>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
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
>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
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!
>"I made this!"
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.
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!
[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: 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.