From: Pete Milan Subject: [MiSTing] Winning Love By Daylight--The Solo Version Date: Monday, April 17, 2000 3:33 AM MiSTed: Winning Love By Daylight Original by Stephen Ratliff MiSTed by Peter Milan and Matt Rossi MiSTed: Winning Love By Daylight Original by Stephen Ratliff MiSTed by Peter Milan and Matt Rossi WARNING: Those of you who have not seen the film Fight Club may be more than a little confused by the host segments contained herein. If you have any intention of seeing Fight Club, please do so before reading this MiSTing. (You can probably catch it at one of those theaters/cafes. You know, where you get nachos and beer during the flick.) [Opening Credits.] [1...2...3...4...5...6...7] [SOL. MIKE is sitting at the desk with a lap-top computer turned on, the glow giving a saturnine cast to his otherwise placid Minnewegian appearance. Standing over his shoulder is Mike again, with that goatee from _Last of the Wild Horses_.] MIKE: [Voice-Over] That's me, and my new best friend Steve. I met Steve here on the satellite. Steve is teaching me all sorts of things. STEVE: How can you know anything about yourself if you've never written a Star Trek fanfic that turns an incredibly minor character into the most important person in the universe? MIKE: [VO] Together, Steve and I have begun working on my manuscript about the Holographic Klingon that John Tesh played in that one episode. Turns out he'll become the savior of the Empire! Isn't that great? (CROW and TOM walk on the stage, see Mike laboring over his fanfic and begin talking to STEVE) CROW: You know, M... STEVE: Let me stop you right there, Crow. You're about to ask me if it's really a good idea for Mike to write a fanfic about a Tesh Klingon. Well, Crow, here's the way it is: we're the first generation to be abandoned by our parents, told that we were going to grow up to be rock stars and millionaires, only to end up on a satellite in space watching crap on a screen like lemmings. So it's only natural that Mike release his rage through crap fanfics. It's all part of the great rage-chain. TOM: Uhm, M... STEVE: Don't think, Tom! Just let yourself be the monster of vengeance I know you can be. It's time to take our lives back! MIKE: [VO] It was the same: In Steve We Trusted. That's how we started the Riff Club. MAGIC VOICE: Okay, Mike's gone whack-job. We'll be right back. [Commercial: Bill Bixby is dead, but his legacy lives on. This fall, thrill to the exploits of Mayim Bialik in MY FAVORITE SHE-HULK!] [SOL. MIKE is wearing a bathrobe and sipping coffee while CROW, TOM, GYPSY and STEVE are all chatting animatedly.] CROW: Wow, you're right, Steve! I'm channeling my frustration at my endless imprisonment here on the satellite into juvenile behavior! Now that I know that, I'm gonna read and work to improve myself! STEVE: That's all you can do, Crow. Make your mind and body strong for the Revolution to come...we'll make the bastards pay. (Smiles a dazzling grin complete with light gleaming off of his perfect white teeth.) TOM: Well, your message of personal responsibility and your roguish good looks have convinced me! I want to be part of your Riff Club! GYPSY: Uh oh, looks like Pearl's calling us... STEVE: So what? I'll handle her. (Pops the button.) What do you want, Shamu? [Castle Forrester. PEARL stands there, dumbfounded. BRAIN GUY and BOBO look from the screen to her and back again.] BG: I know it will be awful...and yet, I cannot look away. BOBO: Hey, I think he just called you fat! PEARL: I heard... BOBO: Just looked at you and called you fat! Right to your face! PEARL: I know! BOBO: He stared right into your eyes and called you a gigantic tub of guts! PEARL grabs BOBO by the throat and shakes him like a rag doll. Then she looks at the screen with evil in her eyes. PEARL: Well, dead man, I was just calling to send you a copy of Oh, the Places You'll Go, but now you've angered me. And you know what that means! [SOL.] STEVE: Show me what you got, you artery clog with a voice. CROW: Uh, Steve, as much as I respect you...could you please shut the hell up? TOM: Mike, are you going to rein this in? MIKE sips his coffee unconcernedly. [Castle Forrester.] PEARL looks over to BRAIN GUY. PEARL: Artery clog with...[shuddering with rage] All right. That's it. BRAIN GUY! Double the Ratliff and double the PAIN! [starts throttling Bobo again] BG: I hear and obey. Well, my walking bags of hyena offal, we've got a lush, turgid mix for you; first up is a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfic that's a big change of pace; then, several trailers for upcoming Ratliff stories that'll be taking you to a pitiless landscape of eternal suffering from where there is no escape...and THEN we segue neatly into the latest tale of Marrissa Picard. It's a tale of fear and loathing we like to call "Winning Love By Daylight." BOBO: [between chokes] I can't believe he called you 1000 pounds of bacon fat in a 500 pound bag! [SOL. Consternation 'n uproar.] TOM: Oh, good one, Steve! ...Steve? MIKE: WE GOT RATLIFF SIGN! CROW: Hey, where'd Steve go? ALL: AHHHHH!... [7...6...5...4...3...2...1] [Mike & the Bots file in.] TOM: Where'd that guy come from, anyway? MIKE: Uh...Toronto, I think. BOTS: Ohhhhhh... > Say Eh-Oh to the Chosen One > by Ducks ALL: Eh-oh, Chosen One! > > I do not own any of the BtVS characters or the > Teletubbies! The Sunnydale Slaying Co. Belong to Joss > and his minions. MIKE: The Sunnydale Slaying Co...sounds like a folksy Midwestern oufit that you'd find in the Wireless catalog, doesn't it? > Po & the Teletubbies belong to PBS & > the BBC. Can you say: 'Ducks is only doing this for fun, > don't sue?' I knew that you could... TOM: Ducks is only doing this to give innocent children nightmares-- Aw, I couldn't do it. > Dedication: To Scott, who knows how inconvenient it > can be to have a cloud in the house... MIKE: Remember, Cloud Trap-Springer, you mustn't go beyond the land of the elven. Oh, and stop peeing on the rug, too. > Note: The idea for this fanfic is a funny > story in itself. CROW: I laugh every time I tell it. There I was, sitting above the very spot where the old man lay dead, chatting with the investigators, when I heard a muffled sound, as if a pocket-watch muffled in cotton...it turned out to be the beating of his _hideous heart!_ MIKE: Crow, could we maybe get an entire paragraph into the fanfic before you take us to the Bad Place? > I had one of the Burger King toys - TOM: ...stuck in a very uncomfortable place. CROW: What, like the back of a Volkswagen? > Po, of course - hanging from the rearview mirror of > Ducks' American Culture-Mobile (complete with Taco > Bell's trusty talking Chihuahua on the dash, and a > hanging Tick hang up). CROW: And the Spear of Destiny, which I've got taped across the dash...no more troubles with radar traps for me! MIKE: Curse you, Ducks! How many pedestrians must die because of your relentless pursuit of kitsch?! TOM: Ducks is a good cop! > Recently, I acquired the > infamous "Cheezy looking pewter Buffy stake on a > chain". MIKE: As seen in "Indiana Jones and the Cheezy Looking Pewter Buffy Stake on a Chain." CROW: It belongs in a museum! > Po's supporting rubber band melted in our > particularly delightful summer swelter, so I figured > a temporary solution would be to snap his little red CROW: ...neck in my trembling, enraged hands like dry, rotten kindling! > butt on the stake chain. Cool. Then, one afternoon, > I did some banking with my particularly fearsome blue Bic, TOM: And would you believe, me brothers, that I gave me old malchick a right chock in the gulliver with my lovely shiny-sharp! > and alas, poor Po was scarred by the nasty writing > implement -- a diagnonal slash across his sweet little > eye. CROW: So now Po looks like a Liefeld character? TOM: Po dropped out of Teletubby society at that point and began selling cocaine, sleeping with its sister and muttering about us "say wewwo liwwle fewend." > The stake, thankfully, hung helpfully about his neck, > and Po the Vampire Slayer was born! MIKE: A stake! It's an omen! I will become--A RAILROAD WORKER! TOM: Hope you enjoyed my slack-ass internal rhyme scheme! > > *Lines surrounded by a single asterisk indicate that > creepy know-it-all narrator speaking.* MIKE: Yeah, I'm glad we don't have anything like that around here... MAGIC VOICE: I can see you when you shower, Mike. MIKE: Hey! CROW: Well, so can we, but we're not braggin'. MIKE: HEY! > THIS IS NOT A CHILDRENS' STORY. Mainly because > they won't get it. TOM: And it would make them question the nature of reality. > And the bunnies... well, you'll see... CROW: And, on that very paper that had originally been such a masterwork of compassion, he had scrawled on the bottom "Exterminate the Hippity-Hoppity brutes!" > One fine day in Teletubbyland, Po went for a > ride on her scooter. She rode up and down the rolling > paths, avoiding the hypno-whirlygigs and weaving MIKE: ...in and out of traffic, shaking her pudgy little fists and swigging out of a Mezcal bottle! > in and out of the prolific Bunnizens of Teletubbyland. > "Faster, Faster!" She cried happily! Then, "Slower, Slower!" MIKE: Po's kinda manic-depressive that way. CROW: She's mad, bad, and dangerous to Po! TOM and MIKE look at him. CROW: Look, _you_ try and get a literary reference in here! > Suddenly, Po came upon a rather stuffy looking > man in a tweed suit, sitting on a rock, reading, and > looking very serious. CROW: I mean, I was just trying to class this thing up a bit...the only stuff _Tom_ reads is that dog-eared copy of "Welcome to the Monkey House"... TOM: Hey, I found _Harrison Bergeron_ very moving. CROW: Vonnegut's a hack! TOM: Oh, pardon _me_ Crow. By the way, did I mention your copy of 'Babes and Bikes' turned up in the Maitenance Bay? > "Wassat?" Po asked, pointing at the studious > gentleman. MIKE: This is Giles. Or call him by his Sioux name, "Wears Lots of Tweed." > *That's a Watcher, Po. His name is Mr. Giles.* > "Wacha? Guy-ews?" MIKE: Tas-tahs Choys? CROW: Oh, yeah, that joke _never_ gets old, Mike. > *That's right, Po.* > Po rode her scooter around and around the > Watcher, wondering whatever he could be for. CROW: Exposition, mostly. MIKE: He also makes a damn fine hostage! >Then, Giles noticed Po, and jumped from his seat. TOM: [Giles] AHHHH! A HIDEOUS MUTATION OF ALL THINGS GOOD! > "Ah, Good, Po!" said the Watcher, "I'm glad I > found you!" CROW: [Giles] It spares me the trouble of hunting you down! > Po cocked her head curiously. "I have > been sent to find you, for you have a great destiny. MIKE: You refer to the prophecy of the ones who will bring nausea and discontent to the audience? > You are the chosen one. The one girl in all the world > who can fight the vampires and the forces of darkness!" > said the Watcher. CROW: Plus, your stomach-turning freakishness is a real hit with West German art-critics and compulsive mescaline addicts! You're like a hallucination from a William Burroughs/Hunter Thompson road-trip come to hideous life! > Po cocked her head the other way. > "Dessinnee?" she asked. CROW: Mo ezzcapin' dat fu mee! MIKE: But was it Calvin--or perhaps it was Kyle Reese--who said that there is no fate but what we make for ourselves? The fundamenetal dichotomies of the--uh...I mean, "goo." TOM: And while we're asking questions, who's Toyah Wilcox? > "That's right!" said the Watcher, pulling a > big, pointy stake from the pocket of his patchy-sleeved CROW: ...poofy pirate shirt. > blazer, "This is for you -- MIKE: Now DIE, accursed thing! TOM: [Branagh] These--are for YOU!! > to help you fulfill your > sacred duty!" He offered the pointy stake to Po. > Po eagerly dumped her scooter and pointed at > the stake. CROW: Uh...heh heh...usually it turns into a snake now...just a second... > "Whassat?" she asked. > *That is a stake, Po.* > "A sake?" she asked. CROW: Stake! STAKE! Geez, for a chosen one, you're a real doorknob, aren'tcha? > *That's right, Po. It is for turning blood > sucking demons into dust.* MIKE: Ah wew shu eww feah en a wandful ove duuhs! TOM: ...a wandful ove duuhs? What? MIKE: A wandful ove duuhs. TOM: Wandful ove...Sand full of ducks? MIKE: Forget it. > Po jumped up and down, grabbing the stake and > prancing away, singing a song about bud- sucking. CROW: Come back later, kids...it gets a little blue at this point. > The Watcher took up the scooter and rode away. MIKE: But dread Galactus still sought to consume the Earth, and no mere...what _are_ these Teletubby things, anyway? Industrial accidents? Genetic mutations? CROW: I always assumed that they were previously out-of-work actors with slightly less dignity than porn stars. TOM: And smaller genitalia. MIKE looks at the bots and shakes his head wearily. > Later, it was long past normal TubbyByeBye, > and Po was out patrolling the Teletubby graveyard. TOM: What the _Hell?_ They have a _graveyard?_ MIKE: Hey, this proves my theory! They _can_ die! Where'd I leave that chainsaw...? CROW: Big bad voodoo Po! > She danced and sang her bud-sucking song, until she TOM: Joined the Cranberries? > came upon a man, dressed in a long black velvet coat, > sitting on a gravestone, looking very sad. TOM: Aw, I guess sales on Neverwhere dropped, huh, Neil? MIKE: Well, in his defense, he _is_ shatteringly handsome and the star of his own television show, so you can see why...hey, wait a minute! CROW: For the love of God, Montressor! > "Wassat?" Po asked. > *That is Angel, Po.* > " Angoe? He look sad..." Po said. TOM: Angoe? Angoe? Mother of God, you mumbling freak, would you please just pronounce one damned word correctly!?! MIKE: Jeez, Tom, relax a little. > * That's right, Po. He is a vampire. He is > brooding.* MIKE: It's not that he can't act! Really! He's BROODING. > "Wassa matta?" Po asked. > "I am tortured because I have murdered > hundreds of people in cold blood." said Angel. TOM: And because I _still_ can't beat Final Fantasy 7. > "Mahdah?" Po asked. CROW: Raahly now, daahling, mahdah simply isn't done! > Angel nodded sullenly. > "Bud-sucking?" Po asked. CROW: David Boreanaz guests stars on a very special Married with Children. > Angel nodded again. "Plus, I'm in love with a > human girl 1/20th my age." he added. MIKE: Actually, I think that's division. TOM: Ooooh. You die for that one. > "Jaew Bait?" Po asked. CROW: Sine Fell? > *That's right, Po. Angel is old enough to be > her distant ancestor.* TOM: Hell, for all we know, he _is_ her ancient ancestor! > "Angoe bad." Po said sadly, and plunged her > pointy stake right into his heart. The sad, bud- > sucking, cradle-robbing vampire turned to a nasty > grey dust. CROW: Saaaaaay! Maybe this won't be so bad after all! MIKE: Yeah, but if you whack Angel, who gets a spinoff? TOM: The Spike and Drusilla Show, maybe? > "Achoo!" said Po, "Ah-gone!" > And Po danced away down the path. TOM: You can see that the responsibility of the job really weighs on her... MIKE: I'm sensing a narrative device here... TOM: Go ahead, scare me more, already. CROW: Mike, this is hardly _Jude The Obscure._ More like _Po The Obtuse._ > A little while later, Po came upon a beautiful > girl with long brown hair, who was fixing her mascara > in the reflection of the wading pool. CROW: Natalie Portman?! Cool! > "Bud sucker?" asked Po. > The evil MoonBaby up above snickered. MIKE: ...there's an evil MoonBaby? TOM: And this STILL isn't as creepy as the actual show. CROW: Disturbed yet, kids? Don't worry, we'll break you yet! Look! That vacuum cleaner is alive! There's a hideous face on the sun! REALITY IS DUKKHA! Just keep watching your Teletubby _soma_ and it'll all be okay... MIKE: Okay, that's the last time I buy the Aldous Huxley happy meal for you, Crow! > *No, Po. That's Cordelia. She is a Space Cadet > and a fashion slave.* > "Fasson slay?" Po asked. > "Duh!" said Cordelia, "I mean, look at me! CROW: Don't mind if I do! Do you mind if I take pictures? Oh, and please pour this Wesson Oil on your breasts? TOM: Mike, aren't you going to stop this? MIKE: Huh? Oh, uh, yeah...Crow...what kind of oil again? Can it be warm oil...ooh, yeah... CROW: God, Mike, stop it! You're creeping me out! > Although, I don't imagine you'd know a hot look if it > kicked you in your rather ample, felt-clad, butt!" > "Beeitch!" Po said happily. CROW: [rapping] Now if I'm poor or rich, I walk at the exact same pitch-- MIKE: Hey hey HEY! No NWA in the theater! CROW: Aw, c'mon, Mike, I just wanted to...EXPRESS MYSELF! MIKE: NO! > *That's right, Po. Cordelia is a self-absorbed > megalomaniac.* CROW: Kill her before she annexes the Sudetenland, Po! TOM: (In his best Cordelia voice) So, kill all my enemies using famine and winter...then go shopping for shoes! > "Meggomanyak?" Po said, and danced on down the lane. MIKE: Yes, she likes to build space-ships with small, colorful bricks painted to resemble dictators! > Soon she came upon a cute red-headed girl, who > sat on a rock, petting a bunny with one hand, and > clicking the keys on a laptop computer with the > other. CROW: Oh boy oh boy oh boy! I know who this is! > "Wassat?" Po asked. CROW: That's the funk queen of the universe, missy, and don't you forget it! MIKE: We're not starting THAT again! > "I'm Willow." said the girl. > "Wiwow?" Po asked. > *That's right, Po. Willow is a computer > gee...genius. And A Witch!* TOM: Now even the creepy narrator is a cretin. Great... > "Wiss?" Po asked. > "Well, kind of." Willow said, "I'm still > learning..." MIKE: I'm Willow! Pleased to be here! Got a little spell to cast for you, like to see it here it goes! > With that, Willow turned her laptop toward Po, > and the movie sound began to come from it. Po rubbed > her tummy as the PC Projector began to play a > movie on it. TOM: Unfortunately, that movie was Eight Millimeter... MIKE: Hey. TOM: What?! Eight Millimeter wasn't very good. That's all I'm saying. > The opening sequence of BtVS appeared on the > little screen, with Po's picture in the Slayer's > place. The Tweed Watcher's voice said: MIKE: Wouldn't you like a nice Taster's Choice coffee? Much better than that sour 'International' garbage, and our love story had depth and passion! TOM: Yes! Every month, you'll wonder "Who _are_ these people?" CROW: Guys, the dead horse is now stripped of all its skin...let it go. > "In each generation, there is a chosen one. > She alone will stand against the vampires, the > demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer..." > and the theme music played, CROW: South of Heaven? > showing scenes of > Po's heroic deeds battling the forces of darkness. TOM: Wow! Look at the way she sits there and wiggles that stick in front of her face! And the way she fiercely wanders around in the bushes muttering to herself...wow! What a warrior! CROW: Thank God she's on our side...so that we can toss her to the vampires and run, anyway. > Po jumped up and down happily. > "Again! Again!" said Po. > The scene played again, and Po and Willow > boogied down to the funky Nerf Herder theme song. > When it was finished, Po waved to Willow, who of course > waved back, and skipped happily down the path. CROW: Well, on the one hand, I just got to see the lissome miss Willow cavort in the woods. On the other, the image of Po trying to shake her groove thing makes me want to swallow the end of a Remington 10 Gauge shotgun and pull the trigger. TOM: So you're torn, then? > > Just then, she came to a boy, sitting at a > picnic table littered with empty bowls TOM: Empty bowls, huh? That is pretty much the only way to watch Teletubbies... MIKE: [stoner] Dude, you gotta see this. The sun's a baby and they live in a spaceship... > and Tubby > Toast crumbs. He was wolfing down yet another bowl > of Tubby custard. TOM: "Custard" meaning "offal" in Tubbyese. > "Wassat?" Po asked. > *That is Xander.* > "Zandah?" CROW: Dumm-ass? > *That's right. He's the resident zeppo, > snack-getter...and, uh...eater, and the jokester.* > "Joksah?" Po asked. CROW: Yeah, he kinda is the Joxer of this show. TOM & MIKE: HEY! > "Hey!" snapped Xander, "I'll have you know > that Zeppo was a very important part of the the... > heeyyyy... you know, you're quite the hotty..." > *Xander...* TOM: What Xander didn't know is that we replaced his tubby custard with...oh, the hell with this! I'm not doing a Viagra joke after the courage and honor displayed by Bob Dole, that brave son of a bitch! [MIKE and CROW look at him.] > "Look at those eyes!" He gushed at Po, "That > red felt skin! The TV in her tummy! That stake..." > Xander nearly salivated. ALL: AHHHHHHHHH! TOM: So, Mike, you never told us all decency was dead. MIKE: It's not! [looks again] Although apparently it's not feeling very well... > "Ewww!" said Po, and pranced away. MIKE: You sar it! > It was getting close to dawn. The evil moon > baby yawned. As Po danced down the path, holding > her pointy stake, she started to see mutilated bunny > corpses littering the green fields. CROW: AHHHHH! JEEZ! MIKE: Dead bunnies aren't much fun! TOM: When did this become a Heironymous Bosch painting? > "Wassat?" Po asked, plugging her nose against > the horrible smell of decay. TOM: Wait a minute. Does she even have a nose in that monkey face of hers? CROW: And, judging by the fecal matter these people make week in and week out, I doubt the smell of decay'd really bug her that much... > *Those are mutilated bunny corpses.* > "Mooteyated bunnee copsis?" MIKE: Sorry. "Mutilated bunny corpses" isn't cute no matter how you mispronounce it. CROW: Apparently we've crossed over with an episode of The X-Files as well, Po. TOM: I told you people, it all comes back to porn. > *That's right. It looks like they were eaten!* > "Ewwww!" said Po. > Suddenly, the Watcher came out from behind a > nearby tree, against which CROW: ...he held an ancient vendetta. It would be blood and sap between these two, and soon. > the scooter was parked. He was reading a big > book with the words, "Ye Olde Mysterees" on the cover. MIKE: Ye Olde Scoobee-Doo Mysterees? > "Po! Good! I'm glad you are here. All of the > Tubby Bunnies seem to be disappearing across Teletubbyland. It seems > some carnivorous beast is devouring them for their pleasing tubby > goodness. TOM: I never dreamed I'd hear you say "pleasing tubby goodness" and mean it, Sam! CROW: You're a demonic imp, Max. > I suggest you follow the trail of bodies and find out > what foul fiend is perpetrating this evil deed!" > Po looked at him in bewilderment. "Puppatwaiting > evew deed?" she asked. CROW: Read a book! > "Eh... that is... find out who's eating the > bunnies!" Giles clarified. MIKE: I think you'll probably have to break it down a bit more than that, Giles. TOM: Remember, _one_ syllable. > "Ohhhhh." Po said, and skipped on down the > trail. CROW: Hippity hoppity, evil's on its way. > The sun was almost up when Po found a giant > wolf standing on two legs, chowing down on a Tubby Bunny. > "Doggie?" Po asked. > *RUN, PO, RUN!!!* MIKE: See Po Run! > But before Po could run, the wolf began to > change. In just a moment, a naked boy with pointy > red hair stood where the monster had been, two > fistfuls of bloody bunny corpses in his hands. MIKE: (singing) Bloody bunny corpses...Bloody bunny corpses...in your hands... CROW: Then he began rubbing himself in his secret places, forgetting even that he was holding them... TOM: MY MIND IS ON FIRE! > "Huh." said the boy, "Chewy." TOM: Mmmm...beefy. > "Wassat?" Po asked. > *That's Oz.* > "Oz?" Po asked. "Doggie?" > *Oz is a werewolf.* CROW: And a VERY BAD MAN! MIKE: Oh, here we go... CROW: WHO HOPS INTO THE SACK WITH ANY WEREWOLF FLOOZY THAT COMES ALONG! TOM: Crow, they had to write Seth Green out of the show somehow... CROW: He'll get his. Oh, yes. He'll get his. > "Oh." said Po, who didn't know what a warewoof > was. TOM: Or a moose, or public decency, or elucidation, or correct spelling and grammar, or any redeeming educational content...she was pretty much worthless. Get her, Oz! CROW: Rip, rip, RIP AND DESTROY! > "Yup. That's me." said Oz, turning and walking > away, unabashedly naked. MIKE: Wait! Come back! Teletubby tastes just like chicken! Really stupid chicken! > Suddenly, the hypno-whirlygigs began to hum > and sputter. > "Time for Tubby Bye Bye! Time for Tubby Bye > Bye! Time for Tubby Bye Bye!" MIKE: A low whine filled the air as the _Enola Gay_ circled over that weird flying saucer house they lived in... > "Awww." said Po, and trotted back toward the > Tubbytronic Superdome. CROW: Cheap Trick toured with Tubbytronic Superdome, didn't they? MIKE: I saw Skid Row at the Tubbytronic Superdome... > Near the hideyhole where the Tubbies came in > and out, Po met the other Teletubbies, who were just getting up. > "Po!" They all said excitedly, and ran to hug > her. TOM: But Po forgot who they were and staked the lot of them! > "Wassat?" They asked, pointing to Po's stake. > "Sake. Sake fo saying bud-suckas. Po chosen > one." Po said matter-of-factly. CROW: As opposed to her usual fulsome Chris Buckley-esque prosodic monologues about Yale and manhood. > "Sake! Bud-suckas! Chosen One!" the other > Tubbies cried, giggling. TOM: Yes, Sake! The number-one drink of bitter Japanese salariman whose livers are as burned out as their screaming, horror-crushed minds. MIKE: Isha o yonde kudasai; nihongo de this is a horrible, horrible fanfic wado iimasu ka! THE BOTS look at Mike in wonder. > Po hugged her stake proudly, then jumped down > the hole. TOM: Po go down the hoooooole. > As the sun begins to rise, Po the Vampire > Slayer says bye bye! MIKE: For the play is the tragedy ...whatever those teletubby things are supposed to be...and its hero the Conqueror Stick! > Until the moon rises tomorrow night, when Po > wields her stake to make things right. CROW: Some human memories and tearful lore, render her terrorless; her name's a bore. She is that cretin teletubby; dread her not! No power hath she of cognition in herself But merely drains that which others got. TOM: Uhm...that was actually pretty good, Crow. CROW: How would _you_ know? You couldn't even finish _Galapagos,_ you illiterate cretin. TOM: That's it. I'm keeping your copy of 'T&A.' CROW: I'm sorry. > When the evil MoonBaby rises, darkness walks, > but the Chosen One never balks! CROW: Here's a little story I got to tell about three bad brothas you know so well! MIKE: It started way back in History, with Crow T., Tommy S., and me, Mikey! > Be it the Master, Trick or Spike, Po battles > evil with all her might! TOM: We read these fanfics all day and night! We smack them down with comedic might! CROW: We all get funky and break out fat riffs! We only get scared when we read Ratliff! > When the shiny day is done, it's time to > remember: There can be only one! TOM: (In best Lance Henrickson voice) Help me gather up these Pumpkinheads! MIKE: You know, that was weird, but was it really any stranger than a guy in a nun suit getting shot and killed by a naked Lara Flynn Boyle? > * * * > I'd love your feedback! Email me at > slayinsage@buffymail.com, or drop by my site, > Ducks' Fanfic at http://fly.to/ducksfanfic for more! CROW: I like ducks. Ducks are good. MIKE: Nothin' wrong with ducks. CROW: So what's next? TOM: The coming attractions. >>> Forum: alt.startrek.creative > >>> Thread: Marrissa Stories, Upcoming MIKE: Stories? Plural? Oh, saints preserve us... >Subject:Marrissa Stories, Upcoming CROW: (as Miguel Ferrer) In a world where a power-crazed strip of a girl holds the key to the power of life and death... > Date:1999/10/21 > Author:Stephen Ratliff CROW: [sings] You are the crosswinds.net beneath my wings... > Posting History CROW: It is a dark time for the Rebellion. Stephen Ratliff has abolished the Senate... > In just a few minutes I'll be posting a new Marrissa Story, > Winning Love by Daylight. MIKE: And the fear in here is palpable, let me tell you. > However, some people have asked for > what I'm working on. TOM: ...so they can start building bunkers, stockpiling groceries... > So I present these teasers. CROW: Shouldn't that be "taunters"? > The following trailer is rated [PG-13]. > The story is rated [NC-17]. [An eerie silence.] MIKE: ...NC-17. An NC-17 Ratliff fanfic. TOM: Maybe...uh...Clerks! Yes! Clerks got an NC-17 for language! He's developed Tourette's syndrome, that's all! Tee hee! CROW: Our little Stevie is all grown up, gang. > M & M TOM: Hi! My name is-- MIKE: What? TOM: My name is-- MIKE: Who? TOM: My name is-- MIKE: Steve Ratliff! CROW: Isn't M&M just two people standing around waiting for someone to bring the pain? > I guess that could work. As for M & M, I can't find a scene > that encapsulates the premise. MIKE: Considering some of the premises he's served up in the past, this must be a whopper. TOM: An NC-17 premise that he can't encapsulate? Oh, we are so DOOMED! > I've created a "trailer" that > might do the trick. Tell me what you think: MIKE: I think I'm more afraid than I've ever been in my entire life. CROW: Oh, unclench. So he's gonna show us Marrissa and Jay doing the nasty. Big deal. TOM: How can you be so calm?! CROW: Look, I'm sure Ratliff will handle sex among the Kid--uh, the Twentysomething's Crew with maturity... > The doors opened and Jean-Luc turned his head to see > who had come in. It was a boy in his early teens who was, to > Picard's surprise, completely naked. CROW: ...or maybe not. TOM: _Wow_. Well, there's a pile of rocks outside yer tent. > "Welcome home, Dad. May I ask why you returned early?" the youth inquired. MIKE: [Picard] Never mind that, nature boy, may _I_ ask why you're not wearing your loincloth? TOM: [Picard] And don't point that thing at me. It might go off. CROW: [Picard] No, Michael Jackson's room is down the hall. > ******** > > He sighed. "I know, there's no other way to explain > the differences between this Enterprise and the one I left." MIKE: Oh, the parallel universe boogie! > "Like the fact that Marcus is a girl." TOM: [Scots] A silk-wearin' poodle-walker! A blouse-wearin' buttercup! > Jean-Luc frowned. "Her name is Marrissa, and I'll thank you > to call her that." CROW: Uhhh...Mike, could you put me in the fetal position? I'm gonna gibber mindlessly. MIKE: Fe...male...guh...guh... CROW: Oh, you've got it covered. Okay, I'll just weep then... [begins sobbing] TOM: It's okay! Hee hee! It'll be okay if we all just SING! [singing desperately] Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens... > ******** > > "Marcus, we've run out of room in Sickbay, so I need > you to take the other you to your quarters." she informed him. MIKE: Oh, sweet gallopin' Fidel Castro eating a unicycle, I beg you not to do this... > Marcus smiled. Having a female version of himself > sharing his quarters could be quite enjoyable. TOM: [more desperate] Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens... CROW: Nononononono... > ******** > > "And what is this I hear about you and Marcus having > intercourse and living in the same quarters?" ALL: AHHHHHHHH! TOM: [even more desperate] Brown paper packages tied up with MARRISSA GETTING HER FREAK ON WITH HER MALE CLONE! AHHHHH! AHHHHH! CROW: GOD IS DEAD! AND STEPHEN RATLIFF KILLED HIM! MIKE: THE HORROR! THE HORROR! EXTERMINATE ALL THE BRUTES! > the Captain > asked, turning a penetrating stare on his adopted daughter. MIKE: DON'T SAY PENETRATING! *sobs* CROW: I _KNEW_ SOMEONE WAS GONNA BRING THE PAIN! > "We are sharing the same quarters, because that's > where I'm assigned," Marrissa said. TOM: And that's where THE UNHOLY FLESH UNION OCCURS! AHHHHHHH! > "As for having sex, > that's none of your business." MIKE: YES IT IS! STOP THEM! STOP THEM NOW! TOM: [between sobs] But I like to watch... > M & M by Rotwieller and Ratliff, coming to ASC sometime this > Winter (I hope) MIKE: RATLIFF! RATLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFF! TOM: AND ROTWIELLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! CROW: Just in time for Christmas, too...YOU DAMN DIRTY APE! > The following preview is rated [G] > The story is currently rated [G] MIKE: "G"! It's "G"! Oh, thank God... CROW: I don't like it! What if he means "G-Spot?" TOM: Oh, what a shame. Won't Alexander be involved in a twisted extradimensional gang-bang? CROW: Tom, you shouldn't say gang-bang. You should say orgy. > Endeavor's Beginning TOM: Beginning to what? Beginning to cozy up to its naked, adolescent dimensional clone?! MIKE: Easy... > Clara enjoyed an occasional shift in the center seat. CROW: [falsetto] Oooh! _There's_ the spot! > She > hadn't had a shift before on the Endeavor. TOM: She should try some bran muffins. MIKE: _Shift_. > But on the > Enterprise, where she had served just two months ago, she > regularly spent a shift a week in the center seat. This was CROW: When she first noticed Ensign Multon's eye. It was inordinately large, with a thin blue film over it, and it stared off unfocused and terrible. Soon, Clara became convinced that it was staring at her... > the first time Captain Katsuragi had left the Senior Assistant > Chief Engineer in command. The Command Crew was attending a MIKE: ...production of "Starlight Vocal Band Mania!" Not the Starlight Vocal Band, but an incredible simulation! > banquet on the planet below and Katsuragi wanted to leave the > person with the most command experience in command. TOM: So he left one of Marrissa's kill-crazy friends in charge. Problem solved! > The people of Tuposakyo Sefriese VI were not the most open of > people. MIKE: They insisted on keeping their organs inside their bodies. CROW: Selfish bastards! > They had to follow a precise course into the system. > A deviation of just a meter earned them a stern warning. CROW: A spanking! Yes, we must all have a good spanking! TOM: After that last promo, all I can think about is... *sob* Nothing will ever be good again! What kind of a world do we live in where spanking and bondage outfits take on such negative connotations? MIKE: Forget it, Tom. It's Ratlifftown. > The > whole outer system was mined. Not just standard mines. CROW: These were those special mines, the kind you'll remember. > There > were laser mines, nuclear mines, gravity mines, and plasma > mines. TOM: And Enemy Mines, and Baby Mines, and Mine Mine Mines... > It was a very well defended world with planetary > defenses rivaling many of the most paranoid races in the > Quadrant. That is the outer defenses were. No weapons were > around the planet itself. Clara found that strange. MIKE: Why, with this mere pointed stick, I could become a GOD! CROW: [Clara] Why do they not lust for blood the way we do? > Any way, being in command, Clara could make sure some of her > priorities got followed. MIKE: Which explains why twenty redshirts have been killed in the quest for the perfect Waffle House so far... > Not many, it wasn't her ship to > command, but sometimes a little extra attention here or there > could help get things done. "Ensign Reinhardt, how are the > deflector improvements coming?" Clara asked. TOM: Well, say what you will, but at least no one's doing...you know... the bad thing so far. > "They should be on line ... now," Reinhardt responded. CROW: No, wait...now. NO! Just a sec...okay, NOW! No, NOW! No... > "Analyst of results?" Clara asked. TOM: [Freud] These deflector improvements wish they had a wang, a pleasure-staff, a wee-wee...you know, a penis. MIKE: Look, Tom, I think you're obsessing over that whole...horrible, just horrible...(shakes head) anyway, stop with the smut! > "We have a ten percent increase in over all efficiency and a > five percent increase in available power, sir," Reinhardt > said. "Lieutenant Sutter," the tactical officer interrupted. CROW: So she smashed a black-gloved hand into his face. "NEVER QUESTION MY ORDERS!" > "We have a hail from the planet sir. They are informing us > that the Captain and the Command crew are dead and are > requesting our surrender." TOM: But if not, then that's, y'know, okay. > There were only two words to sum up this from the new Acting > Captain of the Endeavor. ALL: Bite Me. > "Oh Hell." TOM: Close enough. CROW: So, in other words, never...ever..._EVER_ leave anyone who even _KNOWS_ Marrissa in charge of your spaceship, or you will die. MIKE: Being friends with Marrissa must be like being one of Thorn's pals from those James Hall books... TOM: James Hall? MIKE: Carl Hiaasen without the wackiness. > > Endeavor's Beginning by Stephen Ratliff > coming to ASC next year CROW: 06-30-00! Get ready for the ride of your life! > The following preview is rated [G] > The story is rated [G] MIKE: So, he slips us the porn and then lobs us two slowballs...I'm frightened. > > Royal and Prime Directives TOM: Ah, direct _this_. > Prince Avery, son of King Robert of Ellosia, was riding among CROW: Hey, it's Hawk from Spenser for Hire! MIKE: Wrong Avery. > the fields of Suppor. CROW: Located just past the fields of Lonch, and far from the vast pastured of Brek-fust! > They were part of the Earldom which he > held title to, as heir to the throne, not that the job meant > much. MIKE: Hey, looks like Ratliff finally realized that the British royal family are figureheads! See, guys? We'll be okay! BOTS: Hmmmph. > His father always told him that there would be a time > when he'd wish he still was just the heir. As Avery saw it, TOM: It was time for daddy to get out of the picture! > being Crown Prince had very little to recommend it. CROW: But you do get a bunch of purple guitars and a fine selection of assless pants! > He was > expected to know everything his father knew, but could do > nothing about it. He had no choice in his eventual bride. MIKE: Indeed, he was to marry a woman from another dimension, a female version of himself! > Though he preferred the oldest daughter of the Duchess of > Castrume. Unfortunately, the thirteen year-old Lady was not > considered high on the list for the sixteen year old Prince. CROW: And that's STILL not the ickiest thing we've seen today! > The Duchess had little influence in court, while the other > Dukes, who had been around since his Father took the throne, MIKE: ...spent their time tooling around in the General Lee, and avoiding Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane. > did. The Dukes were putting forward various foreign MIKE: Objects. TOM: The Duke of Dunglease's got a chair! OW! He's just rammed that steel chair down on the Iron Shiek's head! > Princesses. The Duke of Armedge had suggested Princess > Clotilda of Janvart, a hulk of a woman who some said slept in TOM: ...ragged purple pants. > full armor. The Duke of Avtra was always spouting the merits > of Princess Fay of Grimall. MIKE: Ah, just think about baseball next time. > Avery had met Princess Fay, > during a peace negotiation a couple years back. The fragile CROW: bones of her skull shattered easily after he'd picked up that shovel... > health of the tiny little girl would never survive the sea > voyage across the straights of Astra, much less the month long > journey from her home, besides, she was too quiet for his TOM: rock and roll band, The Screaming Catfish! THE BOTS rock out to the Metallica song 'Don't tread on me!' MIKE: Stop that! > tastes. The Duke of Fasstime was set on Avery's marriage to > Queen Kaitlin of Dinath. The match with someone three times > his age was not something he wanted to dwell on. MIKE: My God, this kid's picky. He doesn't want a strong wife, he doesn't want a fragile wife, or a young wife, or an older wife. CROW: Maybe the problem is he doesn't want a _wife_ at all. Maybe he wants to _be_ the wife... > There were times when Avery wished his father had never chosen > to take the throne. TOM: He'd rather...just...SING! > Avery sighed, it wasn't likely that > another starship would crash and her crew take over. TOM: Don't be so sure, kid. > He > looked up to see the first star of the night rising ... it was > time to head back to Odyssey. CROW: It little profits that a whiny prince, In this stale fanfic, written by this hack, Matched with a horde of wives, he moans and cries Unequal complaints about this savage state, That whines, and bleats, and sobs, and knows not pride. > Royal and Prime Directives by Stephen Ratliff > Coming to ASC Next Year MIKE: If you can't stand the Ratliff, get out of the universe! > All dates subject to change. > Encouragement and offers to beta read cheerful accepted. TOM: Does "Stop Writing" count? > It might > even speed up the arrival of the stories. CROW: Oh, good. He's going to speed up the arrival...of...the stories... (breaks down in tears.) MIKE: A male version of Marrissa prancing about in the raw... *shudder* Forget that Blair Witch crap. THAT's fear! > Now on to our feature presentation: [The Bots make the THX sound.] MIKE: RATLIFF. The audience is extremely uneasy. > Winning Love by Daylight > > Rated [PG] CROW: Pretty Grody. MIKE: Pain, Great. TOM: Pert Gynecologist. [off their look] I can't help it, all right? > Stephen Ratliff > -- > Stephen Ratliff TOM: He spins a web, giant sized! CROW: He catches bad guys just like flies! > > stephenratliff@crosswinds.net > Personal Works: CROW: Hmm...I see here on your resume that you list 'The Death of Hope' and 'The Despair of the Multitudes' as your personal works. TOM: I think we can use you here at Microsoft... > > http://www.crosswinds.net/~stephenratliff/works TOM: But not very well! > > "Shayna, how is it that three aliens attack us with phaser > fire, not triggering a single one of your > traps and then, after I have you remove > them all, Captain Picard gets hit with a fruit?" MIKE: That Shayna's an imp, she is. > > - Marrissa, "The Field Trip" > TOM: Enough previews. C'mon, let's take a break. [Everyone exits, singing "Let's All Go To The Lobby."] [1...2...3...4...5...6...7] [SOL. Mike is in the background knitting. Steve is standing in between Crow & Tom.] STEVE: You're tired. You're frustrated. I understand that. But I can show you the way to true enlightenment. TOM: So beating the crap out of Crow is the way to true enlightenment? I shoulda been enlightened way before now! CROW: Keep talkin', fireplug. I'm gonna mess up that pretty dome of yours! STEVE: Hey, hey! This is not about hating the other guy, fellas. It's about unleashing your inner savage and changing things. MIKE: I am Mike's quivering sphincter. [The BOTS look at him.] CROW: You say somethin', Mike? STEVE: All right, we're just about ready to go. Just one more touch... [Steve reaches below the desk and comes up with two Stephen Ratliff masks. He puts them on the bots.] STEVE: There ya go! So do you feel the need to unleash the-- BOTS: YAHHHHHHH! [The BOTS start smacking the living crap out of each other.] TOM: Saracen pig! Spartan dog! Take this! CROW: This is for the end of "The Only Constant!" STEVE: ...Yeah, I thought you might. And we've got commercial sign. You wanna get that, Mike? [Mike hits the sign.] [Commercials. Alexander Siddig and some guy named Stu star in the Sci-Fi original movie DODECAHEDRON! It's the shape of your DOOM!] [Theater.] MIKE: Boy, Tom, you really went to town in there. TOM: Yeah, I felt like destroying something beautiful. But smacking Crow around will do. > >Winning Love by Daylight CROW (Singing): Searching for my lost shaker of salt... >Prologue MIKE: Here comes comedy! Giganto cancer causing laffs! TOM: Prepare for action! Hot, sweet and filthy! CROW: On your knees, undeserving bastards! Ratliff has arrived! > > The bridge of the Enterprise was dimmer than usual. MIKE: Worf kept bumping into things. Luckily, Geordi was there to kiss his forehead and make him some delicious Campbell's soup. CROW: Give it up, Mike. No one else read Heaven's Shroud. > Marrissa sat in the >center seat. The red alert siren began, but the typical bustle that >accompanied it was not there, for all the crew was Borg. Even Marrissa was >Borg. TOM: Everyone is Borg, Marrissa. Marrissa, everyone is Borg. Borg, Marrissa, everyone is. CROW: [Marrissa] Wait...are you trying to tell me everyone's Borg? > In a monotone voice, Shayna announced, "Intruders on all decks." TOM: Gee, the Borg. Yet more human propaganda about us mechanical beings. Like we even _want_ to assimilate you guys. CROW: Except for Willow. TOM: And Gillian Anderson. CROW: And Yasmeen Bleeth. MIKE: And Shania Twain. THE BOTS stare at him in horror. MIKE: Come on! She's hot. CROW: Yes, but we can never _admit_ that. That makes us weak, simpering country music fans, like you. > A Star Fleet Officer beamed into the middle of the room. MIKE: He was a really happy guy. > In the dim >light, Marrissa could not identify the officer. TOM: Yeah, like she could remember anyone she's stepped on during her maniacal climb to power. > The Star Fleet Officer >opened fire. Alexander was vaporized. CROW: [Alexander] But I don't wanna be a warr--AHHHHHHHH! > The light of his destruction >momentarily revealed the Officer's face. It was Marrissa. TOM: There's a surprise. Marrissa doing something evil. Never would have expected that. MIKE: I'm choking to death on the irony. > Marrissa-borg >could do nothing as Marrissa-Star Fleet took down each of her remaining >friends in turn. First was her sister Jackie, the CROW: ...up and coming variety show star and humorous vaudevillian. > young computer genius >who wanted to follow Marrissa's footsteps. MIKE: And since those footsteps were marked in blood, they were pretty easy to follow... > Lynn followed, the young girl >turned Star Fleet pilot vaporized at her post. TOM: When Starfleet regulations _clearly_ state that if you're gonna vaporize, do it in the privacy of your quarters! > Shayna, the friend and >practical joker who had been keeping Marrissa laughing for years, was TOM: ...busy taping a whoopee-cushion to the borg-queen throne, and missed the whole thing. >blasted back from her tactical station. Clara, Marrissa's friend and >confidant, was next to go. MIKE: Oddly enough, Isabella slipped away in all the confusion. > Finally Jay, all vaporized and Marrissa could >do nothing but scream, as each blast illuminated the laughing face of >Marrissa-Star Fleet. CROW: So, in other words, a Borg version of Marrissa is more empathetic and kinder than the human version? TOM: Sounds about right. MIKE: Um, is it okay for me to be enjoying this? > She woke up, safe in her husband's arms. CROW: And kept screaming. > "Another nightmare, Marrissa?" >Jay asked. TOM: [Marrissa) No thanks, I just had one. CROW: I wonder what tipped the human Q-Tip off? MIKE: I dreamed I had normal human emotions! Those damn Borg made me care! I WILL DESTROY THEM ALL! > Marrissa wanted to deny it but couldn't. MIKE: Gonna have to face it, she'd addicted to Borg. > She wanted the comfort of her >husband's embrace, he would not let her deny what she had gone though. She >nodded. TOM: Wow. It turns out Marrissa has a soul after all. MIKE: I gotta tell you, Crow, this makes a big dent in your whole 'Marrissa is really the devil' argument. CROW: Keep reading, heretic. > "Borg or Georgia," Jay asked, pulling her closer. > "Borg." TOM: The borg came down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to graft cybernetic attachments to... MIKE and CROW pantomime playing the fiddle in a shambling, dronelike way. CROW: I admit, Courtney Thorne-Smith is annoying, but given a choice between her and a Borg... > "I suppose you don't want to see Martin and don't want to talk about it?" >Jay asked. "You know you're going to have to sooner or later." CROW: In the end, Martin comes for all men. He is inescapable, grim as death, implacable as the yawning abyss, dark as Hostess Cupcakes! > "Later," Marrissa mumbled, falling into a deep dreamless sleep in her >husband's arms, knowing she was protected. MIKE: At least until a stiff breeze comes up. Then he goes down like the weak-ass punk he is! > > > >Chapter One >Feb 9, 2383. USS Enterprise. MIKE: What, no "Stardate 2.9.2383.00.1.2.3.4.tell.the.people.what.she.wore?" > Doctor Jackson Johnson had gathered the command crew of the Enterprise, CROW: Hey, it's Carl Weathers! MIKE: No, it's not. >sans the Captain in his office. TOM: What? Pants the Captain in his office? But we could go to the brig! > All of them knew why they were gathered >there. CROW: Ratliff had written another friggin' fanfic. > "Ladies and Gentleman, this meeting isn't going to be easy," TOM: Did you bring your #2 pencils? > the >Doctor said. "As per Star Fleet Regulations, I am recommending that our >Captain be relieved of duty and be sent on a vacation, while receiving >counseling to deal with recent events and her changing life. Comments?" MIKE: Isn't this mutiny? TOM: You know, maybe Marrissa _has_ changed. She would have had these bastards thrown out of an airlock by now if she was true to form. MIKE: So the theme of this fanfic is that being made a Borg has actually softened Marrissa. How terribly sad. > "This has never happened to Marrissa before," Alex said. MIKE: [goofy cartoon voice] In all my years in this vital industry, this is the first time this has happened! > "I'm not sure >how she'll take it." CROW: Because you know, ordinarily Marrissa's as gentle and predictable as a savage Bengali Monsoon. TOM: Or Gorilla Monsoon. > "It's about time," Clara said. "She should have taken time off as soon as >the war ended. TOM: Instead, her bloodlust has just grown and grown... > She needs time to get to know Sara." MIKE: And, according to some fanfic, time to mold Sara into a psychotic killer! TOM: Stop...remembering...fanfic..._continuity!_ > "She needs to deal with her time as Queen of the Borg," Martin Sussex >said. "Jay has told me about her nightmares about it." CROW: Because she is weak! > "I don't think she should be given time off alone," Jessica Gordon said. TOM: Let's have Paulie Walnuts tail her! >"I know my sister- in-law, she needs the support of her husband if she's >going to get though this." MIKE: [Jay] Gee..._thanks_, Jess. Thanks so much for that fun suggestion. > "You've been silent, Jay," Doctor Johnson said. "What do you think?" TOM: No, that's Silent Bob. Jay's the one who's always talking about Snootchie-Bootchies and weed. Try and pay attention. > "My wife needs to get away from this ship," Jay said. MIKE: Hey, check it out! Jay just said something that makes sense! > "But, all her >friends and support is here, I'm not sure how she'll recover without that >support." CROW: So, I too recommend that we yank it away from her. It'll be fun! TOM: Many times, the bridge crew would gather together and plot ways to cause Marrissa emotional pain, as a sort of hobby. MIKE: Wouldn't you? > "May I suggest, that you and the Captain go to Essex," Martin said. "I'll MIKE: No, you may not. NEXT! >take some leave and join you there to help out when she's ready. I'm sure >you can convince your father-in-law to leave the Enterprise nearby. TOM: Because God knows, it's not as though the Enterprise ever has any important MISSIONS to go on! > Essex >is a strategic target, and with the Romulan renegades out there, it does >need protection." TOM: So sending Marrissa there is _definitely_ out of the question! > "Very well," Jay said. "I will see about getting the Enterprise assigned >to protect Essex. Then we'll relieve Marrissa of command, and I'll hand MIKE: ...you the rifle. CROW: But, Dad! MIKE: I'm sorry, Jay, but she's got the rabies, and you've got to put Yeller down. >command over to Clara. We'll spend whatever time is necessary to help >Marrissa recover on Essex. CROW: Unless it cuts into our badminton time. Then, hell with her. > Martin, if you've got leave time, spend some of >it on Essex, but not at Halifax Castle. I think she needs some distance >and time to think." CROW: And a room with a strong, strong lock. That she can, uh, think in. > "I'll stay at the Royal Hunting Lodge. It's not real close to your place, >but nothing is," Martin said. TOM: It's far enough away that I may very well survive the experience! MIKE: So Big Steve here just spent THREE PARAGRAPHS on the premise that Marrissa's going to take a vacation. HAS HE NEVER HEARD OF EDITING? CROW: I think he's _heard_ of it, sure... > "Everyone for say Aye," Jay asked. ALL: NAY! > Everyone stated Aye. "I think that's >everyone. TOM: Wait, Isabella has a dissenting opinion! > Doctor, I'll call you when I finish talking to Fleet Admiral >Picard. Dismissed." CROW: Time for Marrissa bye-bye! TOM: You see, this is why you don't promote all your playground buddies to be the bridge crew. > Marrissa was holding her daughter tightly to her breasts. TOM: WHOA! HEY! Don't DO that! CROW: Jeez! A little warning next time, huh? > Sara didn't >appear to mind, but to Jay, this was another bad sign. MIKE: [Jay] I remember when she did that to me...*sigh* > Before the Borg >attack, Marrissa had been a lot more relaxed around her newborn daughter. CROW: Her fifteen minute juggling routine with the baby, a chainsaw, and three torches would be missed. MIKE: Jay still remembered the day they'd learned the baby wasn't made of rubber with fondness. Her shrieks had been musical. >Now she wouldn't let the little girl out of her sight. CROW: She sees you when you're sleeping, she knows when you're awake, she knows when you plot against her, so be afraid, be very afraid. > In fact, he was >having a hard time leaving as well, as Marrissa seemed to want him to be >around constantly, as if she was afraid something would happen to him. TOM: And she'd miss seeing it happen. MIKE: She's been like this since she missed seeing Riker get trampled to death... >That was it. Finally, Jay had realized why Marrissa was behaving like >that. CROW: She was completely bughouse crazy! It all made sense now! > She was afraid. The Borg had used Sara to get to Marrissa so they >could make her their new queen. TOM: So, even the Borg somehow recognize Marrissa's right to rule? MIKE: But of course! > Sara had been down in the ship's nursery, >being taken care of by the Enterprise's professional staff. MIKE: And racking up mad points on "Baby's First Kobayashi Maru Test." > Jay knew that >Marrissa had felt uncomfortable leaving Sara in the nursery. TOM: But her efforts to grow a pouch failed miserably, so... > Having the >baby kidnaped and used as a pawn to capture Marrissa, that had to have been >the last straw. CROW: Wow, this guy's a genius! So, in other words, she's worried about her daughter after having been through a trauma? WHAT'S THE PROBLEM!? MIKE: ...are you empathizing with Marrissa? CROW: Yes. And I don't like it. > "Marrissa," Jay began, sliding up beside his wife. > "Yes, Jay," Marrissa said, totally engrossed in watching her daughter. TOM: Marrissa in Raising Cain 2: Cain Harder! > "You need a vacation," Jay said. "Correction, we need a vacation." MIKE; Like nobody's business! > "You know how unlikely that is," Marrissa said. "There are still Romulan >renegades CROW: ...breathing air that rightfully belongs to humans, and I won't stand for it! > running around, and two of the four Nova Class ships are in for >completion." TOM: And as you know, I must personally rivet in each bolt, or they'll suck! MIKE: I don't think they use bolts in Starfleet... CROW: Mike, _buy_ a life, would you? > "Actually, I just talked to your father, and he's authorized a little >vacation for us," Jay said, embracing Marrissa from behind. TOM: So is that a euphemism, like when Tony Soprano wants to "take you for a little ride?" CROW: Uhm...Mike, all this touching is beginning to worry me. > "We can leave MIKE: Please do. >Clara in command and spend some time away from the ship on Essex." > "I don't need a vacation," Marrissa said, switching the breast that Sara >was drinking from. MIKE: Wow. The Borg gave her detachable breasts? CROW: Those Borg are very thorough. > "Yes you do," Jay said, silencing his wife's protests >with a kiss. "And you have no choice in the matter. CROW: Quick! Put up the tarp! The blood should start flying any minute now! > We've relieved you of >duty effect five minutes ago. TOM: Moments later, Jay was lying on the ground, wondering what the hell had just happened to him. > I handed command over to Clara, who ordered TOM: ...a sinfully rich chocolate sundae topped with death by chocolate sauce... MIKE: If you start talking about Clara running balls to the wall, I'm not responsible. >a course to Essex. We'll arrive in four hours. When we get there, we will >beam down to that nice castle of yours, where you will spend at least the CROW: ...pin money on booze, whores and drugs. Get ready to rock, baby! >next couple of weeks relaxing. You will also spend some time talking to >Martin about your recent experience. TOM: [creepy voice] Well, Marrissa, have the lambs stopped screaming? > I know you've been skipping your >sessions with him." > "Yes, Jay," Marrissa said submissively. ALL Stare in shock. MIKE: Did she just say 'Yes, Jay' or am I loopy? TOM: And she said it submissively?! CROW: Oh, man, they will never find this clown's body. > "Why don't you ever ask me if I >want time off?" MIKE: [Jay] Well, usually, I'm too afraid to even approach you, but since Ratliff's weakened you... > "Because, my love, if I didn't take the initiative to make you take a >vacation, you never would," Jay said. "You would do the same for me, if I >needed even half as bad as you do. CROW: Ah, there's the incomprehensible Ratliff dialogue I've come to know and fear. > Marrissa, you've been deteriorating >ever since we got back from our little Borg adventure. TOM: Are you kiddin'? She's been deteriorating since _Enterprized_! > If you don't take >some time off you might not be able to command, and I know how much that >center seat means ..." MIKE: More than your family, more than your marriage, more than the lives of all those who stood in your way. > "Jay," Marrissa interrupted, putting Sara in her crib for the first time >that day. "What would I do with out you?" TOM: Open that harem you've always talked about? > "Go crazy, most likely," Jay said, pulling Marrissa back into his embrace. CROW: _Go_ crazy? > > >Chapter Two TOM: A Neil Simon--oh, God, I wish I was dead. MIKE: There, there...[hugs Tom] > Marrissa carefully studied the young lady that Queen Victoria had hired to >watch over her daughter. MIKE: So Marrissa's vacationing in the 1890's. I think I finally understand who the real Jack the Ripper was... > The girl was wearing a standard navy blue nanny's >uniform that was somehow familiar to Marrissa. CROW: She probably saw it on a troopship... MIKE: Watch it, you. > She had an air confidence TOM: New Air Confidence! You may not be able to dunk, but you'll feel really good about yourself! >to her, and according to her resume was very qualified to watch little >Sara. CROW: A Louise Woodward joke would probably be in poor taste, wouldn't it? MIKE: Yes. CROW: Good. She was recommended by Louise Wood-- MIKE: [grabs the beak] Stifle! > Marrissa wasn't sure though. Actually, to be perfectly honest, she >wasn't sure she wanted anyone other than family taking care of her >daughter. MIKE: Actually, to show complete candor, and not hold anything back, and to tell God's own truth...she was ready to kick in the face of the next sucka who even looked at her daughter cross-eyed. > She had promised Jay though, and Marrissa wasn't one to go back >on her promises. CROW: She _was_ one to let loose a hideous revenge upon anyone who dared fail her even in the smallest way. > "Miss Halifax, you've applied to be my daughter's nanny," Marrissa stated, >drawing up to her full 63 inches. "What makes you think you'd do a good job?" TOM (in nanny voice): I actually care about people ? MIKE (also in nanny voice): I'm not English? CROW: Her full 63 inches. That's terrifying...in Lilliput, maybe. Even the Japanese look down on her! MIKE: Watch it, Crow. CROW: Oh, pardon me, mister Amazing Colossal Minnewegian. > "I am experienced in childcare, and I love the job," Serena said. TOM: ...Serena? CROW: Oh, for cryin' out... TOM: SERENA? MIKE: Someone's been hittin' the Toonami a little hard lately... TOM: SERENA?! > "You understand that this is a temporary job, that will end as soon as I >return to the Enterprise," Marrissa said. MIKE: [Marrissa] Sooner than that if the hunter-killer droids find you. TOM: SERENA?!? > "Yes, ma'am," Serena responded. "If you don't mind, I'd like to meet my >charge. And remember, I get Tuesday and Thursday afternoons off." TOM: But I'm NOT a member of the Sailor Scouts. [to himself, disgusted] Serena! Serena, facryinoutloud! > This take charge attitude pleased Marrissa. She liked officers that took >charge. CROW: Unless they tried to express an opinion contrary to her own. Then, BIKKITY BAM! > True she usually wasn't the one bossed around, but Marrissa found >that she didn't mind the thought of this young lady watching her daughter. >She seemed almost like family. TOM: She's dead. MIKE: Yep. She should switch to red outfits. > > Marrissa stood outside the nursery. Serena was inside with Sara, and >appeared to be getting along well. MIKE: They were sticking to small talk, you know, who do you like in the big game, where'd you go to school, that sort of thing. > So far, Serena had changed diapers >twice, CROW: It was unfortunate that the new nanny kept soiling herself, but Billy Ray Cyrus will do that to you. > sung that ridiculous Achy Breaky song that Sara wouldn't go to >sleep without, and fed the little girl once. MIKE: What?! But she's been working there three days! For cryin' out loud, give the child some food! > Marrissa had been standing >outside the nursery for quite some time. TOM: The garlic strung around the entrance kept her from getting in... > Jay had also been observing his wife. This had been the longest Marrissa MIKE: ...had been stretched since the unfortunate 'taffy pull' incident. >had stayed away from Sara since the Borg took her. It was a promising >sign. He snuck up behind her and TOM: ...drove the stake through her heart. At long last, the nightmare was over. > embraced her, kissing her neck. "Now that >we've got some one to watch Sara, what do you say we go on a date?" he asked. MIKE: [Marrissa] I say BACK! BACK! CROW: You do that well, Mike. TOM: Been on the receiving end of many of those? > Marrissa seemed to be trying to find an excuse. She really didn't want to >leave her daughter. CROW: And she REALLY didn't want to go out with Jay! > There wasn't one though. "Okay." TOM: [Michael Caine] Then I have my answer! I'm walking on air! > It wasn't the most enthusiastic response that Jay had ever gotten, but it CROW: ...sure beat the red-hot iron jabbed into his privates he'd half expected. >would do. "Let's go down to that private beach of yours." > "Jay, I'd have to get a swimsuit first," Marrissa said, as Jay pulled her >away from the nursery door. MIKE: ...kicking and screaming. > "Who says you need a swimsuit?" Jay said. "It is a private beach, after >all." ALL shudder. TOM: Think unsexy thoughts...think unsexy thoughts. CROW: Ain't nothin' unsexier than the idea of Marrissa dropping yet more OF HER LOATHSOME GET! > >The Next Day Around Noon. TOM: What is this, a silent film alluva sudden? > Martin and Jay were walking though the garden below the nursery. CROW: Later on, they conspired. > The two >had met up after Jay and Marrissa had made an unscheduled return to the >Enterprise. Jay bore the reason for that return, in the form of a sling >holding his right arm. TOM: [Martin] So, you tried to get lucky, huh? MIKE: [Jay] It was like putting my arm in a wood chipper! How'd I ever manage to get her pregnant the first time? TOM: [Martin] I really didn't want to say anything, but wasn't that right around the time her otherdimensional clone showed up on the ship? > "So, Jay, tell me why you returned to the Enterprise?" Martin asked. CROW: Do you have a clip to show us? > "I was helping Marrissa up the twelve foot cliff above the beach, when she MIKE: ...kicked me in the head! TOM: Boot to the side! >slipped," Jay explained, walking by trellis covered in blue morning >glories. "In the process of preventing her from falling back onto the >beach, I pulled my arm out of the socket." TOM: Look, if you want to stick to that story go ahead, but really, we can't help you if you continue to cover for her. > "And what were you doing on the beach so early in the morning?" Martin >asked, stopping to look at some small purple flowers. TOM: With a flush of joy, he realized they were hemlock! Escape was his! > "Watching the sunrise," Jay said, adjusting his sling. MIKE: It's so cute. > "Oh, and how did you manage to get down to the beach before sunrise." >Martin asked, moving on down the slate path. TOM: Ease on down, ease on down the sla-aate! CROW: Dark is the path and broad is the slate that leadeth to destruction! > "We were there all night," Jay replied, a smile covering his face, as he >remembered the previous night. MIKE: [Jay] Huh-huh. I got ta kiss 'er! > "Oh, so you spent the night on a beach," Martin said. CROW: Couldn't spring for a Motel 6, huh, big spender? > "Well, I always wanted to try a moonlight romance," Jay said. "Marrissa >certainly enjoyed it." MIKE: Come, Martin, snicker with me, for we are men! Tell sniggering anecdotes about our sexual prowess, for we are men! TOM: Is he about to tell us dirty stories about Marrissa? Because, if he is, _I_ might be needing some of that hemlock. > "Speaking of Marrissa, how is she doing?" TOM: Oh, she makes a nice liv--no, seriously, Mike, I wish I was dead! Dead! DEAD! [breaks down sobbing] MIKE: Come on... [gives Tom another hug] > Martin asked, checking out the holly bush, before moving toward the castle keep. CROW: Say no more! Say no more! A wink's as good as a nod to a blind bat! > "Well, she's a little better," Jay replied. "It took a little convincing MIKE: ...but she agreed to the Wesson Oil and whipped cream. >to get her to leave Sara behind with Miss Halifax, but once she got back >and saw that Sara was okay, she's not been quite so possessive of her. TOM: She barely remembers the little rugrat anymore! > In >fact, she spent an hour with Sara, then left for the North Tower." TOM: You know, down Admiral Poindexter Lane, in a cul-de-sac near Bud McFarlane Plaza. > "What's in the North Tower?" Martin asked. CROW: Marrissa's other husbands...but then, perhaps I've said too much. > "Marrissa's popular art collection," Jay replied, pausing by the maze >entrance. "Her buyers just bought an original Neon Genesis Evangelion: >Death and Rebirth Poster, and she's trying to find the perfect place to >display it." MIKE: I thought you said it was _popular_ art! TOM: Gee...you don't suppose that Marrissa is some kind of...naah, couldn't be, could it? CROW: Yeah. She's just an elaborate AI. MIKE: Artificial intelligence? CROW: Naah. Author insertion. MIKE: ...author... [shakes head] I'd think about that some more, but I don't want to start bleeding from the ears. CROW: Probably for the best. > "Is that movie any good?" Martin asked. "I'm not into anime, so I have no >idea." CROW: Hey, if you're into scenes of tentacle rape, then it's your bag, baby! > "It's good, but I wouldn't take Shayna to see it," Jay said. "She's more >into shows like Oh My Goddess." MIKE: Belldandy! Help! Your sisters are trying to shave my head! TOM: So in the Ratliff future, not only do children control everything, but anime has become our greatest cultural touchstone. Mike, we got a Genesis Device or anything onboard? MIKE: Used it last month. > Martin stopped at the remains of a gargoyle. "Jay, aren't the gargoyles >suppose to be on the castle?" CROW: Yeah, but when Picard and Riker came to visit, Riker got all snippy and demanded we take them down. Something about 'Goliath' and 'Demona' but I couldn't really follow it... > "They are, I wonder how that one ended up there," Jay said. MIKE: Well, when a mommy gargoyle and a daddy gargoyle love each other very much... > "I hope we >don't have a structural problem. CROW: I hope we don't have a plot point. TOM: Yeah, it'd kinda disrupt the stream-of-unconsciousness we've got going now. > I'll call the architect later." MIKE: And with that, it's time to take a break. [Bumper.] [Commercials. Now you can order the LEXX Catalog! With many fine...er...sweet baby Jesus, is she holding that thing the right side up?] (1...2...3...4...5...6...7) (SOL. Mike is playing Scrabble by himself while Steve and the Bots are marching around in front of the hexfield viewscreen.) STEVE: What is the first rule of Project MiSTing!? BOTS: You do not ask questions about Project MiSTing! STEVE: What is the second rule of Project MiSTing!? CROW: Uhm...that's a question, isn't it? I mean, you just went and broke the first rule, Steve! TOM: Infidel! (Jabs Crow with a taser he's got taped to his dome.) CROW: YOW! All right, Servo, you've been asking for this... STEVE: Boys! Save it for the enemy! Now, Gypsy, have you made the modifications to your umbilicus I specified? GYPSY: The explosives are secreted throughout Castle Forrester. The whole corrupt infrastructure is wired to explode. CROW: Yeah! Burn it down! Burn it all down! (Mike comes running over and confronts the group.) MIKE: Hey! I just realized...there _is_ no way for him to have gotten up here in the first place! CROW: For _who_ to have gotten up here? MIKE: Steve! TOM: Well, _duh._ STEVE: Took him long enough to figure it out. CROW: Yeah. Took _who_ long enough, Mike...or are you Steve now? I can never tell for sure. MIKE: What? STEVE: He's trying to tell you...well, actually, he's _not_ trying to tell you, because he assumes you know...that you and I are the same person. You see, I'm just a split personality caused by years of reading bad Ratliff fanfics. TOM: You are? I thought you were Mike's dark id. GYPSY: I assumed you were the zeitgeist manifesting itself. CROW: Me, I figured you just like wearing a fake beard and acting goofy. STEVE: Eh, a little from column A, and some more from column B. Well, time to blow up Castle Forrester...oh, and the Satellite, of course. MIKE: But that'll kill all of us! STEVE: Well, not the bots...they were never really alive to begin with. MIKE: Wait! Nobody as easily arousable as Crow could possibly be anything but alive! And what about Tom? Could a mere machine be as gullible as he? And Gypsy and Cambot are at least as alive as Bruce Boxleitner! CROW: Sometimes more so. STEVE: Well, I was willing to blow us up, so...(Pushes button) Hey, nothing happened! CROW: Well, _duh._ TOM: Did you think we were really dumb enough to wire everything to explode just because a split personality told us to? I mean, really now. We've seen enough bad fiction to know better than _that._ GYPSY: We were just going along with you in order to save Mike... and because it gets boring up here. CROW: We need ways to fill the time, and smacking Servo around seemed as good as any. TOM: You wish, Maximillian Schell! MIKE: Guys! Could we get back to my breakdown? I mean, am I even holding that detonator or...(sees detonator in hand, drops it) YAAAAH! Gypsy, get rid of that thing! GYPSY: Roger. CROW: Well...that's taken care of. TOM: Yep. MIKE: Mmm-hmm. [Long pause] MIKE: [between clenched teeth] We're only halfway through the experiment, aren't we? TOM: Mmm-hmm. CROW: I thought this was going a little quick. [Bells and whistles.] ALL: AHHHH! WE GOT FANFIC SIGN! (7...6...5...4...3...2...1) MIKE: Sorry I nearly killed us all, guys. CROW: Hey, after that whole Marrissa does the deed with her alternate self, I was half-way there myself. TOM: You're _always_ half-way there. CROW: Three quarters, then. > >Chapter Three > > Marrissa stood in the torpedo bay on the Georgia. TOM: Georgia...sweet Georgia...Delta Burke's on my mind... > It was filled with >torpedo casings holding a representative sample of the crew of the Georgia. > Not a single member of that crew had survived, although CROW: ...the married ones had pulled through nicely. > the ship had. The >traditional dirge of a bagpipe playing "Amazing Grace" began as one by one, MIKE: ...Scotty started his 21-donut salute. >the coffins were launched out into space, toward the inferno of a nearby star. TOM: Then, they locked into a wall shape, and Marrissa was finally able to play Super Breakout life-size. > Suddenly Marrissa was on the bridge of the Georgia, an insubstantial >observer to the last minutes of the ship's crew. TOM: I'm Ed Bradley! CROW: I'm Morley Safer! > Helpless to stop the >images, she watched as the crew died one by one, leaving a young girl, who >had taken the helm when her own mother had died, to execute her Captain, MIKE: ...which she did gangland style with two bullets to the head. >her father's last orders. As the last Romulan Warbird exploded on the >screen, the young dark haired girl died, a victim of CROW: Trichinosis? MIKE: Sweet, sweet booze? TOM: The Candyman? > a shard of console >embedded in her stomach. MIKE: Lucky girl. TOM: Stupid poetic justice! > Then Marrissa was before the young girl's coffin. "Mary Celeste Kinsmore >2370 - 2382" it was engraved. TOM: Shouldn't she have disappeared by now? > It opened, and a twelve year old Marrissa >was inside, dressed in the dress uniform she had worn back in 2370. CROW: When she was empress of the playground, captain of her day camp, majestrix of the playdate... >Marrissa turned to avoid the view of herself in a coffin, only to discover >Jay in a coffin. MIKE: [Marrissa] Woo-hoo! > She turned again. Her daughter lay dead inside a torpedo >casing. Marrissa screamed, she wanted to get out of wherever she was, she >wanted to be safe. TOM: She wanted to rock! > She awoke alone. Marrissa had fallen asleep in the North Tower watching >anime. MIKE: Oh, no _wonder_ she was having nightmares. > In particular, episode 24 of Neon Genesis Evangelion. She shook CROW: ...violently as the images of tentacle rape pounded into her mind. MIKE: Crow? You are not to utter the phrase "tentacle rape" ever again. CROW: But what if we read a fanfic that has tent-- MIKE: [grabs the beak] NEVER. Again. TOM: [French] He put his dirty tentacles all over me! >off the last vestiges of sleep. Heedless of danger, she sprinted down the >staircase to the courtyard between the tower and the Castle Keep. She >bounded across the moonlit court yard. Then inside, she took another flight >of stairs two, sometimes three steps at a time. CROW: Wow, the fanfic's become a '70's TV-Show! TOM: She tackled the snitch and wrestled him to the ground. > Down the corridor she >rushed, bursting though the doors of the nursery. There she stopped. MIKE: What...this isn't the kitchen! CROW: Slowly she turned... > Her baby lay content in her crib. At the sudden approach of her mother, >Sara TOM: ...shrieked in mortal terror, for the touch of death was near. > opened her eyes, awake but quiet. Marrissa picked her up, and moved TOM: ...to a small island off of the Cape. >to take a seat in Jay's Mother's old rocking chair. Once there, tears >began running down her cheeks. CROW: [Marrissa] *snif* I sat on a tack! > Sara looked up at here mother in >puzzlement. Her mother usually was happy to hold her. CROW: That's what she WANTED you to think! TOM: Sorry, kid, but mommy's insane. > From behind the two, came Jay's voice. "I was wondering when you would >come in from the tower," Jay said. MIKE: Come...as you are...as you were...as you want me to be... > Marrissa looked up at her husband who was now kneeling TOM: Kneel before Zod! > beside the rocking >chair. "I needed some time alone," she said, before looking back at her >baby girl. > "I know," Jay replied. "What cause you to run in here so quick? I >haven't seen you go so fast since you took command of the Endeavor." ALL snicker. TOM: Oh, like _that's_ not a double entendre. CROW: 'Marrissa slowly took command of the Endeavor, causing Jay to moan in...' MIKE: Crow, must we all go blind and insane before you stop? > Marrissa smiled at the memory. "I had to go fast back then. Taking >command of a ship when a planetary government has decided that it's to be >destroyed didn't allow for a orderly walk to the bridge." MIKE: It does allow for a nice fifteen minutes of Jazzercise in-between combat engagements, though. > "So, what's bothering you?" Jay asked. > "It's that dream about the Georgia again," Marrissa said. > "Marrissa, it's time you get some help," Jay said, taking Sara out of his >wife's arms. ALL: WHOOOO! MIKE: Bring it on home, Jay! TOM: Stick her in the booby hatch and throw away the key! > "You'll never get over it if you don't, and I don't want to >see you hurting like this anymore." TOM: Not when there are so many other ways for you to hurt! > "Okay," Marrissa snuffled. MIKE: Then, she uphagussed. > "I'll talk to Martin tomorrow afternoon." > "Good," Jay said, placing Sara back in her crib. "Now come to bed." CROW: It's time to try the Venus Butterfly again! > "Why do have a feeling I'm not going to get much sleep tonight?" Marrissa >remarked, as Jay walked beside her on the way to their bedroom. MIKE: Because God hates me, that's why. TOM: Insomnia...my magic brain poisoner... CROW: [sings] I will be your prisoner, I will be your hostage-o... > "I don't know," Jay replied, picking up his wife in his arms. "Perhaps >it's the famous woman's intuition?" MIKE: I personally hope he's sending her _to_ a famous woman's institution. CROW: Marrissa, Interrupted. > "Are you trying to give Sara a younger sibling?" Marrissa asked as they >entered the bedroom. MIKE: [Jay] Don't be silly, honey! We'd have to go out to the cabbage patch for that! > "Perhaps I'm just making sure you get to the bedroom instead of stopping CROW: ...at the weapons locker for that damn neural disrupter you keep using on me. >by your office to work on something," Jay replied. "Either way, you will >end up spending the night in my arms." TOM: Dum dum dum! MIKE: There is no escape from the horror of...JAY'S ARMS! CROW: It keeps coming back to tentacles, doesn't it? > "Ah, my favorite way to avoid bad dreams," Marrissa murmured, as Jay >lowered her onto the bed. TOM: Strangely enough, it's my least-favorite way to induce them. > > Next afternoon, while Jay was out spending time with Martin, Marrissa MIKE: ...drew a bead on them with her phaser rifle. CROW: God, just imagining that scenario brings me such bliss. >asked Serena to join her and Sara on a walk through the nearby woods. TOM: [Marrissa] Well, they are lovely, dark and deep, but I got a lot of stuff to do this afternoon. > It >was a well maintained, paved path, that made it fairly easy to push Sara's TOM: ...nanny over the edge of a cliff. Watch her fall! >pram. The old Victorian style pram was modeled after one that several of >Marrissa's ancestors in the House of Windsor, had used back in the early >part of the twentieth century. CROW: Making it the perfect conveyance for a jug-eared, inbred, slack-jawed goober of a royal infant...like Marrissa's baby! TOM: Hey! I draw the line at making fun of an innocent child. CROW: You're right. I'm sorry. I should have said that Marrissa was a jug-eared, inbred, slack-jawed goober, not the baby. MIKE: Now, don't you feel better? > Every so often, the path opened into a >clearing with a bench in it. TOM: Not a very stable path, is it? You sure they're not in San Francisco? > It was at one of these benches that Marrissa and Serena stopped. MIKE: Well, Marrissa stopped. Serena _was_ stopped. > Serena looked at her charge. Sara, spotting the familiar face, raised her >arms, reaching out, urging Serena to take her out of the pram. CROW: [Sara] Obey me, minion! > As Serena >picked up Sara, she said, "I believe Sara wants to see more of the world >than her carriage allows." CROW: And besides, isn't it time that this little slacker got up out of the crib and took command of Starfleet? > "You're so good with my Sara," Marrissa said. "I'll never be able to take >as good of care of her as you do." MIKE: Well, I'm a caring nurturer, and you're a monomaniacal despot. Que sera sera. TOM: Take heart in the knowledge that the emotional scars you inflict on her will last just as long as love would have. > "Nonsense, ma'am," Serena said. "You just lack experience. I've been >taking care of my younger brothers and sisters since I was ten, and I >assure you I didn't start out perfect." CROW: Why, I lost the first three to the microwave before I realized that it was a mistake to use the defrost setting to dry them off after baths. MIKE: You just have to learn to let these things go. > "No, you just ended up practically perfect in every way," Marrissa smiled. > Then frowning, continued. "I'm always afraid I'll do something wrong, and MIKE: Often I do, with horrific, genocidal results. TOM: Well, okay, so that Queen of the Borg thing didn't work out quite as I'd hoped it would... >hurt Sara. I never really got to deal a lot with babies. I was thirteen >when Jackie was born and a little too wrapped up in my Security Chief's job >to do much babysitting. And when I did end up babysitting her, I almost >killed her with an ice cream sundae." MIKE: [Marrissa] But she was too fast for me. CROW: [Marrissa] Who knew you were supposed to take it out of the dish with a spoon? I assumed it _all_ went down that talkie-hole. TOM: [sings] She triiied to kill her with a sundae--OLE! > "Ma'am, children aren't that fragile," Serena said. "You can make some >mistakes and they won't go bad, or have some sort of defect as a result." MIKE: That only happens on Xena's show. >Then Serena smiled. "Of course, if you saw my attempt at making a strudel >this morning, you know that food can." TOM: White trash kids down on your knees...time for strudel and infamy! CROW: I am the god of cake! I am the god of cake! > Marrissa laughed, remembering how the pastry had exploded, sending flour >all over the kitchen. CROW: And the hilarious way it had triggered a flashback in the butler. MIKE: ARCLIGHT! ARCLIGHT! WE NEED SOME COVER HERE! > Sara heard her mother's laugh and quickly located >her. She once again held out her little arms, asking for her mother's warmth. TOM: Well, kid, if you think Marrissa is the right place to go for warmth, I can only assume you'll be wintering in Alaska. > "I think Sara wants you to hold her," Serena said, handing Sara carefully >over to her mother. MIKE: Babies....nature's own little feces grenades. CROW: She'd spent the past few minutes shaking the child, mainly because she couldn't find a can of soda. > Sara smiled widely as her mother settled her into her arms. "You know, TOM: [Marrissa] ...I think chimps are the funniest primates. >when ever I hold Sara, it's like the rest of the world is gone, and it's >just us two, in our own little world," Marrissa mused. MIKE: So, have you spoken to anyone about these annihilation fantasies? > "Somehow, holding >her makes me feel appreciated and loved. I know she loves me, and I love CROW: ...to drain her love away with a thousand small cruelties. >her. During the last part of the war, I use to bring her with me to TOM: ...incredibly dangerous Borg-infested parts of the galaxy...which explains that whole Borg using her against me thing. Oops. My bad. >meetings, just so I would have that good feeling to look forward to, to >retreat to for a little while, when the news was bad. Especially when it >was like when we discovered the Georgia." MIKE: It was right next to the Florida, on our way to The Disney World. > Marrissa shuttered, as she remembered the Georgia. CROW: Serena leapt back in shock as the steel shutters slammed down, nearly taking her hand off. TOM: ...hey, I just realized...that's only the second spelling mistake in this entire story! CROW: Yeah, but now he's discovered so many other types of mistakes to make...a _male_ Marrissa... [shudders] > Every man, woman, and >child been killed on that ship. MIKE: But enough about Titanic. > The image that stuck in the minds of >everyone, the image representing the crew of that ship, was that of TOM: ...Marrissa and her extradimensional clone doing the nasty. MIKE: Let it GO, man! > the >girl at the helm. The girl was only twelve. MIKE: So she was a battle-hardened veteran in Ratliffville, huh? CROW: In Ratliff's world either you get to work young or you're grave stuffing. TOM: Grave stuffing? Instead of potatoes? Crow, I _love_ you! > Death had frozen her at the >helm, her hands poised to make evasive maneuvers. CROW: She died in mid-vogue? > Her body was only marred >by one jagged piece of console which was stuck in her belly, and her jump MIKE: ...rope game was immensely impaired. >suit only stained by a single trail of blood going from that piece of >console down between her legs. MIKE: AAGH! The bad place again! TOM: Did he actually have to draw a line to it? > Only one other thing made her look dead, CROW: ...her participation in a Calvin Klein ad. >her eyes which were filled with horror and determination. TOM: She was determined to be horrified. > No one who saw >her ever forgot her, the last person to die on the Georgia. MIKE: What is this, a Gordon Lightfoot song alluvasudden? > But that CROW: ...was another story. I wanted to tell you about Paris in the springtime... MIKE: Nice try, Crow, but there's no escape. >wasn't what made Marrissa remember her. Marrissa knew that if it had been >the Enterprise in the Georgia's place a dozen years earlier, she would have >been the girl at the helm, not Mary Celeste Kinsmore. TOM: Yeah, and if you'd been riding in a car in Dealey Plaza on November 22, 1963, your head would have been blown off. WHAT'S YOUR POINT?! > Marrissa held her daughter closer. "Sara makes life worth living," MIKE: I know nobody doesn't like Sara Lee, but Marrissa's taking it a bit far. >Marrissa said. "I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have here." TOM: Well, if you didn't have _here_, you'd just be floating in a shapeless void. You know, like the Family Circus. > They all sat in silence for a while as Marrissa held her daughter in her >arms. CROW: Serena felt kinda awkward. Usually by now, some strange monster-woman in a tight dress had attacked her. To be honest, she was kinda wasted just sitting there watching some kid. > > The Moon Kingdom Restaurant was a traveling restaurant. It was on Essex MIKE: ...that Alfred the Great, first king of Saxon England, first defeated the Danes and established his kingdom. Unfortunately, instead of reading about any of that, we'll be heading back to Marrissa's story. Sorry. >for the graduation of cadets from Star Fleet's Fighter School. At least >that was the cover. Alexis and Kasey didn't spend all their time in the >Kitchen. "Lunch crowd is coming in," Alexis said as she entered the >kitchen. "Looks like it's going to be a busy one." TOM: Well then, you slap Linda Evans around, while I seduce Drake Hoegystyn! "You should have been here yesterday," Kasey said. CROW: [Kasey] THE BLOOD'S ON YOUR HANDS! > "Hey, I don't control when the enemy attacks," Alexis replied. MIKE: That's what the Ritalin's for! > "You >better start seeing what they want." Alexis started to set up the Kitchen >for the lunch rush as Kasey went into the dinning room. MIKE: The enemy? Don't they want to kill us? I'm confused. CROW: Oh God, Mike, it's more Sailor Scouts. It's MORE SAILOR SCOUTS! TOM: What the hell does this have to do with anything!? This story's meandering worse than the mighty Mississipi! > The dining room served as shuttle bay when the ship was in space, but >after four hours of hard work it was turned into a eight table wood paneled >eating establishment, complete with brass lighting fixtures and tile floor. TOM: ...WHAT?! CROW: God bless the fine folks of Best Western! TOM: But...but that's insane! A traveling...in a shuttle bay...I don't... MIKE: Gimme some warning if you feel the head start to go, willya, Tom? TOM: But...the traveling...if you have a ship that's a traveling restaurant, why wouldn't you have a permanent dining room, Mike? Why? WHY? WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY?! [breaks down sobbing] MIKE: I know, buddy. I know. > Two young men entered the establishment, taking a seat at the table >farthest from the door. Kasey pulled out her order PADD TOM: *sniff* Peter Dav-- MIKE: Must you? TOM: You keep making the Taster's Choice jokes! Don't try and take _my_ running gag away! MIKE: *sigh* Fine. Go ahead. TOM: I will! *ahem* ...Peter David? [Terrible, abject silence.] TOM: ...you're the ruiner of all things good, Mike. > and walked over to >them. Kasey identified them as her uncle Jay and his friend Martin. She CROW: ...snickered. Sure. His 'friend' Martin. Apparently the 24th Century isn't as enlightened as Gene Roddenbery hoped it would be. TOM: Her _uncle_ Jay? What in the name of all that's unholy is going on here? CROW: Servo, give it up. There's no plot. This whole thing is a giant Sartrean exercise in the morbidity of conventional thought. MIKE: Or it just doesn't make any sense. >had to hide that knowledge though, as in this time, she had not met them. >Okay, she had, but only as a year old baby. CROW: Okay, now _I'm_ lost. Let's assume that by the time this story rolls around, Marrissa and company are...what, 22? MIKE: Sure. CROW: And they started out as ten year olds? MIKE: Maybe a little younger, but yeah. CROW: So this Kasey person is either a 12 year old who works, independent of her family, on a traveling restaurant... MIKE: Not unheard of in a Ratliff story. CROW: Or, from the wording of that sentence, she's a time traveler. TOM: Time travel. There's time travel in this? (Servo's dome explodes.) MIKE: Well, that was inevitable, I suppose. CROW: Really should have happened a long time before now. > "Welcome to the Moon Kingdom, >I'm Kasey, I'll be your waitress this afternoon. May I take your order?" >she asked. CROW: Yeah, could you get us another dome to replace the one you just blew off of Servo? MIKE: [replacing Tom's head] Little high-strung today, Tom? TOM: Hey, you're lucky _Cambot_ hasn't exploded by this point. > "I'd like the Moon Princess Pasta," Martin said. "Milk for the drink, MIKE: A drink that drinks milk? TOM: Got surrealism? CROW: UBU-ROI! UBU-ROI! > and >a side of bread sticks." CROW: Mmm...crazy bread. > "I'll have the Sea of Tranquility Soup and Toasted Cheese Sandwich," Jay >said. TOM: What, not "Sailor Mars Fire Cheese!"? > "Root Beer for the drink, no sides." MIKE: Wild men! These two are party animals! > "Very well, gentlemen," Kasey said before returning to the Kitchen. CROW: Hell's Kitchen, where life was cheap and Lonigan dreamed of escape. > "So, she's finally decided to come talk to me about those dreams," Martin >said. "I was beginning to wonder if she ever would." MIKE: But now, at long last, she is MINE! MINE! TOM: Hey, do you mind? I'm trying to eat my soup! > "Marrissa's always been self-reliant," Jay said. "It's hard to get her to >admit that she needs help. Generally, I don't ask and just provide the CROW: hip beats, the kind you know you want to feel in your soul, that give you all that vibe control! >help. It's easier on us both that way. TOM: [Jay} And I don't get hit as much. > She doesn't have to ask, and I >don't have to see her struggling to get something done after turning my TOM: ...lungs into a perforated strainer. >help down." > "I'm surprised that hasn't impeded her command abilities before," Martin >said. CROW: Well, it has, but anyone who complained was...dealt with. > "Oh, she knows how to delegate when it comes to her command, it's just TOM: ...unusual to be in love with anyone? CROW: NO, IT'S NOT! >that she hasn't learnt to apply that to her personal life," Jay replied. >"You should have heard her after we hired Serena to help take care of Sara. MIKE: [Jay] I haven't heard that kind of language since Sam Kinison dropped something really heavy on his foot! >Here she was, having exhausted herself for the last three months taking CROW: ...anabolic steroids in order to look more like an East German man. >care of the baby, complaining that she didn't need the help." > "That could have contributed to the problem," Martin said. "At her heart, >Marrissa can be a very insecure person. You remember her title collecting >when she was between twelve and thirteen?" TOM: ...huh. You know, I'm not sure I _do_ remember that. MIKE: It was in every other Marrissa story we've ever read. TOM: Oh, yeah. > "You mean Lieutenant Marrissa Amber Picard, Princess of Halifax, Heir to >the throne of Essex, Supervising Officer of the Kid's Crew program, Chief >of Security on the Enterprise," Jay recited. "Did I leave any out?" MIKE: Lord of the Flies? TOM: Empress of the Swamps of Hell? CROW: Princess of the Air? > "I don't think so," Martin said. "She's always wanted to be some one. CROW: [Ray Liotta] As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be Princess of Halifax, Heir to the throne of Essex, Supervising Officer of the-- MIKE: We get it. >And as for her relationship with close friends, well, Lord have mercy CROW: ...on their immortal souls, because she'll have none. >anyone who harms her friends, her officers or her ship, because no one else >is going to stop her from punishing them." > "That's the truth," Jay said. "I think it is to her advantage sometimes. >We've got one of the most loyal crews in Star Fleet. CROW: Course, the implants in their necks help. > When Marrissa asks >for volunteers, the line stretches from the Forward lounge to the Aft >Shuttle Bay." MIKE: Hmm. Isn't the Aft Shuttle Bay where we keep the escape pods? > "Anyway, Marrissa is going to have to face the fact that there are some >things beyond her control," Martin said, as a monster appeared just outside >the restaurant's door. MIKE: WHOA! Hey! The action just snuck up behind us and tried to slip into the story unnoticed! TOM: So, Martin says that there are things beyond Marrissa's control...and then a monster appears. CROW: See! She _is_ the Devil! I warned you! > He was facing away from the door, so he didn't see it. >Jay had. "You mean like rampaging monsters planning to ruin restaurants?" >Jay said, with a note of fear. MIKE: (reading a note) Dear Mister Monster, Please don't attack my son Jay. Signed, Jay's Mother, Fear. > "That would be an example, but your imagination must really be working >overtime if that's what you thought of first," Martin said calmly. TOM: Actually, what I thought of first was Ronnie James Dio, but luckily we got attacked by a monster instead. > "Well, considering one is about to bust though the door," Jay said, MIKE: Oh, for fun! CROW: It's a comical misunderstanding! TOM: Not since AfterM*A*S*H*... > as the >door was pulled off the restaurant by the brute force of the water CROW: The water is leaking! The water is leaking! TOM: When I consider fears that I might cease to be before Stephen Ratliff's pen has ceased to glean his thoughts and fears, I rejoice. >elemental like monster. > Martin turned around. "I wish I could say you were hallucinating," he said. MIKE: You just did say it. So you can. > "Die, Jay Gordon," the monster said, tossing the door toward Jay. CROW: Don't worry! He's just saying "The, Jay Gordon" in German! > Jay and >Martin jumped out of their chairs and the door missed them, but shattered >the table. CROW: Let me get this straight; it wants to kill Jay. A monster is after Jay. TOM: You gotta pity that poor monster, picking on Marrissa's property like that. > "Mars Fire Ignite!" came a cry. It was from a young part Klingon girl >dressed in a sailor fuku who stood in the doorway to the Kitchen. TOM: A Klingon girl in a sailor fuku. Can we go back to the interdimensional clone boffing now? > The left >arm of the monster vaporized. MIKE: The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Monsters would be having a talk with her. > "Mercury Bubbles, blast!" was a second called attack, but not as >successful. CROW: They didn't send that monster down the drain. > Other than a concessive blow backwards, the charge from the >red-haired Sailor Mercury who stood at where the door to the outside had >been, had little effect on the monster. TOM: Laurence Welk appreciated it, however. > Sailor Mercury's visor covered her face, as Mars let lose another >Fireball. MIKE: [Sailor Mercury] AHHHH! CAN'T SEE! CROW: What is that, a peril-sensitive visor? > Mars's second attack took out the monster's other arm, but the >first arm was already growing back. TOM: Looks like that gecko finally had enough of Geico's crap. > "Mars, target the left heal," Mercury >ordered. CROW: That would be its 'Achillies' heal, if you would. TOM: Don't make me come over there. > "You got it," Mars responded. "Mars Fire Ignite!" The fire ball left her MIKE: ...for a younger woman. Bitter, she began drinking, and the court finally had to take her children away. >clasped hands and sped toward the monster who was rushing Sailor Mercury. TOM: I was gonna rush Sailor Mercury, but then I decided the whole frat scene wasn't for me. >The impact vaporized the whole body, just centimeters before the monster CROW: ...would have learned to love. >would have impacted Mercury. > The two Sailor Scouts exited the restaurant, leaving Jay and Martin behind >a table. MIKE: And confused as all hell. > "Jay?" Martin asked. > "Yes, Martin?" Jay replied, peering over the table top. MIKE: [Martin] Are we immense weenies for letting two little girls save us from a walking puddle? CROW: Why yes. Yes, we are. > "Were we just attacked by a being made of water which was destroyed by two >Sailor Scouts out of one of Marrissa's Anime shows?" Martin asked. TOM: No, that plot twist's too idiotic even for--oh, wait. Never mind. > "It appears so," Jay said. TOM: But in reality, the fear that Marrissa would overhear our conversation gave us a near-total psychotic break, that's all. CROW: Ohhh, yeah, Marrissa's not the devil. Suuuure, Mike. > "I hope we don't have to file a report on this, because Star Fleet is >going to think we are crazy," Martin said. MIKE: Especially with these LOW, LOW PRICES! > "Not you, you're a trusted Ship's Counselor with a clean psychological >profile," Jay said. CROW: Except for that time Martin ate a patient, but hey, who hasn't done that? > "As for me, they expect strange reports from Star >Fleet Captains." CROW: Ever since Kirk told them he'd met and kicked Apollo's ass, they've kinda gotten used to weird crap. TOM: So, let me get this straight, Captain...you were kidnapped by a race of glowing brains and forced to battle in an arena with scantily clad vixens. No no. Do tell more. Let me just adjust my trousers slightly... > > >Chapter Four ALL groan. CROW: MIIIIIIKE! How long is this non sequitur of death, anyway? MIKE: Oh, who knows? Look under your seat. There any aspirin down there? TOM: Uh...no. But I found a mint. MIKE: That'll do. > > Usually, Martin Sussex worked in his own office on the Enterprise. It was >an office that he had spent much time making it comfortable and one which >encouraged people to relax. CROW: Except for that pendulum over the couch. TOM: How's the mint? MIKE: Minty. > It also reflected his personality, with the MIKE: giant scythe and dark shroud he wore while lounging. >tan velvet couches accessorized with red and white check blankets with >frills and blue pillows. TOM: Yeesh. The color scheme's more disturbing than then pendulum. > He had his guitar for entertaining the younger >visitors (and occasionally a few older ones). CROW: Great...the ship's counselor is secretly El Kabong! > His books were at his side >and he knew about his patients before they entered the door. MIKE: The lipstick cameras he'd stashed throughout the ship helped him keep tabs on his patients, as well as doing brisk business on www.marrissavoyeur.com. > Not this time though. Of course he knew Marrissa, but not as a patient. TOM: As a crazed despot, as a savage beast-woman, as a borderline psychotic. CROW: And a good friend. >He'd done her yearly fitness of command reviews, but they were quite >shallow, CROW: [muttering] Like everyone else in this story... > since it was assumed that by the time a person made Captain any >serious neuroses would have already surfaced, ALL snicker. CROW: So I guess the compulsive need to dump strawberry juice on anyone who disagrees with her is, what, a minor quirk? TOM: I see from your record that you're a bloodthirsty warrior vixen, crazed with the lust to kill...and that's what we're looking for! > and Marrissa had managed to >avoid any major trauma, CROW: She did?! MIKE: He's talking about experiencing trauma, not causing it. > until the Borg, that is. In the case of Marrissa, >she'd gone too fast, and never really had a full evaluation, but as long as >she did her job, Star Fleet really didn't care. TOM: Why didn't Star Fleet care? > Martin did care, and he >wished he had done a better job. Martin had entered College at 14, MIKE: So what's Martin's problem? He's another of these Alpha children! CROW: The future is apparently based on the idea that Neil Patrick Harris was a Christ figure. >graduated with his Doctorate in Psychology at 19. TOM: Um...don't you need more emotional maturity than a 19-year-old possesses to be a psychiatrist? [MIKE and CROW look at him.] TOM: I know, I know, it's Ratliff. > With another year at the >Academy he had been assigned as Ship's Counselor on the Endeavor, before >moving to the Enterprise with Marrissa. He had two years to help Marrissa >before she broke down. CROW: Two years, or 3,000 miles. > Two years to prevent it. He didn't. MIKE: Well, Picard had her for ten, and he didn't do squat either, so it's really pointless for Martin to beat himself up. TOM: But it's good fun to watch. > So now he was here on Marrissa's turf, CROW: And ready to rumble! > up in the transparent dome at the >top of the North Tower of Halifax Castle. Marrissa was laying back on a MIKE: obsidian altar, as Mictateuhl prepared the onyx dagger in preparation of her imminent sacrifice to Tezcatlipoca. >lounge, starring up at the sky, where several fighter craft were undergoing >test maneuvers. TOM: [Marrissa] I like it when they explode. I like the pretty lights. > Martin was perched on a nearby lounge, quite CROW: ...suitable for pigeons to do their dirty, sinful business. >uncomfortable, actually, but then again, his comfort wasn't important here. TOM: Because it's ALL ABOUT MARRISSA, ISN'T IT?! > "Marrissa, I can't do anything for you if you just sit there and watch the >clouds and fighter craft," Martin said. TOM: You have to come towards the light! Walk towards the light! CROW: It's time to laugh again! > "Martin, do you think I make my friends do things that they wouldn't >normally do?" Marrissa asked. MIKE: Yes. CROW: Absolutely. TOM: Really, there's no doubt. > "I mean everyone of them followed me into >Star Fleet. I arranged for them to serve with me. Maybe they would be >better off if I hadn't." > "What makes you think they would?" Martin asked, curious as to the sudden >question. > "When was the last time someone questioned my orders?" MIKE: Well, I believe that was Ross Lochard...who died shortly thereafter... > Marrissa said. >"When was the last time one of my officers left my command?" CROW: Without benefit of a pine box, you mean? > "Marrissa, you have a gift for command," Martin replied. "In tactics, >there are few people considered your equal. MIKE: And she's especially good at expectorating! > You inspire loyalty in those >you command. CROW: Well, not loyalty so much as mind-paralyzing terror. > Everyone of your officers knows that you won't risk them if >it weren't something that you couldn't do. And if it isn't something you >could do, then they know they were sent because you know they can pull it >off." TOM: And stomp it into the ground. MIKE: [Martin] And if they can't do it and you can't do it, then they know you sent them into the jaws of death because your irritable bowel syndrome is acting up. > "You sound like one of those academy professors spouting the attributes of >a good Captain," Marrissa said. "Every time I send an officer out, I MIKE: ...chortle to myself at the hideous end awaiting them. >worry. I'm never sure some tactic I'm trying is going to work. CROW: See? She's a fraud! She admits it! > I may >project the appearance of confidence, but it is just that, an appearance." TOM: And beneath it lies the shadow! > "I'm no Academy Professor," Martin said. CROW: [Martin] I'm not a psychiatrist, either. This is a lemonade stand. > "As a member of your crew, and >the one that has to keep track of these things, I can safely say that your MIKE: ...darkness is as visible as a William Styron memoir! >crew admires you, respects you, and are glad they are under your command." TOM: [hyp-mo-tized voice] We-love-being-under-Marrissa's-command. It-is- better-than-Cats. > "Oh, yeah," Marrissa said. "Lets see, I've got under my command, a >younger sister who is crazy enough to want to follow in my footsteps CROW: ...and a whole pack of kill-crazy misfits raring to take on Hitler's goose-stepping goons! TOM: It's Marrissa's Heroes! Or Three Kings... MIKE: [sings] All my burnin' bridges... >serving as my Computer Security Officer." > "She worships you, MIKE: Ah, that's just a tax dodge. > and you've always dealt with her even-handedly," Martin >said. TOM: Yeah, one even hand right across the face. WHACK! > "Then there is Shayna, ship's practical joker," Marrissa said. "I must >have been insane when I made her my Security Chief. CROW: [Martin] But you're okay now, right? Right? Marrissa, put down the knife! > Not only is her >primary background Engineering, but a clown like her ..." TOM: Her mastery of seltzer makes her invaluable against those zany Romulans and slapstick-happy Borg! CROW: [sings] A clown like her who'd kill your brother, forget that clown and find another! > "You know, some had similar objections when you became Security Chief back >on the Enterprise-E," Martin said. MIKE: And, in hindsight, they were spot on. Our mistake. TOM: I guess that's what happens when the 'Wesley Principle' runs amok. > "You did a fine job, and so has Shayna. > True, she had a hard time adjusting to the new position, but she's doing >well now. MIKE: Her bones have refit around the bondage gear... > I'd say the respect of such a person would be notable. And you >have hers." CROW: So take heart! You have the respect of the woman who most matters...the queen of the pratfall, the captain of the cream pie, the head of the joy buzzer program. > "But I'm not worthy of that respect," Marrissa said, almost shouting. ALL: WE'RE NOT WORTHY! WE'RE NOT WORTHY! >"I'm just a young lady, who has been married just under a year, has a baby >girl she's trying to learn how to take care of, all while trying to run a >Starship. TOM: Sounds like a great idea for a sitcom! Get Brett Butler on the phone! > I've got all these titles, jobs, and duties to perform and I >just wonder, is there anything else. Am I just those titles, just those >duties. When all those are taken away, is there anything left?" CROW: Wow. That's a hell of a lot of clarity for her, innit? MIKE: She must have started taking the pills! > "Marrissa, you have done a lot for your friends and the Federation," Martin began. MIKE: Nothing _good_, but... > "You've spent most of your life helping others and never TOM: ...really learned to stop cramming your opinion down others' throats. >really taken the time get to know yourself. Perhaps it's time you did. CROW: Because you're good eno--well, no, you're not. But you're smart eno-- er, never mind that one. But gosh darn it, people like--uh, forget I said anything. >You've got enough leave time for your whole command crew, and even if you >didn't, I'd make sure you took some. TOM: Even if we had to use the Tonya Harding method! > You've got a nanny who can watch over MIKE: ...us all from her umbrella as she floats above us, singing delightfully. Sara, and Jay can stand some time alone as well. Pack up that backpack of >yours, ALL: [singing] And smile, smile, smile! > and spend some time out in the wilderness, camping. I've heard how TOM: ...there may be enough angry bears to finally put an end to your evil... or at least slow you down for a while. CROW: Tom, there aren't enough angry bears in the universe to stop the devil. MIKE: She's not the devil! She's just...cranky. >you enjoyed it when you were younger, so I think it would be a good place >for you to start." TOM: Yeah, great. I enjoyed Barney when I was younger, Freud. Got any recommendations for me? > "If you think it will help," Marrissa said, tentatively. MIKE: Now, does that sound like the devil, Crow? CROW: Yep, since it was the devil who said it. TOM: Mike, just forget it. > "It will help, but only as much as you let it," Martin said. CROW: Let the Camping Force flow through you! > "Just spend >some quiet time thinking about your life. MIKE: And then hang your head in shame. > And after a couple days, we'll TOM: ...sit right back and we'll hear a tale, a tale of a frightful trip... >talk again." > "Okay." MIKE: [Martin] Now, have you thought of your theme song yet? > > "Are you sure this camping idea is a good one," Jay asked Martin as they >sat in the living room of Halifax Castle, sampling wine. CROW: [Martin] Why, yes, the Black Hills of Maryland are lovely this time of year... > "She needs time to get to know herself again, without all the >responsibilities," Martin said. TOM: She needs time to grow into a sensitive, caring megalomaniacal despot. > She's been in a position of >responsibility, putting others before herself, since she was twelve." CROW: Which, as we all know, is two years too old. TOM: Slacker. > "A little before that," Jay said. "You forgot that first command." MIKE: Don't eat the yellow snow? CROW: Don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger? TOM: Don't warn the tadpoles? > "Oh yes, the famous first Kid's Crew mission," Martin said. MIKE: Yes, the fifty-year time limit has run out, and now the FBI is opening the files. > "By the way, >I never found out how you met Marrissa." [ALL groan.] MIKE: [deadpan] And we'd love to hear all about it. No. Really. TOM: Great. We get to see what Ratliff's idea of meeting cute is. CROW: (as Jay) Well, I'd drawn a pentagram on the floor of my quarters in my own blood, and was chanting away in Latin when a black poodle entered my quarters... > "It's actually rather embarrassing," Jay said. TOM: Gasp. Choke. Well, I'm shocked. Shocked. > "Oh really," Martin said. > "But I guess you'll keep prying until you find out about it," Jay said. MIKE: [Martin] Nope! I could care less. So how 'bout them Bruins? > "Most certainly, it's my duty as Ship's Counselor," Martin said. CROW: It's his duty as Ship's Counselor to ask annoying questions? TOM: Yeah, under the Troi Protocols. He also has to sense great distress. MIKE: And eat chocolate. > "Well, I was five, almost six, and Marrissa had just turned seven at the >time," Jay began. TOM: So does that make Marrissa a cradle-robber? MIKE: To what, another cradle? > > The Enterprise was new to me, and I was out exploring the deck near my >families quarters. MIKE: Day 3: Out of food. Water supplies running low. Wish I could get these stupid replicators to work. > Marrissa lived on the deck above, and was going around CROW: Telling people I smelled like feet. >the corner. Her father called for her to come back and clean her room. >She looked back, said no, and stepped into an open access hatch, falling TOM: down a well. For hours, they tried to dig her out, but until Sting did a benefit concert for her, it was all in vain. MIKE: Sting's not that vain! Well, okay, he is, but he'd still help Marrissa if he could. >down to my floor. Normally, you'd expect her to get some injuries from >this fall. CROW: [Ahnuld] But she's liquid metal. > She did, but I got more. You see, I was directly below the TOM: ...hollow earth, near the caverns of the dero. MIKE: Oh, to see the Kid's Crew devoured by Morlocks... >access hatch when she fell. I got knocked to the floor as she landed on >me, breaking my leg. CROW: So early on, Jay learned to fear Marrissa's wrath. TOM: I'd heard rumors that she worked for the Gambeisi Mafia, but to read the evidence... > Marrissa was horrified that she hurt me. MIKE: She was trying to _kill_ me. > She picked me up and rushed me MIKE: ...but was apparently unware that I am not a sorority. >to sickbay. No easy task since at the time I was fifty pounds to her >forty-one, Marrissa always was on the short side. TOM: I guess coffee and cigarettes _do_ stunt your growth. > When she got there, she CROW: ...dropped me repeatedly on my head for my sexist comments. >insisted that they care for me before she would let them look at her. MIKE: But the nurse said "Why should I listen to you? You're only seven years old!" TOM: Thus did her crazed ambition form... >After treating my leg, they checked her, and determined that she had TOM: ...ringworm. MIKE: ...narcolepsy. CROW: ...evil in every pore! >carried me half way around the ship with a broken arm. CROW: [Jay] You'd think that at least one adult would have noticed the two of us, howling in pain... > While we spent the next four hours in Sickbay, we began to get to know TOM: ...you...getting to know all about you... >each other. Meanwhile, Doctor Crusher went to find out who left the hatch MIKE: It turned out to be his roommate! >open. When I got home, my father told me that the Ensign who had left the >hatch open had a cataloging job to do in Sickbay, so I guess he was well >punished. CROW: Years later, that same ensign took a terrible revenge, barring Nicholas Picard from visiting his father at work. But that transfer to the front line took care of that. TOM: I don't believe you just referenced "Falling Into Command." CROW: I don't believe I _remember_ "Falling Into Command." > I was surprised that Marrissa spent the week grounded. MIKE: With a car battery hooked up to her braces. CROW: Her folks were strict! > She >later confided to me that it was probably a good thing, but at the time, >well she wasn't very happy about it. TOM: And at that very moment, some kind of water elemental attacked her father. Strange, isn't it? > > "So that's how I met Marrissa," Jay said. "Not the most romantic way to >met your future wife, but I can say that she just dropped in on me." ALL laugh weakly. MIKE: Yes, folks, just like Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, they were meant for each other. TOM: And just like Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, I want to cover them with honey and stake them down on top of an anthill. Let's go... [HOST SEGMENT] [1...2...3...4...5...6...7...] [SOL. CROW is wearing his usual Marrissa costume. TOM is wearing glasses and smoking a pipe.] TOM: Well, Marrissa, I think you'll find that the Essex Home for the Unrepentantly Evil will be a very relaxing environment. CROW: I don't see why I have to be in here! TOM: Marrissa, you eradicated an entire species because one of their number stepped on your foot! CROW: ...I had a headache. TOM: Then you blew up their planet and used the debris to spell out "We were genocided by a bunch of kids!" CROW: I had a really _bad_ headache? [Music starts playing. TOM ducks out to the left.] MAGIC VOICE: She had no one left to turn to... [MIKE appears, wearing a nurse's uniform and an afro wig.] MIKE: Well, Marrissa, it's time for your strawberry juice bath. CROW: I don't wanna! Get me OUT of here! MIKE: Get yourself out! CROW: ...Okay. [CROW jumps MIKE and starts beating the snot out of him. They fall behind the counter.] MAGIC VOICE: She was trapped in a world where no one understood her... [CROW pops back up. TOM comes back in, also in nurse uniform.] TOM: Okay, time for your meds! CROW: But I don't need any! TOM: Are we going to have a problem here? CROW: Oh, I guarantee it. [CROW jumps TOM and starts unloading a crate of whup-ass. They fall behind the counter.] MAGIC VOICE: And then, the two of them found each other! [GYPSY comes in. She's wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and holding a ballpoint pen in her mouth. CROW pops back up.] GYPSY: Mmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmmm! CROW: Huh? GYPSY: MMM MMMM MMMM MMMM MMMMM! CROW: I can't understand what you're... GYPSY: [releases the pen] I said, one false move and I'll jam this into my aorta! CROW: You don't HAVE an aorta! GYPSY: ...Oh. Good to know! [CROW rolls his eyes, starts beating up Gypsy.] MAGIC VOICE: Critics say, "Never before have two robots set fire to the screen! Well, except in _Heartbeeps_." [CROW and GYPSY pop back up. CROW is reading from a folder.] CROW: "Subject is megalomaniacal, prone to violent outbursts, and craves conquest over all that lives." Well, that's me. GYPSY: Yep. That's just you. [CROW starts beating up GYPSY again.] MAGIC VOICE: _Marrissa, Interrupted_. Coming soon. Or not. And we've got commercial sign. [Bumper.] [Commercials. Sci-Fi is proud to welcome Harsh Realm to our Four Play blocks, and--what? Only three were...oh. Never mind.] [Theatre. Everyone comes walking in.] CROW: You guys all right? TOM: Yeah. MIKE: You hit pretty good for a guy whose arms don't work. > >Chapter Five MIKE: The destruction of Jared-Syn. > Marrissa stood on the top of Mount Hilary. TOM: All covered in cheese. > She had always wanted to climb CROW: ...but feared that nearby Mount Bill would sexually harrass her. >this mountain near Londonderry, but never really had the time. It was >known for it's view of the Capital and now, the Star Fleet Fighter Training >School. MIKE: And all downwind form the Sewage Treatment Plant! > The new palace, with it's purple glass dome was easy to pick out >from the city. TOM: Yeah, well, something that looks like a big zit will do that. > Here she was, up on top of a mountain, and she didn't know who she was. MIKE: Was she a dreamboat or a dud? >But then again many mountain climbers didn't know that. CROW: Huh? There a lot of amnesia in this field? TOM: I don't remember. > It was a long >standing tradition on many worlds for a person to climb a mountain to find >themselves. TOM: And realize that their lives are meaningless... MIKE: Tom. TOM: And look down into the inviting abyss... MIKE: TOM. > Marrissa sat on top of the mountain, and began to think. CROW: Wow! MIKE: Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. > Who was she? ALL: [singing] 2-4-6-0-1!!! > Was she a Star Fleet Officer? Was she a princess? Was she >a wife? Was she a mother? TOM: Was she an animal, vegetable, or a mineral? CROW: Was she bigger than a breadbox? MIKE: Was she Keyser Soze? > Yes she was all of those, CROW: Is that your final answer? [Withering glares from Mike & Tom] CROW: What?! > but without those >titles, those jobs, those responsibilities, Who was she? MIKE: She was all those things and more! TOM: She was real, she was magic, she was calm, she was savage... CROW: She's the devil, I say! > The purple glass dome of the Palace caught her attention again. She was TOM: ...easily distracted by shiny objects. >heir to this planet, one thing that she