[Joel and the 'bots enter the theater.]

TOM: [to Joel] So, what were you doing in the transport tube room?

JOEL: I'll explain when we're done.

TOM: [dubiously] Okay.....

>The RR-Files, part five.

JOEL: The Final Confrontation.

CROW: Please, if there is a God in Heaven, let it the "Final" confrontation.

TOM: [bowing his head] Hallowed be thy name, Amen.

>By Chris Silva, John
>Pesterfield, Robert Knaus
>and Karl Schenk.

CROW: [Comic Book Guy] These are, without a doubt, the WORST Ranger fic authors EVER!

>Final editing and proofreading
>by Robert Knaus.


>It was a week after the

JOEL: Final.

>confrontation with the smoking
>man at Fat Cat's casino.
>The air this early in the morning
>had a distinct bite to it now.

CROW: Something bites, all right.

>Fall was giving way to winter
>once again. Mulder and Scully had

TOM: Enough, and left in search of a better fanfic.

CROW: Good luck.

>accompanied the Rangers to a
>secluded patch of oak trees.

JOEL: Where they were assassinated, gangland-style.

>Gadget had completed her

CROW: Soapbox racer, and the other Rangers were getting ready to give it a new coat of paint.

>Gigantico ray using the
>plans provided by the CSM,
>and the others agreed that
>they should return the two
>humans to their normal size
>before anything else could
>go wrong.

JOEL: [Mulder] Oh, now what?

>Mulder shook

TOM: And palpitated .

CROW: [John Candy] He blowed up *real* good!

>Chip's hand and received a
>friendly pat on the back by
>Monty (which nearly sent him
>sprawling flat on his face).

JOEL: [Bugs Bunny] Eh, dis kid don't know his own strength!

>"It's been surreal, you guys",
>Mulder quipped. "But I think
>that the whole Central Park
>scene should be left to the

TOM: You know, that reminds me. Do the Rangers get paid for their crime fighting services?

CROW: What do you mean?

TOM: Well, Bruce Wayne has billions of dollars at his fingertips. Where do the Rangers get money for their equipment?

JOEL: Careful Tom, you're starting to sound like one of those "Acorn Cafe" people.

TOM: [shuddering] Forget I said anything.

>Scully shared a hug with Gadget.

ALL: Saaaayyyyy!

>"While this whole thing has
>been just crazy," she said,

CROW: WHO said? Gadget or Scully?

JOEL: That way lies madness, Crow.

>"I'm still glad to have
>met you all."
>"Golly, we were glad to lend
>a hand!", Gadget replied.

ALL: [applause]

>Chip looked at the
>agents and shrugged.

TOM: I hope the cast of this fic was sent to a chiropractor after it was over.

>"Well...... no time like the
>present.", he stated.

CROW: Lot of stating in this fic.

>Scully and Mulder nodded,

JOEL: [rattling noise]

>then stood shoulder
>to shoulder.
>Gadget pulled her goggles
>down over her eyes.

CROW: [Gadget] I *knew* I was wearing these for a reason!

>"Shield your eyes, everybody!",
>she warned.

TOM: [Monty] Er, we kind got the idea when ye pulled yer goggles down, luv.

>The Rangers quickly
>clapped their hands

JOEL: [singing] And turned to their partners, do-se-do!

>over their eyes, as did
>the two agents.
>She pulled the trigger
>of the gun,

CROW: [angrily] *Who* did?!? For the love of God, *WHO*?!?

JOEL: Hey, calm down, Crow!

CROW: [beginning to sob] No! I WON'T calm down!

>and a dazzlingly bright glow
>lit up the small clearing.

TOM: [whistles the "Close Encounters" theme]

>An early morning jogger
>passing by saw the flash of
>light from the corner of his
>eye and paused, glancing at
>the grove of trees. He
>then shrugged,

JOEL: [Jerry Lewis] Oooh, my neck! It *hurts*! I think I broke a gland!

>and continued on his way,
>whistling a snatch of
>classical music from
>between his teeth.

[Joel and the 'bots start singing Beethoven's "Ode to Joy".]


>Mulder and Scully blinked,
>the afterimage from the blast
>of light filling their vision
>with black dots.

CROW: [stoner voice] The colors, the colors!

>"Scully, you okay?"
>"Yeah. I-I think so."

JOEL: Clear the mantle for that
screenwriting Oscar, fellas.

>As their sight returned,
>they suddenly realized
>that they could see

CROW: Through each other's clothes.

TOM: [Joey Tribbiani] How *you* doin'?

>over the small bushes
>surrounding the clearing
>they were standing in.
>Mulder looked down and saw

TOM: That he was standing in a pile of dog stuff.

CROW: [Mulder] Poopie!

>the Rangers standing in a
>small group, glancing up at
>them in wonder.

JOEL: [singing] I wonder. wonder, w-w-w-wonder, WHO.....

BOTS: [singing] Who wrote the book of love?

>"Golly.", Gadget stated simply.

CROW: A Simple Plan?

TOM: Blood Simple?

JOEL: Ah, er..... the hell with it.

>Mulder grinned,

TOM: Even Mulder thinks Joel is really bad at this.

JOEL: Ha ha.

>then bent down on one knee

CROW: And proposed to Scully.

TOM: [Mulder] Do you take me in sickness and health, through government cover-ups and alien abductions.....

>to get closer to the Rangers.
>"Thanks for everything.", he
>said. "If you ever need any
>more help from the FBI,

CROW; [Mulder] Call someone else.

>just give me a call."
>Chip walked over to
>Mulder and gave him

TOM: The finger.

CROW: Can you do that if you have only
four fingers on each hand?

TOM: [pause] Good point.

>a sharp salute. "Will do, Fox."


>Mulder and Scully walked
>slowly through the park, savoring

TOM: Each other's company.

CROW: [Mulder] You look ravishing in the dawn light, Scully.

JOEL: [Scully] Oh, knock it off, you big goof!

>the stillness of the cool
>morning air and the fact that
>they were finally back to

CROW: [Doc Brown] The Future!

>normal.....that is, as normal
>as their lives ever got.

JOEL: "The Addams Family" was more normal than "The X-Files"!

>As they walked, Scully
>began to speak.

TOM: [barking unenthusiastically]

CROW: Give it up, Tom.

TOM: [listlessly] Okay.

>"Will I be able to understand

JOEL: [Scully] The "mythology" episodes when the show is finally over?

TOM: [Mulder] Fat chance.

>animals from now
>on?", she asked.
>Mulder stopped and looked
>at Scully. "It all depends."
>Scully frowned. "On what?"

CROW: [Mulder] On whatever the drooling morons who wrote this have planned for the sequel.

>Mulder glanced around at
>the park, perfectly tranquil
>and pristine this early in
>the morning.

TOM: With the exception of the street construction half a block away.

>He then returned his
>penatrating gaze upon his partner.

JOEL: [Mulder] Yooouuuu...... are getting sleeeepy....

CROW: Zzzzz.....huh? You say something Joel?

>"On whether or not you
>want to believe."

TOM: [Mulder] That Chris Carter has any idea where the show is headed.

>With this, he continued
>to walk, leaving Scully

CROW: Twenty bucks on the night table.

>to contemplate the new door
>which had opened in her life....
>and if she wanted to enter it.

JOEL: [singing] I see a red door and I want to paint it black.....


>In a highly secretive
>room deep within the
>bowels of the Pentagon,

CROW: There was a humongous movement.

TOM: Oh, yuck!

>a man walked along a
>seemingly endless row of
>shelves looming high above him.

JOEL: [man] Great, I'll never find that back issue of "Entertainment Weekly" in this mess!

>Each one of the shelves
>was crammed with file
>boxes. He carried

TOM: A deadly toxin in his bloodstream.

>a file box of his own under
>one arm. He stopped at the
>section of one of the shelves
>marked "R" and placed
>the box on it.

CROW: He placed it on the "R"?

>He took off the top
>and peered inside.

TOM: [man] Hello, Mr. thing in the........ box? H-hello?

>The box contained a
>series of videotapes,

CROW: Keep circulating the tapes.

TOM & JOEL: [chuckling]

>as well as a handful of tiny
>mechanical devices,
>each one with meticulous
>attention to detail.

JOEL: [man] They're not "action figures", they're "collectable figurines"!

TOM: Sure they are. Yep.

>The man studied the contents
>of the box with a sour expression.

CROW: [man] I wish they'd release "Rescue Ranger" episodes on DVD.

>He then replaced the lid
>and pushed the box back
>onto the shelf.....where it
>now resided with thousands
>of identical boxes.

TOM: [box] So, uh, how you guys doin'?

JOEL: [another box] Pretty good.

>The man then took a pack of
>cigarettes from his pocket,

[Tom and Crow give Joel a worried look.]

JOEL: Hey, don't worry, guys. I'm all better now. Really.

TOM: [warily] If you say so....

>and, in direct defiance of
>the "No Smoking" sign
>posted at the door, lit up.

CROW: [Judge Dredd] I AM the law!

>CSM stared at the box for
>a few more moments,
>considering the information
>concealed within.

JOEL: Must be all the hate mail from people who dislike the show now.

>He then walked to the door
>and closed it behind him,
>sealing away the Rangers'
>secret for all time.

CROW: [starts humming the "Indiana Jones" march.]

JOEL: Steven Spielberg should sue.

TOM: It's not a "rip-off", it's an "homage"!


>The greyhound bus came
>to a halt at the station in a
>cloud of choking exhaust.

JOEL: So much for the clear air laws.

>It was nearly midnight.

CROW: [weather guy] And the temperature currently stands at 60 degrees Fahrenheit. The dew point is at an all time low for this time of year....

>As the passengers for
>the next stop began to
>file up the stairs,

JOEL: The bus erupted in a spectacular fireball.

CROW: [Dennis Hopper] Pop quiz, hot shot! There's a bomb on a bus.....

>a short, heavyset man with
>a bandaged arm hobbled
>across the station and entered
>the bus. The bus then pulled
>out of the station with the squeal
>of it's air brakes filling the air.

TOM: [Criswell] Future events such as these will affect you in the future.

JOEL: Even Ed Wood would be embarrassed by this fic.

>The heavyset man settled
>into a spare seat with a grunt.
>His left hand went to his

CROW: Not again!

>bandaged right arm and
>began to massage it.

JOEL: It BETTER be his arm he's massaging.

>The businessman sitting
>across the aisle from him
>folded his newspaper in
>his lap and studied the
>odd looking fellow.

CROW: [odd-looking man] What are *you* lookin' at, punk?

>The bandage on his right
>arm looked mighty slipshod......
>almost as if he had done
>it himself.

TOM: [confused] So....the businessman put the bandage on the odd-looking guy?

CROW: I...... guess.

>The businessman finally
>could not hold his

JOEL: Lunch down a second longer, and spewed vomit in the odd looking fellow's lap.

>curiosity any longer.
>"Excuse me, sir,", he said
>with concern in his voice.
>"but are you

TOM: [businessman] Jason Alexander?

CROW: [odd-looking man] No. People ask me that all the time.

>alright? You look rather pale."
>The heavyset man
>looked up at him.

JOEL: This scene directed by Stanley Kubrick.

>The businessman recoiled
>slighty at what he saw, or
>what he THOUGHT he saw,
>flash through the heavyset
>man's eyes.

CROW: Love.



>The businessman picked
>up his paper again and bent
>studiously to it, avoiding
>the other man's gaze.

TOM: [odd-looking man] I love a man who plays hard to get!


>The heavyset man watched
>the nosy bus patron return to

JOEL: The grave.

>his paper, then gazed out
>the window, studying the dark
>landscape as it flashed by.

TOM: If it's so dark, how can he
be studying it?

>His hand went to his badly
>burned arm again and continued
>to massage it, his thoughts
>burning themselves.....with
>visions of

JOEL: Sugarplums dancing in his head.

>He smiled unpleasantly.

TOM: Then he frowned pleasantly.

>The greyhound bus
>continued it's journey
>into the dead of night,
>taking Professor Norton
>Nimnul with it.



TOM: Apparently the same plot device that got Krycek out of that missile silo was used here as well.



JOEL: [Martin Luther King, Jr] Free at last, free at last, thank GOD almighty, we are free at last!

CROW: Testify!

>"I made this!"
>-Chris Carter.

TOM: I wouldn't brag about it, buddy.

[Joel and the 'bots leave the theater.]

[Door sequence runs in reverse.]


[Crow and Tom are standing in the bridge. Tom has a fedora placed jauntily on his dome. Crow is wearing a hawaiian shirt. Suddenly, There is a knock from off-camera.]

TOM: Hey Cr- uh, I mean Dale! That sounds like someone at the door!

CROW: Wowie-Zowie! I wonder who it could be?

[Joel and Gypsy enter from screen left. Joel is wearing a rumpled trenchcoat. Gypsy has an identical trenchcoat draped over her, as well as a red wig on her head.]

JOEL: Hi, I'm special agent Fox Mulder, and this is my partner Dana Scully. We're from the FBI and needed some help, so naturally we headed for the nearest oak tree.

CROW: Wowie-Zowie, but how did you get so small?

[Tom rams his dome into Crow's head. There is an audible, cartoonish "bonk" sound effect.]

TOM: Don't mind my useless teammate who serves no logical purpose in the group, but why ARE you so small?

JOEL: Well, we were shrunk by the evil, yet completely inept Doctor Norton Nimnul, who managed to survive a five-alarm blaze with only a tiny bandage on his arm.

CROW: Wowie-Zowie!

TOM: So, why are you here?

JOEL: Well, since we're such good buddies and all, I thought we'd stay here for the night.

[Suddenly, Magic Voice breaks in.]

MAGIC VOICE: [baritone] Ah, agent Mulder, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to reach you, even though Scully's cell phone has only one number on it's speed dial.

JOEL: Oh no, it's the cigarette smoking man, who's presence is never commented on by the government! What do you want, you black-lunged sonova-

MAGIC VOICE: [interrupting, still in baritone] I have called to make you an offer. I'll give you plans for the shrinking machine for a folder full of photos.

JOEL: [frowning] That's it? Then here, take it!

[Joel tosses the folder off-screen right.]

MAGIC VOICE: [baritone] Hey, thanks! Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go kill my useless henchman.

[Another folder drops from the ceiling. Joel picks it up and hands it to Crow.]

JOEL: Hey, this is great! Now we can get back to our regular size!

CROW: Wowie-Zowie!

[Joel lets out a chuckle and takes off his trenchcoat, which he drapes over Gypsy's neck.]

JOEL: Good work, guys! We survived another terrible fanfic none the worse for wear.

TOM: Except for your nearly getting hopelessly addicted to cigarettes, Joel.

CROW: Zowie, uh, I mean yeah!

TOM: So, what WERE you doing in the transport tube room earlier?

[Joel grins.]

JOEL: Oh....... just sending the onboard supply of cigarettes to Gizmonics, is all.

[Tom and Crow gape at Joel's words, then break out into explosive titters. As they laugh, the Mad Light begins to flash.]

JOEL: [addressing Cambot] So, what do you think, sirs?


[The screen is filled with a thick cloud of smoke. Dr. Forrester swims out of the cloud wearing a scuba diver's mask over his eyes and breathing through an oxygen mouthpiece. He removes the mouthpiece and glares at the camera in extreme closeup.]

DR. F: I'll *get* you for this, Robinson! And your little 'BOTS, too!

[Frank emerges from the smoke cloud behind Dr. F, three cigarettes dangling from his mouth and a box of Dr. F's popcorn held in his hand.]

DR. F: Hit the button, Frank. And for God's sake, put those cigarettes OUT!

[Frank drops the cigarettes and crushes
them underneath his shoe, but as he hits the button, he slyly reaches into his popcorn box and takes out a fresh pack.]


[Joel Robinson, Crow T. Robot, Tom Servo, Gypsy, Magic Voice, Cambot, Dr. Clayton Forrester, TV's Frank, Gizmonics, and the Satellite of Love are a registered trademark of Best Brains. Chip, Dale, Gadget Hackwrench, Monterey Jack, Zipper (who?), Norton Nimnul and Fat Cat are a registered trademark of the Walt Disney corporation. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Mr. X, the CSM, Skinner, Krycek and Marita Covvurabias are a registered trademark of Ten Thirteen productions. This here MST-ing is a registered trademark of Robert Knaus, who had a ball writing this. T-T-T-That's all, folks!]

>The bus then pulled out of
>the station with the squeal of
>it's air brakes filling the air.