[6...5...4...3...2...1...]
(all resume their seats)
CROW: We should probably knock this feuding on the head and have an absolute monarchy, Tom.
TOM: Yeah, but who'd be Supreme Dictator? Neither of us could support the other one.
CROW: ... uh, I think I just figured out Gypsy's plan.
TOM: ... Wow. She's cunning.
CROW: I wonder how she'd look in a crown.
MIKE: Okay, Marx and Engels, can we leave this until after the movie?
(House of Government, Fort Cromwell)
HARWOOD: What can we do?
ELLIOTT: Erm...
HAMM: Don't look at me!
CROW: (as Hamm, hysterical) I'm ugly! UGLY, I tell you! (breaks down sobbing)
LAWLESS: No idea.
FINKE: I knew he was trouble!
HARWOOD: Okay. What do we know?
ELLIOTT: He's been transformed into a complete bastard.
DUNN: I didn't notice any change.
CROW: Oh, that self-deprecating authorial wit. Hah hah. Hah.
McDOUGALL: He commands vast magickal powers.
ROTHWELL: Something's been done to his memory.
MIKE: And now, Erik and Nicki in "Let's Learn to State The Obvious!"
HARWOOD: Wait. Say that again?
ROTHWELL: Something's been done to his memory.
HARWOOD: That's it!
McDOUGALL: What's it?
MIKE: IT'S...!!!
TOM: (deadpan) Monty Python's Flying Circus.
HARWOOD: Erik... Nicki... He tried to warn you, correct?
McDOUALL: Yeah.
HARWOOD: And then he reappears in the guise of a megalomaniacal fascist....
MADISON: Say what you will, but I liked the hat.
MIKE: Who's that guy?
CROW: (shudders) Don't ask. Someone who Penguineans really, really dislike.
MIKE: Wow. Alan will just teleport anyone into any scene in this story, no matter how little sense it makes, just for one not very funny line...
TOM: They're obviously not charging for teleportation as much as they're charging him for excess words.
HARWOOD: ...but he still remembers some things about us.
LAWLESS: The practical upshot of all this being....
HARWOOD: That if we can find a way to--
ALL: --Reawaken his memories--
HARWOOD: Exactly.
HAMM: So what can we do, that will accomplish this?
ELLIOTT: Cut him in half?
CROW: (as Elliott) Count his rings, you can tell how old he is!
HARWOOD: Lisa, don't go stereotypical on me.
TOM: (as Lisa) Well, everyone else has gone utterly out of character, so I thought I'd try to redress the balance a little.
GALLAGHER: As long as we're going with sci-fi/fantasy clichés,
CROW: (as Gallagher) Let's just pretend this was all a dream or a hallucination or something and all go home.
MIKE: Don't laugh, it worked in Star Trek: Generations.
is there anyone he knows that might have that effect on him?
HARWOOD (realising): I know of at least one.
(neato flashback dissolve)
MIKE: Ahhh! I'm getting seasick!!!
(Somewhere In The Vortex)
CAUM: ugh... damn you, Harwood... I'll be back... I'll have revenge... I need some good last words here....
HARWOOD: Well, murmuring the name of a country, political ideal, or woman is popular.
CAUM: Okay. (thinks) Grønbjerg! Monarchy! Melissa! (dies)
(dissolve in reverse)
LAWLESS: Haven't we had that flashback enough yet?
(all cheer)
CROW: Leave it to Daphne to talk sanity in this fic!
MIKE: Crow, this Lawless chick seems to be really getting to you...
CROW: (downcast) Oh come on, Mike, you and Tom don't give me nearly enough emotional support around here. Daphne cares about me! She told me so!
TOM: Crow, she cares about you because she thinks you're a Danish chick she might score with!
CROW: (defensive) I'm sure she loves me for who I really am!
TOM: So tell her you're a robot! Go on, I dare you!
CROW: Okay, then, I will!
MIKE: Can we save this until after the movie, guys?
HARWOOD: Good point.
HAVLIX: So who's this Melissa person?
HARWOOD: I don't know. But he did write a rather bad poem to her.
TOM: And now the self-insertion angle has reached the level of "too much information". Thank you.
CROW: There should be a special term for writing your unrequited love interest into your self-insertions.
HYODO KEPLIN: You folk thinking what I'm thinking?
MIKE: (as Pinky) Gee, I think so, Brain, but where are we going to get a hamster wheel that big?
HARWOOD: I think it's time we paid a visit to Athens, Pennsylvania.
(Athens, Pennsylvania)
TOM: No sooner said than done. Man, the monorail system is fast.
CROW: Or Caum taught these guys teleportation.
MIKE: Or everyone can teleport at will in this universe.
TOM: ... You know, I think he's got it! That explains all those inexplicable one-line cameos.
HICKS: Why did I just get a chill down my spine?
MARSH: Here I am again. I don't like this.
LASATER: You suppose it might have something to do with the fact that we haven't seen Alan in a week?
SPAGNOLI: Yeah, probably.
EIKLOR: After consideration, I'll have to go with "don't care" on that one.
MIKE: We're with you on this one, Mr or Mrs Eiklor whoever you are!
MARSH: Okay.
HICKS: There was some really weird s*** going on with Penguinea....
McCORMACK: Oh my God, now I've been dragged back into this.
HARWOOD: Hello.
MARSH (Australian accent): That's not a spork. This is a spork.
CHILSON (runs by in background, singing): I got a spork... yeah, I got a spork....
MIKE: (breathless) THRILLING... SPORK....ACTION!!!
HARWOOD: Um... who are all these people?
TOM: Rick Harwood takes the words right out of my mouth.
CROW: It must have been while he was kissing you.
TOM: Ewwww!
HICKS: Okay. I'm Jeremy Hicks. Over here we have John Marsh....
MARSH: Here.
HICKS: ...Tony Spagnoli...
SPAGNOLI: Yo.
HICKS: ...Adam Lasater....
LASATER: That would be me.
HICKS: ...Brent Eiklor....
EIKLOR: Welcome to Hell.
HICKS: ...and Melissa McCormack.
TOM: We're Alan's friends. Please call the police. He has a gun. He makes us say things...
MIKE: All these introductions, it's beginning to really look like a Ratliff story.
CROW: (gasp) No! Mike! Mention not the name of the Evil One!
TOM: Yeah, Alan's pretty bad, but at least he's spelt correctly all through.
McCORMACK: Does this have something to do with all that insane stuff last week?
HARWOOD: More than you know. Anyone else who knows Alan that I should know about?
HUGGINS: Yes, but I'm in Maryland.
TOM: Whoosh! This message brought to you by the Caum Teleportation Bureau!
ZAGER: Don't get me involved with this. Please?
HARWOOD: Why do I get the feeling that there are a lot of obscure in-jokes coming up?
TOM: (stunned pause, then) More than BEFORE?!? AAAAAAA.... (powers off)
CROW: Mike, what did you do to him?
MIKE: Switched him off. He'll thank me when he comes round. Head replacements are running low around here, and his was about to blow sky high.
CROW: (pleading) Can you switch me off too? Huh? Huh?
MIKE: No. You're not about to explode.
CROW: We'll see about that! (starts making straining noises)
HICKS: Uh... because there are?
MARSH: Yeah, how does an Australian find a sheep in long grass?
HARWOOD: Alan learnt that one from me.
MARSH: Ah.
MIKE: And another pointless scene brought to you courtesy of Alan Caum's friends.
(Crow is still straining to make himself explode)
MIKE: Oh, stop that. It won't work.
(Protector's Office)
GALLAGHER: (sharpens pencil)
MIKE: (bored) No-one will be admitted during the exciting pencil-sharpening scene.
(Crow finally stops straining, moans in dejection)
MIKE: Told ya.
(intercom buzzes)
GALLAGHER: Yes?
FLUNKY (voice): Lawspeaker Harwood...
HUGHES (in distance): Whaat?
FLUNKY (voice): ...to see you, sir.
GALLAGHER: Send him in.
CROW: ...Gee, this is dull. Is it safe to turn Tom back on yet?
MIKE: Not right now. The injokes could start flying again at any minute.
(Harwood enters)
GALLAGHER: I assume this will have something to do with the disturbance at the airport this afternoon?
HARWOOD: Erm... yes.
GALLAGHER: I further assume that there is a really bloody good explanation for said disturbance?
MIKE: Oh goody, magic dialect time again.
CROW: Paul Hogan is Evan Gallagher.
HARWOOD: Erm... yes.
GALLAGHER: And, and this is important, I assume quite pointedly that you will give me that explanation with alacrity?
CROW (as Harwood): No, but I'll give it to you with a song!
MIKE: Okay, it should be safe to put Tom back on now...
HARWOOD: Erm... yes.
GALLAGHER: (sits back, waits)
(Mike flicks a switch on the back of Tom)
TOM: ...aaaaAAAAAAHHH!!! Not the In-Jokes! Nooo.... oh, wait what's going on?
MIKE: Welcome back, buddy. Things have quietened down a little.
CROW: The rampant idiocy went down by a factor of ten when we got back out of Pennsylvania.
TOM: Thank the Maker for that.
HARWOOD: Well the whole thing started when I went to Athens to get some of Alan's friends and they turned out to be a bunch of Americans even weirder than Alan himself
TOM: (as Zaphod Beeblebrox) Listen here, Caum, don't try to outweird me, I get weirder things than you free with my breakfast cereal.
and the people reading this episode are not going to have the slightest idea what's going on
(ironic cheers)
MIKE: Your consideration is appreciated, Alan.
but of course I had to bring them back here so after a lot of cajoling they came and after the fourteen-hour flight on a rickety plane with no bathrooms they were all sort of edgy and as soon as we landed they ran into the....
GALLAGHER: Okay, I get the picture.
CROW: Ummm... Mike? Does this mean we're not actually going to get to see what happened at the airport?
MIKE: Seems not.
CROW: Goshdarn it, it sounded like it might actually have been funny!
TOM: It would probably have just been more... in-jokes. (starts to shudder slightly)
(The Darkness Beyond)
CAUM: Barkaroum?
ALL: (happily sing Barkaroum Theme Song)
BARKAROUM: Yes, Chosen One?
CAUM: Beyond what?
BARKAROUM: Pardon, Chosen One?
CAUM: Well, this is the Darkness Beyond...
BARKAOUM: Yeah.
CAUM: So. Beyond what?
(silence)
CAUM: Well?
BARKAROUM: Can I get back to you on this?
CROW: Hark to the merry banter of the evil cultists!
TOM: Oh, for Pete's sake, Barker Room or whatever your name is, couldn't you just say "beyond the world we know" and leave it at that? Sheesh, how did you get to be a cult leader, found your robes of office in a Crackerjack box?
(Penguinean Military Crisis Management Defence Forces HQ)
GALLAGHER: And you are?
MARSH: John Marsh.
HICKS: Sarkin J. Lenticulare.
ROTHWELL: Eh?
MIKE: In case you forgot, Erik Rothwell is Canadian.
LASATER: Adam Lasater.
EIKLOR: The Antichrist. At least, that's what they tell me I am.
TOM: You wish, fanboy.
SPAGNOLI: Tony Spagnoli.
McCORMACK: What are we doing here??
CROW: We're trapped in a lousy satellite by a mad scientist who's making us read this stuff. What's your excuse?
HARWOOD: Well, let me explain....
(The same, much, much later)
MARSH: One question.
HARWOOD: Yes?
MARSH: WHAT THE HELL?
MIKE: John Marsh speaks for all of us.
HARWOOD: It's very simple. Alan do bad thing. I kill Alan. Crazy people bring Alan back to life. Crazy people make Alan crazy like them. Now we need you people to make Alan uncrazy again.
TOM: Now, see, this doesn't make sense. If they're charging by the syllable, which is the only excuse for Alan's telegraphic style, then why would he use "uncrazy" instead of "sane"?
MIKE: Tom? If you're going to start searching for sense in this thing, you're going to blow your top and I'll have to shut you down again...
ALL: Oh....
EIKLOR: (raises hand) Can I leave before things start exploding?
(building explodes)
(stunned silence)
TOM: ... Wow. That's all, folks. I guess.
MIKE: Man, all these interminable dialogue sequences interspersed with violent but only cursorily described action is making me really wonder if Alan Caum is Stephen Ratliff under an assumed name...
CROW: (tense) I told you , Mike, don't even mention that possibility.
(The Darkness Beyond)
CAUM: I did it.
BARKAROUM: Did what, Chosen One?
CROW: (as Caum) None of your business, robe-boy.
CAUM: The Penguinean military headquarters. It has been destroyed.
TOM: Even though Penguinea has no military, which was a big plot point earlier on, even though there are all these shock troops wandering around and, oh, forget it...
BARKAROUM: And the infidels, Chosen One?
MIKE: So they're Muslim cultists now?
CAUM: They are yet alive...
BARKAROUM: Damn.
CAUM: I felt the presence of others there.
TOM: (as Darth Vader) A presence I have not felt since....
They too live.
MIKE: The sequel to They Live, starring "Rowdy" Roddy Piper!
TOM: Well, Alan did quote the "kicking ass, chewing gum" line from that movie a while back. So do you think Alan has glasses like in that movie that enable him to see that all Penguineans are really an alien invasion force?
MIKE: What he needs is glasses that can help him distinguish red from crimson.
They feel... familiar somehow.
BARKAROUM (quietly): Oh crap.
CROW: Barkaroum! Show a little decorum! You're a cult leader! Set an example!
CAUM: I must learn more of this.
BARKAROUM: Need you waste your time on this paltry matter, Chosen One?
CROW: Yeah, now that's how a cult leader's supposed to talk. You've got to keep your standards up, Barkie.
CAUM: I shall do what I feel proper, Barkaroum.
BARKAROUM: Of course, Chosen One.
CAUM: And Barkaroum?
BARKAROUM: Yes, Chosen One?
CAUM: What is this place supposed to be Beyond?
MIKE: (as Barkaroum, annoyed) Hey, what do I look like, the Answer Man? You're the Supreme All Knowing Chosen One, you figure it out yourself!
BARKAROUM: Erm... (fumbles for notes) ...'This is a place beyond place. Outside the world we know, but inextricably connected to it. It is a place of shadows, of despair, of cold. It is the Darkness Beyond. And it is damn cool.'
MIKE: Now, see, if Barkie could talk like that all the time, then he'd be one righteous cool cult leader.
CROW: I think a decent cult leader would have stopped before that last phrase, though.
(Ruins of Penguinean Whateverthehellitis Headquarters)
HICKS: What the hell just happened?
LAWLESS: At a guess, I'd say the building got the **** blown out of it.
CROW: It got the stars blown out of it?
TOM: Yeah, it used to be a five star hotel, now it's only a one star.
McCORMACK: Now what??
TOM: Hang on, I thought all these guys were inside the building when it exploded. They're still alive?
MIKE: Alan Caum's writing this. They obviously teleported themselves out.
EIKLOR: Going home sounds better all the time.
MIKE: (sighs) We should all be so lucky.
(The Darkness Beyond)
CAUM: It is time.
BARKAROUM: It is?
CAUM: Barkaroum?
BARKAROUM: Yes, Chosen One?
CAUM: You cease to amuse me.
(A momentary flicker of fire... and Barkaroum is a heap of ashes.)
(all boo and hiss)
CROW: ...you total bastard, Caum! What the hell did Barkie do to deserve that! He brought you back from the grave, gave you this neato evil personality, even explained that lame ass "Beyond" thing in simple words that even you could understand, and this is how you repay him? Creep!
TOM: (forced cheeriness) Say, Crow, do you suppose that was red fire or crimson fire?
CROW: Save it, Servo, I'm not in the mood.
CAUM: Come, my servants.
(Into the vast hall pour dozens -- hundreds -- thousands of the black-robed minions of evil.
MIKE: Woah! They've been having a recruitment drive! There was just a small circle of them at the beginning of the fic...
CROW: Yeah, thanks to the great Barkaroum's powers of organisation! And the Chosen One just dicked him over, Mike, it's not fair... not fair, I tells ya... (sobs)
MIKE: There, there, honey. It'll be over soon.
They fill it to overflowing, pressing round each other and their terrible leader, and then begin to flow into another... merging, melting, forming a sea of ebon night that stretches and fills the vessel of the world....)
CROW: ...the hell?
TOM: Great, Caum's legions of the damned are reverse amoebas or something.
MIKE: And what's this "vessel of the world" stuff? I'm totally lost now.
CROW: I'm sure Barkaroum would never have let things get this confusing.
(Fort Cromwell)
(On a hill overlooking the city, Caum appears in a burst of light.)
CROW: Surely that should be a burst of darkness?
MIKE: It's a little hard to get darkness to burst, Crow.
CROW: Hmph. I'm sure Barkaroum could have done it!
TOM: Geez, Crow, will you give it a rest?
CAUM: Demons of the Night! I call thee!
TOM: I'm not even bothering to mention the fact that "thee" is singular and "demons of the night" is plural.
MIKE: (wearily) Good, Tom. I'm glad of that.
CROW: I'm sure Barkaroum would have got it right....
MIKE: Crow! Enough! Barkaroum's gone! Deal with it!
CROW: (grumbles)
(Dark clouds begin to build around the horizon)
CAUM: Powers and Pestilence of the Inner Circle! I call thee!
TOM: (Inner Circle) Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do...
(The sunlight dims)
CAUM: Demons of Air and Darkness! Demons of Fire and Night! Terror and Panic, Horror and Death, Powers of Hell and the Nethermost Caves, awful and mighty, dread Lords of Fear, darkness of ages and evil of all, I summon thee now!
MIKE: And now folks, live in concert, Ozzy Osborne and Black Sabbath!
BOTS: (crowd cheering noises)
(The sun goes dark. A cold wind blows and a dark rain falls. And Caum begins laying waste to Fort Cromwell.)
MIKE: I thought he started that a few lines back when that building exploded.
TOM: Maybe that was someone else and they wanted to blame it on Caum and his cult.
MIKE: Well, that's what it'd be if this story was plotted cleverly...
TOM: Yeah, thanks, Mike, I know the drill from here.
(House of Government)
HARWOOD: It was never meant to be a job - just a hobby... something to take my mind off stress, not to occupy my day to day thoughts. I mean, sure I think about my friends all the time but - how I can appease two diverse political parties?
CROW: (as Rick Harwood, as Richard Nixon) I have never been a quitter. To leave office before my term is over is abhorrent to every bone in my body...
TOM: You call that a body?
MIKE: Okay, guys, enough Rocky Horror riffs.
(door bursts open, the Americans run in)
ELLIOTT: What is the meaning of this?
TOM: "This": singular demonstrative particle indicating object in close proximity to speaker. But that's not important right now.
HICKS: He's here.
MARSH: The sun's gone dark.
McCORMACK: He's destroying the city.
CROW: And not one solitary exclamation point? Man, these Pennsylvanians are laid-back.
TOM: Well, it's not their city he's destroying.
(Fort Cromwell)
(A terrifying and unearthly storm ravages St. Helena as Caum unleashes blasts of dark fire on all around him....)
TOM: Dark red fire!
CROW: Dark crimson fire!
TOM: Dark red fire!
CROW: Dark crimson fire!
MIKE: (buries head in hands)
GALLAGHER: What is it you want from us?
CAUM: Your deaths, fool!
MIKE: Alan Caum is Mr. T.
CROW: (as Mr T) Ah pity th' fool who stars in a Caum story!
(Gallagher screams horribly as his body is torn to shreds by demons.)
(all boo and hiss)
MIKE: I think Alan may need to deal with some repressed-anger issues.
MARSH: Hey! Chaum!
CAUM: That's... not... my... name!
(And suddenly there is a smoking crater where Marsh was standing.)
TOM: Woo! One Pennsylvanian down, about a half-dozen more to go...
CAUM: DEATH!
CROW: (as Grandpa Simpson) AAAAH! DEATH!!!!
MIKE: (as Lisa) No, Grandpa, that's just the cat.
(He lashes out, and the Thingdxin are blasted away.)
TOM: Again, I won't mention that you've got a singular noun and a plural verb here...
CROW: Thank you for not mentioning that, oh mighty Grammar Police.
SPAGNOLI: Alan! What the--
CAUM: You defy me? Eat the fires of hell.
MIKE: (bad German accent) Eat flamink death, non-Aryan scum!!!
(The ground falls through around Spagnoli. Flames leap up and consume him.)
EIKLOR: Shit, I'm getting out of here.
CROW: I like this Eiklor guy. He's the only person who's behaved sanely in this whole fic!
(He and Lasater turn and run)
CAUM: Cowards!
(They drop to the ground, writhing in agony as their living bones turn to hot lead.)
CROW: (angry) Sheesh! Why is it that every time I start to like someone, Caum kills them?
HICKS: Ala--
(He is gone. Vanished.)
MIKE: Wow, what with all the immolations and tearing to shreds that are going on around here, that Hicks guy got off pretty light!
TOM: Well, Alan probably owed him money.
CAUM: Goodbye, Fort Cromwell!
(With one mighty blow, the city is flattened. Nothing remains but cinders and rubble.)
CROW: ...Wait, Mike, I'm totally confused now. At the beginning of this fic, Barkie and the robe-boys wanted to bring Alan back to life to rule Penguinea... but now he's decided to destroy it utterly? Any special reason he did this?
TOM: I know! I know! It's that the author's a WEINER! WEEEINER!
MIKE: Okay, guys, settle down.
CAUM: It is done. ...Wait. I sense a living presence here... somewhere.... (calls) Show yourself!
McCORMACK: Right here.
TOM: Oh, it's Caum's love interest. She'll be able to talk him out of it.
MIKE: We don't know that she's his love interest.
CROW: Oh come on, Mike, he wrote her a poem. Alan's obviously got the screaming thigh-sweats for young Melissa, and how!
TOM: Crow T. Robot, could you be any more gross?
CROW: Why, yes!
TOM: Well, don't.
(He turns to see her behind him.)
McCORMACK: Alan... how could this happen?
CAUM: One left. I shall enjoy killing you.
CROW: (as Caum) Or maybe I'll just tie you up and...
MIKE: Okay, that's enough, mister.
CROW: Mike, have some perspective, all right? Caum's been committing acts of genocide and major destruction for the last ten minutes, a bit of mild BDSM isn't exactly going to make things any worse!
MIKE: Still, let's rise above that.
McCORMACK: Alan.
CAUM: So, fire, ice, acid, what?
TOM: Acid! Wooo! Like that stuff that Rothwell keeps putting in people's toothpaste?
McCORMACK: Alan. Look at me.
MIKE: (as McCormack) No, at my face, Alan.
CAUM: What am I looking for?
McCORMACK: Memories.
TOM: (sings) Like the corner of my mind... misty watercolor meeeeeemories...
CAUM (scoffing): What?
CROW: (as McCormack) Memories! You heard me! You deaf as well as evil now?
McCORMACK: Don't you remember us? Or me?
CAUM: What concern is this of mine? You are...
(He stops, a puzzled expression on his face.)
CROW: (as Caum, sleazy) ...one fine foxy lady!
TOM: (as Chef from South Park) I'm gonna make love to ya, woman... gonna lay you down by the fire...
McCORMACK: This isn't really you.
MIKE: It's his evil twin, Skippy Caum!
CAUM: What are you talking... about....
(A long moment of silence, then:)
CAUM: Melissa?
McCORMACK: Yes.
CAUM: I... (looks around, mute) ...what have I done?
MIKE: Oh, just wrecked a major city and killed most of your friends, never mind. Come on, I'll buy you a Slushie.
(Barkaroum appears in a clap of thunder)
(all cheer and applaud)
CROW: Barkie's back! WOO-HOO! YEAH! (starts singing Barkaroum Theme Song again)
TOM: Now we'll see some real ass-whipping - robe-boy style!
BARKAROUM: FOOL!
MIKE: Why, he could be talking to anyone in this story...
CAUM: What the hell? You're dead!
TOM: (as Barkaroum, as Zaphod Beeblebrox) Yeah, that's right, I'm dead, I just haven't stopped moving yet.
McCORMACK: Oh my God....
MIKE: (as Barkaroum) You called?
BARKAROUM: Chosen One? Ha! There is no Chosen One!
TOM: (as Caum) Oh, poopie. You mean I went out and bought this T-shirt saying "Kiss Me I'm The Chosen One" for nothing?
All your powers, all the legends and stories-- all were mine and mine alone.
MIKE: Hmmm... which leaves unanswered the question of why he was playing second fiddle to Caum all through, and let himself be temporarily disintegrated and all that?
CROW: Lulling Alan into a false sense of security, no doubt. That Barkie's got a wicked sense of humour.
And now that you have destroyed Penguinea for me... you shall die as well.
CROW: Kicking ass on the author. Man, I like Barkaroum more and more all the time.
TOM: Now I'm just totally confused. Alan's powers all came from Barkaroum?
MIKE: So Barkie says.
TOM: And his plan was to destroy Penguinea all along?
MIKE: (shrugs)
TOM: So... what was all that deal with the big screen TV and telling the Penguineans that Alan was their new King and stuff? And why did they need Alan at all? Why couldn't Barkie and the robe-boys just destroy Penguinea themselves?
MIKE: Heck, I don't know. This just makes zero sense.
TOM: Ah, so it's not just me. Thanks.
CAUM: ...no....
ALL: But yes!
BARKAROUM: You no longer serve any purpose to me. And this one (points at McCormack)... she never had any use to me at all. Shall I kill her first, and let you watch?
TOM: Sheesh, Barkaroum started as a sinister cult leader, went through a phase of being Caum's bumbling comic relief and now he's Satan's little helper or something! This isn't so much "character development" as "character oscillation"...
MIKE: Mmm-hmm.
CAUM: I'll see us both in Hell first. No power of my own? We'll see.
(With unseen swords of the mind, the battle is joined.
(all crack up laughing)
TOM: Great, it is a Highlander crossover, only the swords are invisible.
MIKE: Well, isn't it more fun to use your imagination?
CROW: Hell no! Have we got to sit here and watch these yokels think at each other for the rest of the fic?
McCormack watches in mounting disbelief and horror
TOM: See, she's got to stand and watch because invisible swordfighting is a job for the menfolk.
as they stand immobile, will against will, and the skies above them burn and wheel. Stars fly from their places...
MIKE: We're in the Ptolemaic universe now?
galaxies are torn asunder... on planets distant beyond imagination, continents sink and rise...
CROW: ...Alan Caum's delusions of grandeur rise and rise...
It goes to sundown... and past it... and through midnight, and the silent hours of the morning are broken by the screams of dying suns...
TOM: (as sun) I regret nothing! AAAAHHH!
and the livid sun rises again... and in its crimson light,
TOM: Red light!
MIKE: Somewhere, Lisa Elliott is clucking like a chicken.
Alan Caum is brought to his knees.
CROW: (porn movie soundtrack noises)
MIKE: Stop that. That's filthy.
TOM: Is that what Barkie means by his invisible sword?
BARKAROUM: Your time is gone, Caum. You are beaten, and nothing awaits you but the endless blackness and torment of the netherworld.
TOM: (as Barkaroum)... but so you don't go home empty-handed, we'll give you this complimentary "Destruction of Penguinea" home boardgame!
CAUM: Please...
BARKAROUM: As you said, 'Chosen One': Apocalypse.
CROW: Yeah, go Barkie! How do you like them apples, Chosen One? Huh? Huh?
Light... pure white... growing brighter and brighter... blinding, scorching.... and then it clears, revealing the island totally devoid of life.
MIKE: I told them they shouldn't have let Montgomery Burns build the Fort Cromwell Power Plant.
A drizzle comes down from the flat grey sky, cleansing the lifeless bodies strewn across the ruins of Fort Cromwell...
TOM: ...although, what with the wheeling galaxies and dying suns and everything, you'd expect destruction a little more widespread than one measly island. Like, the whole planet atomised or something.
including the two freshest corpses, up on a hill- one wracked by torment, twisted and broken in death, the other lying peacefully, blue eyes gazing sightlessly at the distant sky.
TOM: This would be Alan and his young woman, right?
MIKE: Yeah, but which is which?
TOM: How should I know? Alan never went into detail on eye colour.
(After a while, two shimmering, ghostly figures appear and survey the destruction. Two very familiar ghostly figures....)
RICK: We cannot permit it to end like this.
ALAN: No.
ALL: (scream)
TOM: Dear God, it's Penguinea: The Afterlife!
CROW: Barkie should have tried a little harder. Their souls weren't destroyed.
RICK: It is an interesting thing, though.
ALAN: What is?
MIKE: (as Rick, dopey) This little rock I found under the piles of dead bodies over there. Look, it's all shiny.
RICK: Humans-- Frail. Fallible. Even dangerous, at times. And yet we were not so different, once.
CROW: (as Rick) Like ten minutes ago, before Barkaroum bitch-slapped us all the way across the galaxy.
TOM: Mike? Are all human souls this pretentious and stilted?
MIKE: If they are, I'm switching religions to one with no afterlife.
ALAN: True. But this one (indicating Caum's body) seems to have gone to a new level of both good and evil.
(all snigger)
MIKE: That Alan, a more modest disembodied entity you couldn't hope to meet.
RICK: Yes. Something must be done about Barkaroum.
CROW: I say, give him ten dollars and a new hat for kicking Alan Caum's butt!
ALAN: That is a matter we can take up with the Council.
TOM: And, of course, we're never going to get any explanation of this bizarre afterlife bureaucracy they've got going on here...
For the present... insofar as the present is separable from past and future...
CROW: Oh, yes, always as insofar as that. Sheesh. Caum just turned the "pretentious" knob up to 11.
Penguinea and all those caught up in this affair should be restored.
RICK: Then let us begin.
MIKE:... and we have RESET BUTTON, ladies and gentlemen! I knew they'd do this!
TOM: (as Neil) Oh. It was all a dream. Fancy that. Phew!
CROW: Everything back to normal... la de da de da... Thank you, mysterious pretentious disembodied entities!
(Fort Cromwell, FCP)
The sun rises... the city awakes... the Althing begins its business...
CROW: (as Daphne Lawless) Rick Harwood is a WEINER!
TOM: (as Rick Harwood) Bite me, Lawless.
The Church of St. Helena and Signs Following opens its doors...
MIKE: ...and all the local snakes slither away for dear life.
CROW: Hey, wasn't Derek Jacobi doing the voiceovers? Who's this anonymous jerk?
the society, government, and culture of Penguinea continue in their unique and fascinating courses.
TOM: (as Evan Gallagher) Are not a nation!
CROW: (as Erik Rothwell) Are too!
TOM: (Gallagher) Are not!
CROW: (Rothwell) Are too!
In Athens, Pennsylvania, half a world away, a group of friends meet.
MIKE: (as Melissa McCormack) Welcome, fellows, to the first meeting of the Pennsylvania "No Alans" Club!
A new day dawns. And nothing is remembered.
CROW: And the entire story is an utter waste of time. Thank you.
TOM: I wasted two hours of my life reading something with no point whatsoever? No lessons learned, nothing actually changed?
MIKE: Damn reset button. It's just like Star Trek. Now you see why I like Babylon 5 better..
TOM: Fanboy. Faaaanboy!
MIKE: Oh, bite me.
Disclaimer: None of this ever actually happened... did it?
CROW: You'd better hope not, Mr Smug Omnipotent Author Person, because if it did Barkaroum's gonna come back any day now and kick your lily ass some more!!!
TOM: After that lame ending I'm going to be in a bad mood all day.
MIKE: Calm down, guys, it's over now. Let's go.
(all file out, Crow still humming the "Barkaroum" theme under his breath)
[1...2...3...4...5...6...]
[SOL Bridge. Mike and the bots emerge from the theatre.]
MIKE: Well, all I can say is, I'm glad that's over.
TOM: Uh-huh. Trying to figure out what happened to the plot in the last half-hour of that was frying my circuits, I tell you. And the ending... well... let's not speak of that.
MIKE: (nodding in agreement) Ever again.
CROW: You think you guys had it bad? Those people were just characters to you. I know those people, and watching Alan Caum make them say such stupid things and act in such unfunny ways... and then destroy them all and bring them back to life... well, if I wasn't so amused I'd be pretty pissed off.
MIKE: Say, Crow, speaking of Penguineans... isn't it time you sent some email to Daphne Lawless?
CROW: (looks nervous) Uh... gee, do I have to?
MIKE: Yes, Crow, or else we'll end up with the poor babe coming up here and finding out that her email-order lesbian lover is a golden cross between a can-opener and a tennis racket... (red light starts flashing) Oops, the Incredible Hulk's weedy little brother is calling again. (hits light) Yeah, Dr F?
[Deep 13]
[Camera pulls back to reveal a shadowy figure in a robe of Ebon Night (tm) with bizarre mystic scribbles on it at the controls in Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is gagged and tied to a large piece of machinery behind him, struggly faintly. Various black-clad cultists are roaming the laboratory, picking up gadgets and shaking them in puzzlement.]
BARKAROUM: (heavy reverb on voice) I'm afraid not, Mr Nelson. Heh, heh, heh...
(all on SOL jump back in shock)
TOM: AAAH!!! It's Barkaroum!!! How did he escape from the fic?
BARKAROUM: Yes, that's my name, don't wear it out. And to answer your question, I managed to kill the author in a self-insertion fic! I can do anything! (maniacal laughter)
CROW: Uh, Mr Barkaroum, sir, I'd just like to say that I'm your biggest fan and I'm sure that anything you...
BARKAROUM: Brown-nosing will get you nowhere, insignificant bowling-pin beak. (pause, then in cunning voice) By the way, "Lucinda", you can keep my copy of Tales, I'm much more into the Sisters of Mercy these days. (more maniacal laughter)
MIKE: (gasp) Barkaroum! You're...
(Barkaroum throws off cloak, revealing a youngish woman with long red hair, a black velvet dress and an evil expression on her face.)
DAPHNE LAWLESS: (for it is she) During office hours, yeah.
CROW: (shaky) I feel so violated...
LAWLESS: Oh come on, you knew this all along. The gum-ball machine over there told you half-way through the fic, this is the Ordo Panteris you're dealing with! (over shoulder) No, Cal, put that orbital mind-control laser down, I'll buy you one for your next birthday.
FEMALE CULTIST (O.S): Aww, no fair...
TOM: (anguished) But that made no sense!
LAWLESS: Life makes no sense, robot, deal with it.
MIKE: (shakes head) This is getting to be one weird day.
[In Deep 13, Dr. F has managed to struggle the gag out of his mouth.]
DR. F: I don't know who you fools in bedsheets are, but when I get loose you're going to pay!
LAWLESS: Quiet, you, we know where you keep the handcuffs and the ball gag.
DR F: (meekly) I'll be good.
[SoL]
MIKE: So... um, Ms Barkaroum-Lawless, ma'am... if it's not a personal question, um...
LAWLESS: (grinning) What the hell is going on? Well, as part of my ongoing plan for world domination, I had my agents slip "Apocalypse" into your Doctor Forrester's experiment list, so that I could tape your hilarious riffing of it and use it as a weapon to destroy the mind of my hated nemesis, Alan Caum.
TOM: Hey, but isn't he the chosen one?
LAWLESS: Of course not. What part of "fiction" don't you understand? No, better yet, try "transparent wish fulfilment".
TOM: (to Crow, sarcastically) "Oh, I wish Barkaroum would come back", eh Crow? Nice job, space-junk-for-a-CPU!
CROW: (sobbing slightly) But how was I to know?
MIKE: So, Ms Lawless-Barkaroum, I just have one more question… how did you infiltrate Deep Thirteen?
[Deep 13]
LAWLESS: How do you think? We had someone on the inside. And not just anyone… the new Chosen One himself!
[Camera pulls back to reveal the bloodstained corpse of TV's Frank lying on a stone slab. He is surrounded by guttering black tallow candles and kneeling, reverent cultists.]
MIKE: Hells' bells, Frank is the Chosen One?
DR. F: Yes, I'm afraid I have to agree with Nelson on this one, Frank is the Chosen One? [starts to chuckle, rudely interrupted by a blow to the head from an anonymous cultist]
ANONYMOUS CULTIST: You will have respect for your future Supreme Commander, foolish mortal!
LAWLESS: Yeah, well, anyway, we're bringing him back to life, and he will guide us in our holy mission of world domination. Now, if you'll excuse me, worldwide conspiracies don't run themselves… [moves to break communication]
MIKE: Hold on, hold on. Now you've got what you want, are you going to let us go?
LAWLESS: [pauses, crazily grinning] Let you go? While there is still so much really, really bad Penguinean fiction to destroy? No, my theory is this - now that we have control of Deep 13, we plan to send you more and more stuff that the Order here sees fit to have you riff, mock and otherwise excoriate. Then, we'll implant coded pro-Lawless, pro-Panther symbolism in it, then release it on the internet, thus implanting our subliminal control in every no-life computer geek on the planet. Cal? Can you give us estimated time to overlordship?
FEMALE CULTIST (O.S): Certainly, Grand Commander. Projected time to dominate the entire Internet: six months. Projected time to dominate Earth: five years.
LAWLESS: That long? Ah, heck. So, that's pretty much the time you've got to wait up there, boys. Sorry, about that. (even more maniacal laughter)
[on the SoL, Mike and the bots have dressed in ill-fitting black cultist's robes.They're even more ill-fitting on the robots.]
CROW: But I can't wear black, Mike, I'm an autumn!
TOM: (despairingly) Idiot, Crow, the word you're looking for is "idiot".
MIKE: Yeah, you got us into this, Crow, let's hope that you can figure a way out of this before they send us some more Penguinean fiction. So, what do you think of this, ma'ams?
[Deep 13]
LAWLESS: I think you need a better tailor is what I think. [again, maniacal laughter, which trails off in a nasty cough] Damn this subterranean atmosphere. Clayton, as soon as we rule Penguinea we're moving this operation to a beachfront property in Tahiti.
DR. F: (brightly) Say, Barker-Lounge or whatever, I think I like your style.
LAWLESS: Keep up that fine level of grovelling, Kermit, and you'll learn to like taking orders from the Chosen One. [Dr F's face freezes in horror and disgust]
ANONYMOUS CULTIST: (O.S.) Grand Commander? The Chosen One! He rises!
LAWLESS: All right! He's quicker to recover than I expected. Everybody assume kneeling position!
[All cultists kneel as Frank begins to stir on his stone slab. He finally sits up, groggily shaking his head, and stares in puzzlement at the assembled kneeling cultists, and at Dr. F all tied up.]
FRANK: Uhhh… what's going on?
ALL THE CULTISTS: Hail to the Chosen One! Hail! Hail! Hail!
LAWLESS: Welcome back to life, oh mystic TV's Frank, you who have been chosen to lead the Ordo Panteris in our quest for domination of the world!
DR. F.: Frank! No! Don't listen to him! Untie me! [cuffed again by anonymous cultist] Ow! Stop doing that!
FRANK: Uh… let me get this straight. I'm your leader now!
CULTISTS: (ecstatic) Yes, Chosen One!
FRANK: (slyly) And you have to do what I say?
CULTISTS: (ecstatic) Yes, Chosen One!
(pause)
FRANK: Then get me some shoes. Nice ones! [a cultist scampers off]
ANONYMOUS CULTIST: He'll want socks, too. I'll get socks. [scampers off as well. Dr. F. wriggles against his bonds in frustration and groans.]
LAWLESS: (sigh) Looks like we'll have to give him some Evil Occult Overlord lessons. In the meantime, Mike, Tom, Lucinda... we'll leave you with this.
(about thirty cultists have assembled behind Lawless in choral formation. A thudding techno beat begins to pulse through Deep 13 as they begin to sing to the tune of "Doctorin' the Tardis")
CULT CHOIR: Barka-ROO-OUM! HEY! Barkaroum, Barka-ROO-OUM! HEY! The cultists, Barka-ROO-OUM! HEY! Barkaroum, Barka-ROUM! Bark! Barkaroum, Barka-ROUM! Bark, Barka-ROUM! (continues)
LAWLESS: (smiling serenly) Push the button, Cal.
FEMALE CULTIST (O.S): You push it! I'm busy with this laser!
LAWLESS: (sighs and does what she's told)
\ | /
\ | /
------------- * -------- PWOOOOSH!
/ | \
/ | \
(in the darkness, the Barkaroum Theme Song continues over credits)
"Penguinea Hills 90210 Episode 31: Apocalypse" by Alan "Chosen One" Caum
was misted by Daphne Lawless of the Ordo Pantheris
With special thanks for editing and additional material from Carolynne Dunn of the Ordo Pantheris, who I hope won't be upset with the bit-part I gave her at the end.
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are trademarks of and copyright of Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved.
(CROW: (v.o) Aaah! Stop that song already!
TOM: (v.o) You came up with it, ya dingus!
CROW: (v.o) I REPENT MY SINS!!!)
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for non-commercial parody, review, and commentary purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc., or anyone else, is intended or should be inferred.
No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s) are or should be implied. All characters in this work are fictional , or ficitionalised avatars of real people, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely intentional but done for a joke. All persons mentioned in this script never did anything like the things that either Alan or I accused them of, so let's hope they don't sue me.
Keep circulating the posts.
daph
originally completed: 15/7/99.
revised: 12/6/02.
(Barkaroum theme song finally fades out, to be replaced by the chorus of "Taunt Not The Mighty Panther")
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LAWLESS: What's going on?
VEGA: My sources tell me something big is about to happen in Penguinea.
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