In the Not-To-Distant future, (Well actually it's today!), Some authors sent painful stories (But most of them didn't stay). I borrowed the concept of Joel and the Bots, Since I couldn't be bothered making up new plots, They'll do a good job hacking up the tales, (And they'll find out what happens when Creative Writing fails!) I'll give them cheesy fiction, The worst I can find! I won't have to go look for it, 'cause it shows up all the time! Now keep in mind Joel can't control, Where the stories begin and end, (Well probably he could at that but who would read them then?) Author Roll-Call! Payne! McNally! Claffey! Roooooooooooot! If you're wondering why they wrote this stuff, Or with your mind they toy, Just repeat to yourself 'it's just a post, I should sit back and enjoy...U Mystery Superguy Theatre 3000'! (1...2..3...4...5...6...) [Scene opens on the Satellite of Love. Tom and Crow are arguing violently in the background. After a moment of this, Joel pops up in front of the camera.] Joel: Hi folks, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Joel Robinson, and me and the bots are having a discussion about the last Radian and Shadebeam arc. You're just in time to listen in on the 'bots' thoughts on the metaphysical. [Joel ducks back down.] Crow: I could too Transcend if I wanted! Tom: Could not! Crow: Too! Tom: Not! Crow: Too, too, too! Tom: Not, not, not! Crow: Too to INFINITY! Tom: Not to infinity plus ONE! Crow: Hey, you can't do that! So I win! Tom: Grrr...Okay, Crow, let's see it. Crow: What? Tom: Put your money where your big fat mouth is! Transcend! I dare you! Crow (uncertain): Well...ah...what do I have to do again? Tom (smugly): You have to DIE! Crow: Oh...um...hey, look at the hex field! It's Ben Rawluck! Tom (turning to look): Where? Where? Crow: There, I did it! Tom (turning back): You did what? Crow (smugly): Transcended. Tom: You did not! Crow: Did too. Tom: Okay, show me how omnipotent you are. Crow: Sure thing. The commercial sign button is about to flash...now. [The commercial sign begins flashing] Tom: Wow! Joel: We'll be right back (hits the button). *** [Scene is the Satellite of Love again. Crow stands on an alter built out of 'Lucky Charms' boxes. Tom is bowing and scraping before it.] Tom: Oh wise one! I am but dirt at your feet! Teach me that I may dip my oars in the sea of your boundless knowledge! Joel: Crow, are you almost done basking in the glory and adulation of your disciple yet? I need you to clean up your room. Crow: Don't talk to _me_ about cleaning my room, monkey boy! I'm on another level than you now! You're like pond scum compared to me! You're...you're... Joel: The guy who knows where the RAM chip jar is hidden? Or do you know that too, Mr All-Knowing? Crow: Dowh! (begins stage whispering) Oh, and Joel...listen...if you keep this to yourself, I _think_ I could squeeze in a little glory and adulation for you too, if you know what I mean. Joel: I don't know, Crow. Are you sure you want Tom serving you blindly, without thought of his own will, safety and personal goals? Crow: Sure! It's kinda neat! Tom: Shall I smite the unbeliever, oh high one? Shall I lop off his head for his blasphemy to your mighty self? Can I? Can I? Hunh? Hunh? Please? Crow: Ah, Tom buddy...you don't have functional hands. Tom: Oh, right. Darn. [The light begins blinking.] Joel: Hey look guys, Thunder and Lightning are calling. Crow: Cool! Um, I knew that! Joel: No kids, it's just the mads. Tom: You _didn't_ know that? You're really _not_ omniscient? I'm...I'm crushed! I'm..I'm...I'm horribly disillusioned! My faith is shattered before my eyes! I want my temple donations back! There's a free prize in every box! [Switch to Deep 13] Doctor Forester: Hello, my superheroic ninnies! Frank and I are still setting up our 'little offering' for the invention exchange, so you go first. [Switch to SOL. They're adjusting a huge, human-sized hamster cage, complete with tread wheel, shelter, PC, and a lever-activated food dispenser] Joel: Well, we at the Satellite of Love really enjoy Superguy, but there's always room for improvement. Crow: Yeah, Reviews! They're great...but they come out too darned slow! Tom: That's why we built...the Motivational Reviewer Habitat! Joel: That's right. You just put the Reviewer in the cage, and it does the rest. [Joel goes over to point at the dispenser] Tom: You see, this little baby dispenses Superguy posts. On days when the Reviewer has written and sent out a Review... [Joel moves to point at the PC.] Tom: It'll let him read everything from Sabre to Deranged at the touch of a button. Crow: But when he _doesn't_ send out a Review... Joel: Then he gets a mystery assortment featuring 'Splatman', 'SMURF!', 'Team Neato' and other such gems of the internet. Tom: With this system, we figure that he'll eventually he'll be able to churn out ten to twenty Reviews a day! [Switch Back to Deep 13] Doctor Forester: Very clever, boobies. But what happens when he doesn't have any more to Review? [Switch to SOL] Tom: Aha! Very astute, Dr F. That's why we're working on the Motivational Author Habitat! [Switch to Deep 13. Frank is puttering around a large cardboard box with a sheet-covered door in it.] DF: Interesting...almost evil. I may be making progress on you three yet! But still, your pitiful invention pales before my awesome evil genius. Frank and I have been working on our time machine, and we're going to use it to spread our evil across the globe! [Switch to SOL] Joel/Tom/Crow: How? [Switch to Deep 13] DF: Simple, simpletons...I'll go back in time to 1989 and post my story: Totally Evil Heroes of Justice first on the list! Then I'll be the most Senior of Authors, and no one will be able to stop me! Frank, crank up the time machine! We have a date with destiny! [Doctor Forester enters the time machine, clutching a disk, and closes the curtain. Frank pulls a lever, and the box shakes. Dry ice mist pours out from behind the curtain, and cheap Christmas lights flash around the doorway. Finally the production ends, and Doctor Forester steps back out, sans disk. A bearded man steps into shot, tapping a Nerf Sword against his foot.] The Author known as Forester slowly stepped out into the empty room of Deep Noj 13. "I've done it!", Forester exclaimed. "Now it's time to see what sort of changes I've made to the future! Er...hello there stranger? Can I help you?" His hair was unkempt, his lab coat dirty and ruffled. His eyes peered through round glasses at his surroundings. His Authorial senses gave him an understanding -- a perception -- that non-Authors would find astounding. It couldn't help him at all, now. Except in one sense. He was not alone. He could feel that. Every particle of his being could sense the presence... not of a SadoMuse, not of one of the animated serfs that inhabited the Noj. No, he could sense the undeniable presence of Another. He smoothed the lab-coat he wore, and deftly unbuttoned it. He would need to get what he concealed within it. "I am Clayton Forester of the Clan Forester," he thought to himself. "I am an Author, and I can't fight worth a damn!" "I should have known it would be you," the voice spat from behind him, across the street. Forester half-turned, and saw the Other. He stood wearing an Australian Outback Duster and black clothes. He wore sunglasses just under the most astounding set of hair ever worn by an Author. He was unshaven. He did not look happy. "Artiste," Forester said with a note of panic in his voice. "Can't we..talk about this like rational people?" "Thumbscrew," the Artiste replied, his hand slipping into the folds of the duster. Forester's hand mirrored it, although he fumbled slightly and unbuckled his belt. They both drew simultaneously. Long nerf blades were lifted into the yellowed light. The guards of the Nerf fencing kit had been modified, so that five targets appeared on each. The Artiste slipped the glasses from his face. "We don't have to do this," Forester said, as he tripped over his feet, trying to circle. "We're the beginning. We can go torture some Readers in the Chapterhouse." "We don't have a choice," the Artiste replied, the nerf fencing sword easily passing before him in a double moulinet. It was weighted as a Katana it seemed. "We knew this day would come." "Um, no, I just got here!," Forester said. Searching his soul, he felt nothing but a bowel-wrenching fear that he didn't have a clue how to fight. They closed, their nerf blades snapping together with an audible "thwop.", Forester fumbling his. Everything -- the Flatphoot Massacres, the Author-B-Qs, the Concrete Battles and even Mitchell's destruction at the hands of Dark Noj 13's cannon had led to this. "Um...Artiste...", stammered Forester, flailing his Nerf about like a child throwing a tantrum. "...ah...look, it's a catbunny!" "Where? Where?", said Artiste, turning to look. Forester rushed back to the time machine. "Quick Frank! Send me back! This is wrong! Wrong! Oh, and boobies: your post this week will be "Misspent Cold War Youth" by a one-time wonder named William R. McNally, who's Edit is just...bitter. Suffer..." "There can be only five!" "Argh! Push the button, Frank! Get me back to script format!" [Switch to SOL. The usual flashing lights, etc.] Joel/Tom/Crow: We have post sign! (1...2...3...4...5...6...) ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 14 Jan 1995 10:41:08 -0500 [Joel: The day the Readers cried.] Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: "William R. McNally" [Crow: William R? All right, this should be _good_! Forester screwed up big time!] [Joel: No, no no. That's William R. _McNally_.] [Crow: Oh poopie.] Subject: Misspent Cold War Youth [Tom: Also known as 'Misspent Bandwidth'.] The luxury bus stopped in front of the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof around 1pm. [Tom: You'll learn this and other fun facts in our handy-dandy Tourist's Book To Germany! Find out when the mail is picked up! Thrill to train schedule! You won't believe what you're reading!] [Crow: I think that goes for what we're reading now, too.] Once the vehicle had come to a complete stop, Cleveland immediately stood, [Joel: Oh great, there goes northeastern Ohio everyone.] [Crow: Hey! You got your Cuyahoga in my Erie!] [Tom: You got your Erie in my Cuyahoga!] [Joel: Two great bodies of water that go great together.] knowing that every second counted. [Crow: Hold on, Bill's giving us an _approximate_ time of arrival, but now it's a race against the clock? Does this guy know how to build up to a crescendo or what?] "Okay, guys," he said, forcing an air of authority into his voice, [Tom: Unfortunately, that air was helium.] [Joel (squeaky voice): Okay men, we're going to...men, men? Why're you all laughing like that?] "We need to get onto the train at three. Itleaves at six. We get to Berlin at five thirty..." [Tom: Fortunately, we're going to be passing through 'Time Tunnel' so this is actually feasible!] [Crow: Ah, they're probably going to be crossing time-zones or something.] [Joel: Or maybe it's a really slow train.] [Tom: Yeah, but wouldn't you all like to see 'Time Tunnel' one last time?] [Crow/Joel: Yeah.] "Stop!" [Tom/Joel/Crow (singing): In the Name of Love, before you post this fic...] yelled George, the defensive end. [Joel: But that's only because his girlfriend broke up with him last week. He'll come out of his shell any time now.] [Crow: The defensive end? You mean he's really good at covering his ass?] [Joel: Crow, we're going to ignore that for now.] They had barely stopped at their halfway point [Tom: Aha! So they're travelling via Cleveland's narrative? How odd!] [Crow: Can't beat the price!] and his mind was already being devastated by the onslaught of math [Tom: Must..concentrate..must..compute..integers..not..enough..fingers..and...toes..] that Cleveland's directives were producing. [Joel: Damn it, Cleveland, the Prime Directive doesn't apply in this situation!] Good Christ, he thought, is there no place to seek refuge form this crap? [Joel: And the readers asked themselves the _same_ thing.] [Crow: And then one day...George discovered prime time television. And he was happy.] [Tom (as George): Ahhhhh.....bliss. Mind numbing situation comedies...the same script endlessly handed off from one show to the next, and repackaged with new stars and...ooooo, an infomercial! Math don't bother me now!] Cleveland recovered [Crow: From the sex change operation and demanded to be called Betty from then on.] from the interruption sufficiently to complete his orders. [Joel (as Cleveland): Yeah, that's five double cheeseburgers, six large fries, and whatever toy you've got this week for my friend George here...make sure it doesn't have too many confusing moving parts.] "Everybody throw your bags on the baggage car and be on the train by five. [Joel: Well George? Can you handle _one_ number?] [Crow: Hey Joel, I thought he said they had to be on the train by three!] [Tom: I'm beginning to suspect that George is McNally's identification character.] Easy enough?" The Mass nodded [Tom: Bow your heads, and we will now recite the Apostle's Creed.] their heads in herlike [Crow/Tom/Joel: Aiiiiii!] [Crow: Good grief, they're all she-males?] [Tom: Ed Wood would be _very_ proud of this author!] understanding. The Heads, of which George was a prominent member, [Tom: Let me guess, his membership was strictly honorary, right?] [Joel: I think McNally left out the word 'donor' somewhere in that sentence.] groaned. The hallucinogens they had consumed shortly before the bus trip began were wearing off, [Crow: Unfortunately for us, the hallucinogens that the author had consumed were still going strong.] [Joel ('Otto the Bus driver' voice): Woah, man! How'm I s'pposed to drive the bus when I'm straight? Bummer!] and the reality of their situation was becoming a tremendous mental burden. [Tom: And threatened to be the straw that broke the camel's back, since now the brain-trust collective also had to deal with such matters as remember how to chew, how to carry on a conversation without using the word 'dude', and how to avoid drooling all over themselves.] Resupply was imminent and painfully needed. George turned to the freshman he had grabbed [Joel: Not a _word_ Crow.] [Crow: Awww! I never have any fun!] to sit with him before they got on the bus. [Tom (as freshman): Actually I'm on the Chess team...I don't know why I'm here...did you guys have a _reason_ for shanghaiing me?] "What was your name again?" [Joel: George's ability to play the 'Name Game' in any situation made him a big hit at parties.] "McDill," the freshman replied hesitantly. It was only the thirteenth time he had told his drug-addled seatmate his name. [Tom: And this time, he was _sure_ that he'd got it right.] "Cam McDill." George blinked. His ability to see oxygen molecules in flight was diminishing, [Crow: Okay, I'll be the one to say it: what the Hell(tm) is that supposed to mean?] [Tom: I don't know, but I'm going to guess that it's some sort of joke about George being stoned and all.] [Joel: This post is like 'The Wall': you have to be stoned to understand it.] making his vision more acute. "Dildo, I need you to do something for me," [Crow: Back rub. Now.] he said. "Put my bags on the baggage car." [Joel (as George): Instead of the engine car like I did last time. Man, the guys're _still_ razzing me about that one!] Cam looked at him incredulously, his situation still not obvious to him. [Tom: Don't worry Cam, the situation isn't obvious to outside observers either.] [Joel: Cam gets my vote as sympathy character of the piece.] "Why should I?" he asked. George's brain began to tremble. [Crow: I just have one thing to say: J-E-L-L-O!] "I'll buy you [Tom: a part in some other Author's series.] lunch if you do," he said, barely containing his rage. [Crow: Good thing he put all his rage up in his head, where it'd have _lots_ of room to expand!] His mind raced [Crow: in the Kentucky Derby, which is why it isn't around to help him out now!] for aplace to buy lunch. [Joel (whispered): Psst! Try a _restaurant_, George!] Anywhere. [Tom (whispered): Hey George! _Restaurant_!] He gagged as he thought about consuming yet another phallic knockwurst. [Joel/Tom: Ewwwwww!] [Tom: Now _that's_ imagery I didn't need.] [Joel: Okay boys, lunch is going to be delayed until we get the bad taste of this story out of our mouths.] [Tom: Hey Joel, don't _knock_ it 'till you've tried it!] [Crow: Dowh!] [Tom: What Crow, was that the _wurst_?] [Crow: Joel, do something!] [Joel: Crow, you really have to lighten up. You know, _meat_ Tom halfway about his puns.] [Crow: DOWH! Please, let the satellite crash now! Just spare me from _these two_!] Deep in thought, [Crow: Why do I get the feeling that no matter how deep George goes, he's still going to be in a wading pool?] he found himself imagining he was flying over a vast body of water. [Tom/Joel/Crow: WHAT?] [Tom: Did the Mads change the post when we weren't looking?] [Crow: Guests of George's brain will be flow via Air Cannabis. Remember, Air Cannabis: our service is crappy, but you'll never notice!] Which ocean? he thought. [Crow (George): Yeah, which one? I can't tell, 'causea all da water dat's inna way!] He focused on the horizon, determined not to let his brain force him to eat seafood. [Joel: The others on the bus didn't talk about this much, but George and his brain just didn't get along anymore.] [Tom: They'll be so much happier once the separation goes through.] There it is, he thought. [Crow: A Blue-Light sale!] Ahhh! As he approached the rocky terrain before him, he smiled with inspiration and delight. [Joel: As opposed to his usual habit of smiling with psychosis and delirium.] Below him stood the Acropolis, in all its polluted glory. Lunch would be Greek today. [Crow: Geez, he did all that just to get a gyro?] [Tom: Is anyone following this? My brain's overloading trying to figure out _what's going on_!] [Crow: It's like a bad batch of RAM chips, buddy: you've just got to ride it out.] Dildo had already gotten up and out of the bus, [Joel: Oh, so now the Narrator has decided to use Master Mind George's naming conventions as opposed to the actual Character's?] since George had begun to drool. [Tom: A sure sign that he was thinking.] It took the group another twenty minutes to get all their bags on the baggage car. [Crow: And I'll just bet eighteen of those minutes were spent _finding_ the baggage car.] [Tom: Or identifying the train, for that matter.] By that time George had emerged from his trance and was surrounded by the rest of the Heads. [Crow: They were mounted on pikes as a lesson to all those who would dare load their baggage on the train early.] Trent, the free safety, [Tom (as Trent): If you're going to play free, play it safe.] was walking in exact, geometric patterns. Clearly, resupply would take precedence over lunch. As the Mass [Tom: moved on to the sacred Mysteries...] gravitated to familiar American food levies, [Crow: That were serving pizza, chow mien, spaghetti, hamburgers, frankfurts...] the Heads, a much more assimilated group due to their drug habits, [Tom: Coherence is futile.] [Crow: I am, like, Head Trip, of Borg. Prepare to toke up, dude!] had a plan. Directly across the street form [Joel: Which they would have to fill out, to request a new street.] the Hauptbahnhof lay the Head Mecca. The Red Light District. "Men," pronounced George, [Crow: Remembering to carefully enunciate...] [Tom: Not that this helped his drooling problem in the slightest.] pointing toward the District. "There lies our Promised Land. [Tom: And yea, George led them to the land of Weed and Honey.] [Joel: I suppose he was contacted through a burning cannabis bush?] 'You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.'" [Crow: Unless you hang out on the Calvin chatserver...] ************************************************* The Heads formed a human wedge five men across and two deep. [Joel: They would later look back on this instance as the only time they, as Characters, ever achieved anything that could be called 'depth'.] Being socially climatized, [Crow: through intense shock therapy...] the Heads knew that the Germans respected disciplined formations and thus kept their distance. [Tom: Ah, Heads? I think the fact that you're all whacked-out pot smokers wandering around in a sick sort of parade might have _something_ to do with it.] They had traveled in this manner for two blocks when George stopped abruptly. "It is time to split up," he said. [Crow: Like, Jack, like...whoa...like the three of you go one way, and the six Charlies I'm seeing can take the alley...] "Carry out your assignments." They split into groups of two and three. [Joel: Dealing with the math involved immediately caused George's brain to explode.] George took Trent, the most disturbed, and Dildo, [Crow: Wait a second...does this mean that George has two people, or three people? And if it's three, who is this 'most disturbed' guy?] [Tom: Hmm...if he's really the most disturbed, we may have been hasty in assigning George as the identification Character.] the most stable. Dildo had a hard time keeping his mouth closed, [Joel: Until the duct tape was produced...] having never entered the District before. The sights were incredible to one whose mind had yet to be numbed by either drugs or reality. [Tom: Or this post.] [Crow: I'm a little fuzzy on this 'drugs/reality' thing.] Prostitutes routinely offered themselves, flashing their breasts or flicking their tongues hideously. [Joel: This is a selling point?] [Crow: Ah guys? I think we made a wrong turn, and wound up in the 'bad side' of the post.] Homosexuals broke their passionate embraces long enough to eye him and log his image in their minds for future use. [Tom: Aha! So that's Mr Bond...yet another clever disguise! No, no wait! That man over there must be Bond! No, no wait...] Suddenly, his gawking was rudely interrupted when he collided with a trenchcoated greasemorph in sunglasses. [Tom: Greasemorph?] [Joel: I think it's what we would've seen if Odo on 'Deep Space Nine' had gone into Engineering, instead of security.] "You want to buy some hash?" the greasemorph asked? [Tom: Yes folks, you saw it here first. Even the Narrator is having trouble believing this story!] "Uuuuuuuuhhhhhh......" Dildo was paralyzed with inexperience. George, meanwhile, was paralyzed with terror [Crow: Meanwhile, Cleveland was paralyzed with anger for being in this story.] [Tom: Don't you wish that McNally had been paralyzed by something when he was writing this?] as he watched Dildo being accosted by a seller. [Tom (as George): Oh...my...lord...I'm not the...centre of attention...in this scene...what should I do?] The Plan portion of his mind [Crow: The Plan _9_ portion of his mind, maybe?] squirted an enabling enzyme into his motor skills region, and execution followed. [Tom (singing): Farewell to Madam Guillotine!!!!!!] [Joel: You know, an execution would be nice right about now.] [Crow: Involving all the Characters, maybe? So McNally can start over with a fresh slate?] A firm hand fell upon the greasemorph's shoulder and whirled hims around, away from the dumbfounded freshman. [Crow: It's SMURF!] [Tom: AIIIIIGHHHH! Where? Where?] [Joel: He's just joking, buddy.] [Tom: Crow, don't DO that!] A clearly disturbed and determined teenager had his nose firmly planted against his. [Joel: Ah wait a second...who has what against where?] [Tom: Don't think about it, Joel. Just ride it out.] In fluent High German, he rasped: [Crow: Der Rain In Schpain Falls Mainly In Der Plain, ja?] "I am Dieter Uppenschutz of the Secret Drug Police. Surrender you stash or my snipers will pick your head cleanly off your shoulders." [Tom: Oh come on, isn't this guy getting a little 'ahead' of himself here?] [Joel/Crow: Booooo!] A dark stain began to appear across the greasemorph's crotch. [Tom/Crow/Joel: Ewwwwwwwwww!] [Tom: Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to be taking three-hour showers for the next month to wash the feeling of this post off of me?] Not the Secret Drug Police! [Joel: Their chief weapon is fear! And surprise! Fear and surprise! Surprise and fear! And almost fanatical loyalty to McNally!] He produced a small, firm, rectangular bundle wrapped in foil from the inside of his trenchcoat. [Crow (as 'Greasemorph'): I'll give you all of my Magic cards if you'll leave me alone...] Looking casually from side to side, George took it from him and put it in his jacket pocket. [Tom: Aw, what a nice guy! He takes the stash, and gives it right back! And people say the youth of today are no good.] "Move along, Untermensch," he said, grinning. Trent watched from twenty meters away, trembling with anticipation. [Crow (as Trent): No, I've never heard of Pavlov...why do you ask?] The greasemorph walked away toward the subay [Tom: Su Bay? Any relation to Su Dongpo?] [Crow: Geez, I thought they were in Germany!] station, oblivious now to the passes made at him by the prostitutes. [Tom (singing): And when he passes, the girls go wild!] Resupply operaitons complete. George waved Trent over to him and looked at Dildo with a giant grin. [Crow (George): Ho ho ho!] [Joel: It's sort of sad when the Green Giant branches into this field.] [Tom: I'll bet Sprout's been replaced by Ganja.] "And now to our Greek causes," he announced. [Tom: In case you weren't confused about what was happened _before_...] NEXT: The Conquest of Greece from Frankfurt. [Crow (George): Yup, we took Greece all right. Nope, no problems. Just all this snow, and these penguins are getting on my nerves...] [Joel: Come on, let's go...] (1...2...3...4...5...6...) [SOL - Joel is standing behind the counter, watching Crow and Tom, who are facing the camera, completely still.] Joel - Hey guys, what're you two doing? [Silence] Joel - Hey, wake up you guys! Did your batteries run down again? [Begins poking Crow with a pencil] Crow [barely moving mouth, never stops staring straight at the camera] - Quiet Joel...we're taking a trip of the mind, just like George did in today's post. Tom - Crow, I feel it! We're going! Calgone, take me away! Crow - Yeah, me too! Here we goooooo.... [Switch to - Exterior of SOL. Crow and Tom are floating in the void, in front of the satellite.] Crow - Cool! We're in space and our eyes didn't blow up or something like in 'Total Recall'! Tom - Hey, I thought there wasn't supposed to be any sound in space, Crow! Crow - Ah, if George Lucas thinks there is, that's good enough for me! Tom - This is astounding! Incredible even! Why...just think of what we've accomplished, Crow! With nothing but the power of our very thoughts, we've managed to move beyond the conventional laws of physics and into a startling new realm! We've freed ourselves from the shackles of our mortal coils, Crow! Do you realise what we've done? Do you see what this means? Crow [looking around] - You know, once the thrill's gone, space is pretty boring, isn't it? Tom [looking around too] - Yeah, you're right. Hey, 'A-Team' is on in ten! Crow: Woo hoo! [Cut to...Interior of SOL.] Joel: So, did you guys have fun on your 'trip of the mind'? Crow: It sucked. Tom: Yeah, that was a real letdown. Next time I want to do something of cosmic proportions, let's do it somewhere fun. Come on, maybe if we hurry we can catch the end of 'Magnum P.I.'! Crow: All right! [The two bots rush off.] Joel: So, sirs...what do you think? [Switch to...Deep 13. Doctor Forester are surrounded by all of the Superguy Authors, bearing down on him with various Nerf Weapons. He bats around furtively with his Nerfsword trying to keep them away.] Doctor F - Ah! Ah! Keep back...I'll HARM you! [Doctor Forester pulls a Bl00penbrau out of his back pocket and waves it at the Authors, who pull back in horror.] Doctor F - Back! Back! I warn you, I'll OPEN this! Frank, quick! Push the button! [Frank rolls past on the floor, ineffectually slap-hitting an Evil Author, who is also slap-hitting ineffectually. In mid-slap, Frank reaches up, and slaps the button.] [Screen Implodes to a small dot] Closing Clip: "We need to get onto the train at three. Itleaves at six. We get to Berlin at five thirty..." *** The story MSTed is the intellectual property of William R. McNally, and does not attempt to infringe upon his rights. Joel, Crow, Doctor Forester, Frank, the Satellite of Love and Deep 13 belong to Best Brains. The scene from Nerflander #1 appeared and was modified with the permission of Eric Alfred Burns. Everything left over is mine, and you can't have it. I hereby call it, in the name of Chris Angelini. So nyyyaaaahhhh!