Middle-Earth Science Theater 3000, Episode 104: "Those Darn Elves!: A Sort Of Special Episode" Original stories by Stonecold and Klou MiSTing by Amanda Van Rhyn And now... TURN DOWN YOUR STAR-GLASS (and give yourself a severe case of eyestrain) In the not-so-distant future - Several Sundays from now, A.D. - Mike Nelson and his robot pals Were living high fantasy! They finally got a vacation, But Pearl and the gang had to have their fun, So they got some guys from the planet’s face - They bribed ‘em with some pipeweed and they shot ‘em into space! ("BAMF!") "We’ll send them cheesy .txt files - The worst we can find! ("Nanana!") They’ll have to sit and read them all And we’ll monitor their minds!" ("Nanana!") Now keep in mind these dudes aren’t sure What to do with posts so inane - They may get some good riffs in, Or they may just go insane. (sound effect) - LOOK, MA! ROLL CALL! CAMBOT ("How does a robot wear a party hat?") ROSIE ("Is a rivet gun overkill for Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Donkey?") FRODO ("You shall all wear party hats! Now!") SAAAAAM! ("This space intentionally left filibustered.") If you’re wondering "Why the dumb pastiche?" And other MiSTing facts, Just repeat to yourself, this is just plain text, I should really just relax... For Middle-Earth Science Theater 3000! [The MEST3K Door Sequence: 1 is the standard vault door with a picture of the Lidless Eye in the center. 2 is a band of Orcs. They run away as you get closer. 3 is the Gates of Moria. They open with the magic password thingy. 4 is a cheesy pasteboard version of Smaug. One punch and it's down. 5 is a stone troll. A talc one, to be exact. It crumbles. 6 is the door of Bag End, complete with Gandalf-vandalized paint job. 7 is the standard dog-bone door (durhey!). And we open to...] [Scene: SoL Bridge. Strider and Sam are in their usual places. Nothing appears to be happening.] STRIDER: Oh, hello there. Welcome to the Satellite. Unfortunately, you've come at an odd time. Usually something amusing would be happening now, but today that doesn't seem to be the case. SAM: Indeed. I feel as if I should be participating in a sight gag. And something else just feels a bit... oh, I don't know, *off*. STRIDER: That too. [Frodo enters from audience right. He seems to be in an unconventially good mood.] FRODO: Hello! How are we all this fine morning? SAM: All right, I suppose. Why? FRODO: It's the 22nd! Doesn't that mean anything to you? STRIDER: Um, no. SAM: Let me try. Is it the day Strider cleans out his sock drawer? STRIDER: That's the 26th, genius-boy. SAM: Oh, that's right. Hmm... September 22nd... drawing a blank, sorry. [Frodo goes abruptly crestfallen.] STRIDER: ... what? FRODO: It's my *birthday*! Dear Eru, I'd think you two could at least remember *that*! SAM: I thought I put it on my calendar! Must have put it on the wrong month. FRODO: Well, now that we've confirmed that noone cares about my life at all... [The Mad Light blinks.] STRIDER: *Someone* does, Frodo. At least, the ones on the planet do. [He hits the Light.] Hello, Creatures of the Late Afternoon? [Scene: Deep Under 13. The 'lab' area has been drastically cleaned up. Saruman stands stage center -- he's not wearing any makeup or otherwise in Observer garb, instead wearing a 'casual' off-white robe.] SARUMAN: Greetings, puny immortals. [SoL Bridge] SAM: Hmm. What's with the normalcy, Sharkster? And where're the others? [Deep Under 13] SARUMAN: Oh, *them*? Off story-gathering, they say. Apparently they're "scouting a very promising author." Peh. Mortal interests. They've left me here to deliver a very unpleasant little story... but, since you're celebrating a *birthday* there and all, we'll have to change plans. [SoL Bridge] FRODO: You mean... we're not getting a bad story today? [Deep Under 13.] SARUMAN: No. [He smirks.] Instead, you will be receiving a *collection* of *horrible* stories. Enjoy! [SoL Bridge. The Movie Sign goes off.] FRODO: And away we go! [Door Sequence] [SoL Theater. Our crew gets seated in beautiful ShadowRama, but they don't have time for last words before the fic begins.] > [ 56] Stonecold: stonecold's killing spree FRODO: Oh, *that's* a nice title to start with. > Sat Sep 11 14:45:11 1999 STRIDER: Wow, only two days before Barbara Bain gets shot into space! > To: all > with the moves of a hundred warriors and the thirst of blood.... SAM: It was a disco INFERNO, baby! > there must have been at least 300 hundred soldiers roaring toward him FRODO: So, there were 30,000? SAM: Yeah, but "300 hundred" just sounds more painful, I suppose. > and all from different tribes.... khaos, STRIDER: Didn't they eventually get beaten by Max Smart? > wot, SAM: I don't know what! You're writing it! > dragon, FRODO: Um, hi. My name is Lester. None of the other dragons could make it, so I had to temp in... > vamps, STRIDER: Bomp-chicka-bomp-wow... > silver, lords, tower, orion, and moon SAM: It's a Wacky Funtime Tribal Revue! > these tribes sent in there best warrior and mages,,, FRODO: Wow. Triple the commas, triple the fun. > even thieves.... and clerics.. but to no avail... STRIDER: Their efforts were for naught! None of them could make the author start using capital letters! > stonecold and his mighty fiery dagger took care of these treacherous > fiends... [There is a momentary pause in the theater; Sam then starts laughing uncontrollably.] STRIDER: Are you all right? SAM: Hehehehe... fine. I mean, there are so many comments I could make about that bit, but they'd just be so superfluous. > taking them out one by one with big names FRODO: Deadly name-dropping? Wah? > like higgins from silver ALL: Dirtbag! > and paradise from dragons.... and all the other so called warriors and > mages.. they all went down fighting to the death.... SAM: Let us all observe a moment of silence for the 30,000 pointless characters who just died so that this tripe could live. [There is a moment of silence.] STRIDER: Theirs was not to wonder why; theirs was but to quickly die. SAM: Amen. > and so that is how stonecold came to be known as THE GREAT GOD OF COMBAT.... FRODO: Ah, I get it! The author was saving up capital letters just for this moment! Bit of a letdown, really. > because nothing could stand in his way... nor foe nor beast STRIDER: Yes, none can stop the wily munchkin! FRODO: Except for a Winkie. > this is the story your grandfolks will want to hear.... STRIDER: Well, not really. SAM: More action! > [ 6] Klou: Lothlorien STRIDER: ... stately home of Celeborn Foster Kane... > Tue Sep 7 21:37:13 1999 FRODO: Hey, a time hiccup! > To: all > > Elves. SAM: The other magical meat. > To any Dwarf that one word could only mean one thing....Enemy FRODO: Well, maybe so, but they have *great* keg parties... SAM: Wait a moment. Since when did you have a social life? FRODO: I'm not at liberty to divulge that. > Now I find that My tribe is going to conquer Lothlorien. STRIDER: Well, technically, all you need to conquer Lothlorien is about three warriors with no scruples whatsoever. I mean, their most advanced weapon is a Star-Glass, for Eru's sake! FRODO: Infidel. > An unexpected glee washes over me. SAM: Wheee! My Melkor Flakes Decoder Ring came in the mail! > Elves..Kill...Revenge....Honor... FRODO: Intense... fragmentary... sentences... > The Elves.. sitting pretty in there land that has not seen war in ages.... > Shall soon Find out what it is like to feel the wrath of my blade. SAM: First it's a 'fiery dagger', now it's 'the wrath of his blade'! How much compensating do these people need to DO, anyway? STRIDER: *I*, for one, don't really want to go there. > Elves have not allowed Dwarfs in their land for as long as my fathers > father can remember... FRODO: But since my grandfather has trouble remembering past lunch, it's a rather moot point. > they have hauled us out bodly by our Beards > They Shall ALL DIE FOR THEIR INSULENCE!!!!!!!! SAM: AAAAH! Too much exclamation! STRIDER: So, the elves will die for their ability to retain heat? Fairly unusual basis for a genocide, but whatever works for you, I suppose... > Elves....Elves to Rhyme with Scum.. FRODO: Well, actually, it doesn't. Unless you pronounce it "scelves." > My Great Emperor SAM: ... wait. He doesn't mean his Great *War* Emperor, does he? [A pause. Then:] ALL: Aeolus! NO! > shall walk apon the Heaped bodies of my enemys reaping Death and Dismay FRODO: So, killing the elves will make them slightly worried? > as he passes..OH Glorious Day STRIDER: Let us all give praise to the Holy and Immortal Bomb! SAM: What? You mean the story? STRIDER: ... I should have expected that. > To be fighting By the side of the most feard man In thera.... FRODO: Thera? A planet where godboys evolved from men? > My life shall feal Full and Complete STRIDER: Killing elves make me feel... like a natural woman! > Like the Red Sea before Moses the multitudes of elves shall part before > Isildur FRODO: Wait! That can't work! He's dead! SAM: Why are you thinking about this again? FRODO: ... reflex, I guess. I should probably stop. SAM: Bright idea, that. > and his Mighty army > > they shall all fall before our blades > > Oh what a day that shall be.....like a dream from those many long nights STRIDER: Well, assuming the sky is purple, I get cast in the school play, but then I get chased and fall off a cliff and don't hit the ground and stuff... > I SHALL HAVE THE REVENGE THAT IS DUE TO MY RACE AND BRING HONOR TO > MY EMPIRE FRODO: Ow! Can't you have your revenge a bit more *quietly*? > Klou SAM: Well, more like Klouless, but let's not mention that. > [ 13] Klou: Practicing My Art FRODO: Let me guess! This guy does bonsai trees! SAM: No! Pottery-throwing! STRIDER: Hmm. All my bets were on flower arrangement. Let's tabulate later... > Wed Sep 8 17:40:55 1999 > To: all > > A dark cloaked figure with a gleeming STRIDER: Gleemonex? > blade resting on his sholder and a black mask inlaid with strips of bone FRODO: Now isn't that trying just a *bit* too hard to be scary? > strides through the bustling crowd > the figure is infact cloaked in a black darker than black SAM: Wow. Deep, if you ignore the impossibility... > he seems no more than a wraith walking through the crowd, arround him the > people hush their conversations and part to let him pass > all are afraid of him all Know who he is STRIDER: He is... Lord of the Dance! > he is the one who inflicts pain and excrutiations FRODO: Yay! New vocabulary word! > to those that are convicted of a crime inside of the Crimson Empire STRIDER: ... wait. Not *that* Crimson Empire... SAM: Yes, *that* Crimson Empire. FRODO: This means we were right.. ALL: AAAAAAAAH! Aeolus on deck! > he is the Empires Lictor > He Is Klou SAM: And he's bringing in the noise and bringing in the funk. > as he strides to the platforme that has today a chair instead of the normal > block he thinks to him self FRODO: What a wonderful world! > "a female shall be excuited today" STRIDER: Yep. Kill a woman, take a power lunch... looks like a normal day. > instead of mounting the platforme with the stairs (for that is against the > edicate of his guild) > he vaults to the top of the platform his cloak billowing out behind him FRODO: So, his group's etiquette is to use a really cheesy entrance? SAM: Makes sense, considering. > he makes his last minuite checks to make sure everything is in order STRIDER: Axe sharpened? Check. Nifty executioner mask on? Check. Victim not escaping like the last five? Check. > before he starts, he checks to make sure the bucket with the coals is here > and that the iron is heating inside of it SAM: A small hint, Klou: Executioners who have to moonlight as blacksmiths don't get a great deal of respect. > The guards lead our the prisoner out, she looks rather slender and frail > almost. ....ELF LIKE.. ALL: Dum dum DUM! > An Elf what would an Elf be doing on his Block STRIDER: Selling Avon products? FRODO: Lothlorien calling! > the guards sit the prisoner down on the chair and read the sentance.. FRODO: Would you like a long or a short sentence? SAM: A short one, if you please... FRODO: How about "I am?" That's nice and short. Oh, and you're also getting six million years in prison. Now, off to the dungeon! SAM: The Officer Shrift sketch, folks. Enjoy the buffet. > "Shiele STRIDER: Wait. Was her crime having a name that looks like a typo? > You are sentance to be branded on the cheeks your legs broken then your > head severed, SAM: Just chop off her bloody head! Save HR costs! > if you have any last prayrs or what ever you have for a religion you better > do it now' STRIDER: And if you say a *word* about pepperoni and cheese... > the Elf woman never twitches as the sentance is read FRODO: Hmph! I insist that's really just a fragment. > Klou rases the white hot iron to the womans cheeks and a sweet sickning > smell fills his nostrals, SAM: I've never seen anyone freebase cane sugar before. > The woman flinches slightly but does not voice her pain. > Klou then raises his sword above his head and brings the flat of the blade > down across her thieghs fealing the snap of bones, STRIDER: And which Vala decided to build the elven skeletal system out of toothpicks again? > quickly raising the blade and reversing the movement he severs the head of > the elf woman before she knows that her legs are Broken FRODO: So, the psychological torture bit is utterly meaningless? Rather pointless, if you ask me... SAM: We won't ask you. Stop thinking. > Klou Thinks to himself "what happends to this elf on this day, so shall all > Elves feel my blade when that great and glorious day arrives" STRIDER: Oh, I'm going to give those elves *such* a wedgie! > [ 17] Klou: Note to Zorton and Orion FRODO: Hey, didn't Orion get slaughtered by Stonecold a few chunks of text ago? SAM: Hey, Orion! How's death? > Wed Sep 8 18:41:26 1999 > To: all Zorton Orion STRIDER: Is there really such a risk that this might need to be delivered to more than one "Zorton"? > The Elven woman you speak of was hardly Innocent. > she had obviously done some crime against the Empire. FRODO: She neglected to polish the Divine Wrath of the Crimson Empire for Aeolus! SAM: Sayyy... > This Elf in particular was a very nasy one...... FRODO: A very *nasal* one? Wah? STRIDER: Nice LADY! > Spy i believe the report said. > Justice was brought to her she deserved it SAM: On the subject of Justice... do we really deserve this drivel? Really? STRIDER: Consider it do-gooder credits for the afterlife. You're a martyr to the cause. SAM: Ooh! Do I get to be a messianic figure now? FRODO: ... Hey! [Strider makes the universal 'skkrt' gesture at Sam, who then shuts up.] > Please no more talk of brutality in out dungeons... FRODO: In dungeon, out dungeon... make up your mind already! > all have had been convicted of a crime all shall pay for that crime. STRIDER: Yes, all shall pay their library late fines! In BLOOD! > Klou from the Order of the Seekers for Truth and Penitance SAM: ... Hey, it ended! That was quick. STRIDER: So it was. [Sam and Strider exit, but Frodo remains seated and continues to stare at the screen. After a few seconds, he speaks again.] FRODO: Something's not *right* here... not right at all. No matter. [He leaves the theater as well.] [Door Sequence] [Scene: The SoL Bridge. Strider and Sam are nowhere to be seen, and the lights are dim as Frodo enters.] FRODO: Hmm. You know, that was really very bitter, but it was also very short. Remarkably short. Almsot something to celebrate, in fact. And speaking of celebrations... if the others were going to throw me some type of birthday party, their time's almost up. [He sighs.] FRODO: Another year without a birthday party, I guess. No cake, no guests, no singing... but no gifts to give away, either. And today's been utterly *serene*. I haven't injured myself in some odd way; I haven't been reminded of any sort of childhood trauma whatsoever; Strider hasn't forced me into anything humiliating and unfunny; my finger hasn't even acted up. Most unusual. I wonder why it's so placid and relaxing today... [The look of epiphany crosses Frodo's face abruptly. We can almost see a phosphorescent lightbulb floating over his head.] FRODO: Why, that's it! Of course! That's why life has been so good to me today! [He looks up at the ceiling with an expression of awe.] FRODO: Hello, up there? Whoever you are? Um, I'd just like to say... thank you. Very much. You've made my day. [Frodo walks happily off audience right, whistling a light and airy tune. Just before the whistling is out of earshot, a feminine but non-Magic voice echos in the bridge.] VOICE: No problem. Happy Birthday to us. [Fade to black, and cue the Love Theme] BLOW OUT THE CREDITS AND MAKE A WISH Middle-Earth Science Theater 3000, Episode 104: "Those Darn Elves!: A Sort Of Special Episode" Original Stories by Stonecold and Klou MiSTing by Amanda Van Rhyn "Mystery Science Theater 3000" created by Joel Hodgson "The Hobbit," "The Lord of the Rings," "The Silmarillion," and all other things Middle-Earthy created by J. R. R. Tolkien Klou gave permission for his stories to be MiSTed. However, I was unable to reach Stonecold. Thanks to Klou, at least. The stories (well, roleplaying notes, more like) from this MiSTing were gathered from the note boxes of Mirkwood MUD, a neato-keen place for those who don't take their Tolkien *too* seriously or who are just looking for a good text-based time. Telnet on over to mirkwood.sask.com 4000 if you don't mind spiders. In case you're masochistic and want to read more MEST3K, you can find the official MEST3K site at http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/Lair/1868/MiSTings/mest3k.html And yes, September 22nd really *is* my birthday. Trust me here. Special Thanks: -- Gerrold, one of Mirkwood's Fearless Coders[tm], finally finished Bree for our amusement and edification. Keeping one's level 84 cleric in fried mushrooms is a MiSTing essential. Thanks, G! -- On the subject of silly text-based stuff, I'd like to thank Justin "Skebald" Rau for aiding me in our ongoing task of slowly irritating an entire IRC roleplaying community to death. BWAHAHAHAHA! -- And, for a good word in SVAMer politics, Will Crain gave me a good word in "Ranger Moon 3." I now repeat that good word. Never say I forget my friends. Keep circulating the .txt files! [Disclaimer: "Mystery Science Theater 3000" and all characters, settings, situations, or anything thereof is (c) Best Brains Inc. All stuff Middle-Earthy is (c) J.R.R. Tolkien and/or his estate and/or whoever owns the copyright now. All other copyrighted stuff is (c) its owners. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended; I don't own any of these things and never will. Please don't sue me; you wouldn't get anything. No offense is meant to anyone. This was done in the spirit of fun. All characters, places, or situations mentioned anywhere in this MiSTing or the fanfics themselves are either fictitious or used fictitiously. All resemblance to reality is coincidental. Do not read this MiSTing while operating heavy machinery.] [Legal Stuff: This MiSTing, "Those Darn Elves!", is (C) Amanda Van Rhyn and Fevered Little Minds Productions, 1999. This MiSTing can be freely distributed provided you give me, Stonecold, and Klou the credit we're due, contact me beforehand, and don't mutilate it. Meta-MiSTing isn't mutilation if you ask me first. Post this at any archive, anywhere; I couldn't care less about your Web site host or ISP. Do not fold, spindle, or submerge in water.] > stonecold and his mighty fiery dagger took care of these treacherous > fiends...