put it out of our misery! > "ASC archive?" Janeway asked in confusion. > "ASC is short for Alt.Startrek.Creative, Captain," I explained. > "It's a newsgroup on the global computer network where Trek fans, >who write Trek stories, poems, etc., can show their works to others. Most >writers do it fun. Tom: Although some are forced to do it by judges who are fond of creative sentencing. >After posting a creative literature on the newsgroup, it's archive so people >could find it again. I presumed Q got the stories, he showed you, from the >ASC archive. Tom: Of course, only an omnipotent deity can get through on AOL these days. Mike+Crow: True. > "Fourth condition - Chakotay or anyone should stop their revenge >against my fellow Janeway/Paris writers. Chakotay had told me, he had >destroyed my friends' databases and I want such attacks to stop. > "Last - restore the telephone connection to my home. The >Commander disconnected my telephone line, and I want it back so I can >access the global computer network." Mike: I think they still call it the "Internet" in the 24th Century, actually. Crow: This guy can beat Voyager's best to a standstill but he can't plug his phone cord back into the socket? > Janeway and her officers stared at me for a moment before she >asked, "That's it?" Tom: You can ask three things of a starship that can travel between fiction and reality, and the only thing you can think of is protecting your little stories? > I nodded my head. "Yep, that's it. Crow: Well, I'd like one of those "Slave Girl Leia" figures too if you've got one to spare... >I very much want to protect *all* my fellow Trek writers, but that would be >asking too much. Knowing you, you probably want your revenge against >those, who had written stories with you being tortured, blown up, etc., etc." > The Captain gave me a lopsided grin. "Yes, you're correct that I >wouldn't back down on my revenge against *those* particular writers." >She straightened up and nodded her head at me. "Very well, Mr. >Padovan. I accept your conditions." Mike: [Janeway] Hey, wait a second, I just realized we're back on Earth! No more series! > "Then we're in agreement then." Tom: "Neelix must die!" > I smiled, took a few steps, and >offered my hand, which she shook firmly. After we shook hands, I handed >back the phaser rifle and the photon grenades to Tuvok, while Paris >scanned me with a medical tricorder to be sure of my health. Mike: Well, you've got terminal cancer, but that's not covered by your HMO, so we'll just send you on your way. > Janeway tapped her comm badge and ordered all security officers >back to their posts and to cancel the force fields. Afterward, she and >her officers escorted me to the same transporter room where I was first >beamed onboard with the Commander. > I stepped up on the transporter pad. "Oh, before I depart, >Captain, can you do me a favor?" > "What's that Mr. Padovan?" Crow: Can you phaser Rick Berman's house? It'd really be a good thing! > "Go *easy* when you act your revenge. You have to understand that >we're just writers who *enjoy* writing the stories we created. After >all, in this universe, you, your crew, and Voyager are just *fiction*." Mike: Bad fiction, but fiction nonetheless. > "Whether I go *easy* on the writer, depends on the writer and the >story he or she created, Mr. Padovan." > I nodded my head. "True. True." After a pause, I remarked, "Well, >beam me home. Engerize." Tom: And the Deceptigons appeared to snatch the precious Energize crystals. > The next thing I knew I was standing next to my computer in my >home. I saw the tricorder, which I had knocked out of Chakotay's hand, >was gone. I checked the phone and my computer. The phone was back to >normal, and my database, with my stories, was still intact. Mike: However, my Voyager remake patch for Quake was now gone. DAMN YOU, JANEWAY! DAMN YOU TO HELL! > Sighing, I took off my sword, placed it down, and went to the >kitchen to have a snack. I noticed from the time that it was close for >the next episode of Voyager to be aired. Crow: Um, hasn't UPN been running reruns of Voyager every night? Or does it just seem that way? > "Well, this revenge story was fun to write up! I can't wait to >see what feedback I'll receive about this!" I pressed the `save' button >on my Word program and saved the story to the hard-drive. I decided to >post the story on the ASC Tomorrow. > "ROWWWR!" Crow: Well, Seven of Nine must have shown up. > I turned to the sound. "Princess?" Tom: Puma? Puuuummmaaa? > I shook my head and returned to my computer. > I heard the door creaked open. "Mr. George Padovan?" > I slowly turned my head toward that familiar voice. . . Mike: It's Ed McMahon and Dick Clark! George won the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes! Bots: Hooray! Crow: Hopefully, he won Shirley Jackson's lottery too! Mike: Crow! Stop that! > The End >*************************************************************** >*** Mike: My god. This fanfic's full of stars! >Well? What do you think? (grin) I enjoyed writing this *silly* story >tremendously! I appreciate feedback. Crow: Well, some of us would appreciate it if you adjusted the speakers a bit. >Send it to geordi@gti.net. >By the way, I'm still going to keep writing my New Life stories no matter >*what*! (grin) Crow: Oh great. Now he's threatening us! Tom: It's time. [The three leave the theater] [ 1. . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6. . . ] [The bots and Mike stand behind the control console.] Crow: Okay Mike. Your turn. Tom: Yep. Come on Mike. Spill it. Mike: Well, uh. [Gypsy enters the bridge.] Hey, Gypsy hasn't done a story yet! Gypsy: Huh? Mike: Come on Gypsy, tell us a tale about us getting revenge! Gypsy: Okay. . . [The dissolve sequence runs again. Living Room, Bridget, paper, chair, door. All the same as before. Once again, the doorbell rings.] Michael: [Offscreen] Hon? Bridget: Yeah, I know. Get the door. [She crosses the room and opens the door. Beyond it stands a middle aged man.] Richard: Hello, I'm Richard Basehart. [pause.] Well, goodbye. [He leaves.] [Bridget shakes her head and closes the door. Once again, she sits down and resumes reading the paper.] Michael: [Offscreen] Hon, who was that? Bridget: Richard Basehart. Michael: [Offscreen] Really? Huh. I thought he was dead. Bridget: Mike, you get the door next time, okay? [Dissolve. The scene shifts back to the SoL.] Mike: [Forcedly.] That was great, Gypsy. Gypsy: Thank you, Mike. [She leaves. Once Gypsy leaves the bridge, the other three shake their heads.] Mike: All right, who saw that one coming? [Mike and Crow raise their hands.] Mike: Tom, you were surprised by that? Tom: My arms don't work. Remember Mike? Mike: [Sheepishly] Oh, yeah. Crow: We suck at this, don't we? [The fan-fic light begins to flash.] Mike: Back we go, guys. [Running about, and shouting occur. I.e., the usual drill] [ 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ] [Mike and the bots enter and sit.] >--------------7FAE2FBA3520-- Crow: Well that's the most confusing song that I've ever seen on Sesame Street. >From: mercutio@europa.com (Mercutio) >Newsgroups: alt.fan.q,alt.startrek.creative >Subject: NEW: Letters from a Q Writer in Exile (TNG, Q, authors) >Date: Mon, 10 Nov 1997 00:40:53 GMT >NOTE: This is an answer to the Revenge Fic challenge. As put by >Stephen Ratliff, "The idea is a story where the character(s) who >we've put though such trails and tibble-ations come visiting us >(the authors) to get their revenge. Off the to of my head, I can >say that if fictional characters could get revenge on their authors >some Q writers I know better start running. (come to think of it, >I haven't heard from some of them in a while." Mike: We'll recap the recap for you here. >SUMMARY: TNG, Q, authors. The character Q decides to take revenge >upon the alt.fan.q authors for the terrible things that have been >done to him. Crow: You got me cast in that stupid Maxwell Smart film! Take that! And That! >Letters from a Q Writer in Exile, by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com) >with many thanks to Ruth Gifford (ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com), who >helped with her part >To: Alara (aleph@netcom.com) >From: Mercutio ([address deleted]) >I arranged to have mail sent to my Europa address forwarded to an >anonymous alias. God, I hope no one can trace this. Mike: I wouldn't worry. Due to the double-blind, any mail replies to this message will be anonymized, and an anonymous id will be allocated automatically. >The flashes of light have stopped since I arrived here. Mike: But the bugs are still crawling all over me! AHHHH!!!! >Glenn and the baby are safely with the in-laws. >Even He wouldn't try to get them there. Mike: He? Tom: She must be hiding them from Michael Jackson. >No one would dare the wrath of my mother-in-law. Crow: The little known first draft of Star Trek II. Tom: MOTHER-IN-LAAAAAAAAWWWWWWW!!!!!! >Think Lwaxana Troi on steroids. The ax scene from Q-In-Law all >over again, except my mother-in-law doesn't need an ax. Tom: [Mercutio] In fact, she *is* a battle-axe! Ha! I kill me! >I'm working on a new story; working title: "Q Lives Happily Ever >After". Hope this will solve my problems. >Watch out for those random flashes of light. Mike: Because that means beta particle decay. >And shelve "Only Human"! You finish that and you're in bigger trouble than >I am. Tom: o/~ Alara don't preach. I'm in trouble, deep. o/~ >------------------------------------------------------ Mike: And all the little ants are marching. >To: Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com) >From: Alara (aleph@netcom.com) >I really hope you're not serious. Crow: Cause America doesn't need another "Young Einstein." >This has got to be one of the most bizarre things I've ever heard you come up >with. Mike: And remember, I was there when you thought up that idea for "woodchuck in a tube." >Is there something wrong with your job? Crow: I realize that "Ruler of All You Survey" is a quite demanding position. If you'd like a change of pace, we've got an opening in our mail room... >------------------------------------------------------ Tom: I don't understand it, sir. The message just reads: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO". >To: Alara (aleph@netcom.com) >From: Mercutio ([address deleted]) >No, there's nothing wrong with my job. *Puh-leeeease*. Well, >nothing beside the usual. But that's not important right now. >Remember that list I did -- "Top Six Signs You're Being Stalked By >Q"? Tom: Never did come up with the last four, didja? > Apparently He took it *seriously*. I saw clouds overhead with >my name on them. I'm being toyed with, I know it. Mike: I mean, seeing action figures of me in Toys by Roy was a really good tip off for that. I'm still wondering about that "Kung-Fu grip Mother-in- Law" figure though. >I don't even know if running is worth it. > Perhaps I should just face up to the music. Tom o/~ caaaauuuse, You can't stop the Music, nobody can stop the... o/~ Mike: Tom, no more Village People songs, okay? >------------------------------------------------------ Crow: So, detergent companies are buying ad space in e-mail messages now? >To: Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com) >From: Alara (aleph@netcom.com) >If you're really sure that Q is after you, I'd keep running. If >not, I'd recommend psychiatric care. Or get your doctor to switch >you from the Trazodone to something that makes you a little less >paranoid. >But if he is. . . try France. Crow: 'Cause omnipotent deities can't go to France. Unless they're Jerry Lewis, of course. >Or sneak onto the space shuttle. Mike: Space Camp 2: Mercutio on the Run! >"Truth or Q?"'s scene with Q and Worf is not something I'd let you >live down if I were Q. >------------------------------------------------------ Tom: Bullets! Bullets everywhere! >To: Alara (aleph@netcom.com) >From: Mercutio ([address deleted]) >You're a lot of help. Besides, it's not "Truth or Q?" that I'm >worried about. Not mostly. Okay, so Worf does get to rape him, >but still. All: AAAHHHH!!!! Tom: A little too much info for the non-fanboys. > Think of "Speculum" if you really want scary. Mike: So, Q's raped by a Klingon, and then apparently he has to have a pelvic exam? Tom: This is sick and twisted and wrong, Mike. Crow: And besides, shouldn't it be "Spe-Q-lum?" >Or "PropinQuity". >I'm hiding out in the basement of a library. Mike: So I should be safe, unless Q's a grad student. > No idea how long I'm >going to be able to keep this up, but at least there's something to >read here. Being on the run sucks. Why can't characters go after >some other author? Like Stephen Ratliff. All: YEAH! Q! Q! Q! Q! Crow: Come on, ya pansy! Take him out! >Or Macedon? Scratch that. I can just see Chakotay and Macedon ruling the >Voyager with an iron fist. Delta Quadrant beware. Tom: Delta Quadrant Beware: A new fragrance from Calvin Klein. >------------------------------------------------------ Mike: Well, the seas are awfully calm today. >To: Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com) >From: Alara (aleph@netcom.com) >What's wrong with PropinQuity? Besides Q having a kid. And >discovering masturbation. And being a virgin. And falling in love >with toasters. And being mindraped by the Dilkinen. And Mike: Wait, does that all happen in that order? I mean, masturbation and being a virgin go hand-in-hand. . . Crow: Poor choice of words, Mike. Mike: You know what I meant. . .but in most cases, isn't having a kid sort of incompatible with being a virgin? Crow: And why is being a virgin such a surprise for someone who was only ever human for a day or so? Tom: That "falling in love with toasters" thing disturbs me, though. Crow: This from someone who fell in love with a blender. >hel >[message ends mid-word] Mike: Nice of her mailer to annotate that. Crow: Clearly she intended to say "Helvetica," indicating that she was being stalked by a Swiss font designer. >------------------------------------------------------ Crow: Mike? Do we have to make jokes every time that one of these appears? Mike: It's in our contract. Crow: Okay. Isn't that arrow at the end supposed to facing the other way? >To: Alara (aleph@netcom.com) >From: Mercutio ([address deleted]) >Hello? Hello? Are you there? I got your incomplete note, but I >didn't get a follow-up with the rest of the message. >I called your mother and she said she hadn't heard from you since >Tuesday. Are you okay? Mike: Well, physically I mean. I know you still have that big red "Insane" stamped on your hand. >Here's a section from my story. I think I'm going to call it "Q's >Big Adventure". > Q lolled comfortably on the large pillows set on the dias Crow: Cameron Dias? Mike: That's been overused, Crow. Crow: I won't stop until they stop making that typo. > above the floor. > Groveling on the ground below him were various members of > Starfleet. Picard, dressed in a Grecian toga, held a > plate of peeled grapes up to Q, while Troi plucked at a > lyre and Beverly Crusher sang. Janeway was painting his > toenails as Riker cleaned the inlaid tiles of the floor > with his tongue. Tom: Most of that is kind of weird, but I must say I'd get a kick out of that Riker bit. > All was well and good with life. After lunch, he might > stroll in his gardens, or perhaps review the remains of > the conquered Q Continuum. Whichever. Mike: Whatever. >What do you think? Over the top? Tom: So now Q's involved in professional arm wrestling? I am so confused here. > Not enough? If you get this, I >really need some help here. Tom: [Dramatic drum music begins] If you're in trouble, and you can find them, then maybe you can hire. . . The A Team. Crow: [Mr. T] Face, will you please shut Barclay up! > I can't stay on the run forever. I >think the library books have been giving me strange looks lately. Mike: And the toasters are whispering about me behind my back. . . >------------------------------------------------------ Mike: This lift line just isn't moving at all. Tom: Single! >To: Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com) >From: Ruth Gifford (ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com) >Hi there! >I have a message for you from Alara. It was actually addressed to >the Alt.Fan.Q writers as a whole, but there's a postscript on it in >black magic marker that says "Make Sure Mercutio Gets This". It >was hand-delivered by a Tibetan goat-herder. Mike: Boy, UPS still hasn't recovered from that strike, have they? > Anyway, here it is. > Dear Fellow AFQ Authors: > I regret that I will be unable to be with you for a short > time, as I am presently engaged in writing the remainder > of "Only Human". My tower room is airy and spacious, and > I have given up thoughts of growing my hair long in order > to escape. Crow: Crystal Gayle was already sending death threats against me anyway. > I enjoy it here, and find it a congenial > atmosphere for writing. The end to "Familiar Strangers" > will posted soon, along with the revised first part, > wherein I reveal Tom: That Balki was the real killer of Laura Palmer. Mike: No! Tom: Yes. And Cousin Larry is Cancer Man's superior. > that my insinuations about Q being made > into a female prostitute were a vicious lie. Crow: I'm confused. These writers obviously like the character of Q, so why are they putting him through these horrible situations? Where's the fascination? Why do some people think like that? Mike: If we ever find that out, Crow, you and I will rule the universe > I recant all of my previous views on hurt/comfort, and > hope that my fingernails will soon grow back. > Fortunately, the hot coals seem to have cauterized the > wounds, thus preventing bleeding which would have made it > more difficult to type. Mike: Q could just provide her with that program where you talk and it types. Crow: You talk and it types? Mike: You talk and it types. > Q is good. Q is all-powerful. You will be assimilated. Mike: Hmm. She seems to be a bit mindless. Maybe she's become a Packers' fan? Tom: Or a Spice Girl fan. Crow: Or a Trekker. Oh, wait a minute. I've picked on them enough today. Tom: A Scientologist? Crow: That'll work. Thanks. > -- Alara Rogers, Aleph Press > aleph@netcom.com > All Aleph Press stories are being rewritten to reflect > the views of the Establishment. Tom: Oooh, *DA MAN'S* gotten to her. Crow: That's okay, Shaft's on his way to help. Mike: Hmm. If the Establishment's involved, then Q probably isn't. It's more likely that it's someone from the Jeffery Johnson Continuum. >By the way, are you working on anything new? Atara and I are about >to post our story, "A Sort of Homecoming", where Q and Picard >settle down on a farm in France and raise grapes and children. Mike: Q, shouldn't we lower these children sometime soon? Crow: It's art, Jean Luc. They're a mobile. >Seems safer, if you know what I mean. Not only that, but I decided >that the bdsm stuff was too dicey, so I'm sure Alara will happier >with me. >Come in out of the cold, Merc; we miss you. Tom: The Merc Who Came in From the Cold, this fall on the USA network. >You're the only one still running. Mike: Well, except for Springsteen. Oh, and that Logan guy. > It's not that bad. Believe me. Tom+Crow: ONE OF US! ONE OF US! >Well, we're hosting another square dance Friday night. Tom: So Q's a country and western fan? Crow: Yep. He likes both types of music. >Hope you can be there! It's lots of fun! Mike: We'll be sacrificing a goat to Shrub-Niggarath after the ceremony too! Being devoured by one of her dark young will be fun too! >Ruth >------------------------------------------------------ Crow: The English dead lay strewn across the battlefield. . . >To: Ruth Gifford (ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com) >From: Mercutio ([address deleted])) >Everyone? He got everyone? What happened? Tom: Well, he pretended that he was hurt and started crying. We all came out of our hiding places to check on him and *WHAM*, he got us. >I may be unable to reply for a few days. I'm positive that the >books were talking to me. Must find shelter. Must write new >story. Must escape. Crow: Must parse complete sentences? >------------------------------------------------------ Mike: Hmm. No, there's still something wrong with this DNA, but I can't place my finger on it. >To: Varoneeka (Varoneeka@aol.com) >From: Ruth Gifford (ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com) >Hey Slasher Chick! Tom: Right back at you, Disembowler Dame! >It was so nice of you to come out to the square dancing festival. >Atara and I enjoyed having you here, and reading your new story, >"The Property of a Q". We'd be delighted to come out to your villa >on Maui next weekend. Lucky you -- now I wish I'd written nothing >but uplifting smut about Q. Can you believe it? The TrekSmutrix >didn't write enough smut. Crow: It's times like these that I long for the strong moral compass of a "Side Hackers" or a "Mitchell." >Thanks for the update on Julia. How soon do you think she'll >finish the 10,000,000 titles? Talk about your writer's cramp; *I* >can't even imagine making up that many good Q titles. Tom: "Q in Black", "Jackie Q", "The Man who went up a hill and came down a Q", "Viva Q", "The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Q", "Boogie Q", "Q in White Satin". . . >You asked about JJ Arrow -- she's been forced to repeat high >school. ::shudder:: The horror, the horror. Mike: A.S.C. I can't believe I'm back in A.S.C. . . > And she's not >writing anymore; it's sort of sad really. But she shouldn't have >written "Spectrum". And letting Mercutio write "Speculum" was >adding injury to insult. >Speaking of Mercutio, I hear she's in Mexico now. Still trying to >avoid Q. Poor crazy woman, as if anyone can. Did you see her last >post to alt.fan.q? Tom: With fans like these, who needs enemies? >She's completely lost her mind. We all knew it would happen sometime. I >tried to talk her into coming up for the dancing, but . . . ::sigh:: Mike: Without her, our production of "Bring in da Noise, Bring in da Q" was a complete failure. >Ruth >------------------------------------------------------ Tom: This has to be the worst roller coaster that I've ever ridden. >Newsgroups: alt.fan.q >From: mercutio@europa.com (Mercutio) >Subject: Top Six Things Not to Do While Running From Q >6. Step on cracks. Mother breaks back -- forced into visit to > see her in hospital, and Q captures you easily. Tom: Just send your stunt double in to visit her instead. That way, you'll be safe. >5. Pay attention to television static. Hidden subliminal > messages embedded in signal will brainwash you into > surrendering. Crow: Or into buying soap. Mike: They could be related. Q owns 47% of Irish Spring, after all. >4. Shower. Particles of water could be Q in disguise, attempting > to infilitrate your body. Tom: Oddly enough, Q was trying to infiltrate Howard Hughes' body through that very method. >3. Go outside on sunny days. Clear skies make it easier for Q to > spot you. Mike: Plus, the UV rays are really bad for your skin. Bots: Oh, ya. Ya. >2. Talk to humanoid life forms. Any of them could be Q, or spies > for Q. Trust no one. Mike: The truth is out there. Tom: Keep your laser handy! Crow: Serve the Computer! >1. Write more Q stories. Grudge only worsens. No story can save > you -- nothing can save you -- you're doomed! Dooomed! > DOOOOOMED! Mike: Hmm, I have this sudden urge for a computer game... Tom: Mike, last time that you played, you lost to a five year old. Mike: That's just because he knew the level better. >---mercutio@europa.com--- >"Bwahhahahahaha." >--Mercutio Crow: Also attributed to Keith Giffen and J.M. DeMatteis. >------------------------------------------------------ Tom: Just north of this border, 100,000 Iraqi troops waited to surrender to the first journalist that passed their way. >-the end- >---mercutio@europa.com--- >"Whom God would destroy He first sends mad." >-- James Duport Crow: He first sends Mads? Mike: Well, that applies in our case. Tom: Let's get out of here. [1. . . 2. . . 3. . . 4. . . 5. . . 6 . . . ] [Mike, Tom, and Crow once again stand behind the control console. You guessed it. It's still smoky.] Tom: Okay, Mike. No more delays. Crow: It's your turn Mike. Revenge story. *Now.* Mike: Okay, okay. Let's try this one more time. . . [Dissolve. It's the Minneapolis home again. Same living room, same Bridget, same paper, same door. The doorbell rings.] Michael: [Offscreen] Hon? Co. . . Bridget: [Still reading the paper] I'm not answering the door. [Ring] Michael: [Offscreen] So, you're just going to let the doorbell ring? Bridget: Yep. [Ring] Bridget: [Yelling] Will you psychos please go bother Kevin?! Hell, you could go out to LA and bother Josh and Trace. [Finally the doorbell stops ringing] Bridget: About time. Mike honey? We need to talk about these fans of yours. . . [Dissolve. Once again, the scene has shifted back to the bridge of the SoL. Unnoticed by Mike, Crow, and Tom, a bespectacled young man stands off to the left side of the Bridge.] Tom: Good work Mike. Crow: Yeah, we at least got in the door. Mike: Yeah, yeah. Look, it's pretty clear that this was a bad idea from . . . [Mike notices the newcomer] Um, hi. Who are you? Stephen: I'm Stephen Ratliff. Crow: Stephen Ratliff? The evil one himsel. . .? [Mike holds Crow's beak shut.] Mike: So, what brings you here today, Stephen? Stephen: Well, I received an e-mail from one of my instructors earlier today informing me that my computer programming finals had been moved from the auditorium to here. So, naturally, here I am. Tom: So, they told you that your finals had been moved to an orbiting satellite and you believed them? Stephen: Well, it seemed a tad inconvenient, but with all of the construction on campus, I couldn't rule out the possibility. [At this point, a young woman with a fierce look in her eye rushes onto the bridge and grabs Stephen by the collar.] Woman: YOU! Stephen: [Looking unplussed] Hello. Is there something that I can help you with? Mike: Do you suppose? Tom: It might be. . . Crow: It is! She's going to take care of him for us! Woman: Look, you. I've had it with you ruining my life! Because of you, I've been shot. I've my several ships shot out from under me. You've had my enemies kill innocent children in an effort to get to me. You've killed my lover, for God's sake! [Mike and the bots look quizzically at each other.] You put me on a prison planet, and you cost me an eye and an arm! And believe me, I'm going to take all of the pain and suffering that you've caused me out of your hide! Mike: Um, I don't remember Marrissa losing an eye. Tom: Or an arm. Crow: Wait, didn't Marrissa lose an arm in "Moon Dusted?" Mike: I'm going to regret this but, Ma'am? Are you sure that you've got the right person? Woman: [Looks quizzically at Stephen.] You're Dave Weber, right? [Stephen shakes his head, but he's still cheerful.] Oh. Sorry. My mistake. Excuse me. [She exits.] Stephen: Good luck in eviscerating your foe! [Mike slumps down, and put his head in his hands. The bots look despondent.] Crow: We were so close to being rid of him forever . . . Stephen: Well that was certainly exciting. Say, would you like some cookies? I brought them to share with the rest of the class, but since they aren't here yet, I'll share them with you. Mike: Thanks, I guess. [Mike and the bots munch on the cookies while Stephen stands by, smiling happily. After a few moments, the fan-fic sign begins to flash.] Stephen: Say, this light on your console is flashing. Mike: Oh. Thanks. We've got fan-fic sign. Yea. [The trio leaves the bridge, without the usual hoopla. Stephen waves to them as they leave.] [6. . . 5. . . 4. . . 3 . . . 2. . . 1. . .] [The trio enters.] Tom: We were so close. . . Mike: There, there. He'll stop writing eventually. >Article: 71949 >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative >From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff) Crow: But that's still far in the future. Tom: Still, his cookies were good. Mike: Yeah. >Subject: NEW Marrissa's Revenge 1/1 (TNG/RL) >Date: 19 Nov 1997 03:43:20 GMT >Title: Marrissa's Revenge or What Comes Around. >Author: Stephen Ratliff (sratliff@runet.edu) >Marrissa's Revenge Crow: [hums "Dragnet" theme] I was programming late last Tuesday when a report came in. Fanfic writers being punished. My name's Stephen Ratliff. Fanfic Cop. > I had just come back from the lab when I found her in my room. Crow: I was a student at a small Eastern college. . . >I know I started this Revenge Fic craze, but that was because I didn't >think I would be a victim. Tom: Hey, did you know that the word "revenge" occurs 47 times in these stories? Mike: You've been counting? Tom: Hey, beats reading. > After all, my characters usually get what they want. Mike: "Usually?" Crow: Well, yeah, Marrissa hasn't *officially* been crowned Queen of Everything yet. Tom: o/~ So, tell me what you want, what you really, really want....o/~ >It wasn't like I had done anything like those Q writers who >I had spent the last two days getting out of trouble. Crow: Trouble with a Capital 'T' and rhymes with 'C' and that stands for Chumbawumba! Tom: Mike, hit him. Mike: No more Chumbawumba jokes. Either of you. > That hadn't been easy. I mean Q isn't someone you toy with. I >had find Q's parole officer first. If I'm going to argue with an >all-powerful being, I want to have some back up. I was lucky that Q was >tired of watching over Q. Tom: I want to see him join the "A-Team," so we can have a "Q&A Session." Crow: No, let's see him go to a urologist, so he can mind his-- Mike: Stop it! >He gave me the job of parole officer for Q. >True it is another job to my already overloaded day, but it does have >some nice benefits. Crow: Bob Flannigan made fun of me in second grade, so I had Q turn him into an Amway rep. > I got Q to let JJArrow out of High School. Mike: Q and I are the best of friends, you know? > Alara no longer has >to revise all of her stories to reflect Q's views, but I couldn't >convince Q to let her out of the tower yet. I do want to see Chapter >Four of Only Human. He's letting Julia stop writing, and Mercutio >doesn't have to run any more. > Then there is Greywolf. Who knew Kirk and Spock would duct tape >the poor wolf up and leave him. I got some adhesive remover and got off >the remainder of that duct tape. Tom: I love the irony! Ratliff is probably the only person who remembers how it's really spelled! >Unfortunately the remover smelled bad, so I had to dunk the wolf in some >perfume. If you smell Strawberries, Mike: ...be afraid, because Strawberry Shortcake is back, and she's not going to take it any more! This fall, you can have your cake, but you'll eat lead, in Strawberry Shortcake's "Baker's Death-zen!" >you know Greywolf is near. > Robin Lawrie will be glad ASC has that insurance policy. >Chakotay taking out her modem was covered. Now that was a 56K fax >modem with speaker phone, right? Crow: Ooh, and she had that T-1 line in there too! Mike: Don't encourage any more insurance fraud, Crow. > "Excuse me," the young girl said. "As much as I enjoy hearing >how you righted wrongs and triumphed over evil, Tom: Um, was Ratliff speaking out loud? Mike: Not that I can tell. Crow: OH MY GOD! SHE'S TELEPATHIC NOW! RUN! > this isn't Sailor Moon, Mike: Yes, he's already done that story. [The three shiver.] >and I have some things I'd like to talk to you about." Crow: After all, now is the perfect time for you to start an IRA, Stephen. Why with just a small investment now, your retirement will be financially secure... > "What is your complaint, Marrissa," I asked. "It's not like >I've done anything really bad to you. I mean just look at the Q >writers." Crow: [Ratliff] I did see fit to tell everyone about your first period, but sending you to the gynecologist is over the line. > "I can't read most of those, I'm only 12," Marrissa responded. Mike: And Ratliff takes a swipe at his fellow authors. Crow: She's time traveling at age 12? Tom: So , Marrissa breaks all the rules of Starfleet advancement, not to mention the laws of physics when it suits her. . .but one "For Mature Readers" warning and she goes weak at the knees? Mike: Well, the 24th Century version of Net.Nanny is really vicious. >"As for what you did to me, I think I can give you quite a list, now >where is the computer?" Marrissa looked around the dorm room, but she >wasn't going to find any. Crow: Marrissa failed at something! YES!! Tom: It's supposed to be a revenge fic, but it's really payback on Marrissa! I love you, Stephen! > "I don't have one here," I replied, straightening up the quilt >my grandmother Ratliff had made, so we had a place to sit. Crow: I know that CS majors lead a sparse life, but Ratliff: BUY SOME CHAIRS! > "You're a Computer Science Major, and you don't have a >computer?" Marrissa replied with an air of disbelief. Mike: No, he doesn't. . .and YOU DIDN'T KNOW IT, MARRISSA! NYAH! > "I keep it at home," I responded. "The Sparc 5s in the lab are >better than anything I can get anyway." > "Never mind. I want to know why you killed my parents off." Mike: Oh my god! You killed Marrissa's parents! You bastard! Tom: Why is it always "killed off?" Is the "off" added to soften the blow of something we don't want to contemplate? Crow: I'd guess so. . .since we also talk about being "married off." > "It seemed like a good idea at the time." > "It seemed like a good idea at the time, It seemed like a good >idea, do you have any idea how that sounds? Killing a little girl's >parents off because IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME!" Tom: Oh, come on. It cleared your path to power. Mike: Chill out, Marrissa. You can't be truly badass unless a close family member dies. It's just one of the rules. Look at Batman. Crow: Besides, they never had first names or anything in the original version. Did you really want to be raised by someone with no depth of characterization? > "Alright, alright, calm down. I just needed a member of the >kid's crew other than Alexander to be related to a command crew member." > "That I understand, but Captain Picard? A cold fish makes a >better father." Mike: Let's hear it for honest self-examination! [All cheer.] > "So he's not perfect. My choices were not that good. Data has >no emotions. Tom: And look at how Spot turned out! Pregnant when she was only five years old! And no one knows who the father was! Crow: Not to mention that "she" used to be a "he." >Doctor Crusher and Worf were taken. Mike: And look how *their* kids turned out. Crow: [Alexander] Daddy, I reject you and your values! Tom: Except when I mysteriously reappear and try to follow your example but do a really bad job of it. > Troi, well I just couldn't see it. Tom: Troi would be a great mom! It'd be like having a sleepover every night! They could eat chocolate, and braid each others' hair, and tell secrets, and gossip about the boys. . . Mike: Tom, someday you need to meet a *real* woman and not just Gypsy and Pearl. >As for Riker . . . well with his rep, I didn't think him adopting a girl would be >a good idea." Mike: Ugh, yes. Look at how tiresome those Woody Allen jokes became. > "I see what you mean," Marrissa said, pulling a chair over and >sitting down in it. "But why did you have to draw out my grief over 3 >stories." > "Over compensation," I replied, relaxing as the storm seemed to >be over for the moment. "You see I have these critics Crow: . . .scattered all across the world in a great conspiracy to rid the world of Marrissa once and for all? > over on the group >rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc Mike: Who? Tom: Probably some obscure cable show. Crow: "Mysterio's Three's Company?" Mike: "My Summer Training Three Kiwis?" Tom: "Man, Steve's Truly Three Kinds?" > who have been complaining that you didn't grieve >enough, Mike: . . . and I then realized that somehow my report on the Menendez brothers had gotten pasted into my stories about you. >so when I revised "Enterprized" and "Battle For Bajor", I added >some scenes Tom: Unfortunately, the scenes added were the controversial "Marrissa on Broadway" segments. Mike: I did of like that scene where Marrissa and the bridge crew's fired their phasers to the tune of "Some Enchanted Evening" though. > and then the idea for "All the King's Horses" came up. I >wasn't going to go back and do the other two, and "All the King's >Horses" fit better after them anyway." Mike: Can't say as I'm looking forward to that one, if it's just Marrissa weeping page after page. > "Well I guess that explains it," Marrissa commented. "I'll be >going now. Tom: That's it? That's her list? Three items, all of which are connected? Mike: Well, apart from the dead parents thing, no other writer has been so good to his characters as Ratliff. >Oh, and by any chance do you know the way to Duke >University? Tom: o/~ Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa, whoa, whoa. o/~ > There is this guy named Adam Cadre that I've got to talk to >about making me eat my own daughter." Tom: [Marlin Perkins] So we see that, much like a hamster, the wild Marrissa has been known to eat her young in times of stress. You know, other insurance companies have been known to devour their clients, but not Mutual of Omaha. . . > "Here's a map, and let me know how it goes," I replied. "Any >other stops?" > "Well there is Anne-Lise Pauch," Marrissa said. "I think she's >somewhere in Great Britain." Crow: She's secretly royalty, so she feels a kinship to Marrissa. > "What did she do?" > "Nothing, I want to thank her. Tom: Although I understand Patterson Supra wants to have a few words with her about this gender confusion thing. >And then there is Mike Barkledge, I'm thinking of having Jackie get rid of all >his Credits. Mike: Credits as in stories he wrote, or as in all his academic credits so he'll have to be a freshman again? Crow: Well, at least Mike Barklage should be safe. I feel sorry for this "Barkledge" guy, though. Tom: Oh, he'll probably just join the Marquis. >I would go after Tim McLees, but Clara likes his drawing so I'll stay away >from him for now." Mike: Well, I'm going to miss Adam and Mike, but at least she doesn't seem to know about Roger Wilcox, Charles Rando, Jarek Myszewski, Loren Haarsma, Merritt Stone, Jamie Plummer, Bill Livingston, Suzanne Schroeder, Petra Mitchell, Chris Mayfield, or either version of David Hines. > "Well thanks for stopping by," I remarked as she got up to >leave. "Next time stop by when I'm in Roanoke. There are some >neighbors I'd like you to meet." Crow: [Ratliff] They keep dumping their leaves on my lawn. I was hoping you could give them the Naklab Treatment. > "I'll stop by during Thanksgiving. I should be finished with >Adam and Mike by then." > With that, Marrissa tapped her communicator, and with the order, >"One to beam up," disappeared in a whirl of light. All she left behind >was a list. Mike: It's the Enemies of Marrissa list! Tom: Sir, you are forgetting your pajamas! > Things to to to Crow: To to to to, to ta ta ta, that's all I want to say to you. > the Author of Dark Marrissa. Poor Adam. Tom: Miss him, miss him. >-- >Stephen Ratliff CS Major, Radford University. >sratliff@runet.edu Radford, Virginia 24142-7496 >rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author >http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/ >http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer and >http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/index/ Index Maintainer for >http://aviary.share.net/~alara/ alt.startrek.creative >"Just as I was about to tell him, my science project struck." >"Your science project ran amuck on the Enterprise?" > -Rene and Marrissa Picard discussing the episode > "Diaster" in "All the King's Horses Crow: Someone really needs to start cracking down on the McQuarrie limit. Tom: Finally, it's over. [Mike picks Tom up and the trio leaves the theater.] [1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ] [The bridge of the SoL's lights are off. Tom and Crow stand center stage, illuminated by a single spotlight. Both bots are dressed in formal attire. A slight fog surrounds both bots.] Tom: We hoped you've enjoyed our little presentation tonight. Crow: Yes, once again we've been inflicted with some of the worst writing that humanity has ever presented. All for your entertainment. Tom: But as tonight's stories showed, sometimes we fictional characters can gain a measure of revenge upon their tormentors. Crow: And believe me, we've got cause for revenge. No, you weren't satisfied with us watching "Monster-a-Go-Go", "Mitchell", "Cave Dwellers", "Space Mutiny", "Riding With Death", "Red Zone Cuba", or even "Manos:Hands of Fate." You've forced us to read such gems as "The Eye of Argon." Tom: "The Rangers of Nimh." Crow: "A Short Walk." Tom: Numerous Mary Sue stories. Crow: John Winston posts. Tom: E-Mail spams. Crow: Pyramid schemes. Tom: And the utter evil of Stephen Brian Ratliff. [Both bots shudder] Crow: But tonight, we too get some revenge. And for that, let's go to Mike Nelson... Pearl: Hi people! Well, what can I say? Nelsting and his robot pals convinced me to help them, but just this once. [shrugs] What can I say? I'm just an old softie. Are you ready? Mike: [grinning evilly] Oh yeah. It's nice to be on the inflicting end of this for once. Pearl: Well, push the button Mike. [Mike's grin grows larger, and he pushes a button on the dashboard. Instead of the usual *pwoosh*, words begin to appear on the screen.] "Artemis's Lover": The day was unusually cool for being summer, Oscar was walking slowly on a lone sidewalk having the same thought every minute "Artemis. . ." he said to himself quietly, he could only think of Artemis's picture, and almost hear his voice "Why can't i take him out of my mind?!" he thought as he shutted his fist, he then realized he was in love (Yes you heard right! LOVE) with him. Oscar had a BIG thing for cats already...... [The text fades and the scene returns to the bridge of the SoL. The fog has disappeared entirely. Mike is asleep with his head resting on his arms on top of the console. Tom and Crow stand to either side of him.] Crow: Aw. Look. He's got a big smile on his face. Tom: He must be dreaming about chasing rabbits. Crow: Gee, after the jet engine, I thought that he'd never be able to get to sleep. Tom: But there little Mikie is, snoozing away. Isn't he cute? Crow: Think we should wake him and tell him that Pearl decided not to show us any movies today? Tom: Nah. Let him sleep. Crow: So, 24 straight hours of torture for us tomorrow then? Tom: Yep. At least Pearl sent us a list of what she'll be showing us. [Tom begins to examine a sheet of paper lying on the console. Crow wanders over to take a look at it too.] Tom: Hmm. Eight hours of Ernest films? Crow: It's probably something to do with Hemmingway. Batman and Robin? Tom: Pearl's Clooney fixation. See, she's got "The Peacemaker" scheduled just after that one. Crow: Well, go George Clooney, go.. What's this? "The Tommy and Pamela Show?" Tom: Aw, it's probably some cable access thing. Oh well. Looks pretty tame. Crow: Yep. [beat] So, should we go get the pan of water for Mike's hand now? Tom: Sure. He's slept enough. [They leave, leaving Mike alone on the bridge. The camera pulls for a closeup of Mike's face. He's still asleep, but he chuckles sleepily. ] Mike: [groggily] Hah. Cats. [The camera pulls back and after a moment, the picture dissolves with the usual. . . ] \ | / \ | / --- * --- PWOOOOSH! / | \ / | \ "Stephen Ratliff's Revenge Challenge" was written by Doug Atkinson. (douga@earlham.edu ) Andrew Perron (aamandk@snip.net ) Matthew Blackwell (Editor) (mblackwl@ix.netcom.com) Original Segments written by: Stephen Brian Ratliff : Original concept, "A Little Challedge", " Marrissa's Revenge" Alyssa Powell: "The Day The High School Blinked or Bev's Day Out." Greywolf the Wanderer: "Revenge" Don Buchan: "A Day in the Life of the Wuss Part 6" (&=@) Geordi Padovan "Revenge Backfired" Mercutio: "Letters from a Q Writer in Exile" "Star Trek", "Star Trek The Next Generation", "Deep Space Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager" and all related characters and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1998 Desilu/Paramount/Viacom. All rights are reserved. Sailor Moon is the property of Naoko Takeuchi and all the distributors of her work. "Mystery Science Theater 3000" and its related characters and situations are trademarks of and copyrighted [c] 1998 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved. Oscar wrote "Artemis' Lover." Be afraid. Be very afraid. His webpage is currently dead, but he might start writing again.... "Tubthumping" is [P] [c] 1997 by Chumbawamba. The CD is distributed in the USA by Universal Records, Inc. Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for non-commercial parody, review, and commentary purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc., Paramount, Inc., or anyone else, is intended or should be inferred. Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by others is intended or should be inferred. Michael J. Nelson and Bridget Jones are copyright of no one and no comment on their personal lives or their attitudes towards the fans should be inferred from this story. No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s) are or should be implied. All characters in this work are fictional except for those who aren't , and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Bill Livingston is responsible for the "C for Chumbawumba" line. Death threats may be sent to bill@traveller.com. When in Amarillo, visit the fabulous Wonderland Amusement Park! And be sure to visit the Cadillac Ranch too! And don't forget a visit to the Helium monument! Keep circulating the posts. > No story can save > you -- nothing can save you -- you're doomed! Dooomed! > DOOOOOMED!