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Hi y'all! Long time no see! In fact, it will be longer still until I can
attempt to communicate in person, because I don't know what I have to do
to
get my newsreader functioning, and the only people who can tell me work for
the University and cannot be reached after 4:00 PM (?!). My next work will
probably be Warrior's Daughter (a Star Fox/Usagi Yojimbo xover. That's
right, Star Fox and Usagi Yojimbo, and there's plenty more where it came
from), although it seems to actually grow in file size each time I look at
it. I've also contributed riffs to the coming Ratliff attraction 7th Fleet
and I'm trying to work my way through a group MiST of The Field Trip (a
revision of the Away Team).
This one is set in the Frank & Mike era, which I at least *think* exists.
If not, this is just another fanfic that veers wildly away from the
official continuity, and you should be used to that by now. I set it with
the original Mads because I wanted an Invention Exchange. In regards to
that, the _-_Winstonizer was an idea I thought up before my very first
MiSTing. Oddly, I can remember the _-_Winstonizer sketch, but I have no
recollection of eight-grade math at all.
Oh, and a skort is hard to visually describe, but it sure looks odd. You
see it and think "skirt!" but notice something strange about it. The shorts
part is basically a dividing line of fabric in between the legs, therefore
offering a bit more protection from embarassing moments in skirts. I've
only seen them a few times in the Middle School at my private school.
Lastly, I'm not sure if this is still in RATMM style, but... breasts!
**********************************************
[Opening sequence for whatever season that featured Mike and Frank
together.]
[SoL. Gypsy is alone on the bridge. She is wearing a half-skirt
half-shorts
thingy, known as a "skort."]
GYPSY: A-hem. On this momentous day, we received confirmed reports of the
mass-production of the engineering masterpiece known as the "skort."
This momentous occasion was obviously deserving of a special
celebration, featuring dancing girls and swing bands and a guest
appearance by Carmen Miranda. Unfortunately, we have no money, and
Carmen Miranda is dead. Therefore, we put on our very own song-and-dance
as tribute to that Porsche of the hybrid-clothing world, the skort.
[M & TB walk in and begin to dance as they did (or will do) at the
beginning of Jack Frost.]
ALL[singing in tune to the Meow Mix theme]: Skort skort skort skort!
Skort
skort skort skort! Skort skort skort skort skort skort skort skort!
Skort skort skort skort! Skort skort skort skort! Skort skort skort skort
skort!
CROW: Yeah! Kick it!
MIKE: Ladies and gentlemen, the Skort Anthem.
TOM: What it lacks in originality, it makes up for in the wearing of skorts.
CROW: We've made clothing-related-music history.
[Silence for a while, as M & TB stand around in skorts.]
TOM: So...
MIKE: Do it again?
BOTS: Yeah!
ALL[singing in tune to the Meow Mix theme]: Skort skort skort skort!
Skort
skort skort skort! Skort skort skort skort skort skort skort skort!
Skort skort skort skort! Skort skort skort skort! Skort skort skort
skort skort!<continues>
MIKE[shouting over singing]: We'll be right back after these messages!
<resumes singing>
[Fade out with Skort Anthem in background.]
[Come to McDonald's and celebrate what the 60s were all about-crass
commercialism!]
[SoL. Everyone is still in skorts.]
ALL[singing in tune to last bit of Meow Mix theme]: Skorts! Skorts!
Skorts!
Skorts! Skorts!
CROW[squeaky, high-pitched]: Skorts!
MIKE: Ahh, that was nice.
TOM: Skorts-won't you?
CROW: This message paid for by the Skorts Council.
MIKE: Start *noticing* skorts.
TOM: Got Skorts?
CROW: Get Skorts-or get out.
[Mad light flashes]
MIKE: Whoops. The Hal Needham Fan Club is calling.
[Deep 13. TV's Frank is nowhere to be seen.]
DR. F: So, my pretty ones, ready for today's invention exchange?
[SoL. Mike has a deer-in-the-headlights look and is holding a little
Lego
spaceship. The skorts have inexplicably disappeared.]
MIKE[nervous]: I-I built this rocket out-out of Legos, and it-it
has a
laser, and the laser can like shoot in all directions, a-and the laser
freezes you, and it has a warp drive. <beat> Can I do my project over
again?
TOM: That's very nice, Mikey. Now how about we show you our little
technological triumph?
[Zoom out to show a computer constructed out of a tinfoil-wrapped
cardboard
box, Christmas lights, two old-fashioned tape reels, and a small
loudspeaker. The reels, loudspeaker, and lights are arranged in such a way
that they look like a happy face.]
TOM: This is the Rationalizer 2000-X 98 Mark III.
CROW: I call him Billy.
TOM: What the Rat-I mean, Billy-does is find a way to rationalize silly
plot devices, especially from Star Trek. It is programmed with a full
range of normal physics *and* imaginary Trek physics.
CROW: And he's really cute, too. Hey Billy!
BILLY[sounding oddly like Paul Chaplin]: Yes?
CROW: Say hello to the nice people, Billy!
BILLY: Hello to the nice people, Billy!
TOM: Ha ha ha! Ain't he sweet? But now for the testing. Billy, would it
actually be possible to travel through time by warping around a sun?
BILLY: Well, bear in mind that the warp drive theory operates in real
space, and the factors of real space-i.e., gravity-can affect it. Since
the warp drive is based on successive layers of warp fields distorting
space to allow the speed of light to be reached and surpassed with a
finite amount of energy, the gravity of a sun would probably twist the
fields to a point where they would actually warp time itself.
MIKE: Cool.
CROW: Is there a chance that you could repel a Cardassian torpedo by using
the tractor beams and then cause it to hit the attacking ship?
BILLY: Interesting question. The best explanation of this would be to point
out that Cardassian weapons technology, including torpedo guidance
systems, is far behind Federation standards. If the torpedo was flying a
straight and narrow course, then you could lock all tractor beams on
it- and the deflector array, just to be sure-and eventually bring it to a
stop.
CROW: And the part about hitting the attacking ship?
BILLY: There's always a good chance the crew was drunk.
MIKE: Again, cool. Lemme try. <clears throat> Billy, is there any chance
at
all that a twelve-year-old with substantial Holodeck practice but
without official command training would be promoted to interim captain
duty?
BILLY: Processing, please wait.
[Billy whirs for a while.]
BILLY: Still processing.
[Billy whirs again.]
BILLY: Almost got it.
[Billy whirs, stops whirring, and says nothing.]
MIKE: Uh...
[Billy explodes in a shower of tinfoil and sparks.]
CROW: BILLY!<rushes to Billy's side>
TOM: Oh, thanks, Mike. I really needed the loss of a new and trusted friend
and commercial opportunity!
MIKE: But-I-
CROW: Don't go towards the light, Billy! We need you here! Why must Mike
hurt the ones we love?!
MIKE: Now just a minute-
TOM: Can it, you spongy-skinned robocidal maniac, you!
[D13. Dr. F is smiling evilly (of course).]
DR. F: Oh, that was *quite* an innovative way to psychologically damage
your little plastic friends, Nelson. However, I have a much quicker and
more effective device for our misanthropic mental mangling.
[Frank enters in army fatigues and bandanna. He is carrying what looks
like
a caulking gun with a funnel at the nozzle and a CD player hooked up to
the
trigger. The cylinder part has _-_ painted on it.]
FRANK[cheerfully]: Do you want the blood of your enemies to wash
over you
like a cleansing spring rain? Are you a military superpower over the age
of 18 with access to a credit card? Then call now to receive your own
_-_Winstonizer!
DR. F: Yes, the _-_Winstonizer: the ultimate demoralizing weapon. When
activated, it shoots forth a compressed ultrasonic stream of kooky
John_-_Winston posts being read aloud, instantly paralyzing the central
nervous system of the target and destroying whatever brain cells foolish
enough to stand in its way. All the world shall flock to my arms
dealership, and my economic control will be insured! Oh, and speaking of
brains disabled beyond all hopes of repair, your experiment today is an
incoherent little piece of South Park spit-up entitled "Stan vs
<extra-evil grin> Mike Nelson." Hemingway it ain't.
[SoL. Mike is trying to tape Billy back together, the Bots watching
him
like hawks. Since 90% of Billy was atomized in the explosion, this is
not
as easy as you may think.]
MIKE: Ugh. I think I'll take Agent Orange instead, if you don't mind.
CROW: And what's this about starring in a South Park crossover?
MIKE: Lies. Sickening, perverted lies. Probably.
TOM: Oh well. Back to your work, bot-killer!
[Fanfic Sign]
MIKE: Sorry, but WE GOT FANFIC SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGNNNN!!!!
ALL: AUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
[6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Theater.]
TOM: And you say you had *nothing* to do with this.
MIKE: I swear.
>
>
>
TOM: Hmm.
CROW: Well.
MIKE: <checks watch> So...
>
>
>
TOM: Note to author: This is not a good way to pad your story.
> Stan vs. Mike Nelson
CROW: So it's TRUE! Mike, how *could* you?
TOM: You pinko Commie atheistic beatnik *freak!!!!*
MIKE: Guys, I swear I had nothing to do with this!
TOM: Oh yeah? Well, how did he get the rights to have you in his fanfic?
MIKE: I don't know! All I know about copyright law is that it could turn
on
me at any moment!
>
>
TOM[solemnly]: Space: Above and Beyond.
>
TOM: See? 'Cause it was above us and beyond us.
MIKE: Very cute, Servo.
>One day Stan Kyle Kenny and Cartman were building a snowman at the bus
stop.
CROW: Apparently they used all their commas for the eyes.
>When Kenny was looking for some
>rocks for it, the Satellite of Love crashed on him.
TOM: The Satellite *does* have extremely unreliable servers, I'll admit that.
MIKE: Yeah, and the browser sucks.
>
>Stan: Oh My God. They Killed Kenny!
>Kyle: You Bastard!!
CROW: We're already at the death of Kenny? This must be one roller-coaster
ride of a fanfic!
TOM: Yeah, Maltin gave it three stars and called it "an interesting yarn
marred only by the absence of naked women."
>Cartman: Why the hell would that land here?
MIKE: My guess is that the author really likes the taste of glue.
>
>Mike Nelson, Crow, Gypsy and Tom Servo climbed out of the destroyed
>satellite. The kids looked at them confused.
CROW: I guess we would be confused, but what about the South Park kids?
>
>Mike: Hi. I'm Mike Nelson.
TOM: Well Mike, now you've gone and admitted it. I'm taking your jumpsuited
tuckus to court so fast that you'll experience relativistic time distortion!
>Stan: Yeah.
>Kyle: Dude, I've seen you on Mystery Science Theater.
MIKE: What? Guys, do you know what this Mystery Science Theater thing is?
CROW: Sorry, not a clue.
TOM: I thought it was one of those chemistry education videos.
>Crow: If you see a red van crashing, it's not surprising.
MIKE[announcer]: Tonight on Dateline: Government-authorized crash
tests
have shown that an increasing number of fatal crashes are caused by red
cars. Also, an amusing look at tube socks.
>
>Suddenly a flaming ball of fire was falling down through the sky.
CROW: Great balls of fire!
> It turned out to be Pearl Forrester's rocketship.
CROW: Oh. Well then, mediocre balls of fire.
PEARL[v.o]: I heard that.
MIKE: Um, Crow? Who's Pearl and why was she able to do a voice-over just
now?
CROW: Did I tell you that I acquired the ability to see into the future and
mimic the voice patterns of people I know there?
MIKE: No.
CROW: Well, I did, but it's all used up now.
[Author: Wasn't that an elegant plot contrivance?]
>
>Pearl: I'll get you for this Nelsoooooooooooooooooooon.
TOM: Nelsoooooooooooooooooooon? Like Nelsoooooooooooooooooooon-Yi Allen?
CROW: Maybe Nelsoooooooooooooooooooon-Tzu's War Academy.
MIKE: Ooh, those are valuable. They make all your units Veterans until Mobile
Warfare.
>
>The van rocket exploded on Tom's Rhinoplasty,
MIKE: Your rhinoplasty, Tom?
TOM[nervously]: I don't know what he's talking about, but it's all
lies!
> just before Mr. Garrison arrived to get his nose job redone again.
CROW: How hard would it be to give Mr. Garrison a nose job anyway? They're
just paper cutouts, so they can just use scissors and tape.
MIKE: So what did you have done on your nose, Tom?
TOM: Nothing! My nose was fine before the operation! No! Wait! Never mind!
>
>Gypsy: Uh. We're going to light some fireworks.
ALL: <snicker>
CROW: And what prompted this little remark?
MIKE: Maybe she was trying to change the subject.
TOM: From what?
MIKE: Maybe she thought she was in a different fanfic.
>Kyle: They banned fireworks.
>Servo: What?!? Those bastards. I'm gonna kick their asses.
TOM: Uh, Mike? I'm willing to settle out of court on that previous charge...
MIKE: I thought you would.
>Cartman: They have a great snack called Cheesy Poofs here.
ALL: <snicker again>
CROW[as Cartman as Melissa from "Touch of Satan"]: This is where
the fish lives!
MIKE: Maybe the author is trying to change subjects so drastically that he
ends up with a good fanfic.
>Stan: It's obvious you'd say that fatass.
CROW: One-liners sharpened to a rapier's point, Stan leaps courageously
into the emerging battle of lightning wit!
>Cartman: I'm not fat. I'm stout for my age.
TOM: So basically, this fanfic is the barest rudiments of a story built on
top of a foundation of cliches from South Park.
MIKE: Looks like it. Of course, the same could be said for
_The_Red_Badge_of_Courage_.
TOM: Yeah... huh?
>Mike: So you insult people.
CROW[as Stan]: In the very loosest sense of the word, yes.
> Me too.
CROW[as Stan]: Again, in the very loosest sense of the word, yes.
MIKE: HEY!
>Stan: Dude, I bet I can insult more than you.
>Mike: Oh really? Well prove it.
TOM[as Stan]: Well, first we declare the given statements. Then,
we draw a
line from A to D, and give the reason as two points determine a line...
>Stan: I will dude. What's the challenge?
>Crow: You say "dude" too much.
CROW[aristocratic British accent as Stan]: So that is your challenge?
Very
well! We shall duel with pistols at dawn!
>Stan: Dude, I don't say the word dude. Do I dude.
CROW: Yes, you dude quite often-far beyond the acceptable level, I might
add.
MIKE: This is an intervention, Stan! Your dude-ing hurts us, and we're
going to make you stop!
>Cartman: You do it all the time.
>Stan: Dude, I do not. Shut up dude.
>Mike: To prove who can insult the most.
CROW[as Mike]: I like toasters. So who won the Super Bowl? Look,
a snowplow!
MIKE: Stop putting words into my mouth!
CROW: It's way too late for that, Mike.
> The winner walks out the airlock,
TOM[as Mike]: And immediately dies of rapid decompression! Doesn't
that
sound like fun?
MIKE: Cut it out! I have grounds for libel, you know!
>while the loser stays in sufficates and dies.
CROW: Sufficates? Where's that?
TOM: I think it's one of the islands off the coast of Greece.
>We'll watch this movie for 5 minutes and trash it. It's called
>"Don't Go Back To The Theater".
MIKE: The calls are coming from the theater! Get out of the satellite!
TOM: But if we left the satellite now, we'd die.
MIKE: No, the first one out the airlock wins, remember?
>Stan: You're on dude.
CROW: I'm not gonna say it... I'm not gonna say it...
>Servo: He did it again.
>
>So they walked through the airlock into the theater.
TOM: They walked through the airlock? Which one won?
MIKE: Great, even the author doesn't know what's going on!
> Kyle Servo Gypsy and Cartman were hoping who would come out.
MIKE: But he's on first!
CROW: Who's on first?
MIKE: Exactly!
CROW: What?
ALL: THIRD BASE!
>
>Paramount Pictures Presents:
>---
TOM[solemnly as announcer]: The Hyphens: A story of three hyphens
trapped
in a love triangle while hiding in Nazi-occupied France.
MIKE: I heard that Kevin Bacon is good as a Gestapo semicolon.
>Mike: Oh great they present a mountain. Well that's all the movie's over.
ALL: YAYY! <begin to leave>
>---
MIKE: The hell? The door won't open.
CROW: Aw fluffernutters, they weren't talking to us.
ALL: <head back to seats grumbling>
>"Don't Go Back To The Theater"
TOM: Sorry, can't help it.
>---
>Stan: Yeah Deep Impact is playing.
ALL: <snicker briefly>
MIKE: Hey, that was actually pretty good.
CROW: Maybe the author has multiple personalities and one with a working
sense of humor emerged and gave us this little gem.
>---
>John: Well what's in the paper today. Hmmm looks good.
TOM: Well, to be perfectly honest, when does hmmm *not* look good? I mean,
in its natural state, hmmm is doubtlessly one of the most esthetically
pleasing substances on Earth. Just what are you trying to pull, Mr.
Fanfic Author?
CROW: Oh, and by the way, who the hell is John?
>---
>Stan: Aw no women want a tall haired man who collects toys.
MIKE: Um... okay. I don't doubt you, but that doesn't seem too entirely
relevant.
>---
>Sam: What movies are playing today.
CROW: Huh? Now who the hell is *Sam?* What's going on here?
MIKE: I think the author has finally done it! We're slowly passing the
border between his fanfic and someone else's!
TOM: Is it a better one?
MIKE: How could it not be?
>John: Well not many.
>Sam: Let's see that one.
>(later)
>Sam: Wow.
CROW[as Sam]: I didn't know that you could squeeze two or three
entire
hours into one "(later)."
>---
>Mike: We actually saw Small Soldiers.
TOM: So *you're* the guys.
MIKE: Now I'm *definitely* going to sue.
>---
>John: That was great.
CROW: I would normally make a dirty comment here, but since I don't have
a
single furshlugginer idea who John and Sam are, I'll refrain.
>---
>Stan: Oh my God. I just realized we we're in Armageddon.
TOM: That's only what it *feels* like.
CROW: "We we're?" I didn't know Stan stuttered.
>---
>Sam: Isn't the bright flashing theater sign pretty?
>John: Yeah.
CROW: Hey, Movie Sign!
>---
>Stan: There we're 5000 seizure sufferers from it.
TOM: "There we're?" He's referring to himself in the plural now?
CROW: That means he's either in the Borg or a king.
>---
>(the star of the movie walks out of the theater)
>Sam: Aaaahhh! The tall cheerleader from the theater is chasing us.
CROW: The what? Mike, have you noticed any tall cheerleaders in here?
MIKE: I've been locked up in small satellite with three robots for about
three
or four years. I think I'd notice a tall cheerleader.
>John: Run.
TOM: Superb acting. The panic is really evident in his voice, isn't it?
>---
>Mike: Hey it's Will Ferrel.
CROW: Nice riff, Mike.
MIKE: Guys, I swear...
>---
>Cambot: Times up. Stan wins.
TOM: Oh, <pfft>. Nice going, Nelson.
CROW: Geez, Mike, you are *such* a *feeb!*
MIKE: But... I... but...
>Mike: What??? No it can't be!!!
CROW[as Mike]: I even brought extra punctuation marks!!!
>Stan: Bye.
MIKE[as Stan]: Sorry about the whole dying thing. Better than spending
the
rest of the time in this fanfic, though.
TOM: Feeling bitter?
MIKE: I needed to lash out.
>
>Stan walks out the airlock while Mike gets trapped inside with no oxygen,
>and suffers a slow and painful death.
CROW: Well actually, Mike kinda pops like a balloon full of ketchup when
the air pressure inside him is greater than the air pressure outside, but
that would probably be pretty painful, at least.
MIKE[queasily]: Urp. Ugh.
>
>Servo: I guess you're our new human.
TOM: Oh, great! Thanks to Mike's numerous mental and physical deficiencies,
we're left in the charge of a ten-year-old with a dirty mouth!
MIKE: Tom! This didn't happen! It's all fictional!
CROW: Even the lame crack about the mountain? That sounds pretty realistic
to me.
MIKE: Bite me, you sex-crazed little hood ornament.
CROW: HEY!
>Crow: It'll be nice having a kid on the SOL.
TOM[as Crow]: The pitter-patter of little paper-cutout feet...
MIKE: Actually, it's all on computers now.
CROW: So he actually won't exist? Great, we'll have free reign of the ship!
>Kyle: This means your leaving?
>Stan: Yeah dude. There's a lot of stuff to be insulted.
MIKE: Oh God, please say he isn't implying that a *series* could come out
of this.
CROW: I would like to see this kid throw feces at Gonterman, though.
>Crow: Dooh. There you go with that dude thing again.
TOM: Ladies and gentleman, our only running gag!
MIKE: Emphasis on "gag."
>Cartman: Well we'll miss you.
>Kyle: Yeah dude.
CROW: Doh! Now the author is getting his own lame cliches mixed up!
>Stan: Bye South Park. Comon guys.
MIKE: "Comon?" Does he mean common?
TOM[as Stan]: Toodle-loo, you red-necked dirt-farming peasant
rejects!
>Crow: You gotta see the stuff.
MIKE: Um... Crow? Are you pushing heroin out of your room or something?
CROW: I deny everything.
>Servo: Hey look Pearls alive.
CROW[as Tom]: Eegad! Living pearls! Truly a technological master
stroke!
TOM: Let's not do that anymore. I'm developing an identity crisis.
>Stan: Uh oh.
>Gypsy: I'm glad I don't have to go into the theater.
MIKE: Well actually, Gypsy does have to go in to vacuum occasionally, but
otherwise that's true.
>
>
>
CROW: You know, I really can't understand this story. I'm just reading a
blank.
MIKE & TOM: DOH!
TOM: *NEVER* again, Crow.
CROW: Heh heh.
> submitted by: MC324525@aol.com
TOM: An AOLer, huh? Is anyone surprised by this at all?
MIKE[picking up Tom]: I'd watch your words, Tom. They do outnumber
you.
[1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... SoL. Crow has a big orange cardboard
panel
in the shape of Cartman's jacket taped on his front. He is also wearing
a
small orange Cartman-like hat. Gypsy has mostly covered herself with an
orange sleeping bag. There is a cardboard cutout of Stan standing on the
counter.]
CROW: Hey Gypsy, have you seen Tom?
GYPSY: I kam taw wi weeping ba om.
CROW: Oh yeah, sorry. <uses his beak to pull the bag away from Gypsy's
mouth> So have you seen him?
GYPSY: No. And I'm not going to get that Mr. Hanky prop for you either. I
just shampooed the carpet yesterday.
[Tom enters. He is wearing Kyle's hat and jacket, and his nose is at
least
four times normal size.]
TOM[exasperated]: There. I've gone and had my nose surgery reversed.
Now
can we get on with the playlet?
CROW: I'm ready when you are.
GYPSY: Thunderbirds are go.
TOM: All right then. <to us> Ladies, gentlemen, and small furry creatures
from Alpha Centauri, the Satellite of Love wishes to present to you what
we believe to be a normal episode of South Park, based on evidence
gathered from this fanfic. Hit it!
[Vaguely Primus-esque banjo music plays.]
TOM[as Kyle]: Dude! You are fat!
CROW[nasal as Cartman]: I am not! I'm just husky.
GYPSY[muffled]: Mgpf gm fmeg bf thm. (Your vast range of euphemisms
again
amazes me, my compatriot.)
TOM[as Kyle]: No, you're fat dude! Dude!
CROW[nasal as Cartman]: I am not! I'm just big-boned.
GYPSY[muffled]: Gmfp thg mp fmg. (Why must we always fight so? Can't
we all
be friends?)
TOM[as Kyle]: Cartman dude, admit dude it! You're plump dude dude.
CROW[nasal as Cartman]: I am not! I'm just fat! <beat> Hey,
wait a minute...
GYPSY[muffled]: Thm. (I cannot hold my secret any longer! Under
these heavy
garments, I am a woman, and I want you both!)
CROW[nasal as Cartman]: Well... you say dude too much. There! I've
said it!
TOM[as Kyle]: It's not dude my fault dude! It's a dude complex
neurodudelogical disorder dude! Dude my dude life is a dude living hell
dude dude dude!
CROW[nasal as Cartman]: Oh. Sorry. Hey, let's talk to Stan and see
how long
it takes for him to say something offensive!
[All turn to the cutout of Stan.]
TOM[whispering]: What's supposed to happen now?
CROW[likewise]: I dunno. Mike wrote the script.
MIKE[v.o.]: DIE, YOU MISSHAPEN ME-KILLING INSULT-HURLING FIEND!!!
CROW: He's got a gun!
[All scream and duck as a machine gun rattles in the distance. The
bullets
chip the counter in places, but otherwise have no effect. Silence for
a while.]
TOM[peeking out]: Wha-?
MIKE[v.o.]:
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUU
UUUUGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! <rushes onto the screen with an M-16 and bayonet
and attempts to stab Stan. He overshoots and topples over the counter. The
Bots stand up from behind the counter.>
MIKE: <beat> Ow...
TOM: Feeb.
CROW: Definitely. <Mad Light> Brooks and Dumb are calling.
[Mike reaches up and taps the light with the stock of the M-16.]
[D13. A bunch of people in military uniforms are crowding around. Dr.
F is
looking very annoyed. TV's Frank is trying to pick up a pretty female
colonel, who is looking desperately for a way out.]
DR. F:[annoyed]: Well, Michael, it appears that all the militaries
of the
major superpowers are here, as I predicted. Unfortunately, the
_-_Winstonizer is the least of their concerns...
[An army officer notices the camera and walks over.]
OFFICER: Aha! You invented the Nelson X-1 Tactical Space Defense Vehicle,
didn't you! May I ask you a few questions? All right then, can it carry
a 50-ton bombload? What about a stealth system? Aw, what the hell, just
give us the designs and we'll fork over a couple tens of millions of dollars.
[Suddenly, we hear Frank screaming offscreen as bones crack.]
OFFICER: Oh damn, someone tried to ask Peggy out. Anyway, about that laser...
DR. F[shoving the officer to the side]: Shoo! Go away! Invade France
or
something! <to camera> Oh well, so much for the armies of the
Earth
eating out of my palm. See you next time, Nelson. Push the button,
Frank.
[A heavily bruised and bleeding Frank pitches forward onto the
button.]
_______________________________________________________________
DR. F: Frank, you're getting blood all over my Popular Mechanics collection!
FRANK: Sorry Steve.
<Pfwoosh!>
*******************************
MST3K is a copyright of the geniuses at the aptly named Best Brains Inc.
South Park is a copyright of Matt Stone and that other guy.
MC324525@aol.com was gullible-um, I mean nice-enough to allow me access to
his fanfic, and was not directly targeted by this work (hard as that is to
believe). Respond via e-mail. Protest the CDA. Post no bills. Destroy all
monsters. Thank you and good night.
>Gypsy: Uh. We're going to light some fireworks.
