Winning Love By Daylight - Group
From: Pete Milan <deucepm@prodigy.net>
Subject: [MiSTed} Winning Love By Daylight--The Group Version
Date: Monday, April 17, 2000 3:37 AM
Mystery Usenet Theater 3000:
Winning Love By Daylight
By Stephen Ratliff
MiSTed by:
Brendan Herlihy
Kevin Gowen
David Thurston
Edited by:
Peter Milan
[OPEN ON: Exterior, Deep Space. Camera PANS, swooping energetically
past the SOL, as GYPSY announces.]
GYPSY: (excited) Tonight, Tom Servo goes for the largest payoff in SOL
history, as we play, "Who Wants to Use Mike Nelson's Credit Cards?"
[Applause. CUT TO: SOL Bridge, darkened slightly, lit with a faint
purplish light. At the desk are GYPSY, on the right, and TOM SERVO,
on the left.]
GYPSY: Welcome back, everyone! Here with us again is our champion, Tom
Servo. How ya feelin', Tom?
TOM: (confident) B, Really Good, Gyps!
GYPSY: Wa-ha! That's great. You know how the game is played...
[CUT TO: Split screen. TOM is on the left, and a graphic of the phases
of the game is on the right:]
USE MIKE NELSON'S CREDIT CARDS
* CLEAN TOILET WITH MIKE NELSON'S TUBE SOCK
* DOG-EAR PAGES OF MIKE NELSON'S DIARY
* USE MIKE NELSON'S TOOTHBRUSH
* EAT POTATO CHIPS IN MIKE NELSON'S BED
* WEAR MIKE NELSON'S UNDEROOS
GYPSY: As you can see, Tom has already achieved the "clean toilets with
Mike Nelson's tube sock" level.
TOM: Wow... I know that toilet needs cleaning... and I think Mike's down to
his last clean pair...
GYPSY: You know, even if you miss, you're guaranteed to use Mike's
toothbrush.
TOM: I gotta go for it, Gypsy!
GYPSY: All right! He came to play, folks! Let's see the question!
[Spotlights run down the walls as a dramatic descending chord plays.
CUT TO: One-shot of Tom. The question appears beneath him.]
GYPSY: In 1994, after Joel Robinson escaped, who did Dr. Clayton
Forrester imprison for the rest of his life on the Satellite of
Love?
A: Mike Nelson B: Ben Murphy
C: Judy Tenuta D: Lick Me!
[Tom stares at the question, deep in thought. Thinking music plays.]
TOM: (despairing) Aw, man... I should know this, too...
GYPSY: Take your time.
TOM: (muttering) Let's see... Judy Tenuta's dead... or on cable, or something...
I know I've seen Ben Murphy around here someplace, but... (resolved)
Gyps, I wanna ask the audience.
GYPSY: OK, audience, Tom needs your help! Using your keypads, give him
your answer, now!
[CUT TO: Another part of SOL. Crow is standing by himself, darting
glances between Tom and the keypad, snickering. He gleefully
pokes the keypad with his beak.]
[CUT BACK: Tom, in split screen with a bar graph. The graph jumps to
life with the results- a solid bar by choice D.]
GYPSY: Well there you have it. 100% of our audience says, "Lick Me".
TOM: Damn. The opposite of what I thought...
GYPSY: The audience is usually right on these things, Tom.
TOM: I know, I know... Shoot. I don't think it's "Lick Me"... but they
seem so confident! I... I gotta phone a friend.
GYPSY: Who would you like to call?
TOM: Mike Nelson, who's been imprisoned on the Satellite of Love for
five years? He mighta seen someone.
GYPSY: OK, let's call!
[We hear a phone ringing once, then a pick-up. MIKE NELSON's voice
comes over. A loud clock begins to tick.]
MIKE: Yyyyyyello?
TOM: Mike, this is Tom. Listen, in 1994, who did Dr. Clayton Forrester
imprison for the rest of his life on the Satellite of Love?
MIKE: (after a beat) Tom, it's me.
TOM: (annoyed) Yes, I know Mike! *I* called *you*? Now can you help
me out here or not?
MIKE: (frustrated) *Me*, Tom! Forrester shot *me* into space!
Remember, you were there?
TOM: (dubious) You.
MIKE: Me!
TOM: You're sure?
MIKE: I'm sure!
TOM: (after a beat) You're sure.
MIKE: I'm sure!
TOM: I'm thinkin' maybe Ben Murphy.
MIKE: It's not Ben Murphy, Tom, it's me!
TOM: (another beat) You.
MIKE: Me!
TOM: You're sure.
MIKE: I'm sure!
TOM: You're sure?
MIKE: (growling) Very, very sure!
TOM: OK. OK. OK. OK. Then, let me ask you this. Are you sure,
like normal-person sure? Or more like a Wisconsin-dwelling, plaid-
jacketed, cheese-headed mongoloid kind of sure?
MIKE: (groaning) Lick me, Tom.
[Click. Dial tone. The clock stops. Commercial sign flashes.]
TOM: (grunting) Great. The mongoloid one.
GYPSY: We'll be back, after this message from our friends at AT&T!
TOM: (desperate at Gypsy) Does it provide a service of some kind?! Is
it bigger than a breadbox?! *DAMMIT, HELP ME YOU SADISTIC HARPY!*
[Gypsy cringes. CUT TO: Logo, commercials.]
---
[SOL Bridge, returned to normal. Crow is reading a newspaper
labeled "SOL Gazette", with the headline "SERVO BLOWS IT! Cries Like
Little Weasel Baby". MIKE enters, in robe, hairnet, with towel around
his neck. He's annoyed.]
MIKE: Crow, have you seen my toothbrush? I've looked everywhere.
CROW: I think Servo had it last, Mike. Last I saw, he was headed
toward the computer to clean the mouse with it?
MIKE: What?! What made Tom think he could just run off and use my
toothbrush?
CROW: (sighing) Do you even *watch* TV?
[Flashing console light thingy is go!]
MIKE: Never mind. Alferd Packer is calling. [hits the lights]
[Castle Forrester. PEARL and BRAIN GUY are wearing goggles, heavy lead gloves,
and protective aprons.]
PEARL: Ah, hello, Nelson of a Preacher Man. Well, guess what time it is?
B.G.: And don't say it's time for a Devo revival. I tried that one and
she hurt me.
PEARL: You deserved it.
[SOL. Normal.]
MIKE: Well, judging by the goggles and all the lead and stuff, I'm guessing
it's time for your yearly dental checkup.
CROW: Um...got yourself some plutonium?
TOM: [shaken] Ludwig Plutonium?
[Castle Forrester.]
PEARL: Close but no enchilada, you poor dolts! It's time to smack some
Ratliff upside your pointy heads!
[SOL. Much terror.]
MIKE: Um...*gulp* So which one is it gonna be? N-n-not the one with
Wesley and Marrissa...
[Castle Forrester.]
PEARL: Sadly, no. That's why we're dressed like this; we've been trying to
bring "A Different Path" down to acceptable levels. I mean, if we
sent it to you as is, it'd kill you immediately.
B.G.: And where's the fun in that?
BOBO: [offscreen] Hey, Lawgiver, I think you left the fridge open!
PEARL: What? Bobo, no! That's not the fridge, that's the radiation--
[Horrible WHOOSH and blast of light from left, as of a mountain gorilla
bursting into flame.]
PEARL: --chamber.
B.G.: Stop, drop and roll!
BOBO: [offscreen] AHHHHH! IT HURTS! IT HURTS REALLY A LOT!
[BRAIN GUY heads left to put him out. PEARL shrugs.]
PEARL: Ah, well. Until we can get that stenchcake ready for you, we've got
another incoher-a-palooza for you, titled "Winning Love By Daylight!"
I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the improvement in Ratliff's
writing skills. I think you'll be horribly crushed by everything else.
B.G.: [OS] Hold still! Wait, roll into the sand!
BOBO: [OS] CORNELIUS! I'M COMIN' TO JOIN YA, HONEY!
[SOL. The lights! The bells! It's a madhouse!]
ALL: AHHHHH! WE GOT RATLIFF SIGN!
[7...6...5...4...3...2...1...]
TOM: [sings] Readin' Steve again...Wish I didn't have to read Steve again...
>Winning Love by Daylight
>
TOM: Losing lunch at Ratliff prose.
MIKE: (three-card monte) Hey! Find the love, find the love!
Ten gets you twenty, getcha home with plenty. Where's she at?
CROW: Um... middle! No, left! Your left!
>Prologue
TOM: Amateur writing.
CROW: Hey, where's the header?
MIKE: I guess this one slipped past the Radford computers.
>
> The bridge of the Enterprise was dimmer than usual.
TOM: As, I expect, was the crew.
> Marrissa sat in the
>center seat.
CROW: Two statements not at all unrelated.
> The red alert siren began, but the typical bustle that
>accompanied it
MIKE: ...indicated that dinner was now being served.
TOM: These Caravan starship cruises are great, aren't they?
> was not there,
MIKE: The crew got used to Marrissa setting off the alarm just to make the
crew jump.
> for all the crew was Borg. Even Marrissa was
>Borg.
TOM: Last time on Hail to the Queen...
CROW: Even Charro was a Borg.
MIKE: Even singer-songwriter Paul Williams was a Borg!
TOM: Even Pat Buchanan... shoot, I've gone and stated the obvious again.
Sorry.
> In a monotone voice, Shayna announced,
MIKE: Another Ratliff fanfic is now underway. Stand by for wildly
ridiculous plots, cardboard characters and cheesy dialog off
the port bow.
> "Intruders on all decks."
MIKE: (Berzerk) Intruder alert. Intruder alert.
> A Star Fleet Officer beamed into the middle of the room.
ALL: *NORM!*
> In the dim
>light, Marrissa could not identify the officer.
ALL: *JAY!*
> The Star Fleet Officer
>opened fire. Alexander was vaporized.
CROW: The hunters come in to thin out the Ratliff herd. It seems cruel,
but it keeps their numbers low so that the Strawberry crop is enough
to support them.
TOM: Oh, his sinuses are going to be so clear after this...
> The light of his destruction
>momentarily revealed the Officer's face. It was Marrissa.
MIKE: Sure enough, the only way Marrissa could be more annoying is if
there are two of her!
CROW: The creator and destroyer. The alpha and omega.
TOM: Did you know some Eastern religions depict Marrissa with eight
arms and a serpent's torso?
> Marrissa-borg
>could do nothing as Marrissa-Star Fleet took down each of her remaining
>friends in turn.
CROW: Why? Was she, like, duct-taped to the command chair, or
something?
TOM: I know this is a dream sequence since it's the same one I have every
night!
MIKE: This fanfic is starting like "Blake's Seven" ended!
> First was her sister Jackie, the young computer genius
>who wanted to follow Marrissa's footsteps.
CROW: Facilitated by the easy to follow bloody prints.
MIKE: (Jackie) Fatal exception in line *AUUUGH!*
> Lynn followed, the young girl
>turned Star Fleet pilot vaporized at her post.
TOM: It's so hard to keep good help nowadays.
MIKE: Odd, since she hadn't been shot at. Apparently the experimental
new bean dish in 10-Forward was more powerful than expected.
CROW: (Lynn) Wait! I'm a minor character! I barely know MarisAAAAUGH!
> Shayna, the friend and
>practical joker who had been keeping Marrissa laughing for years, was
>blasted back from her tactical station.
CROW: (Ris) Ha ha! Last taps! Gotcha last!
TOM: Exploding in a cloud of coughing powder.
MIKE: Picard, the ambiguous father figure shamelessly plucked from a
better series, knocked back another highball at Seven Slightly
Starboard.
> Clara, Marrissa's friend and
>confidant, was next to go.
CROW: The St. Valentine's Day Massacre, as Ratliff introduction scene!
TOM: No complaints here!
> Finally Jay, all vaporized and Marrissa could
>do nothing but scream,
CROW: Just like every other day of their marriage. Jay, vapored up, and
Marrissa screaming.
MIKE: (Marissa, hysterical) It was *his* turn to do the laundry, you
fiend!
TOM: Wait, did I say "scream?" I meant "giggle hysterically."
> as each blast illuminated the laughing face of
>Marrissa-Star Fleet.
CROW: (Ris) Damn! I've always wanted to do that.
MIKE: (Ris) Death, blood, carnage, I love it!
TOM: (Berzerk) Got- the- humanoid.
CROW: (same) Got- the- intruder!
> She woke up, safe in her husband's arms. "Another nightmare, Marrissa?"
>Jay asked.
MIKE: Our marriage? You know it.
CROW: (Ris) Yeah, I dreamed I was in charge of an entire
starship manned by a bunch of maladroit teenaged midgets and--
hey, wait a minute...
TOM: Hell no, best dream sequence I've ever seen!
> Marrissa wanted to deny it but couldn't. She wanted the comfort of her
>husband's embrace,
TOM: But Jay would have to do.
> he would not let her deny what she had gone though.
CROW: I'm not in denial. I deny I'm in denial! So there!
> She
>nodded.
> "Borg or Georgia," Jay asked, pulling her closer.
MIKE: Are those really the only two possible choices?
TOM: A whole absurd range of emotions in those three words.
CROW: 54'40" or fight? Spiders or Visigoths?
> "Borg."
TOM: James Borg.
CROW: Bo-org, Bo-org, the whole day through, I got o sweet Borg, sweet Bo-org
on my mi-ind!
> "I suppose you don't want to see Martin
MIKE: That nerd from "The Simpsons"? No way!
> and don't want to talk about it?"
>Jay asked. "You know you're going to have to sooner or later."
TOM: (Jay) Like there's any way I can keep this crazy dingbat from
flapping her jaw until dawn...
MIKE: Won't talk, eh? Then I guess we'll have to bring out something we like
to call Mr. Thingy!
CROW: (Jay) Why don't you torture a Romulan, sweetie? You'll
feel better!
> "Later," Marrissa mumbled, falling into a deep dreamless sleep in her
>husband's arms, knowing she was protected.
MIKE: You're in good hands with Allstate!
CROW: And, unlike the beginning of the Prologue, two completely Unrelated
statements!
TOM: The female condom, as endorsed by Princess Admiral Picard!
>
>
>Chapter One
>Feb 9, 2383. USS Enterprise.
>
> Doctor Jackson Johnson
TOM: Doctor ACTION Jackson Jameson Jingleheimer Johnson Smith!
MIKE: (announcer) Jackson Johnson, with his action Johnson!
CROW: (same) Doctor Jack Johnson's back! And this time... (coming down)
it's actually... pretty much like before, really.
> had gathered the command crew of the Enterprise,
>sans the Captain in his office. All of them knew why they were gathered
>there.
TOM: Shayna's birthday. Kinda dumb, but there is cake!
> "Ladies and Gentleman, this meeting isn't going to be easy," the
>Doctor said.
CROW: I lost a bet, and have to go from here on without the letter E.
> "As per Star Fleet Regulations, I am recommending that our
>Captain be
CROW: ...hung by the neck until dead.
TOM: ...torn apart by rabid apes!
MIKE: ...coated in buttermilk and send for a long walk through the desert!
> relieved of duty
CROW: *HOORAAAAAY!!!*
ALL: (sing) DING, DONG, THE WITCH IS DEAD! WHICH OLD WITCH?
THE WICKED WITCH!
> and be sent on a vacation,
MIKE: You mean they could have done that all along, and never DID?!?
TOM: *Permanent* vacation! Mwah-hah-hah-hah!
> while receiving
>counseling to deal with recent events and her changing life.
TOM: I knew that if she kept getting so far ahead of her age, menopause
would claim her young!
> Comments?"
MIKE: (crew) Is "counseling" when you stick bamboo shoots up her nails?
> "This has never happened to Marrissa before," Alex said.
CROW: Perhaps she should cuddle for a few minutes and try again.
> "I'm not sure
>how she'll take it."
TOM: Or how high the body count will be.
CROW: She'll take it like she takes any bad news, by savagely destroying an entire
civilization.
> "It's about time," Clara said. "She should have taken time off as soon as
>the war ended. She needs time to get to know Sara."
CROW: Wink wink, nudge, nudge!
MIKE: Uh, Crow, Sara is the daughter...
> "She needs to deal with her time as Queen of the Borg," Martin Sussex
>said.
TOM: Have we added that to the list of titles?
MIKE: Let me check the printout.
[Begins to read through a seemingly unending printout.]
CROW: Man, even Marissa's archenemies can't help heaping titles on her.
TOM: She's probably Speaker of the Sobnian parliament by now.
> "Jay has told me about her nightmares about it."
CROW: And everybody else's nightmares about her.
MIKE: *She's* having nightmares? What about us?
> "I don't think she should be given time off alone," Jessica Gordon said.
ALL: BOOOOOO!
MIKE: Yeah, stow it, ya Marrissa kisser! Amber noser!
TOM: Unless it's in a nice padded room...
>"I know my sister- in-law, she needs the support of her husband if she's
>going to get though this."
MIKE: Just before Jessica realizes this would mean Jay, and she retracts her
statement.
CROW: She'll just fall to pieces without someone to feel superior to!
> "You've been silent, Jay," Doctor Johnson said. "What do you think?"
MIKE: (Jay) Wait, let me ask Ris. (touches cam badge) Honey, what
do I think?
TOM: (Jay) Support her? Me? You're forgetting I've got a spine
like a soggy bread crust.
CROW: (Jay) No! Please don't make me spend time alone with her!
> "My wife needs to get away from this ship," Jay said.
TOM: [Jay] Preferably by being beamed randomly into space.
> "But, all her
>friends and support is here, I'm not sure how she'll recover without that
>support."
MIKE: May we suggest bouts of heavy drinking? Works for us.
> "May I suggest, that you and the Captain go to Essex,"
CROW: May I suggest I get you a stepladder so you can jump up my butt?
TOM: Ah yes, nothing like going AWOL to perk up your spirits.
> Martin said. "I'll
>take some leave and join you there to help out when she's ready.
MIKE: They didn't need that much help with Sara, what's up?
> I'm sure
>you can convince your father-in-law to leave the Enterprise nearby.
TOM: Assuming he can remember where he leaves ANYTHING anymore.
MIKE: Sure, Star Fleet Admirals specialize in dropping their
responsibilities at the drop of a hat.
> Essex
>is a strategic target,
CROW: With random federation ships attacking every time Marrissa visits in
hopes of winning the bounty out.
TOM: Oh?
> and with the Romulan renegades out there, it does
>need protection."
MIKE: As long as they aren't in league with the Tracke!
CROW: Better pull troops out of Fort Knox and the Mid East oil fields.
> "Very well," Jay said. "I will see about getting the Enterprise assigned
>to protect Essex. Then we'll relieve Marrissa of command,
MIKE: Then strike the band, and release the hundred white doves
carrying ribbons marked "Freedom!"
CROW: (sobbing) I just never thought I'd live to see this day!
> and I'll hand
>command over to Clara.
TOM: Out of the frying pan...
CROW: This sounds suspiciously like a mutiny.
MIKE: In the *real* world, it would be.
> We'll spend whatever time is necessary to help
>Marrissa recover on Essex.
CROW: Don't rush on our account!
TOM: This is like, the politest mutiny ever in history!
> Martin, if you've got leave time, spend some of
>it on Essex, but not at Halifax Castle.
MIKE: The locals say it's haunted.
> I think she needs some distance
>and time to think."
CROW: That's right, give her time to plan even more senseless
destruction.
> "I'll stay at the Royal Hunting Lodge.
CROW: At the Royal Order of Water Buffalo Lodge!
TOM: Royals are in season now.
MIKE: Them's good eatin'!
> It's not real close to your place,
>but nothing is," Martin said.
MIKE: A fact that the residents of Essex love.
CROW: (old guy voice) You can't get there from here.
> "Everyone for say Aye," Jay asked.
TOM: Ratliff's entry in the 1999 Awkward Sentence Competition.
> Everyone stated Aye.
CROW: Some three or four times!
TOM: Relieve Marrissa of duty? That's a big ole HELL aye!
MIKE: (Jay) Guys, could you stop with the conga line? I can't
count the votes when you're moving around like that!
> "I think that's
>everyone.
CROW: Jay needs to pay a bit more attention to the narration.
TOM: How nice. In the 24th century, your medical treatment will be
determined by voting.
MIKE: Well, that's the way most HMOs do it now, anyway.
> Doctor, I'll call you when I finish talking to Fleet Admiral
>Picard. Dismissed."
MIKE: [Action Jackson Johnson] I don't have to leave, this is my office,
you leave!
CROW: (dude) All right! Kegger on the holodeck!
TOM: (chuckling) The thing with holo-parties is, they only have
*light beer*! BOOM! Thanks! I'm here all week!
Enjoy the buffet!
>
> Marrissa was holding her daughter tightly to her breasts.
MIKE: (shielding his eyes) GAH! Dammit, Ratliff, warn me next time!
CROW: A moment that will be the crux of Sara's psychologist's career in
15 years.
TOM: The first sentence of any good paragraph should draw the
reader in... to throw the text down and *RUUUUN!*
> Sara didn't
>appear to mind,
MIKE: For reasons that are incomprehensible.
TOM: She'd come to expect a lifetime of smothering maternalism.
> but to Jay, this was
MIKE: ...a complete usurpation of his rightful place.
> another bad sign.
TOM: Yes, the maternal instinct is harmful.
> Before the Borg
>attack, Marrissa had been a lot more relaxed around her newborn daughter.
CROW: Now she seemed so rigid and mechanical.
MIKE: Now she sang "Rock Me Amadeus" at the slightest provocation!
>Now she wouldn't let the little girl out of her sight.
MIKE: Not that she could, anyway. The Borg duct-taped the little
crumb-cruncher to her right thigh.
> 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: Like he might spontaneously grow a spine.
CROW: Damn victims of Borg assimilation! They're such crybabies!
>That was it.
MIKE: So, there it is then.
> Finally, Jay had realized why Marrissa was behaving like
>that.
CROW: You can see the lightbulb go off over his head...30 watt.
> She was afraid.
ALL: DUH!
TOM: Jay Gordon *is*, No Shit Sherlock!
> The Borg had used Sara to get to Marrissa so they
>could make her their new queen.
TOM: They tried to stuff her full of royal jelly and everything.
MIKE: For those of you wise enough not to have read the early Marrissa Stories...
CROW: She tried explaining that her duties as CEO of the Ferengi
Corporation kept her very busy as it was.
> Sara had been down in the ship's nursery,
>being taken care of by the Enterprise's professional staff.
TOM: [Mob Don] Yous shall takes care of Sara, or yous shouldn't come back!
> Jay knew that
>Marrissa had felt uncomfortable leaving Sara in the nursery. Having the
>baby kidnaped and used as a pawn to capture Marrissa, that had to have been
>the last straw.
TOM: Yeah! Enough of these hackneyed, derivative plots!
CROW: Pawn to King's Horses three.
MIKE: (Ris) We cut you day-care people some slack after you sold
Sara to that gypsy family, but this Borg thing really tears it!
> "Marrissa," Jay began, sliding up beside his wife.
MIKE: (Jay) Can you be effeminate one this week?
> "Yes, Jay," Marrissa said, totally engrossed in watching her daughter.
> "You need a vacation," Jay said.
ALL: (sing) The Cay-man, Islands!
> "Correction, we need a vacation."
TOM: Correction, you need to take a long walk out a short airlock.
> "You know how unlikely that is," Marrissa said.
TOM: (Jay) Oh right, I forgot you got your PhD in "Unlikely" when
Wesley traveled back in time to date Chelsea Clinton.
> "There are still Romulan
>renegades running around, and
CROW: (Ris) ...several other alien races I haven't annihilated...
_yet_.
TOM: What I want to know is, just who are these Romulan renegades
and why are they running about?
> two of the four Nova Class ships are in for
>completion."
MIKE: (Ris) And I need to do my hair. Just look at it.
CROW: (Ris) And the entire fleet will just fall directly apart without me!
TOM: (Ris) And there are three of four phylum of spineless
invertebrates I don't rule utterly.
> "Actually, I just talked to your father, and he's authorized a little
>vacation for us,"
MIKE: His exact words were "get her the hell out of my fleet for a few days!"
> Jay said, embracing Marrissa from behind.
TOM: Jay's taking a Different Path then?
> "We can leave
>Clara in command and spend some time away from the ship on Essex."
CROW: Unless a horde of doppleganger aliens from beyond Galaxy 6
choose this inopportune moment to invade. But what are the odds of
that, really?
> "I don't need a vacation," Marrissa said, switching the breast that Sara
>was drinking from.
MIKE: Oh yes, thank you for that little reveal, Stevarino!
TOM: (announcer, quickly) Topless Marissa comes with all you see here.
Topless Marissa Actionwear sold separately.
> "Yes you do," Jay said, silencing his wife's protests
>with a
CROW: Please say phaser, please say phaser...
> kiss.
CROW: Damn!
MIKE: (Jay, clearing throat) Um, by the way, can I top that off
for you?
TOM: Hey, wait a minute. If Jay were behind her, what part of her
body would he have to mash his lips against to get her to stop
talking?
CROW: Ratliff should pray for the gift of continuity.
> "And you have no choice in the matter. We've relieved you of
>duty effect five minutes ago.
TOM: Great. Duck and cover, someone's gonna die.
CROW: (Ris) Yes, and I ordered the executions *four* minutes ago. Care
to cross me again, lackey?
MIKE: Now here comes a lecture about strawberry ice cream...
> I handed command over to Clara, who ordered
TOM: ...Szechuan take-out and a six-pack.
>a course to Essex. We'll arrive in four hours.
MIKE: Which should be six to seven chapters of inaction later.
> When we get there, we will
>beam down to that nice castle of yours,
TOM: --and you will march *straight* to your room and *think* about how
poorly you've behaved since the Borg kidnapped you!
> where you will spend at least the
>next couple of weeks relaxing.
CROW: Why does that sound so menacing?
> You will also spend some time talking to
>Martin about your recent experience.
MIKE: You'll also combine the whole-grain goodness of oatmeal with
the great taste of chocolate. Not sure why, but it's on the
schedule.
> I know you've been skipping your
>sessions with him."
TOM: "Sessions"?
MIKE: Best not to ask.
> "Yes, Jay," Marrissa said submissively.
[All sit silent for a few moments...]
CROW: All right, who the hell are you, and where's Marrissa!
MIKE: Since when do Marissa and Jay have a Promise Keepers marriage?
TOM: Marrissa Picard stars in "Stepford Wives: The Next Generation!"
> "Why don't you ever ask me if I
>want time off?"
> "Because, my love, if I didn't take the initiative
TOM: (Jay) Like you do for all the other parts of our marriage-
> to make you take a
> vacation, you never would,"
MIKE: Jay taking initiative, Marrissa submissive. Jeepers, Stevalicious can't
even keep his OWN characters straight!
> Jay said. "You would do the same for me, if I
>needed even half as bad as you do.
CROW: And Ratliff's grammar checker goes half as bad as that is.
> Marrissa, you've been deteriorating
>ever since we got back from our little Borg adventure.
[All snicker.]
CROW: Only Ratliff could make a sadistically painful brainwashing sound
like a Nancy Drew mystery!
> If you don't take
>some time off you might not be able to command, and I know how much that
>center seat means ..."
TOM: Yeah, if she didn't have the center seat to sit in, she would have been
imprisoned for half of her actions by now.
> "Jay," Marrissa interrupted, putting Sara in her crib for the first time
>that day.
MIKE: Now put the shirt on, and no one gets hurt!
> "What would I do with out you?"
TOM: (Jay) Oh, I don't know, I guess you'll just have to find
somebody else to mix your gin and Drano cocktails.
CROW: (Singing) Oh the world, will be a better place...
> "Go crazy, most likely," Jay said, pulling Marrissa back into his embrace.
CROW: As opposed to now?
TOM: (sings as Icehouse) Yes, ya gotta be outta your mind! Crazy!
MIKE: OK. I call no more early-nineties John Oates-produced
one-hit wonders.
TOM and CROW: (whining) Miiiiike!
MIKE: Sorry. It's called. No take-backs.
TOM: Doesn't matter. We gotta go...
[1...2...3...4...5...6...7...]
[SOL. Mike is reading a copy of _Fool on the Hill_ by Matt Ruff for no damn good
reason other than I feel like plugging it. Crow and Tom enter from right.]
CROW: Mike, we need to talk.
MIKE: Can't talk now, guys, it's just getting to a good part--
CROW: Mike, ever since you were attacked by the Borg, you've become dangerously
unstable. We're worried about you.
TOM: So I'M in charge--uh, WE'RE in charge now! [sotto voce, to Mike] At least
until Pinbeak's back is turned...heh!
MIKE: [puts down book] Uh...guys, I was never attacked by the Borg.
CROW: Oh, Mike, I realize that denial is one of the tools you use to cope, but this
just can't go on! You've grown so withdrawn, so skittish and frightened!
TOM: BOO!
[Mike jumps in surprise.]
CROW: See? And when you tried to breastfeed Gypsy, that was the last straw.
MIKE: When I tried to...[shakes head] Oh, I see. You guys are doing that whole
intervention-slash-mutiny thing like in today's experiment!
TOM: Yep. Now SURRENDER THE REINS, PINKY!
MIKE: Well, okay. Lemme just get a simper worked up here. [puts on simpering
expression] Oh, Tom and Crow, what would I ever do without you?
CROW: Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Missy. Well, we're in
charge now, so you just go back to your book.
TOM: Yep. Don't mind us as we shape your destiny.
MIKE: Oh, wouldn't dream of it. Thanks for the patronization!
CROW: No prob.
[Crow and Tom exist right. Mike goes back to his book. After a moment, several
loud crashes are heard from offscreen...then gunfire...finally, a loud
explosion. A moment later, a scorched Crow and Tom reenter.]
MIKE: Power struggle?
BOTS: Uh-huh.
MIKE: Bitter infighting?
BOTS: Yup.
MIKE: Finally resulting in a civil war?
BOTS: Pretty much.
MIKE: [checks his watch] Forty-five seconds. Wow, that's pretty good time, even for you!
[Commercial sign flashes. Mike hits it.]
TOM: We could probably get it down to thirty...
[Bumper & Commercials]
[Everyone files into the theater]
MIKE: So I'm back in charge now?
TOM: For now, Nelson. But watch your back!
MIKE: Oh, I will. [under his breath] Freak.
>
>Chapter Two
CROW: Electric booga-crap!
>
> Marrissa carefully studied the young lady that Queen Victoria had hired to
>watch over her daughter.
MIKE: Potentially so much wrong with that sentence.
CROW: (Ris) Hm, I see you were a student au pair for a Boston doctor.
How did that work out?
> The girl was wearing a standard navy blue nanny's
>uniform
TOM: ...with a pith helmet and a tutu.
>that was somehow familiar to Marrissa.
CROW: And is practically perfect in every way, I'll bet.
TOM: (Ris) Oh right! That's what I make Jay wear to bed every
Thursday!
> She had an air confidence
>to her,
MIKE: Air confidence! The confidence you pump!
CROW: By Nike!
> and according to her resume was very qualified to watch little
>Sara.
CROW: [Marrissa] Resume, shesume, what's your Kobiyashi Maru time?
> Marrissa wasn't sure though.
TOM: (Ris) Now, it says here your last charges ran away to
"Never Never Land"? Could you elaborate?
> Actually, to be perfectly honest, she
>wasn't sure she wanted anyone other than family taking care of her
>daughter. She had promised Jay though, and Marrissa wasn't one to go back
>on her promises.
> "Miss Halifax,
[All snicker.]
CROW: This sounds like the name of some pay-per-view dominatrix.
TOM: "Yes, Miss Halifax. Beat me, Miss Halifax..."
> you've applied to be my daughter's nanny," Marrissa stated,
>drawing up to her full 63 inches.
CROW: 5'3"...that's intimidating, all right!
>"What makes you think you'd do a good job?"
MIKE: (Halifax) The obscenely large salary you'll be paying me.
TOM: (nanny) Well here's a list of other omnipotent beings I've worked
for.
CROW: (Ris) Hm, Vishnu, Athena... oh, wow, Katie Couric? Really?
> "I am experienced in childcare, and I love the job," Serena said.
CROW: And, I can stuff four boiled eggs in my mouth without
breakin'em. No kiddin'! Four!
MIKE: Serena?!? Good gawd, man, why?
> "You understand that this is a temporary job, that will end as soon as I
>return to the Enterprise," Marrissa said.
TOM: Sound familiar there orgo-boy?
CROW: (Ris) After which I'll have you killed and your head prominently
displayed on the bridge. When can you start?
> "Yes, ma'am," Serena responded.
CROW: Ironicaly the two words that make up the majority of Jay's vocabulary.
MIKE: (nanny) I'll have fell in love with a chimney sweep and taken
your children through an animated dance sequence well before then,
ma'am.
> "If you don't mind, I'd like to meet my
>charge. And remember, I get Tuesday and Thursday afternoons off."
CROW: Must be league bowling days.
MIKE: Have to watch my anime then!
TOM: Oh, and when the kid dies? I wasn't here. I mean, she walked
into a table. A *lot*.
> This take charge attitude pleased Marrissa.
TOM: Yes, she would soon have a new victim...
> She liked officers that took
>charge.
TOM: And who charged around laying depth charges.
CROW: And charging them all on their large charge cards.
MIKE: Visa! It's everywhere you want to be!
> True she usually wasn't the one bossed around,
CROW: Our only hope is she learns to like it, though.
> but Marrissa found
>that she didn't mind the thought of this young lady watching her daughter.
>She seemed almost like family.
TOM: Except for that little moving tail sticking out the back of her
neck.
MIKE: The Ratliff method of subtly presenting foreshadowing etched onto a
16-ton anvil.
CROW: She's creepy and she's kooky. Mysterious and spooky!
>
> Marrissa stood outside the nursery. Serena was inside with Sara, and
>appeared to be getting along well.
TOM: Sara had already bent the woman to her whim, which pleased Marrissa to
no end.
> So far, Serena had changed diapers
>twice, sung that ridiculous Achy Breaky song
CROW: [Singing] Don't play that song, that Achy Breaky song...
> that Sara wouldn't go to
>sleep without,
[All snicker.]
MIKE: It's nice to know no popular music will be written in the next 400
years.
TOM: Yes, the 24th Century can't get enough of K-Tel's "Solid
Gold 90's"!
> and fed the little girl once.
TOM: But if Marrissa is breastfeeding, how can Serena...
MIKE: BOTTLES! Now don't pursue it!
> Marrissa had been standing
>outside the nursery for quite some time.
CROW: Whining like the last puppy at the pet store.
> Jay had also been observing his wife.
MIKE: (Jay) Yup, those are definitely horns forming. And vestiges of a
tail.
> This had been the longest Marrissa
>had stayed away from Sara since the Borg took her.
TOM: Well, since she isn't technically away yet...
> It was a promising
>sign. He snuck up behind her and
MIKE: Whacked her upside the head with a two-by-four.
CROW & TOM: (Hacksaw Jim Duggan) HOOOOOOOOOOOO!
> embraced her, kissing her neck.
MIKE: Taking her by surprise. Trained instinct took over, and soon Jay found
himself on the other side of the glass.
> "Now that
>we've got some one to watch Sara, what do you say we go on a date?" he asked.
CROW: (Jay) Let's make wild, passionate snuggle-nooky!
> Marrissa seemed to be trying to find an excuse.
CROW: He's married, and Jay still has a tough time getting dates.
> She really didn't want to
>leave her daughter. There wasn't one though. "Okay."
TOM: Sex! When there's nothing good on TV, sex really satisfies!
> It wasn't the most enthusiastic response that Jay had ever gotten,
MIKE: Nothing like that time he broached the subject of becoming a
lion tamer.
> but it
>would do.
TOM: Then I have my answer. I'm dancing on air!
> "Let's go down to that private beach of yours."
CROW: Women have such odd names for their personals.
TOM: Yeah. What's with women, anyway?
MIKE: Well, nothing per se...
> "Jay, I'd have to get a swimsuit first," Marrissa said, as Jay pulled her
>away from the nursery door.
> "Who says you need a swimsuit?" Jay said.
ALL: *EWWWW!*
TOM: Not another skinny-dipping scene! What's that make now? Three? Four?
> "It is a private beach, after
>all."
MIKE: (moaning) "Horror at Party Beach 2" is definitely worse than
the original!
CROW: I hope they at least provide a nice dinner for some lucky
family of horse flies.
TOM: Yes, she rules the universe by day, but still finds time to be wet
and nude!
>
>The Next Day Around Noon.
CROW: Thank goodness for suggestive scene cuts.
MIKE: Heisenberg Uncertainty Theater!
>
> Martin and Jay were walking though the garden below the nursery.
CROW: All right, a very disturbing suggestive scene cut.
TOM: (Mel Blanc as the Sheriff of Nottingham) Those are the *King's*
carrots!
> The two
>had met up after Jay and Marrissa had made an unscheduled return to the
>Enterprise. Jay bore the reason
MIKE: Oh, the reason heard him talk.
TOM: (pity) Poor, poor reason.
> for that return, in the form of a sling
>holding his right arm.
MIKE: Looks like he snuck up behind her once too often.
> "So, Jay, tell me why you returned to the Enterprise?" Martin asked.
CROW: It's Thursday. Make-your-own-fajitas night at the commissary.
> "I was helping Marrissa up the twelve foot cliff above the beach, when she
>slipped," Jay explained,
MIKE: "Slipped."
CROW: (Martin) Uh huh. And I'll bet you got that black eye because
you, uh, "fell", right?
TOM: Yeah. And there were these bullets at the bottom of the cliff? So
when she fell, she kinda wedged six of them them up against her
ribs and collarbone?
> 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: Good call on that one.
CROW: (Jay) That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.
> "And what were you doing on the beach so early in the morning?" Martin
>asked, stopping to look at some small purple flowers.
MIKE: Don't ask, and please please please don't tell!
TOM: Speak, then perform an action, please.
> "Watching the sunrise," Jay said, adjusting his sling.
TOM: Yes, that's right...speak, then perform an action...
> "Oh, and how did you manage to get down to the beach before sunrise."
CROW: Can't we just leave something to the imagination here, or are you really
that dense, Marty?
TOM: Who is this guy, anyway, a truant officer?
MIKE: If Jay had any spine, he'd have told this prying clown to mind
his own business ten minutes ago.
>Martin asked, moving on down the slate path.
CROW: (Jay) Oh! Can I speak, then perform an action?
MIKE: (Martin) Sure. Just don't step on the azaleas.
> "We were there all night," Jay replied, a smile covering his face, as he
>remembered the previous night.
TOM: Well, there goes my appetite for the next few days.
> "Oh, so you spent the night on a beach," Martin said.
CROW: (Eric Idle) Is she a goer? Is she? Eh? Nudge, nudge.
TOM (Jay, embarrassed) Well, actually I was *under* it for a lot
of the time...
> "Well, I always wanted to try a moonlight romance," Jay said. "Marrissa
>certainly enjoyed it."
CROW: (Idle) I'll bet she does. I'll bet she does. Wink wink. Say no more.
MIKE: Or at least pretended to. I was so excited that I didn't much care.
TOM: (Jay) Did you know jellyfish can scream?
> "Speaking of Marrissa, how is she doing?"
CROW: Well, she was a bit sore last night, so we weren't able to do any of our
more interesting positions...oh, wait, that's not what you meant.
> Martin asked, checking out the
>holly bush,
TOM: ...and deciding he liked it much better than the ivy he passed earlier.
TOM: (slyly) Say! Nice berries!
> before moving toward the castle keep.
> "Well, she's a little better," Jay replied. "It took a little convincing
>to get her to leave Sara behind with Miss Halifax,
CROW: The beauty queen of Nova Scotia!
> but once she got back
>and saw that Sara was okay, she's not been quite so possessive of her.
TOM: She's decided Serena can just keep Sara. What the hell.
MIKE: She's taken to calling her "that teat-mangling succubus". Which
I think is a good sign.
> In
>fact, she spent an hour with Sara, then left for the North Tower."
CROW: Yelling "Sanctuary!"
> "What's in the North Tower?" Martin asked.
TOM: Severed heads. Kinda cool.
MIKE: Her collection of severed heads of her past husbands. Oops, I
thought you knew...
> "Marrissa's popular art collection,"
TOM: Knowing the rest of the collection, she should have plenty of
Leichtensteins, seeing as nothing else has been created in 400 years.
> Jay replied, pausing by the maze
>entrance. "Her buyers just bought an original Neon Genesis Evangelion:
>Death and Rebirth Poster,
CROW: And they've put a bid on a very promising "Fish Police" cel.
MIKE: Popular art is now considered to be old anime posters? I feel sorry for
painters and sculptors in the future.
> and she's trying to find the perfect place to
>display it."
CROW: May I suggest up her--
MIKE: No you may not.
> "Is that movie any good?" Martin asked.
MIKE: Well it's no "Cool World".
> "I'm not into anime, so I have no
>idea."
[All snicker.]
MIKE: Martin should use his open mind to teach med students the
anatomy of the brain.
TOM: (Martin) Does this taste good? I'm not into food.
CROW: (Martin) Which one's shinola, again?
TOM: Isn't not being into anime a punishable offense on Essex?
> "It's good, but I wouldn't take Shayna to see it," Jay said. "She's more
>into shows like Oh My Goddess."
MIKE: Oh. So Roseanne made it to the 2300's. Good for her!
CROW: Of course! Culture has been at a complete standstill for 400 years, so
we need to rely on these late 20th century mediocrities that our
audience can identify with.
> Martin stopped at the remains of a gargoyle.
CROW: They just finished filming "Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte".
> "Jay, aren't the gargoyles
>suppose to be on the castle?"
CROW: So we're getting into Disney action toons now also?
> "They are, I wonder how that one ended up there," Jay said. "I hope we
>don't have a structural problem.
MIKE: Lord knows this story has enough of them already.
>I'll call the architect later."
TOM: Is this going to be important later?
MIKE: Probably not.
TOM: Foreshadowing! The sign of a quality comic! (quickly) And of a
few lonely fanfic writers who haven't a clue what they're doing.
>
>Chapter Three
MIKE: Meanwhile, in a another part of the crap...
> Marrissa stood in the torpedo bay on the Georgia.
CROW: We can only wish.
> It was filled with
>torpedo casings holding a representative sample of the crew of the Georgia.
TOM: And 55% of them approved of the Federation President.
CROW: Wow, they took that "man the torpedoes" bit way too seriously.
> Not a single member of that crew had survived, although the ship had.
CROW: Ratliff gas again?
MIKE: Probably. No kids on board, either.
>The
>traditional dirge of a bagpipe playing "Amazing Grace" began as one by one,
MIKE: ...bagpipe players were bludgeoned to death with their own
instruments.
CROW: Attention Stephen: "Amazing Grace" is not a dirge. Repeat, NOT a
dirge.
TOM: Besides, with bagpipes, what he wants is a pibroch, not a dirge.
>the coffins were launched out into space, toward the inferno of a nearby star.
TOM: (dramatically) Waste management solutions- of the *future!*
MIKE: I'm not dead yet!
> Suddenly Marrissa was on the bridge of the Georgia,
ALL: YAHHH!
> an insubstantial
>observer to the last minutes of the ship's crew.
MIKE: (Marrissa, haunting) I am the Annoying Red-Headed Twerp of
Christmas Past!
CROW: Actually, that was a lot smoother than a lot of Ratliff's other
jump cuts.
> Helpless to stop the
>images, she watched as the crew died one by one,
CROW: And finding that she oddly enjoyed it...
> leaving a young girl, who
>had taken the helm when her own mother had died, to execute her Captain,
MIKE: Ah, Marrissa's favorite dream.
>her father's last orders.
[All cackle.]
CROW: (father) WHERE do you think you're going young lady? To the
escape pod? I don't think so!
MIKE: (mother) You march right to that bridge and avenge our deaths,
or so help me, no 20th century anime for a month!
> As the last Romulan Warbird exploded on the
>screen, the young dark haired girl died, a victim of a shard of console
>embedded in her stomach.
TOM: Gotta hate those shards lodging into non vital organs...
MIKE: (wincing) Ugh. She's not gonna be one of those who's constantly
lifting her shirt up asking you to feel that, is she?
CROW: Yeah. Her tummy's "shard" as a rock! [Snickers.]
MIKE: All right, just stop.
> Then Marrissa was before the young girl's coffin.
TOM: (shocked) Tiny Tim?! Oh, no, not Tiny Tim!
> "Mary Celeste Kinsmore
CROW: ...Amber Flores Picard
>2370 - 2382" it was engraved.
[All snicker.]
CROW: Oh, and here's Amelia Earhart Hearst... James Hoffa
Worthington...
MIKE: The irony police really need to pay Stephen a little visit
someday.
> It opened,
TOM: Count Floyd!
> and a twelve year old Marrissa
>was inside, dressed in the dress uniform she had worn back in 2370.
MIKE: Yeah, I see that in my dreams often...
CROW: (Ris) Oh right! That was the year of my Sarah Bernhardt
fixation! She slept in a coffin, you see!
>Marrissa turned to avoid the view of herself in a coffin, only to discover
>Jay in a coffin.
TOM: And Steve-o is going to tell us this is a nightmare.
MIKE: Coffin? Jay's gonna be lucky to get Hefty bag.
> She turned again.
CROW: [Singing] To every casket, turn, turn, turn...
> Her daughter lay dead inside a torpedo
>casing.
TOM: (car dealer) I'll bury any coffin, any style, for $49.99!
> Marrissa screamed, she wanted to get out of wherever she was, she
>wanted to be safe.
> She awoke alone.
MIKE: And her day got instantly much better.
> Marrissa had fallen asleep in the North Tower watching
>anime.
MIKE: Yeah, that's my usual reaction, too.
TOM: Explains the big ass eyes everyone in the dream had.
>In particular, episode 24 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
CROW: (fanboy) Oh, yeah, total snooze-fest. Not like Episode 12b,
subtitled letterbox version.
> She shook
>off the last vestiges of sleep.
CROW: She's a Vestil?
> Heedless of danger, she sprinted down the
>staircase to the courtyard between the tower and the Castle Keep.
MIKE: The reanimated, festering corpse of Ensign Throwaway's waiting
for her on the stairs...
[Crow snickers.]
> She
>bounded across the moonlit court yard.
[All starting humming the Benny Hill music]
TOM: She meets the haunting spectre of Virginia Senator Charles Robb,
demanding to know why he wasn't in the "Time Speeder" rewrite...
> Then inside, she took another flight
>of stairs two, sometimes three steps at a time.
MIKE: Man, if I'd survived capture by twenty-three hostile species of
alien only to die 'cuz I didn't use the handrail, I'd be one
perpetually embarrassed cherub, let me tell ya.
> Down the corridor she
>rushed, bursting though the doors of the nursery. There she stopped.
MIKE: I always do that, go downstairs then forget what I wanted to do.
> Her baby lay content in her crib.
TOM: Sara was reading "Brill's Content"?
> At the sudden approach of her mother,
>Sara opened her eyes, awake but quiet.
TOM: She has not yet learned...
> Marrissa picked her up, and moved
>to take a seat in Jay's Mother's old rocking chair.
CROW: (Ris) That's right honey, no crying, tears are a sign of
weakness. Tie the emotions into an agonizing knot.
> Once there, tears
>began running down her cheeks.
MIKE: [Marrissa] Damn, so I bet the rest of the are still alive too.
> Sara looked up at here mother in
>puzzlement. Her mother usually was happy to hold her.
CROW: And had that plesant Strawberry Schnapps scent on her lips.
MIKE: (Marissa, re Sara) I was so sure you'd go up in value, like a
Beanie Baby.
> From behind the two, came Jay's voice. "I was wondering when you would
>come
CROW: *cough*
> in from the tower," Jay said.
TOM: (Jay) Guess the shackles didn't hold ya, huh? Ya mad?
> Marrissa looked up at her husband who was now kneeling beside the rocking
>chair.
MIKE: Above all else, she has trained him well.
> "I needed some time alone," she said, before looking back at her
>baby girl.
TOM: And she vehemently contradicted herself.
> "I know," Jay replied. "What cause you to run in here so quick?
CROW: ExLax.
TOM: Jay Gordon *is*, Brute Man!
> I
>haven't seen you go so fast since you took command of the Endeavor."
> Marrissa smiled at the memory.
TOM: All that gratuitous killing. All that violence. Those were
the days...
CROW: Why do I have this image of Marrissa living in an old mansion with a
German butler and a dead chimp?
> "I had to go fast back then.
MIKE: I mean when there's only one bathroom on the ship...
CROW: Those damn uniforms with the bull's eye insignia.
MIKE: But it trained me on how to live life with a target on my back.
> 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."
TOM: Why are we calling back to stories I don't remember?
> "So, what's bothering you?" Jay asked.
> "It's that dream about the Georgia again," Marrissa said.
CROW: It keeps not coming true.
TOM: (Ris) It's that ol' sweet song! It keeps the Georgia on my mind!
> "Marrissa, it's time you get some help," Jay said, taking Sara out of his
>wife's arms.
MIKE: And all that was found of Jay Gordon was his wedding ring,
snuggly fit around a lone, severed finger.
> "You'll never get over it if you don't, and I don't want to
>see you hurting like this anymore."
CROW: I want you to hurt in fresh, exciting ways!
TOM: She's almost...mortal.
MIKE: She'll get over it, I'm sure.
> "Okay," Marrissa snuffled. "I'll talk to Martin tomorrow afternoon."
> "Good," Jay said, placing Sara back in her crib. "Now come to bed."
TOM: With Jay, sleeping is the lesser of two nightmares.
> "Why do have a feeling I'm not going to get much sleep tonight?" Marrissa
>remarked,
MIKE: (Brak) Cause I just ate beans!
TOM: So Marrissa's discovered she's a submissive in bed. Neat.
CROW: Tom?
TOM: Yes?
CROW: AHHHHHHHHH!
> as Jay walked beside her on the way to their bedroom.
> "I don't know," Jay replied, picking up his wife in his arms.
TOM: Perhaps because you're so oversexed that even a disturbing vision of death
doesn't take you out of the mood.
CROW: (Jay, laboring) Oof! Man! You been buttering your
strawberries, honey?
> "Perhaps
>it's the famous woman's intuition?"
TOM: Oh, so just the opposite then.
> "Are you trying to give Sara a younger sibling?" Marrissa asked as they
>entered the bedroom.
CROW: (Jay) Oh, is that how that works?
MIKE: (Jay, slyly) The cure for bad dreams is a steamin' hot mug of my
non-dairy Love Creamer!
> "Perhaps I'm just making sure you get to the bedroom instead of stopping
>by your office to work on something," Jay replied. "Either way, you will
>end up spending the night in my arms."
MIKE: [Marrissa] Well, can't I just sever them and take them with me. Much
more plesant.
TOM: (Jay) And hopefully, they'll still be attached to my body when I
wake up.
> "Ah, my favorite way to avoid bad dreams," Marrissa murmured, as Jay
>lowered her onto the bed.
MIKE: And our least favorite way to GET bad dreams.
CROW: (sings the International Coffee jingle) Celebrate the moments
of your sex!
>
> Next afternoon,
TOM: Oh, thank goodness.
> while Jay was
CROW: ...out on his paper route...
> out spending time with Martin, Marrissa
>asked Serena to join her and Sara on a walk through the nearby woods. It
>was a well maintained, paved path,
TOM: Once again Marrissa whips nature like a dog 'til it cowers at her
feet!
> that made it fairly easy to push Sara's
>pram.
MIKE: Egg and pram? Egg bacon and pram? Egg bacon sausage and pram?
CROW: [Singing, as Knight of the Round Table] I have to push the pram-a-lot!
> 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.
TOM: As is most everything else in this fanfic.
MIKE: And now we are proud the present the death of Marri, queen of Scots.
CROW: (Viking song) Pram, pram, pram, pram, pram, pram, pram! Wonderful
*pra-a-am!* Wonderful pram!
> Every so often, the path opened into a
>clearing with a bench in it.
CROW: Screw that! Tell us more about the pram!
> It was at one of these benches that Marrissa
>and Serena stopped.
CROW: I can't decide if I trust this or not.
> Serena looked at her charge.
MIKE: American Express.
TOM: The pram has a taxi meter on it!
> Sara, spotting the familiar face, raised her
>arms, reaching out, urging Serena to take her out of the pram.
TOM: I can't help reading that as Spam...and it makes the story much more fun.
MIKE: (Sara) Lady, please! Help me! I'm a boy! She cut my mojo
off and stuffed me in pink clothes!
> As Serena
>picked up Sara, she said, "I believe Sara wants to see more of the world
>than her carriage allows."
CROW: [Serena] Uh, I mean pram. Forget we were speaking British lexography.
TOM: Hmm, there's a koi pond over there... within throwin'
distance, too...
> "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."
TOM: So now, you DIE!
MIKE: Destroying the non Starfleet galaxy one world at a time doesn't leave me
as much time to enjoy my family as I would like.
> "Nonsense, ma'am," Serena said. "You just lack experience.
MIKE: Have you ever been experienced? Not necessarily stoned, but...
> 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."
TOM: Heads up!
> "No, you just ended up practically perfect in every way," Marrissa smiled.
CROW: Ouch! Ow!
MIKE: What?
CROW: It's Ratliff trying to hammer the Mary Poppins thing into us.
> Then frowning, continued. "I'm always afraid I'll do something wrong,
TOM: Bit late for that.
> and
>hurt Sara. I never really got to deal a lot with babies.
TOM: Except for that stint as Security Officer.
> I was thirteen
>when Jackie was born and a little too wrapped up in my Security Chief's job
>to do much babysitting.
MIKE: Maybe it'll begin to dawn why people don't enter the work force until
at least 18 or so.
> And when I did end up babysitting her, I almost
>killed her with an ice cream sundae."
MIKE: I probably shouldn't've made her eat the dish.
> "Ma'am, children aren't that fragile," Serena said. "You can make some
>mistakes and they won't go bad,
TOM: Then someone sure as hell messed up big time with Marrissa.
> or have some sort of defect as a result."
TOM: And again...
CROW: You can even pull their arm out of their sockets and it pops
right back. Here, let me show you...
>Then Serena smiled. "Of course, if you saw my attempt at making a strudel
>this morning, you know that food can."
CROW: Ha ha, that wacky Serena. I can't see why she was never in the series.
TOM: So what'd she put in there, anyway, gelignite?
MIKE: (sings) For a spoonful of streudel, helps the arsenic, go
down! The arsenic, go dow-wown! Arsenic...
> Marrissa laughed,
MIKE: [Marrissa] She will die slowly.
> remembering how the pastry had exploded, sending flour
>all over the kitchen.
TOM: Oh the humanity!
CROW: She put a can of streudel in the microwave?
TOM: Was this product placement for Pillsbury?
MIKE: Serena pokes Sara in the stomach, and she giggles.
> Sara heard her mother's laugh and quickly located
>her.
TOM: [Hudson] 500 FEET! 400! IT'S IN THE WALLS, MAN!
> She once again held out her little arms, asking for her mother's warmth.
MIKE: Her mother IS Marrissa, isn't she?
> "I think Sara wants you to hold her," Serena said, handing Sara carefully
>over to her mother.
CROW: (Sara) Yes! I crave more life force to leech from your body!
> Sara smiled widely as her mother settled her into her arms.
MIKE: I'm sorry, pull that sentence over. Do you realize how fast you were
pronouning back there?
> "You know,
>when ever I hold Sara, it's like the rest of the world is gone,
TOM: Her one goal she hasn't yet accomplished.
> and it's
>just us two, in our own little world," Marrissa mused.
TOM: Which I rule, of course.
CROW: Since she's in her own little world, do we still have to listen?
> "Somehow, holding
>her makes me feel appreciated and loved.
MIKE: This doesn't all look good for ole Jay.
TOM: (Ris) Of course, she's not old enough to disappoint me, yet.
> I know she loves me, and I love
>her.
MIKE: (sings) But I don't think she likes me anymore...
TOM: If a big purple dinosaur jumped out of the woods right now,
ya think 'Ris would shoot it?
CROW: Oh yeah. Most definitely.
> During the last part of the war, I use to bring her with me to
>meetings, just so I would have that good feeling to look forward to,
MIKE: (Ris) ...especially when I was getting hammered by my superior for
excess carnage.
CROW: I used to carry her into battle, breast feeding all the way.
TOM: Pretty lax business practices they got there in Starfleet.
> to
>retreat to for a little while, when the news was bad. Especially when it
>was like when we discovered the Georgia."
TOM: So how did a Federation of thousands of countries and worlds
come to name starships after U.S. States?
MIKE: Yeah, if it's anything like the UN, you'd have names like the
S.S. We-Do-Not-Recognize-the-Right-Of-Israel-to-Exist.
CROW: They should've done this for Mexico. I wanna see Romulans cower
in fear from the steady advance of the S.S. Chihuahua!
> Marrissa shuttered, as she remembered the Georgia. Every man, woman, and
>child been killed on that ship.
TOM: It was one of her finest moments.
MIKE: They heard they were going to be in a Ratliff story, and they understandably
panicked.
CROW: The cats survived, though. Odd that.
> The image that stuck in the minds of
>everyone, the image representing the crew of that ship,
CROW: The thing that got our attention,...
TOM: The visage that haunts us to this day,...
> was that of the
>girl at the helm.
TOM: Yup, they were terrified that the underaged crews were spreading.
> The girl was only twelve. Death had frozen her at the
>helm, her hands poised to make evasive maneuvers. Her body was only marred
>by one jagged piece of console which was stuck in her belly,
CROW: Well, that would do it, I'd think.
TOM: Yup. This is why you don't wanna skimp on your piercing.
> and her jump
>suit only stained by a single trail of blood going from that piece of
>console down between her legs.
CROW: Two comments. One: when did the stomach move between the legs, and two:
do we need to keep focusing on between the legs of 12-year olds,
Stevie?
TOM: OK, here's some alcohol to keep down infection, and don't take it
out for a couple of months, or it'll close.
MIKE: You know, the fact that I remember the cover art for Warrant's
"Cherry Pie" just makes me more revolted right now?
> Only one other thing made her look dead,
TOM: Her flesh rotting off her skull?
>her eyes which were filled with horror and determination.
CROW: And real Wisconsin Cheddar!
> No one who saw
>her ever forgot her, the last person to die on the Georgia.
MIKE: Ol' what's-her-name.
CROW: Yup, she just didn't have a good enough Kobyashi Maru time!
> But that
>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.
MIKE: What a beautiful thought.
TOM: And remember to get YOUR Mary Celeste Kinsmore only at Sears!
TOM: Oh-ho! So it's empathy! Not, say, excruciating soul-gnawing
*guilt* about being a role model for *other* twelve-year-old girls
who should be at home playing with their *Holly Hobby* instead of
something impossibly *dangerous* like *PILOTING A STARSHIP INTO
BATTLE!!*
MIKE: Tom? Come on. Been there. Done that. Move on.
TOM: (growling) D'oh!
> Marrissa held her daughter closer. "Sara makes life worth living,"
>Marrissa said. "I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have here."
CROW: So she's rather fond of the clearing also?
> They all sat in silence for a while as Marrissa held her daughter in her
>arms.
CROW: (sings tenderly) You and me against the world! Sometimes it
feels like, you and me against the world!
>
> The Moon Kingdom Restaurant was a traveling restaurant.
TOM: Moon...
CROW: Kindgom...?
MIKE: (sings as Woody Guthrie) You can get, anything you want! At
traveling restaur-
CROW and TOM: No Guthrie! Called it! Jinx!
MIKE: (grumbling) That was quick.
> It was on Essex
>for the graduation of cadets from Star Fleet's Fighter School.
MIKE: Usually, it was near the end of the universe.
> At least
>that was the cover.
TOM: And you can't judge a cook by its cover.
CROW: Ah! I'll bet this is gonna tie that whole broken gargoyle thing
together!
MIKE: Crow, please. You'll just get hurt.
> Alexis and Kasey didn't spend all their time in the
>Kitchen.
CROW: If ya know what I mean!
TOM: Well, bully for them. SO WHAT?!
> "Lunch crowd is coming in," Alexis said as she entered the
>kitchen. "Looks like it's going to be a busy one."
MIKE: (waving hand) Hello? Excuse me? Would you like to be in our
story? If you could come a little closer to the plot, please?
> "You should have been here yesterday," Kasey said.
MIKE: Ha, the wacky lives of random new characters.
> "Hey, I don't control when the enemy attacks," Alexis replied. "You
>better start seeing what they want."
MIKE: Well, you're a restaurant, so I'm thinkin' food.
CROW: What our enemies want? Well, money, power, and revenge, I guess. Should I
make that the Blue Plate Special?
TOM: I don't see who died and made you queen of our new little world that
has never been seen before. Who are these people?
MIKE: You see, this is a sign of Steve's growth, because now he's using
snatches of conversation to *imply* that he knows what he's talking
about!
> Alexis started to set up the Kitchen
>for the lunch rush as Kasey went into the dinning room.
TOM: Which is right next to the dining room.
CROW: And now, as a special request to Mitchell in Springfield from Jane...
here's chicken parmesagna.
> 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,
MIKE: Well, they can use it as such in space, but it doesn't have as much
atmosphere...
(The BOTS groan loudly.)
>complete with brass lighting fixtures and tile floor.
MIKE: Wow! I'll bet they even have two kinds of soup, and put lemon in
the ice water!
> Two young men entered the establishment, taking a seat at the table
>farthest from the door.
CROW: Hey! Bring that seat back!
> Kasey pulled out her order PADD and walked over to
>them.
TOM: Marrissa often heads to Jay with an "order" PADD, but that's a bit
different.
> Kasey identified them as her uncle Jay and his friend Martin. She
>had to hide that knowledge though, as in this time, she had not met them.
MIKE: Wha?
CROW: Could someone PLEASE just stop and explain who the hell these people
are, dammit!
>Okay, she had, but only as a year old baby.
CROW: Oh, well that explains it.
MIKE: I'm surprised, with the massive backstories and introductions Stevie
does.
TOM: Mike, is Ratliff threatening us?
CROW: Is this his way of saying, "Oh, the story's a little slow for ya?
Hell, I can make a whole *buncha* stuff happen any time, guy. Just
say the word."
> "Welcome to the Moon Kingdom,
TOM: [Muttering] oh merciful God in heaven...
MIKE: Oh geez. Steve, pull this thing over, I'm getting off!
>I'm Kasey, I'll be your waitress this afternoon. May I take your order?"
>she asked.
CROW: I sense much foreboding.
MIKE: (Martin, pathetic) But- can't we have menus?
CROW: (waitress) No, you can't have menus!
MIKE: (Martin) But what's the special?
CROW: (waitress) Order now, and *maybe* I won't spit in your bread!
> "I'd like the Moon Princess Pasta," Martin said.
[All snicker.]
TOM: Good gracious man, have you no PRIDE?!
MIKE: Ah, so nice that our century will be remembered by its Anime.
> "Milk for the drink, and
CROW: Yes, Marting, Milk IS for the drinking.
>a side of bread sticks."
TOM: (waitress) Would you like a Barbie doll to play with while you
wait?
MIKE: (Martin) Ha ha! No, I brought My Pretty Pony. See? Look at her
long, pretty tail!
> "I'll have the Sea of Tranquility Soup and Toasted Cheese Sandwich," Jay
>said. "Root Beer for the drink, no sides."
MIKE: And I'll have the Kitschy Quiche and the Dessert With a Really
Stupid Name.
TOM: Yeah, and bring me one of those drinks with a little umbrella
in it.
CROW: Come to think of it, this probably passes for haute cuisine in
England.
> "Very well, gentlemen," Kasey said before returning to the Kitchen.
MIKE: (waitress) Gimme a horse colon with phlegm and cat bones, and
crap on a plate, no urine!
> "So, she's finally decided to come talk to me about those dreams,"
TOM: Ohhhhh..."those" dreams...
> Martin
>said. "I was beginning to wonder if she ever would."
> "Marrissa's always been self-reliant," Jay said.
TOM: She even tried reproducing asexually.
> "It's hard to get her to
>admit that she needs help.
MIKE: A new 12-Step program for maniacal galactic overlords?
CROW: Hey, I can stop exterminating entire species any time I want!
> Generally, I don't ask and just provide the
>help.
TOM: Well, it's nice for someone trying to provide mental health not to try
to dig deep or anything.
CROW: The line between husband and slave is very, very thin in
Stephen's world.
> It's easier on us both that way. She doesn't have to ask, and I
>don't have to see her struggling to get something done after turning my
>help down."
MIKE: This way she just resents the implication she's incompetent!
CROW: Oh my gawd. That was something else.
MIKE: Ratliff has not lost his touch.
TOM: Trp[!
> "I'm surprised that hasn't impeded her command abilities before," Martin
>said.
CROW: No, I thought it was the basis of her command abilities.
> "Oh, she knows how to delegate when it comes to her command,
MIKE: ...knows how to delegate torpedoes into the hulls of anyone who crosses
her...
> it's just
>that she hasn't learnt to apply that to her personal life," Jay replied.
TOM: Is it just me, or is Steve finally realizing the absurity of preteen
commanding officers, and the reasons for preteens being kids, not
officers?
TOM: Like when she tried to delegate the third trimester to me. Man,
that was awkward.
>"You should have heard her after we hired Serena to help take care of Sara.
CROW: Yes...take CARE of Sara...
MIKE: She's sorta souring on Serena surrounding Sara!
>Here she was, having exhausted herself for the last three months taking
>care of the baby, complaining that she didn't need the help."
MIKE: (Ris) I'll just try diplomacy. If she keeps crying, I'll break
her leg.
> "That could have contributed to the problem," Martin said.
MIKE: That, and the constant destruction of worlds under her feet.
> "At her heart,
TOM: Her what now?
>Marrissa can be a very insecure person.
TOM: What what now?
> You remember her title collecting
>when she was between twelve and thirteen?"
MIKE: The bane of our existence? Yeah, I think we remember.
CROW: Aww, Ratliff's trying to cover up his past mistakes. Isn't it cute?
TOM: (grandly) It's the Ratliff clip show! Up next, the bloopers and
practical jokes that were, "Away From Home"!
> "You mean
ALL: Sigh...
TOM: Do we have to?
MIKE: 'Fraid so.
ALL: (along with Jay in the story) 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.
MIKE: And her trusty servant Patsy! She has ridden many miles-
CROW: (cockney) What, ridden on a horse?
> "Did I leave any out?"
TOM: (Martin) Just "wife of Jay Gordon". Interesting...
> "I don't think so," Martin said. "She's always wanted to be some one.
CROW: The problem is that specific someone is God.
TOM: Light up the sky, like a flame.
MIKE: She shoulda had that gray spider in the barn write her name
in a web!
>And as for her relationship with close friends,
TOM: Who asked?
> well, Lord have mercy
>anyone who harms her friends,
MIKE: Lord have mercy on her friends, I say.
> her officers or her ship, because no one else
>is going to stop her from punishing them."
MIKE: (Southern preacher)And there are whole civilizations yelling an AMEN
to that one, brother Ratliff!
CROW: Does Martin think Jay is bugged?
TOM: (Martin, loudly) Ha! Yeah, that Marrissa is one great omnipotent
being, huh? And she's so thin! She's gotta be what, nineteen?
Twenty?
> "That's the truth," Jay said.
MIKE: (Lily Tomlin) And that's the truth. Pppppppbt!
> "I think it is to her advantage sometimes.
>We've got one of the most loyal crews in Star Fleet.
MIKE: Loyalty through fear. Nice.
> When Marrissa asks
>for volunteers, the line stretches from the Forward lounge to the Aft
>Shuttle Bay."
MIKE: The Forward lounge is a bar, I take it.
CROW: At which time, in another power trip, she has them turn around and file
out the bay doors.
> "Anyway, Marrissa is going to have to face the fact that there are some
>things beyond her control,"
TOM: Pesky things like Gravity and other laws of Nature...that BITCH!
CROW: (Jay) *BLASPHEMER! YOU SHALL DIE IN THE PIT OF-*
(catches himself) Oh, damn. Sorry! Reflex response!
> Martin said, as a monster appeared just outside
>the restaurant's door.
ALL: *Huh? What?*
MIKE: Oh, hi Marrissa, we were just talking about you.
> He was facing away from the door, so he didn't see it.
CROW: It's "Where the Wild Things Brunch"!
> Jay had. "You mean like rampaging monsters planning to ruin restaurants?"
>Jay said, with a note of fear.
CROW: Please tell me they aren't serious...
MIKE: I fear they are.
TOM: [Martin] It's probably just the health inspector in a bad mood. Pay it
no mind.
> "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: Um, excuse me, but what the HELL are you doing, Ratliff?
MIKE: You must divorce your creativity, Jay. Merge with the soulless
collective.
ALL (dully) Join us.
> "Well, considering one is about to bust though the door," Jay said,
CROW: This is a very odd monster-related conversation.
MIKE: Yeah, most of your monster-related conversations go something
like, *"AAAAUGH! OH MY GOD! WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE
GONNA DI-HI-HIE!"*
> as the
>door was pulled off the restaurant by the brute force of the water
>elemental like monster.
MIKE: Jay better have a decent saving throw.
TOM: (monster) I had a reservation? First name, DIE!
> Martin turned around. "I wish I could say you were hallucinating," he said.
[All snicker.]
CROW: I wish I knew what Ratty was hallucinating on.
CROW: Martin is half-Vulcan, half-idiot!
> "Die, Jay Gordon," the monster said,
TOM: Hey, it IS Marrissa!
MIKE: Die-Jay Jazzy Gordon?
> tossing the door toward Jay. Jay and
>Martin jumped out of their chairs and the door missed them, but shattered
>the table.
CROW: (Martin) My pasta!
MIKE: Heck of a floor show this place has got.
> "Mars Fire Ignite!" came a cry.
ALL: (hysterical) *WHAT?!*
MIKE: Oh, for the love of all that is good and decent!
CROW: Remember, Mike, this IS Ratliff. Nothing good or decent here.
> It was from a young part Klingon girl
>dressed in a sailor fuku
CROW: ...in a what?
MIKE: Leave it alone, Crow.
TOM: Yeah, shut yo mouth!
CROW: I'm just talking about Sailors!
TOM: I can dig it.
> who stood in the doorway to the Kitchen.
[All fall in the floor in conniptions.]
MIKE: (shaking his head) Oh... my... lord.
TOM: Stephen should really let the first layer of bad dry before he
slaps on a second coat like this.
> The left
>arm of the monster vaporized.
CROW: Yeah, your low-carb diets'll do that.
TOM: You lose ten pounds fast, but it's mostly water.
MIKE: Brendle! Noooo!
> "Mercury Bubbles, blast!"
CROW: A rather failed sales ploy by the car manufacturer.
TOM: Hey, no cursing!
> was a second called attack, but not as
>successful.
TOM: Sailor Lawrence Welk is disappointed.
> 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: Well, next next time, they'd better pick a more powerful weapon
than Scrubbing Bubbles...
MIKE: Hulk TICKLISH! GRRRR!
CROW: Just throw powdered gelatin at him and wait for him to set!
> Sailor Mercury's visor covered her face, as Mars let lose another
>Fireball.
CROW: Note, never get the beans at the Moon Kingdom.
> Mars's second attack took out the monster's other arm, but the
>first arm was already growing back.
TOM: [John Cleese] Tis but a flesh wound!
MIKE: Set phasers on Jacuzzi!
> "Mars, target the left heal," Mercury
>ordered.
CROW: Ratliff can make even anime look uninspired.
MIKE: Do they *want* to be healing this thing?
TOM: The monster's in heels? Well just make it chase you, it'll
fall over!
> "You got it," Mars responded. "Mars Fire Ignite!"
CROW: FINISH HIM!
MIKE: Shabon Spray, Ratliff Battle Sequence!
> The fire ball left her
>clasped hands and sped toward the monster who was rushing Sailor Mercury.
CROW: Quick, back him into this enormous mug of Cup O'Noodles!
>The impact vaporized the whole body, just centimeters before the monster
>would have impacted Mercury.
CROW: And gotten her tight schoolgirl's outfit all wet!
TOM: (Jay) Huh, great, thanks, you've steamed me alive like a Maine
lobster. But nothing a few painful skin grafts won't cure!
Thanks a lot! (muttering) Ya big dumb Sailor Schlemozzels!
MIKE: (Martin, moaning) I knew we shoulda called The Dirty Pair.
> The two Sailor Scouts exited the restaurant,
MIKE: ...to the sound of appreciative applause.
CROW: Encore! Encore!
TOM: (Scouts) Thankyouthankyou, we'll be here all week. Enjoy the
buffet.
> leaving Jay and Martin behind
>a table.
ALL: *Check please!*
[All laugh.]
CROW: Oh, that's fun. I never get tired of that one.
> "Jay?" Martin asked.
> "Yes, Martin?" Jay replied, peering over the table top.
MIKE: (Jay, tenderly) I have always loved you.
> "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.
CROW: For those of you keeping score at home...
TOM: You know it's bad when even Ratliff's *characters* aren't buying it.
> "It appears so," Jay said.
> "I hope we don't have to file a report on this, because Star Fleet is
>going to think we are crazy," Martin said.
TOM: This same Starfleet that allowed a preteen to be captain?
MIKE: Well, it's not like a giant space probe knocked out global
communications looking for a couple of whales. I mean, *that's*
nuts.
> "Not you, you're a trusted Ship's Counselor with a clean psychological
>profile," Jay said. "As for me, they expect strange reports from Star
>Fleet Captains."
TOM: It is rumored that many of Kirk's reports were nothing but stream of
consciousness song lyrics...
MIKE: Man! All this just 'cuz he asked the waitress for more water!
CROW: Next, the results of that trial! Oh wait, the monster's dead.
Sorry! No trial everyone! You can go home now!
TOM: Let's us go...
[Commercials. The most cinematic sci-fi experience of all...is still Star Wars.
But until Episode 2 comes out, here, have some Farscape.]
[SOL. Mike is seated at the desk with Gypsy. Each
is perusing a large menu adorned with the silhouette of the SOL.]
MIKE: Hmm... I know the food here is good, but the way they give novelty
space names to everything... I mean, Borg's Head Ham... Saturnsby
Steak... the Soup of Tranquility? It kinda puts the "Rooty Tooty
Fresh and Fruity Breakfast" in perspective.
GYPSY: Who's paying? The Romulan RAM Chips looks yummy!
MIKE: Anyway, I needed to talk about Marissa. I'm real concerned that...
well, she's becoming...
GYPSY: Human?
MIKE: Oh, come on, Gyps. It's still Ratliff we're talking about.
GYPSY: That was a defensive response, Michael.
MIKE: It's just that- aw, hell, let's face it. Stephen's writing has
drastically improved. Not just the typos, either. He's grasped
that there's more to a story than plot. He's actually getting
deeper into his characters now.
GYPSY: This frightens you.
MIKE: Well hey! Do we really wanna go that deep into Marissa? I mean,
fairly or unfairly, Marissa is perceived as a manifestation of
Stephen's dream woman. Watching him retro-fit vulnerability and
self-esteem problems into Her Royal High Empress of the Universe is
a bit like watching a guy try to rationalize a foot fetish.
GYPSY: Stephen doesn't have to justify himself to you, Michael.
MIKE: Oh of course not! Nor anybody! I'm just... dammit, Gyps, why
couldn't he have stayed *bad?*
[Gypsy chuckles.]
MIKE: I'm serious!
GYPSY: Of course you are! Don't you see Mike? You spend your life
cooped up in a satellite with two child-like robots making jokes all
day and eating Ho-Ho's. As long as Stephen was more childish then
you, you could continue in your pattern of arrested development.
MIKE: (shocked) What are you saying?
GYPSY: Peter Pan syndrome, Mike! If Ratliff grows up, maybe you have
to, too!
[Suddenly a huge hulking brown bear, dressed in a yellow shirt, blue
jeans and sneakers and wearing large round glasses, comes roaring onto
the set.]
BEAR: *BROOOOOOWRR!!!*
MIKE and GYPSY: *AUGH!*
MIKE: Oh my God, the lovable huggable children's character Arthur has
gone berserk! Run for your lives!
[The bear viscious swipes Gypsy to the ground, and begins to move to
Mike, who dives under the desk. Suddenly, spinning in from stage
right comes TOM, dressed up in a precious little Sailor's
Outfit. The monster stops in surprise.]
TOM: Halt! I am the pretty princess Sailor Tom, eternal warrior from
the Frou-Frou land of Lollipop Lane! By the might of my girlish
hips, you shall be punished! SHABON SPRAY, JEF MAYNARD!
[A laser light comes from Tom's head and hits Arthur in the eye.
It howls in pain and covers his eye, stepping back. Now CROW darts
in dressed in an odd mauve leotard.]
CROW: Oh! Um... WONDER TWIN POWERS, ACTIVATE! (to monster) Hey Artie!
[The bear unshields his eyes and leans toward Crow.]
BEAR: Hwah?
CROW: Lookie here.
[Crow uses his mouth to snatch Arthur's glasses. He howls again, and
blindly reaches out at Crow, who laughs and ducks away. Crow runs
off-set, Arthur lumbers after him, and Tom pursues.]
TOM: Ha-ha, that's right, back to Yosemite, you Richard Scarey reject!
Go on!
[Now the bridge is empty. The camera holds for a moment. Then
slowly, cautiously, Mike and Gypsy pop up from under the desk. They
look at each other in apprehensive disbelief for a beat. Then,
suddenly, they laugh.]
MIKE: Ha! Ratliff! Maturing! That's a good one, Gyps!
GYPSY: (snickering) Yeah! I was totally pullin' it out of my tube
there.
MIKE: So you wanna split a Ho-Ho?
GYPSY: Mm, snack cakes! Yummy!
[Lights. Noise. Go quietly amid the noise and haste? I don't THINK SO!]
MIKE: That'll have to wait--WE'VE GOT RATLIFF SIGN!!!
[7...6...5...4...3...2...1...]
>
>Chapter Four
>
> 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.
TOM: That iron maiden in the corner just SCREAMS "hug me!"
CROW: Relax! Don't do it! When you wanna-
MIKE: (grasping Crow's beak) Don't. Just...don't.
> It also reflected his personality,
TOM: In that it was sparse and empty and existed only to provide a
place for Marrissa to define herself.
> with the
>tan velvet couches accessorized with red and white check blankets
MIKE: So his office is in an Italian restaurant.
> with
>frills and blue pillows.
CROW: And this says *what* about his personality?
TOM: Frills, velvet, and pillows...do the math yourself.
> He had his guitar for entertaining the younger
>visitors (and occasionally a few older ones).
CROW: Doctor Action Jackson loves a rousing chorus of Kum-Bay-Ah during
his sessions.
MIKE: (Martin) OK! That was Cat Stevens. Now we're gonna do some
Joni Mitchell...
CROW: (patient, desperate) No no! I feel a lot better now! I'll
leave you to your tortu- *practice*! Practice!
> His books were at his side
>and he knew about his patients before they entered the door.
TOM: Well, he ought to; he's stalked most of them.
MIKE: He decides who lives or dies!
CROW: *Ahem*
MIKE: Oh, sorry, Crow.
> Not this time though.
TOM: This time he's on a collision course for wackiness!
> Of course he knew Marrissa, but not as a patient.
CROW: If you know what I mean...
MIKE: Please no more innuendo about Marrissa.
>He'd done her
All: NOO!
> yearly fitness of command reviews,
TOM: And had the welts to prove it!
CROW: So he's the one who's been so incompetent...
> but they were quite
>shallow,
MIKE: So they were a good analysis of Marrissa.
> since it was assumed that by the time a person made Captain any
>serious neuroses would have already surfaced,
[All snicker.]
TOM: Unless one gets rapidly over promoted...
MIKE: Star Fleet's run a lot like the U.S. Military. "He *must* be
a good commander! Otherwise why would we promote him?"
CROW: Marrissa's father's tendency to yell out "all hands abandon
ship!" at odd, random intervals somehow made it through the
medical screening, though.
> and Marrissa had managed to
>avoid any major trauma,
CROW: Unlike her crews...
> until the Borg, that is.
TOM: She was hunted down and imprisoned by the Tracke! That was what,
a fan club?
> In the case of Marrissa,
>she'd gone too fast,
MIKE: And Ratliff has taken step one, admitting the problem.
> and never really had a full evaluation, but as long as
>she did her job, Star Fleet really didn't care.
TOM: So rather than head off any future problems, it's Starfleet's policy
to leave a captain in charge until he or she flips.
> Martin did care, and he
>wished he had done a better job. Martin had entered College at 14,
CROW: And he's eligible to diagnose being promoted too fast?
>graduated with his Doctorate in Psychology at 19.
TOM: The five year doctorate program at Ratliff University, where your
GPA is 20 minus your age!
CROW: Jeez! Do adults do *anything* in the future? Was Social
Security eligibility reduced to 26 or something?
> With another year at the
>Academy he had been assigned as Ship's Counselor on the Endeavor, before
>moving to the Enterprise with Marrissa.
MIKE: And having his life story retold each time he appeared in Ratliff.
CROW: Shouldn't the psychologist on the Enterprise be, like, a shape-
shifting Mexican immigrant holographic empath or something?
> He had two years to help Marrissa
>before she broke down.
MIKE: (Tom Berenger) So he pushed it. And pushed it. AND PUSHED IT!
TOM: (breaking down in terror) ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! I'LL CHANGE MY OIL! *sobs*
> Two years to prevent it. He didn't.
CROW: Smooth one there, poindexter!
> So now he was here on Marrissa's turf,
TOM: Martin has lost the home field advantage, and will not have the fans
behind him tonight, and that could hurt him.
> up in the transparent dome at the
>top of the North Tower of Halifax Castle. Marrissa was laying back on a
>lounge, starring up at the sky, where several fighter craft were undergoing
>test maneuvers.
CROW: She's mesmerized by blood shed. It's all her little drug.
TOM: Waitaminnit. Overhead?
CROW: Hey guys! Dump your fuel! Now!
MIKE: Yeah! Do it! C'mon! Future generations will immortalize you in song!
> Martin was perched on a nearby lounge,
MIKE: Not a shourte, mind you.
> quite
>uncomfortable, actually, but then again, his comfort wasn't important here.
TOM: Though the bright orange walls did push the point...
>"Marrissa, I can't do anything for you if you just sit there and watch the
>clouds and fighter craft," Martin said.
CROW: [Marrissa] Well hello to you too, dickweed.
MIKE: [Marrissa] But I see a duckie, and a horsie, and a civilization getting
crushed under my thumb, and a choo-choo!
TOM: Pssst! Hey, Sigmund, ever think about closing the curtains?!
> "Martin, do you think I make my friends do things that they wouldn't
>normally do?" Marrissa asked.
CROW: Said the little brat who required the session be moved to her turf...
TOM: [Martin] No, making normal people do strange things is what
Ratliff does. Although you're obviously an accomplice.
MIKE: (Martin) Look, I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable
explanation for all your commanding officers having voodoo dolls of
you impaled through the head with letter openers.
> "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."
CROW: I think most of the galaxy would agree to that...
TOM: (announcer) Marissa Picard, in the holiday classic, "It's A
Wonderful Reign of Terror!"
MIKE: (Jimmy Stewart) Merry Christmas, decimated planet! Merry Christmas, pool
of blood! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old pile of corpses!
> "What makes you think they would?" Martin asked, curious as to the sudden
>question.
MIKE: Other than the fact you robbed them of the carefree days of their youth.
MIKE: Martin's not so smart. He's just running the "Eliza" program
on his PDA.
CROW: (Martin) Oh, so you think I make my friends do things that they
wouldn't normally do.
> "When was the last time someone questioned my orders?" Marrissa said.
CROW: Well, after she had the last one shot out the torpedo tube...
MIKE: The guy before that is now a smoking pair of boots.
>"When was the last time one of my officers left my command?"
TOM: [Marrissa] In one piece, that is.
TOM: Oh, I don't know. The last round of hangings was what, Thursday?
> "Marrissa, you have a gift for command,"
MIKE: A gift like a well-wrapped package bomb.
> Martin replied. "In tactics,
>there are few people considered your equal.
CROW: In getting people to list your accomplishments every chapter, unmatched.
> You inspire loyalty in those
>you command.
MIKE: They quickly become very loyal to getting themselves out alive.
CROW: (Martin, dully) You are love, you are life, you are eternal.
Ave Marrissa. Nail yourself to a cross and call me in the morning.
> Everyone of your officers knows that you won't risk them if
>it weren't something that you couldn't do.
TOM: Unless its something icky she doesn't want to do herself.
MIKE: Wow, a forest of old-growth negatives! Look!
> And if it isn't something you
>could do, then they know they were sent because you know they can pull it
>off."
MIKE: Though her crews are used to keeping their wills very up-to-date.
TOM: And Amnesty International formally protests Ratliff's systemic
torture of innocent logic.
> "You sound like one of those academy professors spouting the attributes of
>a good Captain," Marrissa said.
MIKE: [Marrissa] And yet it's me you're talking about.
> "Every time I send an officer out, I
>worry.
CROW: Think how the *officers* must worry!
> I'm never sure some tactic I'm trying is going to work.
TOM: But it does, as though some greater power is looking down and controlling
my actions into perfection.
> I may
>project the appearance of confidence, but it is just that, an appearance."
CROW: Marrissa not having confidence...that's funny.
> "I'm no Academy Professor," Martin said.
MIKE: (Martin) 'Cuz I'm like *way* past the maximum age cut-off of 13.
TOM: (Martin) I'm also not that irritating groundskeeper back at
StarFleet Academy. Say, why don't you go pester him for a
change and leave me alone?
> "As a member of your crew, and
>the one that has to keep track of these things, I can safely say that your
>crew admires you, respects you, and are glad they are under your command."
TOM: That's what I can *safely* say. Please put the knife down,
Marrissa.
CROW: Stop buttering her up, Martin. Her ego is just a few points
below critical mass already without idiots like you piling it on.
> "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
TOM: Though I follow in hers, so she'll set off any traps...
>serving as my Computer Security Officer."
> "She worships you,
CROW: As does John Travolta, Tom Cruise and Kirstie Ally.
MIKE: [Marrissa] And soon they all will...
> and you've always dealt with her even-handedly," Martin
>said.
> "Then there is Shayna, ship's practical joker," Marrissa said.
MIKE: So you keep saying!
TOM: Shayna is like Drew Carey; Everyone *says* they're funny, but I'm
still waiting on the evidence.
> "I must
>have been insane when I made her my Security Chief.
MIKE: The day she replaced all the phasers with water pistols was the breaking
point.
CROW: Oh? (clears throat, nervous) Would you sign a statement to that
effect? As a pure formality?
> Not only is her
>primary background Engineering, but a clown like her ..."
TOM: A Killer Klown from Outer Space like her...
> "You know, some had similar objections when you became Security Chief back
>on the Enterprise-E," Martin said.
TOM: Well, All right, everyone did.
MIKE: E for Eh, it's Star Trek, turn it to something else.
> "You did a fine job, and so has Shayna.
CROW: Our Romulan overlords can't praise you enough.
>True, she had a hard time adjusting to the new position, but she's doing
>well now. I'd say the respect of such a person would be notable.
TOM: (Martin) Um... I said "notable", not "laughable", right?
> And you
>have hers."
CROW: So we have zombie-like loyalty of a sister, and the respect of a
practical joker...
> "But I'm not worthy of that respect," Marrissa said, almost shouting.
MIKE: So this is Ratliff trying to force some humility on Marrissa?
ALL: (genuflecting) WE'RE NOT WORTHY! WERE NOT WORTHY!
>"I'm just a young lady,
CROW: I'm just a girl, guess I'm some kind of freak!
> 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.
CROW: But she'll find the lessons most worth learning... are from the
heart! Providence 3000! NBC Friday!
TOM: Is it a bad thing that I'm enjoying watching her over promotion catch
up and bite her in the ass?
MIKE: No, but don't mention her ass, please.
> I've got all these titles, jobs, and duties to perform and I
>just wonder, is there anything else.
MIKE: Boys?
CROW: Nickel slots at the Sands?
TOM: A LIFE?!
> Am I just those titles, just those
>duties.
CROW: With lack of a regular childhood...yes.
> When all those are taken away, is there anything left?"
TOM: Just a large ego throbbing in her head.
TOM: This is like if DesCartes were alive and writing for Redbook.
> "Marrissa, you have done a lot for your friends and the Federation,"
>Martin began.
MIKE: And left unending scars on those who opposed them.
MIKE: You crush more wills by 6 AM than most people do in a lifetime!
> "You've spent most of your life helping others
CROW: (sings as Tom Lehrer) Like the widows and cripples in Romulan
towns, who owe their large pensions to Marrissa von Braun!
> and never
>really taken the time get to know yourself.
MIKE: Huzzah! 20th century psychobabble lives!
TOM: Apparently, nothing has been written on this topic since Kahlil
Gilbran.
CROW: So, was it her destruction of endless Warbirds, or destroying the
psyches of endless officers that was helping?
> Perhaps it's time you did.
MIKE: It's time you embraced your inner witch!
TOM: Please say we don't get a scene of her..."getting to know herself."
CROW: Well, this one time, at band camp, she...oh, God...[retches]
>You've got enough leave time for your whole command crew, and even if you
>didn't, I'd make sure you took some.
MIKE: Careful, Martin, you're asking for the wrath of Marrissa...
TOM: Jeez, they throw her off the Enterprise, they throw her out of the
castle...
CROW: You'd think she'd get the hint by now.
> You've got a nanny who can watch over
>Sara, and Jay can stand some time alone as well.
MIKE: (Ris) Well whaddaya mean by *that* crack?
CROW: He can't even breathe without being told when to do so!
> Pack up that backpack of
>yours, and spend some time out in the wilderness, camping.
TOM: Breathe deep the gathering gloom!
> I've heard how
>you enjoyed it when you were younger, so I think it would be a good place
>for you to start."
> "If you think it will help," Marrissa said, tentatively.
CROW: (Martin) Hell no! But your hour's up.
TOM: (Martin) Actually, it won't. Instead, I recommend a vigorous
course of electroshock therapy to make those nasty wrinkles in
your brain all smooth.
> "It will help, but only as much as you let it," Martin said.
TOM: Now, the neo-Freudian movement says I must talk to you about penis
envy...
> "Just spend
>some quiet time thinking about your life. And after a couple days, we'll
>talk again."
MIKE: (Martin, under his breath) Damn it.
> "Okay."
>
CROW: "Okay"? What kind of end to a the scene is that?!
TOM: You get better closure in a Holyfield-Lewis fight!
MIKE: So, are we done with the lauds of Marrissa scene?
> "Are you sure this camping idea is a good one," Jay asked Martin
MIKE: She's gone, ain't she? Ante up. Where's that pizza we ordered?
> as they
>sat in the living room of Halifax Castle, sampling wine.
MIKE: Really roughing it, I see.
TOM: And sampling, and sampling...
CROW: I'm wondering if we should start a chapter of AA.
MIKE: Syntheholics Anonymous?
> "She needs time to get to know herself again, without all the
>responsibilities," Martin said.
CROW: Yes, 400 years in the future, psychiatrists are still full of
crap!
> She's been in a position of
>responsibility, putting others before herself, since she was twelve."
TOM: The way she selflessly traveled through time to write a speeding
ticket... it's almost like Gandhi, really!
> "A little before that," Jay said. "You forgot that first command."
MIKE: No we haven't, despite our best efforts that shower will always burn
in my mind like a brand. And they think MARRISSA needs a mental
work-up.
> "Oh yes, the famous first Kid's Crew mission," Martin said.
MIKE: Hell never was the same after it froze over like that.
> "By the way,
>I never found out how you met Marrissa."
TOM: This has the potential of being kind of interesting, or really sad.
> "It's actually rather embarrassing," Jay said.
CROW: But so are the rest of Jay's memories.
> "Oh really," Martin said.
CROW: (Jay) She... used a phaser to shoot "I WAS P-WHIPPED BY A
TWELVE-YEAR OLD GIRL" on my tuckus.
> "But I guess you'll keep prying until you find out about it," Jay said.
MIKE: Prying about what...oh, are you still talking about that?
TOM: I guess you'll just keep saying "Oh really" until the story rusts
from disuse.
> "Most certainly, it's my duty as Ship's Counselor," Martin said.
TOM: What, to pry into embarrassing memories that others might not want to
bring up?
CROW: (Jay) I'd be more agreeable to this if you had a lot more
barely-contained cleavage like certain other Ship's Counselors...
> "Well, I was five, almost six, and Marrissa had just turned seven at the
>time," Jay began.
TOM: (Martin) Yes, but IQs don't count.
MIKE: It was eight minutes to nine, I'd finished ten months at
Leavenworth.
CROW: At least it wasn't when he was sixteen, going on seventeen.
>
> The Enterprise was new to me,
CROW: (Martin) Um... should I be calling you Ishmael, or something?
> and I was out exploring the deck near my
>families quarters.
TOM: Turns out it was stacked against me, giving a glimpse of my future
marriage!
> Marrissa lived on the deck above, and was going around
>the corner.
MIKE: Which explains why she's so far around the bend.
> Her father called for her to come back and clean her room.
TOM: But she realized that he was a foolish grown-up that she could crush.
CROW: He was a pile of smoking ash shortly after.
>She looked back, said no, and stepped into an open access hatch, falling
>down to my floor.
[All snicker.]
TOM: (Riker) Ha! And they all laughed when I dug a boar pit on
Deck Nine! Data! Get the spit ready!
CROW: [Jay] Had I known what the next years of my life would be like, I would
have left her there...
> Normally, you'd expect her to get some injuries from
>this fall.
CROW: Normally you'd expect OSHA to shut down Starfleet like a bad
memory!
MIKE: Isn't this the plot to "If Lucy Fell"?
> She did, but I got more. You see, I was directly below the
>access hatch when she fell.
TOM: (sarcastic shock) You don't say!
CROW: I guess it's true. It takes a village to maim a child.
> I got knocked to the floor as she landed on
>me, breaking my leg.
MIKE: Thus marking the first time he was subjugated by her. Not the last by
far, though.
> Marrissa was horrified that she hurt me.
MIKE: Quickfire! GO!
CROW: She was saving my death for later.
TOM: She hadn't yet learned what fun it could be.
MIKE: I could tell from the hitch in her laughter when she pointed
at me!
> She picked me up and rushed me
>to sickbay. No easy task since at the time I was fifty pounds to her
>forty-one, Marrissa always was on the short side.
ALL: (sing) WONDER WO-MAAAAN!
CROW: And so early on Marrissa's super-inhuman abilities were displayed,
setting a course for the rest of her life. And now you know...
The rest of the story.
> When she got there,
MIKE: The sickbay was bare.
CROW: And little Jay got some.
[Mike begins to protest, but comes up with only dry heaves.]
> she
>insisted that they care for me before she would let them look at her.
TOM: Marrissa is like a fireproof Joan of Arc who won't shut up.
>After treating my leg, they checked her, and determined that she had
>carried me half way around the ship with a broken arm.
CROW: That's what she says when I ask her to do the dishes, anyway.
TOM: All right, Stephen, but we're beginning to cross the line again, could
we back this thing up and start over? Or at least let you carry 125%
of your weight with a broken arm...
> While we spent the next four hours in Sickbay, we began to get to know
>each other.
MIKE: A thought that we would all live better lives without.
CROW: (Ris) What? Five years old and not an officer yet? Slug-a-bed!
Slacker!
> Meanwhile, Doctor Crusher went to find out who left the hatch
>open.
CROW: They were distinctly told to leave an AIRLOCK open to catch Jay.
TOM: Turns out it was Tyson Chicken, so nothing was done.
> When I got home, my father told me that the Ensign who had left the
>hatch open
CROW: ...was given a big party with magic clowns and ice cream cake!
> had a cataloging job to do in Sickbay, so I guess he was well
>punished.
TOM: [Zoot] Yes, we shall all get a good spanking, then after the spanking--
MIKE: The moral sects! Don't think I'm going to let you get away with that one.
CROW: Actually, he was forced to read Ratliff fanfics for a fortnight.
TOM: AAUGH! That's cruel!
> I was surprised that Marrissa spent the week grounded.
CROW: Cause she's always been a bit of a live wire.
MIKE: She could've made good money in the ship's arm wrestling contest.
> She
>later confided to me that it was probably a good thing,
TOM: It established her alibi.
> but at the time,
>well she wasn't very happy about it.
MIKE: And soon after her parents died. Coincidence?
>
> "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."
TOM: And, unfortunately, we all knew he was going to say it.
CROW: I can also say she crushed my body before starting to work on my
spirit.
MIKE: I can also say my entire life is a *LIE!* I'm not a captain, I'm
a *dancer!* And it's all Marrissa's fault! Death to the
strawberry-haired one!
>
>
>Chapter Five
>
> Marrissa stood on the top of
TOM: Jay's neck.
CROW: (sings Daria theme} La-la-LA-la-la...
> Mount Hilary.
CROW: RIIIII-COOOOO-LAAAAA!
MIKE: Oh, good to see Stephen's Clinton fixation progressing nicely.
> She had always wanted to climb
TOM: Jay's neck.
CROW: (sings} La-la-LA-la-la...
>this mountain near Londonderry, but never really had the time.
MIKE: And, before now, it wasn't there.
CROW: So she sent wave after wave of bombers to raze it to the ground!
> It was
>known for it's view of
TOM: Jay's neck.
CROW: (sings} La-la-LA-la--
MIKE: ENOUGH ALREADY!
> the Capital and now, the Star Fleet Fighter Training
>School.
TOM: Formally the Uncle Squiggleman Day Care Center.
> The new palace, with it's purple glass dome was easy to pick out
>from the city.
CROW: It was well within distance of a good mortar shot.
TOM: Cause be damned if Marrissa is going to be subtle.
MIKE: Just look for the hideous eyesore surrounded by rag-clad serfs
throwing rocks at it.
> Here she was, up on top of a mountain,
CROW: All covered with cheese.
> and she didn't know who she was.
TOM: (Marrissa, looking down) Wow. Look at all the little people
whose asses I own.
>But then again many mountain climbers didn't know that.
MIKE: Like Sir Edmund What's-his-face, and that other guy, with the
beard.
> It was a long
>standing tradition on many worlds for a person to climb a mountain to find
>themselves.
CROW: Your dumb, clueless worlds, mostly.
MIKE: Most mountains are equipped with "You Are Here" signs on the peak.
>Marrissa sat on top of the mountain, and began to think.
> Who was she?
CROW: [Singing] She's a bitch, she's a lover, she's a child, she's a mother.
MIKE: Definately, unfortunately, too much so, and we all feel sorry for Sara.
> Was she a Star Fleet Officer? Was she a princess? Was she
>a wife?
MIKE: Was she a lonely goat herd, lay-de-oh-de-lay-de-oh-de-lay,
hee-ho?
> Was she a mother? Yes she was all of those,
TOM: (announcer) Plus the Mega-Fit fat burning tablets, and your own
personalized menu plan! All for just twelve easy payments of
$49.99!
> but without those
>titles, those jobs, those responsibilities, Who was she?
MIKE: (pouting hands on hips) Who does she think she is?
> The purple glass dome of the Palace caught her attention again.
TOM: And the rioters around it.
CROW: Man. When they let Royal Crown Margarine sponsor the new
palace, they should've kept more say in the final design.
> She was
>heir to this planet,
MIKE: Oh! So that whole "This Land Is Your Land" crap I was
force-fed in grade school? That was all just a lie?
> one thing that she hadn't had any chance to get out
>of.
CROW: And the suicide rate doubles on Essex.
TOM: (booming) Marrissa! This is God! You're starting to bum
me out! Do something!
> After all, you had to be born a princess.
CROW: Um... no. Grace Kelly? Remember?
> Hopefully, Queen Victoria's
>upcoming marriage would be a fruitful one,
MIKE: She could do with a good peach.
> and she wouldn't have the
>possibility of ascending the throne hanging over her head for much longer.
CROW: Yeah, well, this is a universe run by Stephen Ratliff,
remember?
TOM: Mike? Is there another water elemental lurking in a
thicket somewhere, ready to leap out and help Rissa find herself
by shootin' it?
MIKE: I sense the different drummer to which Steve marches rat-a-tat-
tatting in the distance.
> Being a Princess wasn't something that she could change,
TOM: But it is something that Ratliff can beat us over the head with.
> and Marrissa
>didn't think it really defined her. After all, she just used the title,
>once, twice, maybe three times a year.
TOM: Four if that bitch Leia was in town, horning in on her franchise.
MIKE: Other times, her other title, Lord High Galactic Dictator, was
sufficient for most tasks.
CROW: Once, twice, three times the crap fic...
> Now, a Star Fleet Officer, that she'd been since she was twelve.
MIKE: Which I feel must have been a clerical error.
> At first
>the position had been a way of following in both her biological and adopted
>parents footsteps.
MIKE: (sarcasm) Sure, blame the parents, why don't you?
> Then she found that she enjoyed the job.
TOM: She found she could destroy others, which is fun.
> Oh it was a lot of work, but it was interesting.
CROW: Wow, check out the colored smoke those Tracke give off when
they vaporize!
> There was always
>something new and different going on.
CROW: Floggings being her favorite.
> When things got boring, Marrissa
>had, in the past,
TOM: ...flew her ship into the Romulan Neutral Zone, and fired her
phasers in random directions while calling out 'You're all a
bunch of WUSSIES!' over sub-space radio.
> just asked for another assignment, working toward her
>goal of becoming Captain of the Enterprise.
TOM: As if there were any other starships in the fleet.
MIKE: And the moral: If life gives you lemons, whine until you can crush
several people under your fist.
> When she found piloting
>starships lacking challenge,
MIKE: She tried drinking worm spit in the desert with Paul Atreides.
TOM: Or played chicken with passing freighters.
> she applied for the post of Chief of Security.
TOM: When she had arrested everyone, she appointed herself CinC
>Marrissa was sure her father was going to have a fit when she somehow
>managed to get the post.
MIKE: So she had him stuffed and mounted in a corner.
> How she got the post was still a mystery to her.
MIKE: (extending an open hand) Shall we?
TOM: (sighing) I'm so, so tired, Mike.
CROW: Two words: Large bribes.
>Then there was the post as Fighter Commander.
CROW: Let me guess, she had a record time on Wing Commander, so she got
the post by default.
> That had been Marrissa's
>favorite post until she got command of a starship.
CROW: Look, we didn't buy any of this the first time around!
Flashbacks aren't helping!
TOM: Is it really such a good tactic to keep job jumping like this? Isn't
that what landed you here, Mike?
MIKE: Marrissa, Space Temp!
> Piloting, tactics, and
>command, it had everything.
TOM: (booming) Camping! In the *future*!
[Crows snickers.]
> Now she was Captain, USS Enterprise, she'd met
>her goal.
TOM: [sings] High flying, adored...
CROW: So can she go away now?
>But what was there left as a Star Fleet Officer?
MIKE: Well... you could reprogram the replicators so that "Tea, Earl
Grey, Hot" makes it spray battery acid in your face.
> Marrissa was
>fairly confident that she could hold the Captaincy of the Enterprise as
>long as she was fit to do so, but did she want to?
CROW: (impatient) Yeah, yeah. Look, is there some *other* mountain we
could go to? One where the introspective megalomaniac population
isn't so damn thick?
TOM: Give her a toy, she plays with it 15 minutes, throws it away, and
starts crying for another one.
> She certainly didn't
>want to take a desk job.
TOM: What if her job were to bore the desk?
> Her two months in command of Star Fleet, and the
>last three months as Military Governor of Romulus had taught her that.
TOM: She wasn't satisfied with power?
CROW: (hopeful) Romulans! Romulan spies could be hiding in the
bushes, ready to jump out and SNATCH HER!
MIKE: (putting hand on Crow's shoulder) Crow, Crow, Crow...
>That was a job she was going to do everything in her power to finish quickly.
TOM: Oh-ho, Ratliff should be slapped for even *thinking* about the
phrase "finish quickly".
> Like it or not, she was now a mother.
MIKE: Our words exactly.
> Sara had not been planned.
MIKE: Which meant she loved her less.
> But
>Marrissa hadn't chosen to prevent herself from becoming pregnant either.
TOM: Trojan MA-A-A-AN!
CROW: If only there were a "morning after" pill for reading "A
Gul's Revenge".
>She'd never really thought about it before, but she wanted to have children
>with Jay.
CROW: But when she learned what it would entail...
> If for no other reason than to have something to remember him by
>if Jay were to fall in the line of duty.
MIKE: That goes a bit beyond morbid.
TOM: You know, just in case, hint hint, nudge nudge.
TOM: Ah, yes, what child doesn't long to be considered a souvenir!
> No doubt about it, Star Fleet
>Duty was hazardous,
MIKE: Best left in the hands of teenagers!
>and of the posts in the Command Staff of an exploring
>Starship, only Chief of Security had a higher death rate than Jay's post of
>First Officer.
CROW: What about random security guards?
TOM: Jay should really be worried she knows these stats!
CROW: Please! *Cobblers* have a higher death rate than Star Trek
officers!
TOM: Yeah, in twenty years, we got, what? Bre'r Tasha?
> Was that enough reason to have a child, and was it her only reason?
MIKE: Is this just Ratliff using a stream of consciousness to flesh out
his characters? And shouldn't he be doing so BEFORE writing
something?
>Marrissa didn't think that having a child as a remembrance was a good
>reason to have children.
TOM: (Marrissa) All right, kill her!
> She loved Sara.
MIKE: Broiled, baked, or even fried!
CROW: (looking at Mike) And you think *I'm* bad...
> When Marrissa picked up her
>little baby girl she felt a wave contentment descend on her. She found
>great joy in doing the simple things necessary to take care of her baby.
CROW: Though she enjoyed the breast feeding a bit *too* much...
MIKE: I just picture all the woodland creatures of the forest, jumpin'
off cliffs, tryin' to jam rocks in their ears...
>Okay, she didn't like changing diapers, but she didn't like mediating and
>she took on that duty as a Captain enough times.
MIKE: And she definitely doesn't like changing the diapers of fighting
diplomats.
TOM: (impatient) Look, Star Fleet is *not* an allegory for life,
OK?! If the kid's hungry, you can't spout some technodrivel,
wave a tricorder at it and make it go away!
> Sara was not going to be an only child if Marrissa had anything to say
>about it.
TOM: Would it be bad to take extreme pleasure of the though of her barefoot
and pregnant in the kitchen?
CROW: Sara was not going to be *only a child* if Marrissa had anything
to say about it!
> Marrissa wished she had another sibling,
MIKE: But... she does.
> someone to share the
>good and bad things that had happened to her with.
CROW: Someone to share the good things with, and blame the bad things on.
TOM: Um, Stephen? Remember? Jackie? Name ring a bell?
> She felt that no one
>could know what it felt like to lose their parents like she had.
MIKE: What with her being the first orphan in the history of the galaxy.
> A little
>brother or sister would have.
CROW: --thrown their body in the path of the bullet and saved them!
TOM: So she knows the terrible agony of losing her parents at a young
age, and wants a sibling to go through the same thing for the sake
of sharing her pain? Wow. That's BEYOND evil, even for her.
> Marrissa looked forward to when Sara got older.
MIKE: (sigh) This mountain has crumbled into the sea by now.
CROW: Plate tectonics have pushed this mountain clear to another
continent, by now.
> There was a lot she'd
>like to share with her daughter.
TOM: But feared that she would rise up by the time she was 8 to take over
the universe.
> Marrissa really hadn't had a Mom since
>hers had died before her twelfth birthday,
TOM: (sings) "M" is for the massacre she di-i-i-ied in!
> but the memories of those times
>still loomed large. The make-up lessons, the discussions of what she'd
>done in school,
CROW: The target practice at the NRA rifle range...
> and learning how to cook,
MIKE: (Ris) Mom? Insubordinate underlings go in the oven for what,
ten minutes a pound?
> it all brought memories that
>Marrissa wanted to share with her own children someday.
CROW: That's nice. Are we almost done with this damned development?
> Of course, Marrissa wanted to be able to do this with Jay.
TOM: What, make-up lessons?
> Clara had
>expected her to marry Jay for a long time. Jay had always been there for
>her, and she'd tried to return the favor.
CROW: You see folks, marriage works best when all that passion stuff is
chucked out the door like a rancid meatloaf!
MIKE: Crow? You're just encouraging Steve to write more sex scenes.
CROW: Oh. Um, never mind, America! Be dull bored and placid! As you
were!
> However, Marrissa seemed to need
>Jay more than Jay needed Marrissa.
MIKE: Sad when Ratliff can't keep his *own* characterizations straight.
> That had been one of the reasons that
>Marrissa occasionally pushed Jay away.
CROW: That, and she just wants to push him around, so she does, so she does.
TOM: Plus, he stands in front of open access hatches so often!
> She had felt that she wasn't giving
>back enough into the relationship. Jay felt otherwise.
MIKE: Suffocated, if you will. But she didn't care what Jay felt.
> When Marrissa had problems with her replacement as Fighter Commander,
CROW: (Ris) No! You *can't* stick a "Tickle Me Elmo" doll in the
cockpit and have it fly the plane! I explained this!
> Jay
>had been there to listen.
TOM: Or to glaze over and nod.
> Jay helped her through her guilt when Jackie had
>nearly died as a result of the vanilla ice cream Marrissa had given her.
MIKE: Next time, try not cramming the entire carton down her throat
at once.
CROW: Could you imagine the tombstone for that one?
TOM: To say nothing of the Vanilla Ice records she made her listen to!
>The only thing she had helped Jay with was when his parents had died.
CROW: She was right there holding the plug.
TOM: She helped him dance on their graves.
MIKE: Jay has such wimpy tragedies.
>Somehow that didn't compare with all the things he'd done What Marrissa
>had done to deserve such a nice guy like Jay, she didn't know.
TOM: You know, some people count their blessings when there is a lack of
tragedy in their lives. Leave it to Marrissa to make it a competition.
ALL: (sing) Karma Karma Karma Karma Chameleon! You come and go!
You come and...
> A cold breeze ruffled Marrissa's hair, and her stomach growled with
>hunger. It was time to go back to her camp.
CROW: (confused) Camp? What the-?
MIKE: Remember, about twenty pages ago? That mannequin playing
Counselor Troi sent her camping?
TOM: Um, was that because the broken gargoyle's friend attacked
that interstellar Perkin's where Sarah Conner was waitressing?
MIKE: Um... I guess. Maybe.
> She took one last look at the
>view, then descended from the mountain peak.
TOM: (sings, vindictive) Val-de-JEEEEZ! Val-de-BOOORED!
Val-de-CRUUUUD! Val-de-*SUCK-SUCK-SUCK-SUCK-SUCK-SUCK!*
MIKE: OK, Tom. We know. Calm down.
CROW: Can we actually have some plot now?
>
> Jay Gordon was walking along the shore.
CROW: Guess not.
> The red sand beach was unique in
>his experience.
CROW: It was built on a medical waste disposal site to save time.
> It was the exact color of the panties that Marrissa always
>wore.
MIKE: So he decided to take a Different Path down the beach this night.
TOM: (polite) After you?
CROW: (same) Oh, after you.
MIKE: Together then.
ALL: (cry) *AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!*
> He missed Marrissa.
MIKE: Like a malignant genetic disease!
> She'd always been in his life.
CROW: Or, at least her panties, anyway...
TOM: She's been gone what, an hour? Get over it, man!
> Back when they
>first met, she had made quite an impression.
ALL: *Literally!*
CROW: Wha wha wha whaaaaaaaaaa.
> He had a broken leg as a
>result of her unexpected drop in on him, and she a broken arm.
TOM: This Ratliff Backstory Update brought to you by Xerox! When you
need to say something over, and over, and over again!
> Still, she
>had stopped by every day, walking nearly the whole width of the saucer
>section to find out how he was doing.
MIKE: So he never recognized the classic signs of a stalker?
> It was an example that Jay had tried
>to follow.
CROW: Every morning he looked in the mirror and asked, "How can I be
more annoying?"
> Marrissa had been there for him, and he wanted to be able to do
>the same.
TOM: Oh great, more character descriptions...
> Then Marrissa introduced him to the joys of
ALL: (Much coughing and "ahem"-ing)
> command.
MIKE: Like the Joy of Sex, but with shouting!
> Okay, duties of
>command, not all of them were joys.
CROW: Only the parts that let her boss around others.
> He found that he had a genuine ability
>for organization and tactics.
TOM: And ice dancing, for some reason.
> good as Marrissa, but not everyone
>could be perfect.
MIKE: Sure she can, least she has been thus far.
CROW: (mocking, pursing lips) Oh, nah evwymun comma *perfect*!
> It was not until about a month after Marrissa's parents had died that he
>learnt how far from perfection Marrissa was.
MIKE: I'm not convinced "learn" and "burn" are conjugated the same way.
> The science fair had been one
>of the areas that he and Marrissa had constantly been tops in.
TOM: Ah, yes, the science fair! The seminal moment in every kid's
development!
> He had won
>the contest five times,
CROW: Wait- isn't he ten? Did he win one in kindergarten or something?
MIKE: Well... maybe he split the booger atom, or found a cure for
cooties.
> and Marrissa four.
TOM: And he was thus slated early on as part of Marrissa's "List," and
only got himself off through the marriage.
> But then again she had only
>entered it four times. They weren't in the same division, the fourteen
>months between them usually assured them of that.
CROW: Else there would be bloodshed.
> That time had been
>Marrissa's last entry, and his third.
TOM: Jeez, ya need a degree in advanced calculus just to follow the
timeline of this piffle!
> Marrissa had a rather good project
>on subspace strings,
MIKE: (Ris) And here is my Theory of Everything. It revolves
around *me!*
> and won rather easily.
MIKE: I always entered beginning nuclear theory for my science fairs.
> Until Captain Picard had
>called Marrissa daughter, Jay had never seen Marrissa cry.
TOM: Dead parents she can take in stride, mind you.
CROW: (confused) What, at the fair? Why- (gives up) aw, hell.
Why do I even ask anymore?
TOM: Steve fell down an access hatch into another train of thought.
> She had broken
>down and cried in the Captain's gentle yet inexperienced embrace.
CROW: Gentle yet inexperienced...fanfic cliché #83.
MIKE: (Picard) Good work, Broccoli! I mean, Barkley! I mean,
minor kid character I never thought I'd see again!
> He felt
>real compassion for his friend, and tried to be there for her. Jay had
>talked with Counselor Troi about Marrissa.
TOM: How she followed him... tracked his every move... put slips of paper
labeled "poison" in his sandwiches...
MIKE: Troi agreed that she must be stopped, at which time Marrissa arranged
to have the saucer crash under her piloting, discrediting her for life
in the Marrissaverse.
> He'd followed her advice,
>trying to keep Marrissa involved, though her relentless organization and
>drilling the Kid's crew
CROW: Her "I wanna be a dentist" phase was not a happy chapter for
anyone.
> though that period was driving his other friends
>insane.
TOM: Which says what about Marrissa herself?
> It wasn't until the Captain took Marrissa to Earth for that
>vacation that she began to recover.
MIKE: She'd discovered booze and horse racing... the two friends who'd
never, ever leave her.
> Marrissa had come back from that trip with her ensign's pip,
CROW: And the ensign's head, too.
TOM: She'd cut it off when he got too fresh.
> and probably
>set her whole command crew's careers in motion with that one choice.
MIKE: I notice the lack of adjectives with "choice."
> Jay
>wasn't complaining about that.
CROW: Aloud, anyway.
> Star Fleet had brought him many things he
>wouldn't have gotten otherwise.
CROW: The chance to be assimilated, for one.
MIKE: Also string, and one of those funny birds that bobs its head like
it's drinking?
> True, he was now a twenty-three year old
>Star Fleet Captain,
TOM: Washed up and over-the-hill.
> not a usual path, but he could say that he had no
>regrets in his career to date.
MIKE: Though a large amount of dates in his career to regret.
CROW: Except for that stint pickin' football games on Fox... man,
that was dumb!
> Even that six month stint in the Judge
>Advocate General's Office had been good for his career, though some hadn't
>liked dealing with a thirteen-fourteen year old Chief Investigating
>Officer.
MIKE: ..who kept asking if the spy from the planet Kruludex didn't
have the dreamiest eyes.
TOM: I always get freaked out by lawyers aged over a millenium.
> It gave Jay new insight on Marrissa's time as Chief of Security,
>the one post of hers that he hadn't had.
> In some ways, Jay had followed in Marrissa's footsteps.
TOM: But in most ways, she carried him.
> The only real
>difference in their posts was that when he was a Lieutenant, he'd been
>Chief of Operations, and Marrissa had been Chief of Security.
CROW: Can we stop recapping every single previous Marrissa story?
MIKE: Stephen's hybridized his introduction scenes with the repetition
of facts from previous stories, then added his rich love of titles!
It's an entirely new kind of unreadable scene!
CROW: Hey, you're right, Mike! I dub this new form- *backboredom*!
> But then,
>Marrissa's parents had been Security Officers, and Jay's father had been
>his predecessor in Operations.
TOM: (cockney) But then, ah, African swallows are non-migratory.
CROW: (same) Oh, yah, I agree on that.
> Jay didn't mind following in Marrissa's
>path.
MIKE: As long as he didn't have to read about it!
>Once he had decided to pursue Marrissa romantically back when they
>were on the Stargazer, he knew that one of them would have to out rank the
>other,
TOM: So he bought some soap.
CROW: And Marrissa was clearly the rankest.
> and in addition to having a earlier start, Marrissa was just plain
>more talented.
TOM: Knave! Marrissa is plain at *nothing*! Begone!
> Marrissa had never said that, though, and always asked
>Jay's opinion in meetings.
MIKE: Marrissa is always one for a good laugh.
CROW: Which the crew came to call "Great Moments in Patronizing
History"!
> Marrissa tried to share as many of the burdens of command that she could,
CROW: The ones involving the garbage, mostly.
>and as a result, Jay had learnt quite a bit about being Captain.
CROW: And when he graduated, Marrissa gave him a iron glove of his own.
MIKE: Like when you're captured by the enemy, just say you're the boss
and people'll do what you tell'em to!
> Once
>Marrissa had returned from maternity leave, he'd been offered his own
>command.
TOM: Of the diaper patrol.
> But she was his life, there was no way he was going to leave her.
TOM: Thus Jay's first error.
>Plus, they were a family now.
CROW: Oh, stay together because of the kids. That always works!
> Little Sara had been an unexpected surprise.
MIKE: And they don't seem bashful saying so.
CROW: It'll be part of future introduction scenes. "I'm Marissa
Picard, this is my husband Jay, and my daughter Sara we didn't
really want."
TOM: Who'd have ever thought that having sex would lead to kids?
> Not that it made her any
>less welcome. Jay remembered the first time he'd held his daughter.
CROW: So can Woody Allen.
TOM: The first time he'd ripped Sara free of Marrissa's grasp before
she could devour her... good memories!
> She
>seemed so fragile and small. And when Marrissa held her daughter, her
>entire being changed.
MIKE: She became a blowfish of some sort.
> She no longer wore the mask of command that Jay had
>only occasionally got her to drop.
TOM: Though she did insist people wear ribbons in their hair to display
their rank.
> It was as if her whole being centered
>on the little girl in her arms. Sometimes he found it amusing when
>Marrissa talked in baby talk to her little girl.
MIKE: But when she did it with dignitaries, it was just upsetting.
CROW: (Ris, playful) Capital gains *shouldn't* be taxed! All income
should be levied at the *same* rate! Yes it should! Yes it should!
> Here was the woman who
>negotiated with leaders, defeated vast fleets of enemy starships,
TOM: (Jay) Rocked me like a hurricane...
> and ran a
>tight starship, talking nonsense to the little girl sucking on her breasts.
CROW: Oh, yes Ratliff, THANK you for slipping that little bit in there!
MIKE: Put those chicken breasts down, young lady! You're not ready
for solid food!
> But then again, Marrissa was almost a different person when she was off
>duty.
TOM: Thanks to the sentinent, symbiotic parasite that lived at the
base of her skull.
> Back when they were dating, Marrissa always let Jay take the lead.
MIKE: (Ris) Oh, Jay, you're so BUTCH!
TOM: No, can't say I remember that scene.
CROW: Oh. Pity dates. You know about those, right Mike?
MIKE: Oh, yeah. Too well.
>It had surprised him a first. But he quickly realized that Marrissa had a
>need to be pampered and protected.
TOM: Spoiled. Venerated. Deified.
CROW: I swear this can't be the same Marrissa.
> As Captain, she tried to hide that
>need.
CROW: (grandly) The need for speed!
> After all, she was in charge.
MIKE: Like Alexander Haig?
> But in that first five year mission
>on the Endeavor, Jay began to notice how a simple thing like taking
>Marrissa out for dinner could remove her from the pressures of command and
>allow her to recover from them.
CROW: And we don't need to hear the kind of emergency that would require
bedding Marrissa.
TOM: (Ris) Ah, yes, the plucked hen looks luscious tonight.
> And when he protected her, charging into
>battle, there was no person more grateful.
MIKE: No person *was* grateful! Stop pretending!
> Back when they were children on
>the Enterprise-D, Marrissa was always the person to chose the program on
>the holodeck.
TOM: Any chance to improve that Kobiyashi Maru time.
TOM: Oh, no, she chose a program of diet and exercise with "Sweatin'
to the Oldies Volume 6"!
> Now, she rarely did. As long as it was fun, Marrissa was
>eager to try whatever Jay suggested.
MIKE: I don't really like this implication...
> That Forbidden City Concubine program
>had been especially well received during the first couple months of their
>marriage.
ALL: Ewwwww!
MIKE: I bet Jay looked lousy in a kimono.
CROW: Was Stephen's course in character development taught by
Jacqueline Suzanne?
> Jay heard the bells from the chapel. It was time to get back. Alexander,
>Martin, Patterson and Doctor Johnson were coming over for poker tonight.
CROW: Oh, thank goodness that's over!
MIKE: (Ris) Now where did I put those marked decks and
exploding chips?
TOM: Time to take a break...
[1...2...3...4...5...6...7]
[OPEN ON: SOL Bridge. Tom and Crow are talking amongst themselves.
Tom has a canoe on his head a la the "portage" sketch in the
Invasion of the Body Snatchers episode. Crow has camouflage
fatigues on, an orange safety vest, and a fisherman's hat with
lures festooned upon. Mike strides in coolly, gesturing with
his fingers a lot.]
MIKE: Hey, hey hey, homies! Whattup?
[Crow and Tom look at him in silence. Mike is cowed.]
MIKE: (apologetic) Fox was running a "Martin" marathon.
CROW: Oh. Well, Michael, Servo and I were so inspired by the
story today, we've decided to get back to nature!
MIKE: Ah! Great. I love camping.
TOM: Oh, not just camping Mike! We're going- (his voice deepens,
and seems to have an echo effect) Camping! In the *future*!
[A soft gong crashes. Mike whirls, darting his head to find the
source of the noise. Once Crow starts talking he gives up and
returns his attention to the bots.]
CROW: Thanks to our Official Starfleet Camping Kits-
[PAN back a bit to reveal a large backpack with the words "Official
Starfleet Camping Kit", and Star Trek insignia.]
CROW: ...which we ordered through the Sharper Image catalogue for a mere
$899.95, we are now able to partake of the unique opportunities for
self-actualization afforded by (same echo effect) Camping!
In the *future*!
[Gong sounds again.]
MIKE: (rummages through backpack) Hm, let's see, what kinda high-tech
gadgetry we got here... we got... (pulls out a pill bottle) some
Prozac... (several books) the collected works of Marianne Williamson...
(a small round device with an ugly bearded man's picture on it)
an Official Robert Bork moral compass... and- oh! (a piece of paper)
a gift certificate for one free regression therapy session at a
participating Liz Arden.
CROW: Already I begin to question the nature of my identity!
TOM: Me too. Is it enough to be Tom Servo, the golden voiced Bertrand Russell
of his generation? Future Pulitzer prize-winning theater critic?
The robot equivalent of Albert Schweitzer? Is that really *me*?
MIKE: Well... no.
CROW: It's all part of the moody introspection that is- (pauses)
MIKE: (nodding, resigned) Camping in the future.
TOM: (deep voice, echo) Camping!
MIKE: (impatient) In the future!
TOM: *In the future!*
[Gong.]
MIKE: Guys, not to question the quality of such fine, fine corporate
entities as Star Fleet and Sharper Image, but did this thing come
with anything resembling... oh, maybe, sleeping bags? Canteens?
A tent?
CROW: (confused) Huh? Tent? What?
MIKE: You know, things with which you might set up an actual *camp*.
It's what separates camping from hanging around in the woods
waiting to die.
TOM: Oh, such "real-world" accoutrements might have been fine for the
"layman" camper of the past, Mike! But they can't change the fact
that... that....
[Crow and Tom look at each other warily for a beat.]
CROW: (softly whimpering) Um... we're cold an' hungry an' the crickets
sound like monsters an' I think we're kinda lost a little bit.
TOM: (suddenly bursts into inconsolable grief) Oh-ho-ho! I'm gonna die!
And I still don't know if my mother loved me!
CROW: (joining the cry) The shame!
TOM: The indignity!
CROW: Of camping!
TOM: (crying) In the future!
[Gong. Tom and Crow go into full wail.]
MIKE: (to Cambot) I'm gonna need a moment with my little Brownie troop
here, but we'll be right back. (to Crow, comforting) It's OK,
sweetie! You're not lost! Here, here's your Official Robert
Bork compass, what does it say?
CROW: (sniffles, reads compass Mike is holding up for him) Um... "Slouching Towards Gomorrah".
MIKE: See? Gomorrah's nice! Good shopping, close to the interstate!
[CUT TO: Logo, commercials]
[Everyone files into the theater.]
MIKE: Jeez. I thought the Blair Witch kids snapped quickly.
CROW: Yeah, well, they weren't camping--
TOM: *In the future!*
[Gong sound again.]
>
>Chapter Six
>
> Marrissa dropped her backpack in the front hall. She'd walked all the way
>from Londonderry,
CROW: Via Habbleshire, Blumberton, and Whipplecob Dell!
> a good seven miles.
MIKE: Speaking of rank.
> Her three days on Mount Hilary had
>been rather relaxing.
TOM: (Ris) It was kinda dull, 'til I found that house with the seven
squirts to boss around.
> She had decided a lot of things up in the clear
>mountain air, and had lots of things she had to do as a result.
MIKE: (Ris) OK! Step One: Develop ability to photosynthesize my own
nutrients.
> However,
>there was only one thing she wanted to do now.
ALL: *SALSA!*
> There was this lovely hot
>tub out on the terrace near the living room, and she was going to spend the
>rest of the day in it.
TOM: (child) She was gonna put the cushions from the couch over
it an' make it her own private fort!
> She headed towards the terrace, after taking off
>her boots and socks. As she walked, she stripped out of her clothes.
MIKE: Oh. See, this is good, because it's been about ten minutes
since I wanted to pry my eyes out of their sockets with my
own housekeys.
>After all, this was her house, and if Jay saw her nude, maybe he'd be
>willing to give her one of those massages that he was so good at.
CROW: And if the help saw her, maybe their brains would melt out
their ears. That'd be cool.
> And if
>that lead to something else, so be it.
TOM: Oh no, please DON'T be it!
> "Going somewhere, Mara?" Jay said as she stepped on to the terrace. She
>was down to her panties, her small, red, lace, panties.
MIKE: Causing Mike pain. Intense, psychological, scarring pain.
TOM: She wore that camping, huh? Probably makes Jay feel *real*
secure!
CROW: (Ris) Um, honey? Martin says I have to spend seven nights
grocery shopping in Vegas. Where's my leopard-skin bikini?
> "In to that hot tub to get some of the aches and pains out," Marrissa
>said, slowly removing her panties.
ALL: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
> "Mind if I join you?" Jay asked.
ALL: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!
> "I'd be disappointed if you didn't," Marrissa said.
TOM: Mike, it's no use, just disconnect me now.
CROW: Well! That's, what, our third Marrissa sex scene so far? Then I
think that settles it. God is dead.
MIKE: (laughing) God isn't dead, Crow.
CROW: Nope, sorry Mike! Can't deny it. God's dead, Ratliff killed
him. Simple as that. Don't argue. Don't even try.
> "I take it that you'll need the tender caresses of Gordon Massage Inc.,"
>Jay said,
TOM: (Jay) So I'll tell'em to come over. Say, sixish?
> stripping off the dark blue and green jumpsuit he'd been wearing.
MIKE: Oh, look, strip away the ugly old paint, there's a perfectly good
pasty white boy underneath.
TOM: Mike, Mike, I'm blind, I can't see!
> Marrissa spent some time admiring Jay's well developed muscles.
[All snicker.]
> She would
>have never guessed he would turn out like this when she first met him.
CROW: Though when she had him p-whipped in under a day...
CROW: This is Stephen looking in the mirror and dreaming, right?
MIKE: Perfectly logical inference, I'd say.
>Then again, he had been only five, and at just turned seven, she wasn't
>exactly looking at men that way yet.
TOM: He was younger, and didn't need to be crushed. Mentally, at least.
CROW: The way she looked at Troi, however...
> Marrissa lowered herself into the
>churning hot water. It felt so good. She could feel the aches and pains
>melt away. Jay took up a seat across from her.
MIKE: (Jay) Um... I can watch, right? I can watch you from like,
back here in the corner, and I won't touch you, or talk, or
even breathe!
> He began to massage her
>right leg. She moaned her approval.
MIKE: Do we really need moaning? Do we really need ANY of this?
CROW: You know, I heard the creators of the movie "Species" read this
story a couple of times and still couldn't create a sex scene half
as creepy?
TOM: Well... if you imagine the Jacuzzi as a big Cuisinart... and Jay's
slowly reaching towards "Pulse"... it's kinda engrossing, actually.
MIKE: Don't, Tom.
> "So, Marrissa, how was the trip?" Jay asked.
CROW: Fun reading, compared to where this is going.
> "Relaxing," Marrissa said. "I hiked all the way up to the top of Mount
>Hilary, and the view was wonderful.
TOM: But frigid.
> You can see everything from
>Londonderry to the Fighter School from there."
MIKE: So, two things. That's what you can see.
> "Whose idea was it to put up that school in black gothic stone?" Jay
>asked,
CROW: Anne Rice, maybe?
> switching legs
MIKE: Nice thing about being a former Borg is interchangable parts.
> "I've always wondered."
> "I understand the gothic air traffic control tower was Admiral Sinok's
>idea," Marrissa said.
TOM: It was also his idea to have pilots wear black pointy hats,
and cackle a lot.
> "Everything else followed that building. He's
>really big on having our bases look like they've been there forever.
TOM: In fact, he's done up himself to look like a giant oak tree.
MIKE: Hell, he should move'm to a public school!
CROW: I've never pictured the fleet as having much of a Goth movement.
> And
>you have to admit that it looks like it's been there longer than
>Londonderry does."
> "Marrissa, it looks like it's been there longer than London has been on
>Earth," Jay replied. "I'm sure that taking in the views wasn't all you did."
MIKE: Though details of the other things we do not need.
TOM: (Jay) Come on! You conquered another civilization, didn't
you? Hand it over!
> "No, I did lots of thinking, and even tried my hand at fishing," Marrissa
>said.
CROW: Tell me that's not a metaphor.
MIKE: (Ris) Groupers aren't very organized, are they? Eh. They'll learn.
> "I didn't catch anything though."
MIKE: Had a good kill ratio, though.
> "I've never done that before," Jay mused.
TOM: Who asked you?
CROW: (Jay) No, I've always caught the limit! Ha ha ha! That's one
thing I'm better at than you. So take that! Ha ha ha!
> "Come sit on my lap so I can do
>your back."
ALL: (crying) NO-HO-HOOOO!
TOM: Sit on my lap. That's subtle!
CROW: Man, I'm gonna need a shower after this bath!
MIKE: We've been in this bath for one page, and already my soul is
all prune-like and wrinkly.
> "Neither had I," Marrissa said, as Jay massaged her back.
TOM: (Ris) Oop! Jay, keep the Little Gordon off my private beach!
CROW: GAH! (gags)
> "When I was
>little, my dad did a little fishing when we went camping, but I was never
>really interested.
CROW: Ah! Stephen's beginning to incorporate criticisms of his
work into his writing!
MIKE: Literally.
> Too caught up in the horses, I think.
TOM: Yeah, he's into the bookies for 35 large. They'll be coming
after him shortly.
> Ahhh, that feels
>good."
CROW: Mike, please make this stop, I beg of you!
> "With all the practice I've gotten, I'd hope it felt good," Jay said.
TOM: (Jay) I have no needs. I exist to serve. I... am Jellyman!
> "Yeah, I did ask for one every night when I was in my last couple months
>carrying Sara," Marrissa remarked. "I probably should have gone up to
>check on her first."
CROW: But then we might have missed this whole scene!
MIKE: (Jay) Um, actually, we kinda traded her for a pizza last night?
It was weird; no one had anything smaller than a fifty.
> "Are you planning on going back to stressing yourself over every minute
>you miss with her?" Jay asked, worried.
MIKE: [Marrissa] No, I'm down to only every 5 minutes.
> "I know I can't be there every minute of the day," Marrissa said.
CROW: So I've designed this cool plastic bubble to keep her in.
> "It's
>just that I love taking care of her.
TOM: Or I assume, once I started, I could.
> When I hold her, I feel like I've
>done something right, something good, and nothing else matters."
TOM: Though a feeling that nothing else matters is nothing new to her.
MIKE: (Ris) I can even tolerate the creepy touch of your lizard-like
hands on my back!
> "It wasn't until that first time I saw you holding Sara to your breasts
>that I saw you really relax," Jay said.
CROW: And saw the readers tense and retch.
> "You aren't that different," Marrissa responded, sitting back against Jay.
> "I'd like to see what those Ensigns who call you 'Mr. Grueling'
CROW: Ah, Jay recruits from the "creatively-challenged" sector of Star Fleet.
MIKE: Jay the disciplinarian. Never seen him show up.
> would say
>when they see you playing with Sara. And I think you should be shot for
>using 'Achy Breaky Heart' to put her to sleep."
TOM: That image is either really funny, or really sad.
MIKE: Hell, ya need a reason? You're getting soft in your young adulthood, Ris.
> "It works," Jay defended, putting his arms around his wife.
> "I don't understand the appeal of the piece," Marrissa said.
MIKE: (Jay) You see, since apparently no new music has been written
in over 400 years, our choices are somewhat limited.
CROW: Glad to know that it's not just a contemporary thing that Cyrus goes
misunderstood.
> "Apparently, Sara does," Jay concluded.
MIKE: (Jay, more spoken than sung) Please break my wife...
my achy-breaky wife...
>
> Early the next morning,
MIKE: The audience cheered that they didn't have to be around for last night.
> Jay woke up Marrissa with a kiss. "Rise and shine."
CROW: A brand new plotless day stretches ahead of us!
> Marrissa took a look at the bedside clock. "It's 0600 hours. Let me go
>back to sleep." She turned over and pulled the covers over her head.
> Jay yanked off the covers.
TOM: He's a playful and imp-like scalliwag, he is.
> "Oh no you're not.
CROW: No, please, stop Jay.
> If I have to get up to get
>ready for that damned Most High and Noble Order of the Heroic Defenders of
>Essex,
ALL: (dully) Heir to the throne of Sobnia, Supervising Empress of
the Kid's Crew program...
> you are going to join me.
CROW: (Jay) Panties or no panties, you're going!
MIKE: Eww! That's an image I did _not_ need!
> Besides, I need help to get into that
>ridiculous armor that you insist that I wear for it."
TOM: (Jay) Can I do a couple of tequila shooters first?
MIKE: Could be worse, could be a kilt.
> "It happens to be an exact replica of Henry VII's formal armor." Marrissa
>said,
CROW: Right down to the rotten tomato stains from his meetings with
the peasants.
> giving up trying to sleep and going to her closet. "And stop adding
>descriptions to the Noble Order of the Defenders of Essex.
MIKE: -of Ulm!
> It's not like
>they need any more."
CROW: Cause we know how much Marrissa despises titles.
> "Yes, your highness," Jay replied, as he pulled her back against him,
>showing that she wasn't really that high.
MIKE: But everybody must get stoned!
CROW: Irony! *That's* what Ratliff should try using sometime.
> "Tell me again why I have to run
>it this year."
TOM: [Marrissa] It's good for a laugh.
TOM: (Ris) Well, remember last week, when you came to me and
said, "Ooh! Let me run it this year! Can I run it, huh, can I
huh can I can I can I?"
> "Because Clara's Father is on the other side of the Federation,
MIKE: What, he defected?
CROW: Wouldn't you?
> and you
>are the highest ranking male member of the Royal Family."
CROW: And that's a scary thought.
MIKE: (Ris) Jay, get your codpiece out of your mouth! You have to wear that!
> Marrissa escaped
>from his embrace, and pulled out a blue dress. "Do you think this will do?"
TOM: No, I think blue is all wrong for Jay. I'd go with a green!
> "What about Martin?" Jay replied,
CROW: Yeah, the blue would look better on him.
TOM: No, he's wearing a sheer backless evening gown from Yves Saint
Laurent.
> putting on the garments that went under
>his armored chest plate. "And I'd go with something more formal.
MIKE: Like a declaration of war.
> Try that
>13th century Princess outfit."
[All snicker.]
TOM: The progressive inbreeding of the royals really shows in this
generation.
> "Martin is only a Earl," Marrissa replied.
MIKE: He can't wear the princess outfit until he's a queen.
MIKE: (Ris) Even Mickey Rourke the Fourth is an Earl! And he clips
his toenails with his teeth!
> "You on the other hand, are a
>Royal Duke,
CROW: And that beats three of a kind!
> and husband of the current heir to the throne. Until Victoria
>marries William next month, there is no more senior male.
CROW: [Marrissa] Though I use the term lightly.
TOM: Come on! The queen's cousin's brother's former *roommate*
outranks Jay!
MIKE: No. We're in Ratliff's "King Ralph" continuity.
> The dark green
>one or the light violet one?
TOM: The violet would clash with Jay's eyes, I still say green.
CROW: Her stiletto comes in *colors*? Neat!
> "The green one, though the violet one does bring out your eyes.
MIKE: Better put'em back in before the public sees.
> You know,
>all these Royal titles can really get annoying sometimes."
> "I've given up on complaining about accidents of birth."
TOM: Speaking of which, where's Sara?
>
> Marrissa was enjoying being the pretty face this time.
CROW: Must be a hell of a convention...
MIKE: "To Die For"! Marrissa's in a Buck Henry movie!
CROW: (discomforted) Ew. I'm not sure how to feel about that.
> Usually she had
>some sort of speech to give, or had to talk with some ambassador.
TOM: Or dispense some two-fisted street justice.
MIKE: But today she was Marrissa: Air-head eye candy!
> This
>time, all the words were Jay's.
CROW: (Jay, whiny/uncertain) Um... cole slaw? Myopia? Patent
leather? Squid!
> The Noble Order of the Defenders of Essex
>was a male order,
CROW: (sings) Who controls the British crown?
TOM: (sings) Who keeps the Metric System down?
ALL: (sings) We dooooo! We dooooo!
> all the females in the chapel were mainly there for the
>socializing afterwards.
MIKE: It's a medieval Tailhook!
TOM: (knight, slyly) Come to my room later and I'll show you my
singing sword!
> Taking one of the 128 positions in the order was a
>high honor,
TOM: Hence the presence of the females there...
CROW: (slyly) Ah, the Camelot-Sutra!
MIKE: All right, that's far enough.
TOM: You started it.
> and very rarely did less than a hundred attend the annual
>meeting.
TOM: This is all just an excuse for the big Prairie Dog Shoot
afterwards.
> She could see her father across the aisle with the Doctor.
TOM: Beverly was complaining about another non-speaking cameo, but Gates
needed the money.
> She
>knew that there would be a conversation after the meeting. Hmmm, Jay was
>adding to the name again.
MIKE: The Royal High Teenage Mutant Justice League of Anglomerica!
> A quick elbow cut it short, and bruised Marrissa
>due to the polished steel armor plate Jay was wearing.
ALL: HA!
CROW: Parenthetical comic relief! The Ratliff battle scene of
the vaudeville world!
MIKE: Oh, the whimsical world that is Marrissa's little planet! Ha ha ha!
Kill them!
TOM: (Ris) You can't stay in that armor forever, Gordon!
Fight like a man! Come on, ya pansy!
> Fortunately for
>Jay, the ceremony was rather short.
MIKE: One left jab through his visor and a flash of light later,
it was morning.
> Unfortunately for Marrissa, the
>ceremony was being followed by a long reception in her main hall.
CROW: I'm beginning to fear that there is no plot to this.
TOM: When is there ever?
MIKE: Oh, damn. The deejay's gonna do the garter bit. It's so tacky!
> As the ceremony ended, Jay took Marrissa's arm,
TOM: ...leaving her only with a bloody stump.
> and led her out the chapel
>doors.
TOM: (sings) Goin' out the chapel, we got! Drunk, and got
ma-a-a-arried!
> The day had suddenly cleared from the storm clouds which had been
>threatening earlier.
MIKE: All talk, no action.
CROW: A neon sign saying "SYMBOLISM!" started flashing in the
heavens.
> The morning doves cooed from their perches around the
>slate covered court yard as they walked around to the main castle entrance,
CROW: I fail to see how the doves can be perched and walking around.
MIKE: (dove) Hey, guys! Ever see "High Anxiety"?
TOM: (dove) Oh, come on, Earl! They're already covered in the
sickening filth of the story.
>that of the great hall, the hundred five members and their ladies following
>them in procession. They entered the high oak arched chamber, and took up
>positions by the door to greet their guests
> The first was the oldest member of the order;
TOM: Oh sweet mother of Gandhi, no...
ALL: We have introduction sign!
> Frederick James,
MIKE: *Rick James?*
CROW: The original Superfreak!
> fifth Duke
>of Holbrook.
TOM: First Superfreak of Hollywood and Vine!
> The white haired gentleman was escorting his granddaughter,
[All cough a bit]
>his wife had pasted away some years earlier.
CROW: His wife was still doing a nickel in Attica for possession of
a controlled substance and assault with intent to funk!
MIKE: Wait, "pasted away". We missed a real good typo.
TOM: Eh, who cares.
> Frederick shook Jay's hand.
>"Excellent play on the order's name, Most High Noble and Penitent Order of
>the Valiant and Courageous Defenders of the Most Holy Planet of Essex
>indeed.
MIKE: If that's what passes for rolling down the isles humor, no wonder no one
shows up for the meetings anymore.
CROW: (Rick) You're a very freaky knight, one you don't take home
to the queen mother, eh wot?
> I don't think I've heard so much humor ejected in these meetings
[All snicker. Crow shakes his head.]
CROW: Oh, Stevie me boy, there are some problems a spell checker
can't begin to solve.
>since the late King George was in his youth. I must encourage Tory to do
>have you do these things more often."
MIKE: The Labor party be damned!
TOM: Every time we do have you do these things we do have you do.
> "Now, Father, you shouldn't refer to the Queen like that," his dark haired
>granddaughter remarked,
MIKE: (snicker) What? She calls her grandfather Father? Her mom
was her sister? She's her own niece? What the-?
TOM: This must be the *southern* part of England.
CROW: It's Ratliff's little tribute to Mark Twain! Mr. Twain
will now rise from the grave, hunt Stephen down and eat his
brain.
> trying to lead him past the couple.
CROW: Jay's used to it, don't worry.
> "I'll refer to my god daughter any way I please,
TOM: I will now refer to her as Stinky!
> and Tory wants me to call
>her that," Frederick said, as his granddaughter lead him away.
MIKE: The ever enjoyable private lives of people we don't know.
CROW: (g'daughter) Come on. I want to introduce you to my cousin,
your uncle!
> Several more couples went by with just a hand shake and a greeting.
MIKE: (dully) Congratulations, I hope you'll be very idiot.
> One
>old lady treated Jay with a menacing glare.
TOM: Freaky random old ladies, just what the story needed.
> It seemed his conduct wasn't
>appreciated by all.
MIKE: (Jay) Perhaps that rubber-snake-in-the-toilet gag is getting old.
TOM: (old lady) You made us miss "Diagnosis: Murder"!
> A couple of the ladies were asking Marrissa about her
>daughter. All and all, it was a rather easy beginning. Martin arrived
>with Shayna as his escort.
CROW: (laughing) Whoa-ho! Watch out! We all know what a
*practical joker* she is!
MIKE: Huh-hyuk! Screwball hilarity can't be far behind! Wooo!
> "Tell me again, why you couldn't do this?" Jay asked.
> "Because you out rank me,
CROW: Martin said, slipping Jay some deodorant.
> and it was the Queen's idea, and she out ranks
>both of us," Martin replied.
TOM: Suddenly his head *explodes*! It was filled with
*whipped cream*! It's all over Jay's armor!
MIKE: Ha ha! Shayna! You lovable scamp!
> "Besides, you did a good job."
> "Oh, renaming the order wasn't enough to prevent me from doing it again?"
>Jay replied.
MIKE: That's it, next year, The Full Jay.
CROW: Suddenly Jay feels something wriggling in his helmet, and
it's a *black widow spider*!
MIKE: He falls down dead!
ALL: *Shayna!*
TOM: (laughing) You're incorrigible! You nut!
> "I told you, Jay, that you'd get stuck with stuff like this when you
>married me," Marrissa said.
> "Yes, Mara, but you said I could have fun with it," Jay replied.
TOM: Aw, cripes. Is he gonna introduce a new nickname every
single episode?
> "I'll
>talk to you later, Martin."
> Next up was Fleet Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, Commander, Star Fleet.
MIKE: (Picard) Tea, Earl Grey, Hot.
CROW: Story, Plotless, Insufferable.
>Actually, they were just getting into the military contingent. A third of
>the order was in Star Fleet,
TOM: Hell, everybody's Star Fleet. Only difference between them
and the Borg is no cool eyepieces.
> and he'd seen the most grins during the
>ceremony from them. Of course, he still couldn't read his father-in-law's
>expression.
CROW: He's kinda in a bald mood right now. Try again later.
> Some said that while on duty, Cmdr Star Fleet
[All cackle.]
MIKE: Pat, I'd like to solve?
> had the
>definition of a poker face. The only reason why the 'on duty' label was
>there, was due to the lunches he had with his children at the Admiralty.
TOM: You see, kids, sometimes, when a word has been very, very bad,
it must spend eternity in a Ratliff sentence, far, far away from
any thought it could possibly relate to!
> "Good Afternoon, Jay," Jean-Luc said. "How is the leave going?"
MIKE: (Jay) It already left, sir. Ha ha! Get it? Ah, screw you.
> "It's been a welcome repose, sir," Jay replied.
CROW: Strike repose, there's nothing to it! Vogue! Heh heh!
> "May I hope that some
>emergency doesn't end it soon?"
MIKE: (Picard) Ya better. I sure as hell won't.
> "I'm not sure that I can stop that, Jay," Jean-Luc said, allowing a trace
>of tension into his brow.
TOM: The trace of tension must've done its homework and cleaned
its room.
> "It looks like we may have some problems on
>Romulus, but that's a problem we can handle later.
CROW: (Picard) And my procrastination therapy, but that's a "B"
priority right now.
> Enjoy your leave and
>your daughter while you can. They grow up all too soon."
MIKE: (sighing) You know, if anyone but Stephen had written that,
I'd know the double meaning was intentional.
> "If you'd like to see Sara, she's in the nursery," Jay said.
CROW: (Jay) But since I know you, there's a pitcher of daiquiris
with our name on it in the billiard hall. Let's rock.
> "Lynn says
>that she's bring Jackie down later."
> "I don't suppose you've read Jackie's letter of protest?" Jean-Luc said.
TOM: Characters can't protest to the author. Jackie should know
better.
> "Jackie is protesting something? I've never heard her complain before,"
>Jay replied.
MIKE: (Jay) Of course I do wind up doing a lot of singing with my
hands over my ears when Jackie's in the room...
> "Apparently, Clara made her Acting Chief Engineer," Jean-Luc said.
CROW: Huh. Guess there weren't any qualified *unfertilized
embryos* available!
> "She's
>not happy."
> "Let me guess, you're letting it go until Marrissa gets back," Jay said.
TOM: (Picard) I'm letting everything go, Jay. I'm surrendering to
nature's mysterious, unfathomable plan.
> "No one is filling Marrissa's top posts until she gets back," Jean-Luc
>said. "I'm not going to get involved in it."
MIKE: Oh, the world does stop when Marrissa gets off. I'm glad
we cleared that up.
TOM: Once again, Jean Luc "All hands abandon ship" Picard displays
the leadership that made him famous.
CROW: *cough*STARGAZERINCIDENT!
> "Good idea," Jay said. "Check out the wine. It's the new Essex Hanover
>'75. Marrissa says it's nearly as good as the '47."
TOM: But then, Marrissa thinks nail polish remover was nearly as
good as the '47.
MIKE: (Picard) No thanks. These days, I'm huffing Klingon
industrial solvent.
> "I'll have to check it out."
>
> Marrissa was chatting with the Duke of Holbrook
CROW: Hey, Hal Holbrook's ancestors did pretty good for themselves.
> when she spied her sister
>entering the room. She was wearing a nice green dress, with a rather short
>cascading skirt.
MIKE: And a bloody dagger tattooed across her bicep!
> It appeared to be one of Garek's works. Jackie was
>proceeding purposefully across the room.
CROW: (Jackie) I am a messenger from Mua'Dib!
[Tom snickers.]
> Her eyes made contact with
>Marrissa, and Marrissa decided that she better
MIKE: ...get the hell outta Dodge before Jackie got into one of her
screaming fits again.
> talk to her soon.
> "Excuse me, your grace,
TOM: -lessness...
> but I believe that my little sister needs to have
>a word with me," Marrissa said.
CROW: (Duke) Oh, yes! Our vital trade negotiations *must* be put
on hold so you can discuss whether boys who use hair gel are icky!
> "Go right ahead, I want to get a word with Sir Jay," the Duke said. "Your
>husband is a real treasure.
MIKE: You should bury him and hide the map.
> Don't let him get away."
> "I have no intention of doing so," Marrissa replied,
TOM: I designed my ankle-bracelet monitoring system to prevent it!
CROW: In fact, every night I chain him to the wall, just to be sure.
> before heading
>towards her sister.
> They met by one of the window seats. "Marrissa, you've got to help me,"
>Jackie said.
CROW: I tried sending a message to Ben Kenobi, but I think the
"droid" I used was a garbage receptacle!
> "What's the problem?" Marrissa asked, as she sat down in the window seat.
> "Commander Sutter-Rozhenko
TOM: Of the Boston and Hyannisport Sutter-Rozhenkos?
> decided to make me acting Chief Engineer while
>she was in command," Jackie began. "I protested.
CROW: (Ris) Protested?
MIKE: (Jack) Well, I did cry, too. A little. (pause) All right!
I held my breath 'til I passed out! But she still promoted me!
> I'm just not ready for
>that yet, but she made me do it. It was okay for a while, but now I've got
>two section chiefs feuding over territory, another isn't listening to any
>of my suggestions.
CROW: (contempt) Shyah! You're a *girl*?
> The whole department is falling to pieces around me and
>I don't know what to do."
TOM: (Jackie) Calgon, take me awayyyyy!
MIKE: (Ris) Well, the hold-your-breath thing sounds promising.
> "I just heard about your initial letter of protest," Marrissa said. "And
>frankly, I'm surprised you've lasted this long.
MIKE: That's right, build up her confidence.
CROW: (Ris) I mean, sure, the poison was labeled "slow acting",
but my lord!
> I plan on reprimanding
>Clara for putting you in this position when I get back,
TOM: (Jack) Oo! Is "reprimand" where you put her thumbs in those
cool little vices?
> but that doesn't
>help you now, does it?"
> Jackie shook her head morosely.
> "It's Vigat and Dudley fighting over territory again, right?" Marrissa
>said.
MIKE: (Ris) Ah, yes, my old nemeses Vigat and Dudley. I see
you somehow escaped from my Prison For People Whose Names
Piss Me Off on the third moon of Rigel IV.
CROW: (Ris) Do what I'd do: Shoot 'em.
>Jackie nodded. "Well, chose a dividing line, and stick to it.
TOM: (Ris) Now you'll be tempted to divide them crosswise, but
keep in mind that doesn't take very long, so its deterrent
effect is lessened.
>Clara probably has one listed. She really gets tired of them going after
>each other.
CROW: Hey, it's been two paragraphs and *I'm* sick of it already.
> She's been complaining about those two since I took command of
>the Endeavor. As for Reed, if he doesn't listen to orders, then relieve
>him,
MIKE: Oh yeah. Fired by a girl. That'll solve things.
CROW: Yup, morale will soar up to the same high levels it was at
when Ris was on board!
> or stop him from doing anything else until he follows orders."
> "But they won't listen to me, I'm only thirteen," Jackie said.
TOM: Oop! Rational thought! Ratliff'll put her on probation!
> "Jackie, when I was thirteen I was Chief CONN officer on the
>Enterprise-D," Marrissa said.
ALL: (cry) *NO-HO-HOO! Not again not again not again!*
> "By the time I turned fourteen, I was Chief
>of Security on her successor.
MIKE: By the time you were twelve I was *SICK OF YOU!*
TOM: (desperate crying) God, there's not even a crappy incoherent
plot to fall back on! It's just *her*!
CROW: (scared) Mike?
TOM: Talking! And stripping!
CROW: (sobbing) : Make him stop!
TOM: (hysterical) And stripping, and talking, and ruminating about
what she could be talking about,-
CROW: Make Servo stop!
TOM: And then we see her *panties?!*
TOM and CROW: (screaming together) *AAAAAAAUGH!*
MIKE: Aw, guys! It's OK! Look, we're nearly through! Just around
the bend!
TOM: I'm *past* the bend, Mike! Beyond the bend! I'm never
coming back! Forget about me! Leave me behind!
MIKE: Not gonna happen, buddy. Come on. Riff through. You can
do it.
> Age does not matter. Ability and rank do.
MIKE: In the Land of Singing Pink Furbies with Fluffy Bunny Slippers!
>You are simply the best Computer Security Officer the Enterprise has ever
>had."
CROW: (Jack) But you created the post for me!
> "I'm the only one this Enterprise has had," Jackie interrupted.
ALL: D'OH!
MIKE: Well, we still beat him to it. He's learning, though.
> "That may be so, but you still deserve the post as one of Clara's five
>Assistants," Marrissa continued.
TOM: So how many more does she need for a coven? Seven?
> "I don't know why you were made Acting
>Chief, but I do know that you can do it.
CROW: (Ris) You just need to cram eight years of schooling and
apprentice work into an all-nighter! Brew some coffee and
get cracking!
> You directed a whole team of Star
>Fleet cryptographers during the war.
MIKE: True, you just told them where to shop, but that's a skill!
> Jackie, you've shown your talents in
>the area of leadership. Not much, but just enough for the Command Team to
>take notice.
TOM: (stoned musician) Close enough for jazz, man.
> You'll probably be put though many command tasks in the next
>couple years.
CROW: (Ris) I'll be commanding you to, like, eat your peas, be
home by six, play "The Entertainer" on the piano for company...
> We may even decide to send you to Command School some time
>down the road."
MIKE: Huh. So the decisions she made in the clear mountain air
were that everything's just peachy, I guess.
CROW: Yup! No lessons learned here! Those who ignore history
grow up to captain starships!
> "Really?" Jackie said, perking up.
MIKE: (Ris) No, not really! Ha ha ha! I can't believe you fell
for that! You'd be better off picking out my belly button
lint.
TOM: You'd think after Marissa, Star Fleet would've made a
"Tara Lipinski" rule to deal with these little brats.
CROW: It was just as much a Michelle Kwan rule, Tom. She
started early, too.
> "Really," Marrissa said. "You may not have come through the unique events
>that lead to my quick path to command, but that may be for the better.
MIKE: Low body counts are good for business. Keeps the grunts happy.
> I
>was always too driven, and I think it's caused me some problems.
CROW: Problems *we'll* never see, but problems nonetheless!
> Then
>again, Star Fleet went though two wars during the first five years of my
>career."
MIKE: (Ris) Of course, I started both of them, but let's not
dwell on the past, shall we?
TOM: Hm, before Marrissa, peace, justice and brotherhood...
post-Marrissa, wars, famine and pestilence. Nah! I don't
see a connection.
> "You had problems?" Jackie asked.
> "Of course I did," Marrissa said.
MIKE: You think it's easy stackin' bodies that high?
> "My career hasn't been all smooth
>sailing up the river of rank.
CROW: "Up the River of rank." Yeah, that's a pretty good description
of where we are right now.
TOM: Rank stories, rank character motivation... just rank!
MIKE: We're also short on paddles, Cap'n.
> In fact, I think my rapid promotions in rank
>caused the most trouble.
CROW: (Ris) I got *so* rank *so* quickly...
MIKE: OK, OK. We've milked this cow. Let's move on.
TOM: (Ris) My 19 pips placed severe stress on the universe's
plausibility continuum.
> With you, we can afford to take some time. And I
>promise you, if you have any problems, you can always come to me."
MIKE: (Ris) I'll take care of them "personally."
CROW: Awwww! She's tugging at my heart! In fact she's about to
rip it out of my chest, I think.
TOM: (chuckling) That's good, Mike.
> "Thank you Marrissa," Jackie said.
> "Oh, and one thing, anything you ask with my proper name, it's unofficial,
>and private," Marrissa said.
CROW: (Ris) Ask me as "Queen Lord-A-Mighty" and I tear you a new one!
> "Include the rank, and I take official notice
>and act as such. It's a simple way I use to separate the two roles."
MIKE: (Jackie, bored) Eh, separate this!
> "I understand," Jackie said.
TOM: (entranced) Yes. I understand. Marrissa Picard can restore
the greatness that was Britain.
> "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a father
>who managed to forget my last birthday."
[All chortle.]
CROW: Jackie's had some Random Access Spite installed.
> "How did he manage to do that?" Marrissa said. "I think it's the first
>time he's missed any important date."
> "That's what I intend to find out," Jackie said.
MIKE: (Jack, pleasantly) But enjoy your evening, and remember, I
always resented how dad liked you best!
> "I think Captain Gleason
>is looking for you."
> "I'll head the other way then. If I hear that Arnez V story again I'll
>die of boredom."
CROW: Irony!
MIKE: Ratliff!
TOM: They'll meet for the first time, today! On, "He Didn't Really
Mean That- Did He?"
>
>
>Epilogue
>
TOM: Epilogue implies something *happened*!
CROW: Steve's just rubbing our face in it now, isn't he, Mike?
> It didn't take Marrissa long to get back into the swing of things on the
>Enterprise.
MIKE: Caning is like riding a bicycle, really.
> No sooner than after she had gotten Sara to sleep back on the
>Enterprise, was she beginning to
TOM: ...browbeat her subordinates, just like old times.
> handle some of those things that had been
>left undone in her absence. Most of that was paperwork.
CROW: Paperwork? That was the big revelation she had on the mountain?
TOM: Well, remember, it's Mount Hillary. A bureaucratic peak.
> She hoped to get
>most of it done by the time she returned to Romulas.
MIKE: Ah, Romulas, home of romance, remoras, and Ro-man!
> First thing she handled were the big things.
[All clear their throats.]
> That being the Chief of
>Operations job. She noted that her father had finally found a replacement
>for her there, but Vice Admiral Data wouldn't be free for another week.
TOM: The amazing thing is after all this time, Stephen still thinks
we care about stuff like this?
CROW: Yeah, Steve sits in front "Voyager" screaming, "How can they
possibly infiltrate the Borg collective without first completing
their org charts?!"
>She moved the Second Fleet from Vulcan to Betazed,
MIKE: Taz's first feature-length movie!
TOM: (sings) Come to Taz-Mania! Come to Taz-Mania!
> and forwarded Commodore
>La Forge's complaints about
CROW: ...not getting any for years on end...
> still being in command to her father.
CROW: The American with the French name complains to the Frenchman
with the British accent.
MIKE: With a name like that, how did Giordi escape being a pirate?
> Then the
>First Fleet job, which she was going to have to keep, that didn't please
>Marrissa.
TOM: And the volcano erupted, wiping the tiny tribal village off
the face of the earth.
> Promote Commander Ikari to fill the Captaincy of the
>Evangelical.
MIKE: To be honest, I pictured Star Fleet being a lot more secular.
TOM: Nah, you're thinking of Earth pre-Pope Kirk I.
CROW: (Shatner) Ah! Vay! Maria! In! Exelsus! Deo!
> Transfer Lieutenant Commander Saotome to be his First
>Officer. Hopefully that would be a good team.
MIKE; I don't know if I trust Security Officer Spreewell, though.
> After an hour, she got to the Enterprise. First up,
TOM: You know what this is, guys? It's Ratliff trying to sneak another
boring recital of introductions and ranks past us.
CROW: It's...hey, you're right! RATLIFF! YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE, YOU
SONOVA--
MIKE: All right, relax...it's the epilogue...
> complaint from
>Lieutenant junior grade Jacqueline Picard, regarding temporary posting as
>Chief Engineer. Attached note from acting Captain Clarrissa
>Sutter-Rozhenko explaining the action.
TOM: (Ris, dismissive) Oh right, Clarrissa explains it all. Ha-ha.
CROW: (introducing) Clarrissa, Marrissa. Marrissa, Clarrissa.
> Attached evaluation of acting First
>Officer, Alexander Rozhenko of Lieutenant Picard as Chief Engineer.
CROW: (grandly) And Murray Alper, as The Beaver!
>Slightly above average marks, with notable improvement towards the end of
>assignment.
MIKE: (reading) "Once she stopped, things improved dramatically."
> Hmmm, reasoning looks solid, but better candidates where
>available. Then again, that would have taken the Chief of Security over,
>no that wouldn't have worked.
TOM: Man, seating people at a wedding reception isn't this complicated.
> Jackie seemed to have done fine, but a
>warning to Clara was warranted.
CROW: Perhaps a water moccasin in the bidet.
> Schedule an appointment for tomorrow.
> Marrissa was deep into reviewing the logs made in her absence,
MIKE: (Ris) Hm, 9 AM, party... 10 AM, party... 11, talk about what a
great party they just had... Noon, party... and 1, Weekly Staff Meeting
to discuss upcoming parties.
> by the time
>Jay got back to their quarters. He'd been stuck reviewing cadets at the
>Fighter Academy with Marrissa's father.
TOM: (Jay, wearily reviewing) Dazzling... breathtaking... grabs you by
the throat and won't let go...
> Not really the most exciting task,
>but not really that boring either. Jay snuck up behind Marrissa. "Boo."
MIKE: (Marrissa, bored) What a surprise.
CROW: Eh. That's still cleverer than "Candid Camera".
> Marrissa jumped in her chair.
MIKE: Drew her phaser, and calmly created a new opening for Star
Fleet officer.
> "Don't do that!" she exclaimed.
> Jay embraced her. "Don't do what," he said, before kissing her.
TOM: (Ris) Well *that* for starters! Blech! Fish lips!
> "Scare me that way," Marrissa said.
CROW: Scare me some other way. Tell me about the next Ratliff story!
> Then she noticed the tricorder in his
>hand. "What's that for?"
MIKE: (Jay) My hand? Well I use it to manipulate objects, but
that's not important right now!
> "I found it on the floor next to the replicator," Jay said. "Clara must
>have left it when she upgraded our replicator's memory."
TOM: (Jay) When she was... um... scanning the replicator's vital signs.
CROW: (acid) Showed more brain activity than *some* people I
could name.
> Marrissa looked at the read out, turning it so it scanned her better.
>"Jay, you are a rotten liar," she said, reading the results.
MIKE: Well, sure. Why break pattern now?
> "So, you're upset with the results of our time off?" Jay asked, taking the
>tricorder and dropping it to the desk.
ALL: (on top of each other) Well now that you mention it/You bet
we're upset/*You didn't do anything!*
> He turned her around.
> "Not really, I just wanted a little more time between children," Marrissa
>said.
CROW: She's pregnant again? Wow, the future's really Catholic,
isn't it Mike?
MIKE: (laughing) In this world, yeah.
> "Just tell me one thing, did this figure into the timing of you
>forcing my time off the Enterprise."
TOM: And there's the bell! The recriminations are off and running!
> "No, you needed it. This," Jay said, hugging her, "is merely a bonus."
MIKE: So sex is like a frequent flyer program, and babies are the
free trips to Houston?
> "You wouldn't say that if you had to have them," Marrissa said.
> "This from the girl who once told me that she enjoyed it and wanted a
>dozen of them?" Jay asked.
CROW: (Ris) I was talking about the chocolate-dipped shortbread
at Au Bon Pan!
> "I love children, and want lots of them," Marrissa clarified. "I don't
>like most of the process of having them.
MIKE: (Ris) Including that icky sex part!
TOM: (Ris) No committees, no paperwork- it's nearly unmanageable!
> Especially the last couple of
>months."
> "This time, I promise you won't have to fight a war during them," Jay said.
MIKE: (Ris) Oh, the war I liked. Throwing up every morning?
That sucked ice.
> "When did you be acquire the gift of precognition?" Marrissa asked, moving
>in to kiss him.
CROW: (Jay) You gave it to me last Christmas, remember?
TOM: (Ris) I thought I gave you the power to animate the dead.
CROW: Nah, that was Beverly. Remember, she got in trouble when
she said it was easier to let her patients die than treat
them?
TOM: Oh, right!
> All further conversation was lost to other tasks, until,
>of course, Sara woke up crying.
MIKE: (Sara) Get me out of this fanfic!
>
>
>
TOM: Ha! So it's a happy ending! Except it's not much of an
ending, and I'm kinda torqued on the whole, really.
MIKE: Yeah, we don't end so much as stop, do we.
CROW: Oh, like you'd prefer he kept going. I'm sure.
[1...2...3...4...5...6...7...]
[OPEN ON: SOL Bridge. Mike is shaking his head, wobbling a bit, as if
he's just got off the Tilt-O-Whirl. Crow doesn't look that much
better. But Tom seems strangely determined.]
CROW: Wow.
MIKE: Eyah.
TOM: Pretty much.
CROW: I'm... so...
MIKE: (exhaling) Wow.
TOM: Not since "Starfighters" have we waded so deep into so
much nothing.
CROW: Well, if you think of it as a character study... of a character
we never liked very much... guiding a younger character to follow
her path to unlikability... (shudders) Ugh. It's like your will's
being hit with a fish tied to a baseball bat.
MIKE: (uncertain) The writing was... better?
TOM: (too buoyant) Oh! Oh, yes, Mike! In fact, worthy of Hollywood!
MIKE: Oh, come on!
TOM: Sure! In fact, it inspired us to create a little comedy skit,
which you'll find on the desk right there.
MIKE: (sincere) A comedy sketch? Wow, that's unexpected.
Real creative of you guys.
CROW: OK, we're in a big Hollywood movie studio, see? And you're
Board Chairman. Read the lines there.
MIKE: OK. Ahem. "Well, I see my two best scriptwriters. Are back
from lunch!"
TOM: "Hi, J.C.!"
MIKE: "You. Have a script?"
CROW: "Yes."
MIKE: "What is. The title?"
CROW: "Ten Things I Hate About You."
TOM: (big delivery) "Yeah! It's about *Stephen Ratliff!*" Ha!
Ha! Ha!
MIKE: (putting script down, nodding lightly) OK, guys. I can see
where this is going-
TOM: (still enthusiastic) And-and-and you know the great thing about
it, J.C.? It's that there's enough material for (suddenly
vindictive) *136 sequels!* And we're going to share *every single
one of them with you! Right now!*
MIKE: (unsettled) Tom, I think we get the point-
TOM: For example! "ANOTHER Ten Things I Hate About You"! "Ten MORE
Things I Hate About You"! "National Lampoon's Caribbean Vacation,
Where I Think Of Ten MORE Things I Hate About You!"
CROW: (confused) Tommy, this part isn't in my script. Did you do
rewrites, or...?
TOM: "Saving Private Ryan, So I Can Tell Him Ten MORE Things I Hate
About You!" "Schindler's List"!
MIKE: (double take) Schindler's List?
TOM: Yes! Of Ten MORE Things I Hate About You!
MIKE: (walking away) That's it! I'm outta here.
[Mike exits, but Tom will not be denied, and he follows him, carrying
his list of sequels.]
TOM: (following Mike) "On The Twelfth Day Of Xmas, My True Love Gave to
Me Ten MORE Things I Hate About You!" That's a holiday release.
We're very hopeful on that. And action! "The World Is Not Enough,
But Here Are Ten MORE THINGS I Hate About You!" Come on, J.C!
*Let's make cinema history, god dammit!*
[Crow is now alone on the bridge. After a beat, the light flashes.]
CROW: Oh! Mike Ovitz, Steven Spielberg, and David Geffen are calling!
TOM: [offscreen] "Ten Things I Hate About You That Wouldn't Die!"
"The List of Adrian Messenger, Which Contains Ten MORE Things
I Hate About You!" "The Matrix! Of A Spreadsheet! Of TEN MORE
FRIGGIN' THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU!!"
CROW: I'll just get it, then.
[Castle Forrester. Bobo, scorched and still smoking, is seated in front of
a computer. Pearl and Brain Guy are observing from a safe distance.]
BOBO: So what's this story about, Lawgiver?
PEARL: Why, it's about a nice girl named Marrissa! And a nice boy named
Wesley! And together, they do nice things!
B.G.: It's all very nice, really!
BOBO: Oh, okay! I'll start reading.
[Bobo peers at the screen for a moment. Then, the top of his head catches fire.]
BOBO: AHHHHH! [falls to the floor, trying to put out his head. Brain Guy tries to
douse the flames with some of the liquid from his brain pain. Pearl walks
up to the camera.]
PEARL: Someday, Nelson...someday...
[Fade out.]
Star Trek: The Next Generation and all related characters and
situations are trademarks of and copyright of Paramount Picture
Corporation and Viacom. All rights reserved.
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and
situations are trademarks of and copyright of Best Brains, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Stephen Ratliff appears courtesy of Mutant Enemy Productions.
Grrr. Argh.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for non-commercial
parody, review, and commentary purposes only; no infringement
on the original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains,
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or should be inferred.
No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s)
are or should be implied. All characters in this work are
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Keep circulating the posts.
Twang.
> "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?"
�
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