From: geiger@niktow.canisius.edu (Tucson Al) Newsgroups: alt.tv.mst3k,alt.ql.creative Subject: "A Not Too Distant Future : Part III" Keywords: story, QL/MST3K Message-Id: <2747@niktow.canisius.edu> Date: 22 Jun 93 21:10:26 GMT Followup-To: poster Organization: Canisius College, Buffalo NY. 14208 Lines: 158 Xref: cronkite.cisco.com alt.tv.mst3k:4508 alt.ql.creative:465 Here is part V (three, sir) right, part III of my continuing story that answers the question "What does a demented recent CS graduate do when he's bored at work?" and "What does the aforementioned person do when his original joke is asked to be turned into a complete story?" Part IV will be finished sometime tomorrow morning and Part V shortly after that. Now, I'm going home and watch some more silly movies... "A Not Too Distant Future : Part III" Tom, Crow, and Sam are standing in back of the desk, ready for the normal host segment. Tom is dressed in a cap and gown, Sam and Crow are in typical catholic school attire. "Because of various questions raised in the course of the movie," said Tom in a faked-up British accent, drawing out the trailing vowels in the words. "I have decided to research the parallel origins of fat jokes and beach party movies." Sam and Crow gasp appreciatively. Sam was still a little uncomfortable with the idea of getting dressed up as he was, even after Tom and Crow explained that it was necessary to infuriate the scientists. Sam was participating reluctantly. "Mr. Cambot, please lower the house-lights and activate Rocket Number Nine," instructed Tom. In the general disorientation that followed a leap, Sam hadn't noticed Cambot. For all intents and purposes, Cambot appeared to be a mobile, semi- autonomous camera with various arcane powers. The lights dimmed and the viewscreen opened to reveal a rocky barren landscape. "This is the moon," intoned Tom. "It is barren and lifeless." "Not unlike your loins," whispered Crow to Sam. "I heard that, Mr. Crow. How'd you like a good caning?" "Sorry, Professor Servo," apologized Crow. "Now, as I was saying, this is the moon. No one lives here. It is much like prehistoric Earth, if prehistoric Earth had no atmosphere and no higher life forms or water. So ignore that for now." Tom paused to allow them to look at the moon. "Now, Mr. Cambot, add water and oxygen." "And stir briskly," said Crow. Sam tried to quiet him so he could hear the presentation, but failed. "Mr. Robinson," said Tom warningly. The image on the viewscreen changed to show green, rolling hills, white clouds, and vast oceans. Unfortunately, the vast oceans were above the hills, and the hills were above the clouds. Everything collapsed into a huge pile of mud. "As you can see, after a simulated time of 1.6 million milli-second thingies, the water will seperate out, magically forming a beach complete with volleyball net." The sequence of events that Tom described appeared on the screen as he spoke. "You will notice, however, that there are no people yet." Crow and Sam nodded. "Watch." A strangely translucent black surfboard washed up onto the beach. A passing ape picked it up and planted it upright in the ground. A few more passing apes gathered around to touch the surfboard. One of the apes picked up a volleyball and lofted it over his head. It came down and was batted over the net in one of the most devastating prehistoric jump serves ever. The apes divided into teams and got a game going. Eventually, an overweight ape came and joined in. He tried to hit the ball, but ended up falling over, taking the net with him. The other apes sat there and laughed at him. "As you can see, that was the first fat joke, as well as the first beach movie," explained Tom. "Professor Servo," said Sam, raising his hand. "Yes, Mr. Robinson? What is it?" "Well, how can this be the first beach movie if there weren't any people around to invent a movie camera?" "Well, uh, I," sputtered Tom. "That's it, Mister. Detention for you." Sam was about to protest when the room started shaking. "Movie sign!" yelled Tom and Crow as the yellow light started flashing. Sam hit it, picked up Tom, and slid through the airlock into the theater. "I was just getting to the good part, too," pouted Tom as Sam set him down. "Don't worry," comforted Sam. "Let me take a look at your research later and I'll let you know what I think." "Gee, thanks, Joel." On the screen, Raquel Welsh was trying to return Tumak to consciousness when an unearthly roar split the oceanside. A giant sea turtle was crawling down the beach toward them. "Look! It's Gamera!" shouts Crow. "Gamera is really neat! Gamera is filled with meat!" sings Tom. "Yeah, I'm sure," scoffed Sam. "The height to mass ratio alone would preclude a turtle from getting that large." "Yeah!" said Tom. "Huh?" "Hey, Joel," said Crow. "Is that one Donatello or Michelangelo?" "I don't know. I think it's an Adult Mutated Prehistoric Turtle. Maybe it's named after some famous cave painter," answered Sam. The turtle is driven off and Raquel Welsh and her friends bring Tumak back to their settlement. It is a cave which looks just like Tumak's original home. The natives (the Shell tribe as opposed to Tumak's Rock tribe) are all blonde-haired and blue-eyed, but Tumak doesn't notice because he is still unconscious. "Meanwhile, in the secret underground bunker of the Aryan Master Race..." said Tom. "Is that anything like the Boston Marathon or the Indy 500?" asked Sam. "Sort of, but not really," answered Crow. "Hey! I know what this means," said Tom excitedly. "These people represent the Aryan Race. Tumak has brown hair and eyes. That means that Tumak is meant to be seen as a prehistoric Hitler. Do I get a RAM chip?" "Sorry, Tom," said Sam. "That would be too socially conscious a theme for a movie from this era. If this had been made in the seventies during the end of the Cold War, then maybe." "Oh. Well, it was just a thought," said Tom Tumak regains consciousness and walks out of the cave, where he sees Raquel Welsh talking to some of her friends. He goes over and tries to introduce himself. "Wow, the first spoken line in the movie," said Crow. "And we only had to wait forty minutes! Maybe we'll find the plot soon!" Sam wasn't hopeful. This had to be one of the silliest movies he had seen in a long time. "Me Tumak. You inarticulate Nazi moron," said Tom. "These humans are stupid!" offered Sam. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Tumak eventually succeeds in getting across who he is, and the other cavepeople introduce themselves. Tumak even teaches them what a spear is. "Look at that shaft! Hubba, hubba," said Crow. "Crow! Watch your language," admonished Sam. "The spear, Joel. I meant the spear," said Crow. "I'll bet you did," said Tom. Joel still couldn't believe where he was. The little guy who reminded him vaguely of Dr. Forrester told him that he was almost a week in his own past. On Earth. Somehow he had escaped the Satellite of Love. It didn't matter that he was stuck in this featureless room. At least he was on Earth. "Now, Joel, since you're from the future, we can show you some of the stuff we have here, but remember, this is all Top Secret. You can't tell anyone," warned Al. "Okay," said Joel sincerely. "Who'd believe me, anyways." Al led Joel from the Waiting Room into the Control Room. Ziggy's lights pulsed and strobed as Al introduce her to Joel. "Mr. Robinson, this is our parallel hybrid computer, Ziggy." Joel looked non-plussed. "Pretty kinky name for a pile of Lego blocks and some lights." "Really?" said Ziggy. "I'm sorry, but I've seen the Mads come up with more convincing stuff than this. I mean, an empty room, a pile of Legoes that talks. Next thing you know, I'll see a short little guy who does all the work around here while everybody else just goofs off." Joel was beginning to think that this was just some trick being played on him by the Mads. How they got him to look like somebody else was still a mystery. Trapped in the body of a 20th Century playwright in the sub-basement of a Top Secret government research project. Joel looked justified as Gooshie waddled past, reams of computer printouts cradled in his arms and trailing behind him. "Do we have to take this abuse?" asked Ziggy archly. "No, Zig. Come on Mr. Robinson," said Al, grabbing him by the arm. "Back to the Waiting Room you go." The waiting room door closed, separating Al and Ziggy from Joel. "Now I can see why his bosses shot him into space," said Al under his breath as he went back into the Imaging Chamber. He had to tell Sam what he had found out. Tell me what you think and I'll reply where appropriate. -- Doug "By this time my lungs were -- oh, you know." geiger@niktow.cs.canisius.edu