Ex-Marshal Jane Anderson hefted her Colt .45 and peeked
through the shattered window, looking for a hint of movement.
Outside, the dusty streets of Sanctuary, New Mexico were car-
peted with dead and dying men.

"Come on out, Sanchez," she growled around her cigar. "I'm
tired of killing your hired help. Hell, give back my daughter,
and I might even let you live."

She was talking to herself, of course. Even if "Spittin' Jack"
Sanchez had heard, he wasn't the sort to put himself in danger
while there was still a chance that his surviving band of gun-
fighters and cutthroats could handle the job. Not that there were
too many of these left. Anderson had come among them like the
Angel of Death and blasted a swath through town that had left
over forty men bleeding their lives away. At one time, the car-
nage might have sickened her, but that was before they'd burned
her farm, killed her husband, and taken little Sarah. Now, all
bets were off.

On the street, nothing moved. A few buzzards began to circle

Jane slid the .45 back into its holster and unslung her Winches-
ter, the desert sun reflecting dully off the barrel. It looked like a
few of Spittin' Jack's boys were trying to gather near the bank at
the other end of town, and the rifle should let her thin them out a
little before getting in close for the big finish. She worked the
lever and chambered a round, squinting down the barrel at a run-
ning figure as it dashed for the safety of the bank's front door. A
chance breeze carried the faint jingle of the man's spurs.


The rifle bucked against her shoulder as she saw the sprinting
man collapse headlong into the dust. She was too far to tell if
it was an instant kill, but the man stayed down, which was all
that mattered. A few return shots spattered aimlessly in the
street as the men inside the bank fired through the barred win-

Jane slid out the door, keeping a wary eye on the bank. Even if
they could see her, they weren't likely to be able to get a good
shot in from this angle. Still, you never knew. The safest app-
roach would be to flank the building by working up the opposite
side of the street toward its side. The only windows and only
door were on the front, so they'd either have to sit tight and wait
for her, or come out after her.

With a sudden flurry of motion, she dashed across to the alley
across the street. A single shot rang out, missing her by twenty
feet, and she flattened herself against the corner of a building.
So far, so good...

She heard a noise, and turned to see a man rush into the alley's
other end, a shotgun clenched in his hand and a look of mortal
terror on his face as he spied her there. He brought the shot-
gun to bear, but Jane shot first from the hip, the big .44 slug
knocking him back and smashing his shoulder to bloody meat.
The second shot, better aimed, went through his chest. He fell
and did not get up.

The shooting must have alerted them to her plans. As she work-
ed along behind the buildings toward the flank of the bank build-
ing, Sanchez's men began coming at her in desperate rushes.
She killed the first two, but another group tried to catch her in a
crossfire at the next alley intersection. This took a bit of time to
sort out, and by the time she'd shot them all down, the rifle was
empty and she'd been hit twice: a shallow graze across the upper
arm and a dusting of buckshot in her calf.

"Hey! You got a death wish? Or are you really this stupid?
WHAHAHAHAHA!" She ducked as a hail of bullets knocked
her hat off and tore into the wall above her. Grinding her teeth
in a murderous fury, she cocked the .45, leapt to her feet, and let
fly at the retreating sombrero-ed figure.

"Damn you, Sanchez!" she called as he ducked into a doorway,
but raucous laughter was his only reply.

"Too bad you gots manure for brains! WHAHAHAHAHA!" He
leaned out and emptied his pistols at her as he yelled his taunts.

Damn. Sanchez was a mean bastard, fast as a cat and deadly
with his pair of little Colt .36es. Rooting him out of cover would
be a chancy thing. Jane ran her hands through her thick brown
curls and tried to think...

Ah, yes. Just the thing. She carefully slid the single stick of
dynamite out of her pocket, hefting it once to feel its balance.
She held her cigar to the fuse, let it burn down a little, then
leaned out and tossed it toward the doorway.


Jane was up and running before the dust had settled. Before her,
she could see Jack Sanchez, clearly dazed by the blast and disor-
iented by the dust. He had just enough time to see the look on
her face as she fanned the hammer on her .45, the slugs punch-
ing the bandito out of his boots as she emptied the gun at him.
He bounced once off the wall, leaving a bloody smear, before
collapsing into the dirt.

She reloaded mechanically as she limped up to him, eyes flick-
ing left and right for signs of trouble, but there was only silence.
To her surprise, though, Sanchez wasn't dead. He rolled his
head over to grin at her as blood trickled from his mouth. His
right hand twitched aimlessly in the spreading pool of his blood.

"Pretty good shooting, sister," the outlaw croaked, "but you're
already too late..." In the distance, a train whistle wailed, and
the dying man's grin widened. "Oops. You missed the train,"
he whispered. "Sorry..." With that, his eyes closed and the
twitching hand went still.

"Damn, what now?" the ex-Marshal snarled to herself.

"Excuse me? Nyssa?"

Jane spun at the voice, reflexively bringing up the gun. Before
her stood a youngish-looking man in a sleeveless 'UNA Lions'
t-shirt, jeans, and mirrored sunglasses. He jumped a little at the
sight of the gun and took a step back.

"Yes?" she rasped, impatient. The outlaws were getting away
with Sarah, and every delay was potentially fatal.

"Hey, I just came in to tell you that it's about time for Adric to
call, and you don't want him to suspect that we have this stuff,
right?" He gestured at the scene around him.

"Oh, right you are!" she said brightly. "Computer, end and save

"Game saved," a disembodied voice replied.

"Exit program."


Around the two, the town, the desert, and the fallen bodies all
abruptly melted away, while Jane/Nyssa's faded duster and small
arsenal of 19th Century firepower dissolved into a pair of white
shorts and a tank-top. She and Number One stood in a small
side-room, next to a device that looked like a cross between a
stereo and a V-6 engine. The machine said 'Acme Artificial
Reality Generator, Model 3' and was connected by thick cables
to an ordinary-looking IBM PC. Thinner wires connected to
a pair of metallic-looking headbands that Nyssa and Number
One now took off. The whole thing had the look of something
that had been very competently jury-rigged.

Number One grinned as he surveyed the jumble of equipment.
"You know, you finding a way to interface the Artificial Reality
Machine with the computer and make it interactive was a stroke
of brilliance. Life up here will be liveable, now that we can make
any computer game into an Artificial Reality."

"Don't I keep telling you lot that I'm a genius?" Nyssa asked as
she removed the 'Outlaws' CD from the computer. "Maybe now
you'll appreciate that little fact..."


BKWillis presents...


[cue Theme Song]

~o In the not-too-distant future
Not too far from This Time Round
There was a girl named Nyssa whose
Sanity was not-quite-sound.

She and some others used to fuss and fight
And destroy the pub almost every night.
So the staff and patrons of that place
Used Borusa's Time-Scoop to stick them up in spaaaaace...

(Nyssa, shouting:)
"You'll regret this!!"

(Adric, singing:)
"We'll send them crappy fiction
The worst we can find. (la-la-laaa)
They'll have to sit and read them all
To drive the violence from their minds." (la-la-laaa)

Now keep in mind only Adric controls
When the session begins or is through
As he tries to force some sense into
This completely unhinged crew.


NYSSA! ("That's _Lady_ Nyssa to you.")

DOUG! ("I'm sane! Really!")

NUMBER ONE! ("Get that camera away from me!")

DIAAAAANE! ("Aren't I the cutest?")

If you're wondering how they eat and breathe
And other science facts,
Just repeat to yourself, "It's just a 'fic.
I should really just relax."

'Cause it's Mystery Psycho Theater 3000!
(bwang) o~


[Interior bridge of the Satellite of Love]

[The bridge is calm. DOUG (a tall, ponytailed man wearing an
'Otaku and Proud' t-shirt and sweat pants) stands behind the con-
sole, looking somewhat impatient.]

DOUG: (to self) Will they hurry up? [looks at screen] Oh! Hi
there. I'm Doug, and this is the Satellite of Love, where our motto
is: 'SOL is what we are'. Welcome aboard, everyone.

[DIANE (a pretty blonde-haired woman dressed in cut-off camou-
flage pants and a t-shirt that reads: 'The Satellite: Love it or not,
you can't leave it!') enters from the left.]

DIANE: Hey! I'm not late, am I? (to screen) Hi, loyal viewers!

DOUG: (to DIANE) Nah, Di. He hasn't called--

[A light begins to flash on the console]

DOUG: --yet.

DIANE: Uh-oh. They aren't here yet. I hope he doesn't get sus-
picious. If he finds out we've got an interactive Artificial Reality
Machine, he'll take it away from us.

DOUG: I'll try to stall for them. [sighs and presses light]


[Interior back room at This Time Round]

[Various large electronic devices are clustered around the walls,
as are a few boxes of coasters, mugs, and other pub-related items.
Standing behind the control console are ADRIC (a teenaged boy
with black hair and wearing an ugly yellow and green outfit),
HARRY (a handsome, curly-haired man in his 30's wearing a
barman's apron), and PEARL FORRESTER (a heavyset blonde
woman with her hair pulled into a bun and wearing a severe-
looking uniform with medals on the breast pocket). ALL are
smiling, but HARRY's seems a little strained.]

ADRIC: (to screen) Hello, Balin, Dwalin, Fi-- [looks at screen
suspiciously] Hey! Where are Fili and Kili-- I mean, Nyssa and
El Numero Uno?



DOUG: (innocently) Who?



ADRIC: Don't do your owl imitation at me! You know very well
who I mean! Why aren't they here?



[DOUG and DIANE look at each other uneasily]

DIANE: (to screen) Why, they're, uh... They're...

[BOTH fidget and stammer]



ADRIC: [suddenly looks shocked] They're having _sex_, aren't



[DOUG and DIANE both continue to flounder for a minute, until
ADRIC's words finally sink in]

DOUG: That is, they've-- What?!? No! At least, I don't think
so... Probably not...



[PEARL is glancing coyly at HARRY, who is looking more
strained than ever.]

ADRIC: (fuming mad) How _dare_ she...



[NYSSA (a beautiful, petite teenage girl with curly brown hair
and wearing white shorts and a tank-top) runs on from the right,
NUMBER ONE (a short, dark man in a sleeveless 'UNA Lions'
t-shirt, jeans, and sunglasses) right behind]

NYSSA: Sorry! Didn't mean to be so late!



ADRIC: (angrily) Never mind your apologies! What do you
mean by having sex with each other, you two?



[NYSSA and NUMBER ONE look stunned]

NUMBER ONE: You think that I... we... us two...

NYSSA: (angrily) First off, where did you get that idea, and,
secondly, what makes you think it's any of your concern, anyway?



ADRIC: Of _course_ it's my concern! Don't you realize that I--



[DOUG and DIANE look expectantly at the screen, while NYSSA
looks peeved and NUMBER ONE, confused]



ADRIC: --have the ratings to look out for? Do you know how big
a market share we could get if we had on-screen sex? For good-
ness's sake, try to see the big picture, here! If you're going to have
sex, _tell me_, so I can get the cameras going!



[DOUG and DIANE seem oddly disappointed, while NUMBER
ONE looks ticked-off and NYSSA looks angrier than ever]

NYSSA: You little _pervert_! How _dare_ you...



ADRIC: [still clearly thinking about the ratings] We're a cable
show, we could get by with it. Although... [points at screen]
You! Number One! Change into your girl-form first. _That's_
the way to get the ratings up! A show with lesbianism _can't_

PEARL: (to ADRIC) One word, Aspic.

ADRIC: (to PEARL) What?

PEARL: 'Ellen'.

ADRIC: Oh, yeah... Still, it couldn't hurt...



[NYSSA is being forcibly restrained by DIANE and NUMBER

NYSSA: (shouting) I'll show you hurt, you perverted, egg-suck-
ing rat!

DOUG: (obviously trying to change the subject) So, anyway,
how are the copyright problems coming along?

NYSSA: (shouting) You weasel! I'll kill you deader than ever!



ADRIC: [smiles] I think I'll let Mrs. Forrester answer that...

PEARL: (to ADRIC) Thanks, Asterisk. (to screen) Ahem. I
have decided to settle out-of-court and declare that this little
shindig has no relation to my own pet project with Nelslime and
his little appliances.



[In the background, NYSSA is still struggling to get away from
DIANE and NUMBER ONE. DOUG ignores this]

DOUG: Well, that's great! What changed your mind, Mrs. F?



PEARL: Three things, really, monkey-boy. One, I saw that this
project _isn't_ aimed at Universal Conquest, as is the case with
Yours Truly's great masterwork; two, this operation is clearly a
two-bit outfit that will go nowhere as a scheme of Evil; and, three--
[latches onto HARRY's arm] --I get a date with Dreamboat here
if I agree to throw in the towel.

[HARRY smiles shakily]



[Behind DOUG, the struggle goes on. He pays it no mind]

DOUG: [tries not to laugh] That's... really great. I'm glad
things worked out.



PEARL: Ain't it great? (to HARRY) You just prepare yourself,
Sweetcheeks. Ol' Pearl's gonna go warm up the Widowmaker--

HARRY: (nervously, to PEARL) Widowmaker?

PEARL: (to HARRY) My ship. Just a name. Anyway, I'll go get
'er warmed up, and then we're off to the Tourway Inn for pancakes
and a room! [swats HARRY's behind as she exits through the
door at the rear of the room]



[NYSSA is relatively calm and ALL are back in front of the
screen, looking amused]

NUMBER ONE: Congratulations, Harry!

DIANE: You're a lucky man, 'Sweetcheeks'.

NYSSA: Hey, Swamprat! Why don't you send a camera with



[HARRY looks at the screen, and his ever-present smile slowly

HARRY: (desperately) Someone, please kill me!

[a horn blows off-screen]

ADRIC: That's her, Harry. Have fun!

[HARRY walks out the rear door like a man going to the gallows]

ADRIC: (to screen) Anyway, in honor of our agreement with
Mrs. Forrester, I've got a special treat for you today!



NYSSA: (sarcastically) A twenty-part Woon story about what an
utter whiner I am?



ADRIC: No. Actually, my special treat is that today's fanfic is
mercifully very short and not a Woon piece. It's actually a frag-
ment of a longer piece, and was found on the hard drive of a Mr.
B. K. Willis, a name that may be familiar to you.



DOUG: [shrugs] Never heard of 'im.

DIANE: Me neither. Sounds like a loser.

NYSSA: The name means nothing to me.

NUMBER ONE: Well, _I_ know that little creep. I've been wait-
ing to get some payback on that guy, and this'll do for a start.



ADRIC: And, since Harry's not here and Francois is out beating
up Hell's Angels -- that's his hobby, by the way -- I'll just have to
do this myself. [puts his hand on a large and conspicuous button
on the console] Have fun, kids! [pushes the button]



[Various alarms, lights, and sirens go off as general chaos ensues.]

ALL: Aaaah! We've got short fan-fic sign!

[ALL run off]


[Door sequence: 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]


[SOL, Theater interior]

[The four enter the theater from a door on the right, all carrying
popcorn and drinks. NYSSA takes the aisle seat, with NUMBER
ONE on her left, DOUG on the other side of him, and DIANE to
DOUG's left.]

DOUG: (to NYSSA) Say, you two weren't really having sex,
were you?

NYSSA: (to DOUG, horrified) Of _course_ not! He was getting
me out of the AR machine. How can you even ask that? What a
terrible thought!

NUMBER ONE: (to self) That's okay. I don't need self-esteem...


NUMBER ONE: Nothing, nothing.

DOUG: The fanfic cometh...

[A screen in front of the four lights up and words begin to appear
on it.]


DOUG: With that title, I _hope_ this isn't a slash-'fic.

>"This is stupid!"

NUMBER ONE: All right! Let's hear it for honesty in fan fic-

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE) You don't even know what this
'fic is about, yet.

NUMBER ONE: (to DIANE) Don't have to. Adric wouldn't
have sent it if it didn't reek.

>Nyssa repeated the phrase several times as she paced in front of
>the cell door.

NYSSA: (flatly) I'm the star of this one. Yay.

>Every so often she would pause and glare out the security door's
>small window at the two uglies

NUMBER ONE: Were they bumping?

> on guard in the hall. She spoke mostly to herself, as the guards
>had shown little inclination for conversation other than "Keep it
>down, dammit!" when she'd shouted at them earlier.

DOUG: (Nyssa) But, my name isn't Dammit!

>Her companion was equally uncommunicative.

DIANE: Since he was dead, it wasn't all that surprising, really.

>After being thrown in the holding cell together, Marlowe had
>simply flung himself on one of the hard bunks, where he still
>lay, staring sullenly at the ceiling.

NYSSA: (Marlowe, angrily) Stupid ceiling! One day, you'll pay!

>For the eighth time, Nyssa made a circuit of the little cell,
>hoping for some chink

DIANE: [points at screen] A slur! A slur!

DOUG: Damn. Where'd I put Jesse Jackson's phone number?

>or failing that might offer a means of escape. For the eighth
>time she found nothing.

NUMBER ONE: So, this Nyssa has a problem with pattern rec-

>"You might as well save your energy. Simple setup like this,
>there's just no

NYSSA: ...plot, no characterization, nothing.

>way out but through that door, and no way to open it from in

DOUG: Hence, the room's usefulness as a cell. Canny guy, that

>"It sounds as if you speak from experience." It came out with the
>slight acid it was intended to have,

DIANE: Enough to discolor the floor without dissolving any of it.

>but Marlowe shrugged it off imperturbably.
>"I've been in a few lockups before.

NUMBER ONE: (Marlowe) Mainly on Lewd Conduct charges.

>Got to admit, though, this is one of the tighter ones. One
>security door a couple centimeters thick, burnproof and
>blastproof, with a smartlock controlled from a keypad. All walls
>are internal to the building. Two bunks with blankets, one
>chemical toilet, one light fixture armored into the ceiling. Plus
>an audio bug, probably in the door, that should keep our darling
>hosts outside well informed of everything we say."

DOUG: All right! Let's have a round of applause for Sir Philip

ALL: [clap]

>Nyssa sat on the other bunk, looking at her feet.

NYSSA: My feet are lovely, aren't they? Not as pretty as the rest
of me, but still quite attractive in their own way.

NUMBER ONE: (to NYSSA) I'd have to agree.

DOUG and DIANE: [roll their eyes and shake their heads]

>"So there's nothing we can do?"
>"Nothing about getting out of here. But we could do something
>to ah-pass the time."

NYSSA: [eyes go wide]

DOUG and DIANE: (porno music) Bomp-chicka-chicka-bomp-

>Something in the tone of his voice made her look up sharply at
>him. He was staring at her appraisingly,

DIANE: (Marlowe) Hmm. I could probably get at least a hun-
dred bucks for her on the open market, maybe two if I stuff her

NYSSA: [glares hatefully at DIANE]

>his one eye roaming the curves of her body.

NUMBER ONE: Leaving behind a trail of slime as it rolled off
her shirt and splattered on the floor.

OTHERS: Eewwww...

>"What do you mean?" she said awkwardly.
>"You know.

NYSSA: Certainly I know. That's why I _asked_, you dip. [rolls

>We could have a little fun, you and I.

DOUG: (Marlowe) We could play Yahtzee!

>I mean, we're locked in here together anyway, with just these
>bunks. And there's no telling what will happen to us when ol'
>Clever Trevor decides to let us out."

DIANE: 'Clever Trevor'? Is that Gnarly Charlie's brother?

>He was leering at her now, and sliding over to her bunk. "So
>what do you say, eh?

DOUG: (Canadian) You up for some back-bacon, eh?

>Up for a quick tumble in the sack?"


NUMBER ONE: [shakes head] Smooth, brother. Real smooth.

NYSSA: All right, fanfic-me. You'd _better_ know how to
answer that...

>She drew away, repulsed. "I'm NOT going to sleep with you!"

NYSSA: [sniffs] Not as good as an icepick in the eye, but it'll do,
I suppose.

>"Oh come on! What I've got in mind won't involve sleep. Not
>'til afterward anyway."

DIANE: I see he's been reading _Mike Tyson's Guide to Picking
Up Broads_.

>Before she could move, before she even realized Marlowe had
>moved, he was next to her and pulling her tightly to him.

DOUG: (Marlowe, as Pepe lePew) Oh, how I love you! [makes
exagerrated kissing noises]

>She flailed at him, but her blows had no effect.

NYSSA: Use a real flail next time. [holds up a medieval ball-
and-chain weapon] Only $49.98 at Blunt-Trauma-R-Us!

>Terrified, she screamed and tried to wriggle out of his grasp as
>he bent low to her face.

DIANE: (Marlowe, huskily) You've got eye boogers, darling.

>His lips brushed her ear, and he whispered,

DOUG: "Squeal like a pig!"

NYSSA and NUMBER ONE: [whap DOUG on the head]

>"Scream louder, then follow my lead!"
>Understanding (she hoped) replaced her fear as he loosened his
>grip to allow her to slip free.

NUMBER ONE: Ah. The old Pretend-to-Sexually-Assault-Your-
Fellow-Prisoner trick. One of the oldest in the book, but not rec-
ommended if your cellmate is an Ogron.

>As she fled toward the door, his hand caught her shoulder and
>ripped the neck of her blouse a little.

DIANE: I'm seeing _so_ many Harlequin Romance covers right

>"HELP! Get this maniac away from me!"
>"Pipe down and keep your little lovers' spats to yourselves!"

DOUG: (guard) Yeah! We don't bother you with _our_ lovers'

NUMBER ONE: (other guard) Hush, Nigel! They aren't to
know about us!

>"We are NOT lovers! This pervert is trying to-" She couldn't
>think of the word, crime being very ancient history on Traken.
>Marlowe was mouthing a word to her where the guards couldn't
>see him.

NYSSA: [squinting] Fug... fog... fudge... I'm sorry, I'm just not
getting it...

>"-trying to rake me! RAPE me I mean!"

DOUG: [snorts] I can just see that happening with _our_ Nyssa!
It'd be like trying to molest a rabid pit bull!

NYSSA: (to DOUG) I'm going to assume that was meant as a

>"Ah come on, sweet thing! I just want a bit of fun! I promise
>it'll be good for you! Haven't had many complaints yet!"

DIANE: (Marlowe) Just ask my last girlfriend! [holds up hand]

>He grabbed her again and she slapped him, cupping her hand to
>make it louder. "That's okay too, dearie. I like a little rough

DOUG: Beep. Beep. Beep.

NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) What's that?

DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) My cliche detector is going off.

>He slung her back onto the bunk and approached, towering over
>In the hall, the security goons exchanged glances.

NUMBER ONE: (guard, indignantly) Hey! I'm no goon! I'm a
card-carrying member of the Guild of Thugs and Minions!

>The leaner one muttered "Mr. Enright said he wanted her
>unharmed," and with that he tapped the door opening code into
>his keypad while his stocky partner drew his pistol.

NYSSA: Not a bad likeness, either, but not as good as his shot-
gun portraits.

>The door slid open and the two entered the cell, covering the
>struggling pair with their guns. "All right, Romeo, get off her
>or I'll put a cap in you!"

DIANE: That must be from the Director's Cut of 'Romeo and

NUMBER ONE: Yeah. It comes right after the scene where
Tybalt says, "Have at thee, Benvolio, that I may lay the smack-
down upon thy punk ass!"

>Marlowe rose slowly and Nyssa struggled up off the bunk.
>"Come here girl, and we'll move you to the next cell down." The
>other guard sneered at Marlowe.

DOUG: (guard, chanting) You ain't gonna get none! Neener
neener neener!

>"Damned degenerate. Can't much say I blame you though." His
>eyes wandered to Nyssa's torn neckline.

DIANE: (guard, effeminate) That blouse is _so_ last week.

>Nyssa stepped nervously over to the guards. "Please. Just get
>me away from this filthy, repulsive pervert. He's a vicious

DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) I guess this brings back memories
for you, eh, oh Dateless One?

NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) Bite me, Yankee-boy.

>There's no telling what he might do to me!"
>"Aw, jeez guys. You can't put that kind of temptation in here
>and then take it away!

DIANE: (Marlowe) And not even leave me any Kleenex...

NYSSA: Eewww. Gross, Diane!

>Just five minutes with her! What do you say?"

NYSSA: Five? I guess he's including foreplay and a smoke after-

OTHERS: [stare at NYSSA}

NYSSA: [giggles]

>He leered at Nyssa again and she drew back in fear, clinging to
>the lean guard as she did. Her blouse gaped just a little and for a
>split second all eyes were on her--

NYSSA: Hey! No peeking!

>The stocky guard staggered as Marlowe's boot caught him in the

DOUG: While Marlowe remained safely across the room. Fortu-
nately for him, his 'boots' were actually trained attack animals
from Sqornshellous Delta.

>Before he could recover, the one-eyed mercenary had flung him
>to the floor. His pistol flew from his grasp and slid under a
>bunk. The second guard tried to raise his pistol, but Nyssa

NYSSA: (slightly crazed) ...ripped his arm off at the shoulder
and beat him to death with it! Then I-- I mean, she-- grabbed the
other one by the throat and tore out his jugular, laughing as the
hot blood ran down her arm! [begins to look psychotic]

NUMBER ONE: [looks nervously at NYSSA] Uh-oh...

NYSSA: (very crazed) Other guards charged into the room, only
to be torn apart as I shredded their entrails with my bare hands
and strangled them with their own intestines! MWAHAHAHAH!
Kill! Kill!! KILL!!!

DOUG: AAH! She's gone crazy!

DIANE: I've got the cure! You guys hold her down!

[DOUG and NUMBER ONE grab NYSSA and force her down in
her seat as she struggles and bites at them. DIANE runs over and
pulls a magazine from her pocket.]

DIANE: Hold her face still!

[NUMBER ONE takes hold of NYSSA's head, nearly losing some
fingers, and holds her still. DIANE opens the magazine in front
of NYSSA's eyes, whereupon NYSSA's struggles begin to sub-
side a little.]

DOUG: (to DIANE) It's working, by God! What is it?

DIANE: It's an 'Oh! My Goddess!' manga. The best thing to
instill a sense of niceness. (to NYSSA, gently) See? There's

NYSSA: [struggling] Kill! Blood! Ki-- [stops struggling]

DIANE: (to NYSSA) Yeah, see? In this panel, she's making a
cake for Keiichi...

NYSSA: [smiles] (voice back to normal) Keiichi? Is Skuld

DIANE: (to NYSSA) Uh-huh. She's watching them from
around the corner, to make sure Keiichi doesn't try to kiss her
sister. See?

[DOUG and NUMBER ONE let go of NYSSA, who is intent on
the comic book. DIANE lets her have it and returns to her seat.]

DIANE: (to DOUG and NUMBER ONE) I think we should just
let her be for now. At least, until the fight scene is over.

[NYSSA is engrossed in reading the manga.]

>clung to his gunhand. Knocking her to the side, he looked up
>just in time to see Marlowe's fist coming.

NUMBER ONE: Actually, Nyssa's version was more exciting.

NYSSA: [reading manga] Heh heh... That silly Skuld...

>He went down stunned, his jaw broken. Marlowe kicked the gun
>from his hand, but was tripped by the first guard before he could
>recover it.

DOUG: Fight scene choreography by Howard, Fine, and Howard.

>The stocky guard leaped on him, roaring, but Marlowe elbowed
>him hard in the ribs. A moment later, he was slamming the
>guard's thick skull against the cell wall.

DOUG, DIANE, and NUMBER ONE: (singing) Slam!/Da-da-
daa/Da-da-daa/Let the boys be boys!

NYSSA: [reading manga] Oh, no! Here comes Urd! [laughs

>"Behind you!"

DOUG: Ha ha! Made you look!

>He dropped the still body and spun, too late to dodge as the other
>guard lashed out. A fist caught him in the temple and another in

NUMBER ONE: ...the cathedral, followed by a kick in the syna-

DOUG: Oooh. That'll leave a mosque...

>the ribs before he could react. "I'll kill you, you son-of-a-bitch!",

DIANE: (Marlowe) Sticks and stones may break my bones--

NUMBER ONE: (guard) Now, there's an idea! [makes sounds
of severe beating]

>the guard tried to yell through his maimed jaws.
>Marlowe's wits were still scrambled from the head shot,

DIANE: More like from birth, I'd say.

> and it was all he could do to block the man's frenzied blows. A
>sudden kick took him in the stomach, and he wound up landing
>half-on one of the bunks. He couldn't recover, couldn't get his

DOUG and DIANE: Tag out! Tag out!

>A booted foot slammed into his crotch, and he drew up in agony,
>stomach heaving.

NUMBER ONE: (Marlowe, in pain) Shouldn't... have had... the

>The guard smiled as much as his broken jaw would allow and
>kicked him again. "Stop it! I'll shoot you if you don't!"

DOUG: Some dialogue tags would help... assuming I gave a
damn what was going on, that is.

>Turning, he found Nyssa standing in the doorway, aiming his
>own pistol between his eyes. As he tensed to spring at her,
>Marlowe rose up and struck him savagely from behind.

DIANE: (Jack Elam, indignantly) You hit that fella in the back!

NUMBER ONE: (James Garner) Just as hard as I could.

DOUG: The 'Support Your Local Gunfighter' skit, ladies and

>With a sickening crack, his collarbone broke. A backhanded
>blow caught his jaw, and his eyes widened, then closed as the
>waves of pain wracked him. As he collapsed, Marlowe kicked
>him in the face, crushing his nose and splattering blood across
>the tiles.

DOUG, DIANE, and NUMBER ONE: [look nervously at NYSSA]

NYSSA: [reading manga] Another Skuld invention? [giggles]
Better be careful, Keiichi...

>Marlowe staggered toward the door as Nyssa knelt and turned
>the guard's bloody head gently to one side.
>"I'm making sure he doesn't choke on his own blood."

DIANE: [looks at NYSSA] (to DOUG) I'm really glad I gave
her that manga. Just _imagining_ the rant that would come from
her seeing the above scene makes my head throb.

>"How sweet. Gee, I wish I had just taken an ass-kicking so
>you'd be nice to ME. Oh, I forgot. I did just take an ass-

DOUG, DIANE, and NUMBER ONE: (flatly) Ha... ha...

>"Evidently you're fine, since you can still irritate me."

DOUG: And us.

>"See if you can dig Fat Boy's pistol out from under the bed.

NUMBER ONE: (guard, as Cartman) I'm not fat! I'm big-

>I'd get it myself, but I'll probably lose my dinner if I bend down
>right now."

DIANE: I'll probably lose mine if this goes on much longer.

>She handed the automatic to him and they warily entered the

NUMBER ONE: If it ain't got corridors, it ain't Doctor Who.

>He moved cautiously ahead of her. "I don't really know where
>we are, but this looks like as good a way as any. Come on."

DOUG: So saying, they headed down the hallway and into the
unshielded reactor core, where both died instantly.

>A thought struck her.

DIANE: [makes smacking sound]

>"What would you have done if they hadn't paid any attention?"
>He grinned wickedly back. "I'd have tried poetry on you."

DOUG: That's _it_? That's the ending?

NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) You'd rather it drag on a while

DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) Good point.

> ********

NUMBER ONE: It's the enormous constellation known as 'Rosie
O'Donnel's Belt'.

[The screen fades out and the lights come back on.]

NYSSA: [finishes the manga and looks up] What? Is it over?

DOUG: Finito.

NYSSA: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you three to finish it by
yourselves. [returns manga to DIANE]

DIANE: (to NYSSA) No problem. You didn't miss anything...

[ALL get up to leave]

ADRIC: (voice-over) Not so fast, you lot!

DOUG: What? The 'fic is over, isn't it?

ADRIC: (voice-over) Yes, it is. But the session is not.

NYSSA: What? You said we'd just have a short fanfic today!

ADRIC: (voice-over) And that's what you're getting, a short fan-
fic... followed by a lengthy and painful paranoid rant about inter-
national conspiracies! Isn't that wonderful?

DIANE: [teeth clenched] Just super.

NYSSA: Yes. Fabulous. When I get down from here one day,
I'll show you my appreciation.

ADRIC: (voice-over) By the way, that's a nice interactive inter-
face system you've got hooked up to that old Artificial Reality

DIANE: (nervously) Aheh heh. You... know about that?

ADRIC: (voice-over) I knew about it when Nyssa started to build
it. I _told_ you I have control of all the Satellite's systems.

NYSSA: So, are you going to take it away from us?

ADRIC: (voice-over) Why bother? The worst it'll do is set back
your, ah, 'therapy', and mean that you have to stay up there. And
that suits me just fine! I'm making a tidy profit off this TV show
idea, and getting some revenge, to boot. You lot can stay there 'til
you rot, for all I care! Now, read your rant!

[ALL sit back down]

DOUG: (sadly) You know, I'm beginning to question my faith
in Adric's ineffable plan...

DIANE: [pats DOUG on the shoulder]

NUMBER ONE: [points at DOUG and makes twirling motion
beside his head]

>Note: It will help greatly to first read my web pages at:

NYSSA: Webtv. Ah. This is going to suck butt-wind, isn't it?

DOUG: [nods solemnly]


DIANE: (brightly) Hello!

NYSSA: (brightly) Good day!

DOUG: (brightly) Howdy!

NUMBER ONE: (brightly) Bite me!

>Democracy leads to socialism, which lead so communism, fact
>of life!

DOUG: Wow. Gets right to the point, doesn't she? It's just a
shame that that point bears no relation to reality.

>That is why Rockefellers' Rich Man's Mafia

ALL: [laugh]

NUMBER ONE: (uppercrust New Englander) I say, Biff old
man! Care to go shake down some pawnshops? It'll be _such_
a lark!

DOUG: (uppercrust New Englander) Smashing idea, Roderick!
I'll get the Bentley and be right over!

NUMBER ONE: (uppercrust New Englander) Please, Biff. I've
told you before, it's 'Roddy the Bull'. Don't make me cap your
punk ass.

>overthrow our democracy, our government, our constitution!
>For a complete understanding we must examine a bit of history.

DIANE: Specifically, the bit where Dorothy met Glinda the
Good Witch.

>Right wing is the dominant male primate ruling the pack (or a
>tiny group of the ruling the pack).

DOUG: (aggressively) Well, that settles that. _I'm_ in charge
around here!

NUMBER ONE: (to DOUG) Excuse me, but that says 'domin-
ant male'. Meaning, the one that can whup the others. [cracks
knuckles] Care to settle that point?

DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) Sure, why not? [throws his drink
on NUMBER ONE, who turns female] There, now I'm the dom-
inant male by default.

NUMBER ONE (Female): (to DOUG) Why, you... [jumps on

[DOUG and NUMBER ONE (F) fight for a moment before
DIANE and NYSSA yank them apart]

DIANE: Knock it off, kids.

NYSSA: Yes. Besides, this Satellite is a Gynarchy, anyhow.

DOUG: (to NYSSA) Who says?

NYSSA: (to DOUG) Says the population segment with the
sharpest fingernails. [NYSSA and DIANE hold up their hands

NUMBER ONE (F): Hah! I'm still a part of the ruling class!
[sticks out tongue at DOUG]

> Homo sapiens are primates, so that means royalty,

NYSSA: Princess Margaret is a primate?

DIANE: _Technically_ speaking, yes...

>popes, tribal chiefs, tiny group of rich with their political

DOUG: Hah! I always _knew_ Kermit the Frog was a front for
the Rothschilds!

>tyrants, dictators, etc., ruling the pack or masses or The People.

NUMBER ONE (F): It takes a Village to raise The People...

>Left wing is PEOPLE POWER or The People ruling themselves
>via a one person gets one vote system, bill of rights, liberty,

DOUG: (sarcastically) Just like they have in Cuba and North

NYSSA: Now, in all fairness, 'left-wing' includes places like
Sweden, too.

NUMBER ONE (F): [shrugs] So? To each regime its unique
atrocity. Cuba and North Korea have repression and famine,
Sweden has Ace of Base and uncomfortable furniture.

>Mankind is evolving from right wing toward left wing, as the
>masses become better educated and more capable of ruling

DIANE: Then why is it most Leftist governments arise in places
where the population is abysmally ignorant, I wonder? As in
Nicaragua or Ethiopia?

NUMBER ONE (F): Or San Francisco?

>No longer does a tiny few rich have a monopoly on education,

DOUG: They have a Parcheesi instead. Doesn't take as long to

>therefore they cannot justify

NYSSA: (singing sultrily) ...my love/Whoa-ooohh...

NUMBER ONE (F): [looks at NYSSA and begins fanning her-

>ruling the masses on those grounds.
>And to say the person with the biggest club or most powerful
>weapon should rule, went out of style in the cave man days.

DOUG: (effeminate voice) Oh, Fidel! Don't you know that
armed repression is just _so_ passe'? Like, get with the times,
you big, bearded stud!

>Today, the only morally correct type of government at this stage
>of evolution is

NYSSA: ...moronocracy.

DIANE: ...mediocracy.

NUMBER ONE (F): ...hypocrisy.

DOUG: You three just summed up the US Government in three
words. Impressive.

>democracy and The People ruling themselves because the
>masses have earned that right by becoming educated and
>capable of making their own decisions.

NUMBER ONE (F): So, where does that leave those of us who
_don't_ have any higher education?

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)): Shut up, serf!

>Russians used their sputnik lasers to create Jesus,

DOUG: What the Hell?!

DIANE: Whoa! Major shift in focus, there!

NUMBER ONE (F): [collapses laughing]

NYSSA: It's probably for the best that I have no idea what the
author's talking about...

>write the Bible, to create all the religions of this earth to keep
>mankind stupid

DIANE: So, the Russian sputnik lasers also created the 'Jerry
Springer Show'?

DOUG: Actually, I'd believe _that_.

>and superstitious so no one would learn of their sputniks.

NYSSA: Ah, I see. The Russians created these 'sputniks' for the
purpose of keeping people from knowing that the sputniks had
been created. I would think it would've been cheaper to have just
not built them to begin with.

>The Russians used the greedy rich and their ruling class
>puppets to enslave and control the masses for them,

DOUG: (angrily) Damn you, Pinnochio! You'll be first against
the wall, come the Revolution!

ALL: [begin humming the 'Internationale']

>because that way the Russians could control a tiny few greedy
>rich and ruling class nerds to control the entire human race.

ALL: Ruling class nerds!? BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

[ALL laugh uproariously for a moment, then stop one by one and
get frightened looks.]

NUMBER ONE (F): Say, y'all aren't thinking...

DOUG: Bill Gates?

ALL: [shudder]

DIANE: Al Gore?

ALL: [shudder]

DOUG: George Bush?

NUMBER ONE (F): Nah. She said 'nerds', not 'weenies'.

>So no matter what the rich were called, ie., trial chiefs, royalty,
>popes, tyrants, dictators, etc., the Russians controlled their
>greedy and power hungry buns

NYSSA: Aha! Global conquest through sinister breadstuffs.

>and used them to enslave the masses for millenniums to date,

NUMBER ONE (F): Okay, I'm going to ignore the creative
spelling and go straight to wondering how the Russians have
managed this for all this time, seeing as how they've only been
a country for nine hundred years or so. That also, of course,
overlooks the fact that the Russians can't even make useable
_concrete_, much less secretly rule the world...

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)): You know the drill. Smile
and nod...

>while brainwashing the masses with religious hoax bullshit to

DOUG: Yeah! All that phony crap about 'loving thy neighbor'
and 'doing unto others' really pisses me off, too!

>control them. At the same time, the Russians always wiped out
>all democracy, socialism, communism from the face of this >earth, because
they saw it as

NYSSA: ...a fun party game.

NUMBER ONE (F): [shrugs] It beats Charades.

>a danger to them. Well, the Russians used their sputniks to
>create the Catholic Church

NUMBER ONE (F): Actually, that would explain the Pope's
choice of hats...

DOUG and DIANE: [whap NUMBER ONE (F) on the head]

NYSSA: Hey, I wonder if they could use that sputnik laser to
create a fried bologna sandwich for me?

DOUG: (to NYSSA) The author's creating more than enough
baloney already.

>and to have the popes damn all science and technology and to
>put Europe into the dark ages sending it backwards to a more
>primitive time.

DOUG: And, apparently, plumbing technology is still under a
Papal ban, judging by the last time I was in France.

>But the popes tried to encircle Russia with the Holy Crusades so
>the Russians used their sputniks to create Ali and the Islamics

NUMBER ONE (F): ...who later changed their name to 'Sam the
Sham and the Pharaohs'.

>to prevent that from taking place. Centuries later the popes ran
>right wing death squads in places too near to Russia like

DIANE: The fool! Doesn't she realize that the Popes were mere-
ly a front for the Freemasons all along, who used Jack the Ripper
to silence Princess Diana so she couldn't tell what she knew
about their plot to usher in the New World Order for the Cen-
taurians? What an idiot!

>butchering all that they could not brainwash to become >Catholics. Well,
the Russians responded by total mind

DOUG: ...Valerie Bertinelli. No real reason for it. It just seemed
like a fun thing to do at the time.

>the popes to burn to death some two million Europeans that the
>Russians used their sputniks to make to appear to be "witches",

NYSSA: ...by making them weigh the same as a duck.

NUMBER ONE (F): (English peasant) Build a bridge out of 'er!

>to cause a backlash against the Catholic Church, as the
>Russians used their sputniks to create

DIANE: ...Sinead O'Connor.

DOUG: ...Cheez-Wiz.

NUMBER ONE (F): ...the push-up bra.

NYSSA: ...Existentialism.

>Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation.

ALL: D'oh!

>The new freedoms the Protestant reformation caused the
>Industrial Revolution and serfs moving from the country into

DIANE: (Californian) Serf's up, dudes!

>The newly rich Industrialists replace the royalty and the
>workers became educated.

DOUG: I see that Ms. Luft has absolutely no grasp of the laws
of cause-and-effect.

DIANE: (to DOUG) She never studied law.

NUMBER ONE (F): Or history. Or grammar. Or economics.
Or political science...

>The printing press spread democracy and socialism to the
>workers, very rapidly which upset the Russian enormously,

NYSSA: Which Russian?

DOUG: I'm guessing Yakov Smirnov.

>because they did not know if they could control the masses
>without using a tiny group of greedy and power hungry filthy

NUMBER ONE (F): Just like I don't know if I can control my
urge to vomit all over this post without using a tiny group of
snide and malicious tacky comments.

>So the Russians perverted The People Power (democracy) of
>Socialism into

DIANE: ...foot-fetishism.

>the pure evil Dictatorship of the Proletarian workers, an
>anti-socialistic, anti-communistic, as all hell entity.

DOUG: But, wait! I thought that the Dictatorship of the Pro-
letariat was an integral part of Marxism?

DIANE: Smile and nod, dear heart.

>Yup, so the Russians caused WWI

NUMBER ONE (F): 'Yup'? What is she doing? Channelling
the spirit of John Wayne?

DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) No way! The Duke would
never talk this kind of crap!

>so they could pull off their Russian Revolution, as they total
>mind controlled nerds in the USA, England, and France to

NYSSA: ...wear pocket protectors, never get dates, and become
obsessed with Star Trek.

>invade Russian during their Revolution, so they could use that
>to get right wing Stalin into power with anti-socialistic anti-

DOUG: ...fat-free, low-sodium, water-soluble, limited-edition...

>Dictatorship of the Proletarian bullshit that they had created!

ALL: (chanting) Nancy is a pottymouth! Nancy is a potty-

>So the Russians used their sputniks to create TWO MAFIAS

NYSSA: ...thus leading to a great many movies starring Joe

>and to divide this earth between them, Stalin and his party,

DOUG: (little kid) ...where we had cake and ice cream and
borscht and played Pin-the-Tail-On-the-Imperialist-Capitalist-

>and Rockefellers' Rich Man's Mafia,

NUMBER ONE (F): Is it just me, or would that be a cool name
for a band?

>to enslave the human race for the Russians, so by controlling a
>tiny few,

DIANE: Namely, the Smurfs, the Munchkins, Gary Coleman,
and Herve Villechaize...

>the Russians could control the entire human race, once again!

ALL: (monotone) So the Russians used their sputniks to create
two Mafias and to divide the earth between them, Stalin and his
party, and Rockefellers' Rich Man's Mafia, to enslave the human
race for the Russians, so by controlling a tiny few, the Russians
could control the entire human race.

>And the Russians successfully, once again

ALL: (monotone) And the Russians successfully.

>wiped out democracy, socialism and

DOUG: ...tough mildew stains...

>communism that they greatly feared. To keep the two mafias
>fighting each other as busy work for mankind, the Russian
>sputnik nerds, had the Stalinistic Mafia have state ownership

NYSSA: There shouldn't be a comma between 'nerds' and 'had'.

DIANE: (to NYSSA) With all that's written here, you want to
pick on the punctuation?!

NYSSA: [shrugs] It annoys me.

>and take the wealth from the rich and believe in atheism

NUMBER ONE (F): (atheist) My unshakeable faith in absolute-
ly nothing shall see me through, by No One!

>while the Rockefeller Mafia wanted the rich to be

DIANE: ...naked.

>filthy rich, have private ownership, and religions!

NUMBER ONE (F): And the problem with that is...?

>As the Stalinistic Mafia damned private ownership capitalism,
>it hogged up everything in its nation for itself and lived like the
>richest Tsars ever,

DOUG: I don't really see how Bogarting all the potatoes, vodka,
and poorly-built tractors could really be classified as 'unbridled

>enslaving and brainwashing the masses and abusing them and
>their rights to the nth degree ... as the right wing pigs lied their
>asses off that they were socialists/communists!

DIANE: Stalin lied about being a communist?

NUMBER ONE (F): Yeah. He was actually a very large and
strategically-shaved cocker spaniel.

>Rockefellers' Rich Man's Mafia on the other hand busted ass to
>brainwash everyone with religious hoax bullshit to politically
>control their minds

DOUG: Now she's attacking the PTL Club!

>as they brainwashed everyone to fight wars to bring democracy,
>freedoms, religion, etc., into every nation on this earth, only to
>have their Rich Man's Mafia then move into those freed nations

NYSSA: ...lowering the property values by never mowing their
lawns and keeping a refrigerator on the porch...

>and take them over completely, enslaving and abusing the
>masses in one nation after another.
>Who was Marx? Russian Sputnik nerds total mind controlled
>Marx to

DIANE: ...make hilarious movies with his brothers and leave all
the political stuff to his cousin Karlo.

NUMBER ONE (F): (Groucho Marx) Either communism's dead
or my watch has stopped.

>write his works so they could later use it to make Russia into
>"right wing state capitalism" as Lenin always called it

DOUG: I think she means 'Lennon'. That certainly sounds like
something from a Plastic Ono Band song, anyway...

>and atheistic (religion is the opium of the masses)...

DIANE: (stoner) Let's go shoot up some Presbyterianism, man!

>for their game plan of The World Divided Between Two

NYSSA: Coming soon from the makers of Final Fantasy XXIV!

>Who was Lenin? The fool total mind controlled to cause The

DOUG: ...Beatles to break up.

NUMBER ONE (F): Yoko Ono is a sputnik nerd!

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) You just _now_ figured that

>Russian Revolution and to damn colonialism and neo-

NYSSA: ...and, at one point, Post-Modern Expressionism...

>that sputnik nerds later murdered to get Stalin into power. Yup,

NUMBER ONE (F): (John Wayne) ...pilgrim...

>who hated Lenin, used dead Lenin to the nth degree,

DIANE: (Inigo Montoya) You keep using that word 'nth'. I do
not think it means what you think it means.

>when ever it was convenient to do so. Also, Stalin used dead

DOUG: ...as a coffee-table.

>to damn Rockefellers' Mafia for its neo-colonialism! In a non
>corrupt democracy in which most people are working class, the
>workers will always vote to get federal programs to cover their
>own asses and the own loved ones in times of need,

NUMBER ONE (F): Which is pretty stupid when you consider
that the government can't do anything for you that you couldn't
do twice as well by yourself for half the money.

DIANE: I call 'no pontificating'.


>the workers will always vote against the rich and to limit the
>wealth of the rich, the workers will always vote for more and
>more benefits, greater incomes, better working conditions, etc.,
>for themselves, etc., etc.!

DOUG: Thus giving the capitalists less and less incentive to
provide the workers with jobs, which prompts the government
to assume control of the industries, which decreases their over-
all productivity, which turns the country into France, etc., etc.!

>The workers usually decide to put tight federal controls on

DIANE: ...but not airline food, apparently.

>HMO's, etc., so their consumer asses are not abused so greatly,

NUMBER ONE (F): So, according to Nancy Luft, the Federal
government's proper function is analogous to that of K-Y Jelly?

OTHERS: Eeeewwwww...

>That is the PEOPLE POWER of real, true, non corrupt,

DOUG: ...sugar-free, dolphin-safe, free-range...

>democracy and in any nation were the majority are working
>class it always will usher in a socialistic nation!

NUMBER ONE (F): Unless the electorate actually has a spark
of intelligence somewhere in its collective hide.

>Rockefellers' Rich Man's Mafia is currently brainwashing
>Americans to hate big government and why?

DIANE: (innocently) Because big governments usually end up
massacring their own citizens?

>Because their greedy rich asses do not want to pay any taxes for
>the programs that most Americans want! Some seventy percent
>of Americans want the programs,

NYSSA: So? Seventy percent of Americans think MacDonald's
is food, but that doesn't make it right.

>but over half of Americans never

NUMBER ONE (F): ...orgasm while having sex.

NYSSA: (to NUMBER ONE (F), surprised) Really? That
would explain a lot of American behavior, I suppose.

>vote because Rockefellers' Mafia controls all three of our major
>political parties

DOUG: The Crooked Bastards, the Crooked and Treasonous
Bastards, and the Crooked Bastards Who Aren't Going to Win.

>and they can not get anyone to represent them and want they
>want, so long ago they gave up voting! And the social
>programs to house, to feed, to get medical care, etc., to each
>and every American

NUMBER ONE (F): ...and the programs to make chocolate cost
a penny and bubblegum never lose its flavor and goldfish live
forever and baseball games never get rained out and make every-
body be nice to each other all the time...

>are simply traditional American civil defense measures when
>under siege

DIANE: ...or any other crappy Steven Segal movie is playing.

>(of enemy sputnik lasers) in war time!

NYSSA: Ah. Almost forgot about the sputnik lasers.

>Anti-American and immoral as all hell to not have them!

DIANE: Wow. All the words are spelled right, and it still makes
no sense at all.

>Anyhow, most workers of the USA used to be socialists or
>communists of one kind or another,

NUMBER ONE (F): MWAHAHAHAH! Tell that to my Grand-
pa, and see how much of your ass you leave with!

>to one degree or another, and a coalition of them used to keep
>voting FDR into power.

DOUG: Actually, 'communist' is a fair enough label for 'New-
Deal Democrats'.

NUMBER ONE (F): Or any Democrats.

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) Somewhere to the right of
Atilla the Hun, are you?

>The Rich Mafia controlled Congress and its criminal asses

DOUG: I see a movie title from the '40's... 'Francis Joins the
Capone Gang'.

>refused to seat duly elected socialists/communists, so they voted
>for people like FDR, JFK, etc.,

DIANE: ...until the whole country was FUBAR in a SNAFU and
found itself SOL PDQ.

>back when we still had a few rich and powerful families that
>would go up against Rockefellers' Mafia machine. Today all
>rich are corrupt. The Rich Mafia got control of our government,

NUMBER ONE (F): Well, that's a load off my mind. I'd much
rather think that the utter stupidity that comes out of Washington
is the result of a sinister plot than to have to accept that our
government is just _that_ incompetent.

>our nation, and used the FBI, blacklisting, etc., to wipe out
>virtually all of our socialists/communists.

DOUG: And God bless 'em for it!

NYSSA: I'm _so_ glad I don't understand most of this...

>Anyhow, after the workers, who are the majority, vote into
>place all kinds of socialistic changes to improve the quality of
>their lives,

NYSSA: But, wait a minute. Won't this Rickenbacker Mafia, or
whatever it is, stop them from doing that?

DIANE: (to NYSSA) No, because the Russian sputnik laser
nerds will use the IRS to create Global Warming so that the
Zionists prevent the dictatorship of the proletariat, thus ushering
in a socialist/communist society where Ali won't have to write
the Bhagavad-Ghita. See?

NYSSA: (to DIANE) That doesn't make any sense...

DIANE: (smugly) Exactly.

>very soon they think "Why should we work our asses off to
>support any filthy rich at all?" So the workers vote to have
>certain things state owned,

DOUG: ...which will make everybody equal by making them all
dirt poor.

>vote a change to our constitution if necessary to do it, too! And
>the People start to move into communism or communal
>ownership, with a central planning community having equal
>power to workers' board of directors

NUMBER ONE (F): (sarcastically) Of course! The best way to
improve people's quality of life is through implementation of
huge, tangled bureaucracies!

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) That was dangerously close
to pontificating.

NUMBER ONE (F): Sorry, sorry!

>and disputes settled by

DOUG: ...taking a poll of the voices in my head.

>The People voting, etc.. The workers can vote to have their
>homes owned by them individually, and to have privately
>owned owned working class "ma and pa" businesses, privately
>owned working class farms and ranches, etc., and all else state

NYSSA: Can the workers vote to send net.loons to the gulag?

>And a mixed economy, if they want. Today our economy is only
>working for the rich and all others are forever more and more

NUMBER ONE (F): (Edgar Allen Poe) "'Tis some brain-dead
fool," I muttered, "posting loony Leftist lore,"/"This it is, and
nothing more."

>screwed over by it, just like the defunct USSR, and why?

DIANE: Because we like you!

ALL: (singing) M-O-U-S-E!

>Because of the lack of FREEDOMS to voice people's needs, to
>make sure their needs get met,

DOUG: Well, I need some relief from this stupid rant.

NYSSA: I need an outlet for my pent-up rage.

DIANE: I need some affection.

NUMBER ONE (F): (suggestively, to DIANE) I need some,

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) I need you to take a long walk
off a short pier.

NUMBER ONE (F): (sadly) I need a new pick-up line...

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) You need a new personality.

>to criticize it and to fine tune it to make it work for The People,
>etc., so our economy is only working for the traitors that
>overthrow our government,

NUMBER ONE (F): Like the cast of 'Friends'?

>the filthy rich, and no one else!

NYSSA: You know, I have to think that if they're as rich as all
that, they can probably afford soap.

>Rockefellers' Rich Mans' Mafia has never, ever, been so filthy
>rich and had so very many filthy rich members, as all others,
>the huge majority of Americans, only suffer more and more as
>time goes forward!

DIANE: I'm sensing a fixation on 'filth', here.

NYSSA: Poor Nancy probably suffers from that hand-washing
problem, too...

>The middle class gets brianwashed

ALL: (singing) Brian!/The man called Brian!

>to screw the truly needy,

NUMBER ONE (F): (petulantly) Well, _I'm_ needy, and no-
body will screw _me_!

NYSSA: [looks disgusted and whaps NUMBER ONE (F) on the

DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) I'd rather chew off my own

DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE (F)) I'm married...

NUMBER ONE (F): (to DOUG, disgusted) Not with _you_, you
pervert! [looks sick and whaps DOUG on the head]

>as the rich get richer, and end up screwing themselves,

DIANE: [glances at NUMBER ONE (F)] Rather like someone
else I know.

NUMBER ONE (F): [sulks]

>and in war time, too, in the process by removing their safey net!
>Whites get brainwashed to screw minorites,

NYSSA: And, once you go Black, you never go back!

OTHERS: [stare at NYSSA]

NYSSA: Erm, not that I'd know, of course... [turns red]

>etc., as the rich only keep getting richer and more numerous,
>and Whites lose in the process by

NUMBER ONE (F): ...a free-throw in the last two seconds of
the game.

>splitting up opposition to the rich! Or the Rich Mafia
>controlling all major political parties, controls everything so
>their taxes are never increased alone

NUMBER ONE (F): Hell, if I was a part of the Rich Mafia, I'd
be damned if I'd pay any taxes at all! What's the use in being
the oppressive tyrant if you don't use the perks?

>and they keep pairing tax increases to the rich with tax
>increases to the entire middle class, so the middle class opposes
>them, etc.! Etc.!

DOUG: People opposing having their taxes increased? It _must_
be a conspiracy!

NUMBER ONE (F): (to DOUG) What are you, a Kennedy?

>Why did the Russians always use their sputnik to wipe out

DIANE: Because it'd be stupid to use something like that to trim
the hedges or pick up pizzas at Safeway?

>because it leads to democratic socialism, which leads to
>democratic communism, for millenniums to date?

NYSSA: One of the great philosophical questions of the ages.
Right up there with the irresistible force meeting the immovable
object or the woodchuck question.

>Because they would have been the very strongest opponents to
>Russia, therefore an huge danger to Russia!

NUMBER ONE (F): Nah. The biggest danger to Russia is the

>Yup, always please remember it is always those that rule that
>decide everything like what kind of economy they get, what
>kind of educational system get, etc.! The USA is ruled by

DOUG: Pot. Kettle. Comments regarding pigmentation of
latter by former.

>Rockefellers' Rich Man's Mafia controlling all of our political
>parties, rigging elections, controlling all of our mass media,

DIANE: I thought the Freemasons did that?

NUMBER ONE (F): I thought it was the International Zionist
Conspiracy (tm)?

DOUG: No, I think it's the United Nations.

NYSSA: _I_ think you humans are dumb enough to mess those
things up without any outside interference.

>and we only get what they decide we get!

NYSSA: And _you_ are getting on my nerves. Who decided

>Why doesn't the huge 80% of Americans that own less then
>20% of the USA simply vote death to the tiny 20% of
>Americans that own over 80% of the USA, today?

DOUG: [eyes go wide] What the...?

DIANE: [mouth hangs open]

NUMBER ONE (F): (grimly) _That_ even I can't make a wise-
ass remark about. This... this... whatever the Hell she is... has
just called for the murder of over FIFTY MILLION people.

NYSSA: I like a good homicide every now and then, but _that_
is just...

NUMBER ONE (F): Fifty _million_. Give Luft her way, and
she'd quadruple Hitler's score.

DIANE: I _was_ feeling a bit bad about picking on this woman,
but not any more.

>Oh, cause are are not free!

DOUG: So, genocide is an integral part of liberty? How nice
that Pol Pot is alive and on the Internet. [sneers]

>But that poorest huge 80% are the toughest, roughest
>Americans and they own more guns then the tiny richest 20%,

NUMBER ONE (F): Yeah, but 'poorest 80%' includes a lot of
suburban Yuppies as well, and they're all for gun control and
can't fight anyway.

>too, so if educated about this all what will they decide to do?

NYSSA: Mock and deride you without mercy, would be my

>Have a REVOLUTION? Yup!

DOUG: Isn't it great that a person who wants the mass execu-
tion of a fifth of the population can at least express it in such a
folksy and friendly way? Kind of like having Floyd the Barber
stand in for Josef Stalin.


DIANE: ...to self: Pick up more airplane glue. Sniffed the last
tube this morning.

>Washington DC is trying to copy Russian sputniks with gamma
>ray, x ray, lasers that already exist which might cause the
>Russians to annihilate US!

NUMBER ONE (F): But, we won't have the cool name. I mean,
'gamma ray, x ray, laser nerds' just sounds stupid.

>There are people who are traitors and

DOUG: ...post Communistic, genocidal rants on Usenet.

>do not like me posting this information that they believe should
>be "classified"

NYSSA: ...as 'Utter Bollocks'...

DOUG: Well, _I_ don't like it. Am I a traitor?

NUMBER ONE (F): (Patrick Henry) If this be treason, let us
make the most of it!

ALL: [make rude gestures at the screen]

>and they will post things to try and discredit me

DOUG: Fish. Barrel. Gunfire directed at former while in latter.

> ... PLEASE ignore them and read my web pages and decide for

NYSSA: ...whether I am crazy, evil, stupid, or all three!

>Thank you GREATLY,

ALL: You're _not_ welcome!

>Nancy Ann Luft
>1515A S. 10th Street
>Milwaukee, WI 53204
>(414) 645-2390

DIANE: I sincerely hope that that is the address of a competent
mental-health facility.

[The screen fades out and the lights come back on.]

NYSSA: (to OTHERS) Come on, let's get out of here, if weasel-
boy will _let_ us, that is.

[All four get up and leave the theater]


[Door sequence: 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...]


[Interior bridge of the Satellite of Love]

[DOUG, DIANE, and NUMBER ONE (male again) are sitting
down while NYSSA stands in front of them, writing on a

NYSSA: So, the rotation for using the AR machine is as follows:
myself, Number One, Diane, Doug. So, One gets it next.

DOUG: (to NYSSA) Why do you get to decide?

NYSSA: Because I built it.

DIANE: (to NYSSA) We should vote on it.

NYSSA: This isn't the workers' paradise. I built the thing, so
either I'm responsible for it, or I take it apart and build a sputnik
laser with the pieces, and you can make your own AR machine.

NUMBER ONE: Thus, we see how socialism fails to work in real

NYSSA: (to NUMBER ONE) You've got it.

[A light on the console begins to flash. With a sigh, NYSSA
reaches over and presses it.]


[Interior back room at This Time Round]

[ADRIC stands behind the console, smiling coldly]

ADRIC: Well, comrade workers, what does your People's Com-
mittee think about my selections for today?



DOUG: Well, as the duly appointed People's Commissar of this
Collective, it is my duty to report the following. With regards to
the fanfic piece, it was much more survivable than most of our
recent 'sessions'. Although Nyssa went a bit psycho at one point,
it was by far the easiest to handle yet. Overall, considering that it
was just a surviving scene from a lost larger work, we rated it 'Po-
tentially Not Agonizing'. And for the other, I will let my distin-
guished comrade in mirrorshades report.

NUMBER ONE: Ahem. Regarding the rant by Ms. Nancy Luft,
all I can do is express my awe at having found here the ultimate
fusion of disastrous elements. To wit: insanity; Leftist politics;
and Internet access. [shrugs] Ironically, Ms. Luft's deranged
view of history would probably make the basis for a pretty good
'Doctor Who' story, but that is speculation.



ADRIC: But, did it hurt?



NUMBER ONE: Like a tick on the eyeball.



ADRIC: Excellent! [writes on notepad] More Luft, less other
guy. Thanks, guys. That was most helpful. I'll let you get back
to your little fantasy worlds, now!



[DOUG, DIANE, and NYSSA walk off to the left, while NUMBER
ONE fishes a box from under the desk.]

NUMBER ONE: That's just what I intend to do... Heh heh...

[NUMBER ONE puts the box under his arm and walks off to the
right. On the box, the words 'Leisure Suit Larry Anthology' are
plainly readable.]



ADRIC: [puts his hand on the button, then stops] Don't forget,
now! If you're going to have sex up there, be responsible! That
means to make sure the cameras are on!

[ADRIC presses the button. As the scene fades to black, ADRIC
can be heard muttering]

ADRIC: Now, where'd I put Peri's phone number...?


>Russians used their sputnik lasers to create Jesus, write the
>Bible, to create all the religions of this earth to keep mankind
>stupid and superstitious so no one would learn of their sputniks.


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