MST3K: ''The Robotic ???'' by Termite Terrace Moderator Jack! (PG13)

[don Jaime]

As you requested, Jack. Hope it works for you.

**********

(The Satellite of Love. TOM SERVO wears a rough brown robe, a rosary, and a rope for a belt. He's punched a hole in the top of his head so the glass dome sticks out of it like a Franciscan monk's haircut. TOM practices his plainsong as MIKE enters.)

TOM: Ca-ve-at emp-to-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-or! Hi, Mike! Wanna see our new plan to get out of reading bad fanfics?

MIKE: I think I'm looking at it. So you've decided to become a monk.

TOM: Yep. Om-ni-a vin-cit a-mo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-or! Crow and I are taking vows of denial. I think you can guess what we're denying.

MIKE: I'm suspecting bad fanfics is on the list.

TOM: Funny about that. Ar-ma vi-rum-que ca-no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o! It was the first thing we gave up, even before changing underwear daily.

MIKE: You don't wear underwear.

TOM: Yeah, that was easy to give up, too. Mens sa-na in cor-po-re sa-no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o! Hey, Crow! Move it or lose it!

CROW (Offstage): I'm almost ready. Don't get your sackcloth in a twist! (CROW enters in a saffron robe with a begging bowl and without his hair net.) Oh. CHRISTIAN monks. Shoot, and I memorized all those sutras for nothing.

TOM: Not a problem, Crow. Hey, Mike, wanna join us? In a few years you should be naturally bald, anyway.

MIKE: Well, since you're showing off your Latin skills, Tom, let me give mine a try. "Omnia tempus habent, et suis spatiis transeunt universa sub caelo."

TOM: "All time has and their...." Okay, help me out.

MIKE: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

CROW: And it ain't the time for this plan, huh?

MIKE: That's what I think.

TOM: Ah, but you're forgetting, "Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres."

MIKE: That wasn't helpful. And it's pagan.

CROW: You're battin' a thousand today, Tom.

TOM: Phooey.

MIKE: Doc Forrester's calling. Melior vir vincat!


(Onscreen: DR. FORRESTER, waiting impatiently for his assistant.)

FORRESTER: Requiescat in pace to you, too, Mike. I have no idea why I bother with these little visits anymore. I never understand what you and your toys are up to. (TV'S FRANK enters.) Not that it's any different here. About time you got here, Frank.

FRANK: I've got the fanfic for today, sir.

FORRESTER: Good. What's it called?

FRANK: I'm not sure.

FORRESTER: You're not sure.

FRANK: No.

FORRESTER: Frank, I'm in no mood for a Neil Simon routine. Give me some information to work with.

FRANK: Well, the guy who wrote this is a poster named Jack from the ToonZone.net message boards. He hasn't settled on a title, so it's called "The Robotic ???" for now. Once he decides what the robotic thing is, he'll have a title. But it does have classic Warner Brothers cartoon characters in it.

FORRESTER: You mean like Tweety and Sylvester?

FRANK: No. I mean like Hubie and Bertie, the mice who glue furniture to ceilings to drive Claude Cat deeper into neurosis.

FORRESTER: Those mice have names?

FRANK: Mmm-hmmm!

FORRESTER: The cat, too?

FRANK: Sure! There's a generic bulldog, too, but he doesn't get a name. And our star, the robotic whatever.

FORRESTER: Okay. Thank you, Frank, I guess. Mike, as near as I can figure, you get automated punctuation marks in today's fanfic. If this fic doesn't mindwipe you, please let me know what it was about, please? Here it comes. Send the fanfic, Frank.

(FRANK twists a dial.)

TOM: Hey, Crow, wanna play Spanish Inquisition?

CROW: Only if I get to burn you at the stake first.

(Lights flash and sirens blare.)

MIKE: No time for that, it's FANFIC SIGN!

[don Jaime]

(Doors open into the theater, where the fanfic is already downloading. MIKE, TOM, and CROW enter and sit down.)

>"The Robotic ???"

TOM: Oh! They finally got around to making animatronic versions of Edward Nygma, Matthew Lesko, and the guy who sang "96 Tears."

>by Jack

MIKE: Do you guys know Jack?

CROW: I don't know Jack.

TOM: I don't know Jack, either.

MIKE: Thanks. Just checking.


>The players:

>Claude Cat

CROW: That's his middle name. His real first name's Dee.

>Hubie and Bertie

MIKE: One player? Are they conjoined twins or separate personalities?

>the dog from "Cheese Chasers"

TOM: Indistinguishable from any other of the 50,000 bulldogs in cartoon history.

>the robotic cat from "Mouse Menace"

CROW: The hero!

TOM: Yayyyy!

MIKE: This is going to be hard, I can tell.

>The Mynah Bird

CROW: They can shoot their poop in any direction, you know.

MIKE: I didn't, actually. Projectile faeces isn't high on my interest list.


>opening shot of garage

MIKE (Bob Marley): I shot the garage, but I did not shoot the deputy!

>Claude in the garage: ...and it is done!

TOM: Hey, we're free! Let's go!

>(view of Claude's head) Now I don't have to worry about those mice anymore!

CROW (Claude): Now that I've got roaches.

>overall view of Claude and robotic cat.

TOM: B'gosh.

>Claude flips the switch.

MIKE: No, wait! We just got the call from the governor!

>Robot: Oh, hello master, how can I serve you?

MIKE: I like this fic. Robots should be this servile.

TOM and CROW: Suuuuure....

>Claude: Hello 252833-Cat, I want you to catch all the mice in the house and bring them to me!

CROW: After 252,832 failures, you should really go back to the planning stages.

>cuts to kitchen,

MIKE (Intercom): Dr. Cuts, please report to the kitchen, Cuts to kitchen, please.

>then refrigerator with Hubie and Bertie getting cheese from it, 252833 comes in and grabs the duo.

TOM (Robot): Quit hogging the Gorgonzola!

>Burtie: What do you think you are doing Mr. Vacuum?

CROW (Robot): You two aren't matching salt and pepper shakers?

>Robot: Vacuum? What's that?

MIKE: It's that thing between your ears.

>Bertie: Why dat's you, you are a vacuum cleaner and what are you doing with us mice, vacuums don't catch mice?

TOM: I guess he missed that Oreck commercial.

>Robot: No no, (giggling) you must be mistaken Mr. mouse, I'm a cat (pause) aren't I (in a doubtful voice)?

CROW: No (in an irritated voice). You're a robot (in a regretful and pessimistic voice).

>Bertie: Well you don't look like a cat, does he Hubie?

MIKE (Bertie): Nah. Cats are pretty.

>Hubie: Yeah Yeah Boit, he looks a vacuum (giggling hysterically).

TOM: Wrong! No! Hubie's the smart one and Bertie's the dumb one!

CROW: Well, they look exactly alike in the cartoons. It's hard to tell them apart.

>Robot: Well, what does a vacuum do, Mr. Mouse?

TOM: It sucks, so you're on track.

>Bertie: It sucks up dirt through it's mouth from dirty dogs

MIKE (AC/DC): Dirty dogs done dirt cheap!

>(pause)

CROW: (mute) (fast forward)

>Like that one outside (points through the window at the sleeping dog).

TOM: Ah, let him lie.

>Robot: Thank you Mr. Mouse, I'll go vacuum the dog right away!

MIKE (Robot): But I don't do windows!

>The robot cat goes outside and attacks the dog with his powerful suction power,after a moment of frantic cries for help, the dog grabs the the vacuum.

TOM: Powerful suction power of sucking that is his suctioning power.

CROW: Whaddaya know, he really IS a vacuum!

>dog: WHAT IN SAM HILL ARE TRYIN' TO DO YA CRAZY TIN CAN! (grasping the robot by its neck) DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO TO YOU! I'M GONNA MASSACRE YA!

MIKE (Robot): Well, give me a chance to answer the question!

>Robot: Oh please Mr. Dog, don't do that, I'm only doing what vacuum cleaners are supposed to, aren't I?

TOM: Grinding dirt deeper into the pile?

>Dog: You aint a vacuum, you don't even LOOK like a vacuum, you look like a trash can!

CROW: Or what goes in it.

>Robot: I do? What's a trash can?

MIKE: Claude Cat could stand some improvement in his programming skills.

>Dog: Why, they pick up trash, like that dirty, lazy, good for nuthin' cat inside, and they take them to the dump!

TOM: They do not! They just hold the trash. Somebody else has to put it in and take it away!

>Now go away AND DON'T BUG ME EVER AGAIN OR ELSE I'LL MASSACRE YA AND SEND YOU TO THE DUMP!

CROW (Robot): But you said I'm going to the dump anyway!

>Robot: OK, OK, and thank you!

MIKE (Robot): You've been a great audience! Thank you and good night!

>Robot cat goes through doggy door, picks up the sleeping Claude, and stuffs him violently down his throat.

CROW: Oh, he likes to eat pussy!

MIKE: CROW!

>Cries from Claude are heard and so the robot takes Claude out and asks...

TOM (Robot): Would you please stop tickling my tonsils?

>Robot: What's the matter master?

MIKE (Claude): Basicly, it's energy that has mass....

>Claude: (with a VERY panicky look on his face as he's being held by his neck skin) WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH ME? WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU AND WHERE ARE MY MICE!

CROW (Claude): But first, let go of my neck skin!

TOM (Claude): You're getting my neck skin all wrinkled!

>Robot: I didn't catch any mice because I'm not a cat.

MIKE (Claude): So? I'm a cat and I don't catch mice, either.

>Claude: (looking confused) Then, um..., what are ya?

TOM (Robot): I'm your worst nightmare!

>Robot: I'm a trash can, that nice dog told me so.

CROW (Robot): Right after I ate him.

>Claude: Oh he did, did he?

>Robot: Yes, yes, and he told me I had to take you to the dump!

MIKE (Robot): So pack your things and get your glad rags on, it's time we got going!

TOM and CROW: (Singing): We're going to the du-ump! We're going to the du-ump!

>Claude: (with a mean look on his face) Well, I'm afraid he was mistaken...

MIKE (Claude): And I'm Miss Congeniality!

>Robot: He Was?

>Claude: Yes, you're really supposed to take him to the dump.

TOM: Not quite. It's his walkies. You're supposed to take him to dump.

MIKE: TOM!

>Robot: But he said he would massacre me if I bothered him again...

>Claude: Do you know what massacre means?

CROW (Robot): It's a really large piece of farmland?

>Robot: Well............. No...

MIKE: This sentence brought to you by the Center for Ellipsis Research.

>Claude: Why, it means REWARD, if you take him to the dump then he will REWARD you for uh, a job well done! (smiles at the robot).

TOM (Claude): But don't expect any gratitude from me!

>Robot: REALLY! Well how do I get to the dump? I've never seen one.

CROW (Robot): Besides this fanfic, I mean.

>Claude grabs the phone book and looks up "City Dog Pound" and tells the Robot the address.

TOM: It's in the Yellow Pages under "Meat Packers - Wholesale."

MIKE: Ick!

>Claude: Just go take a left at Foster Road until you get to Gribbroek Avenue, it will be a big building surrounded by fencing and lots of other dogs.

MIKE (Robot): Look, five minutes ago I didn't know what a trash can was, and now you expect me to know side streets?

CROW: I thought the dogs were supposed to be inside the pound.

TOM: It's visiting day. Their girlfriends are bringing Milk-Bones with files baked in them.

>Robot, with a grateful look on his face, leaves for the yard again.

CROW: The grateful dud.

MIKE: And he gets lost on his way to the yard and rusts out of old age in the laundry room.

>Claude waves and yells.

TOM (Claude): That way, stupid! That way!

>Claude: Catch him quick, while he's still asleep, don't wake him up till he gets there! He'll like the surprise!

CROW (Claude): Keep hitting your snooze button!

>The Robot grabs the sleeping dog and shoves him down his throat, then he goes topound and drops him off.

MIKE: Kind of an anorexic robot. Always binging and purging.

>The dog wakes up, rather surprised, in the pound. The Robot then goes back to Claude, whom has a VERY pleased look on his face.

CROW: Oh, VERY!

TOM: Rather!

CROW: It's teatime, you know, old chap.

TOM: Let's have a spot of nosh.

>Robot: I did what you said, I can't wait to be massacred now, oh boy!

>Claude: Now go get those mice and bring em to me.

MIKE (Robot): But what about my massacre?

>Robot then goes back to kitchen, now in shambles with cleaned out cabinets and Hubie and Bertie with pleased looks on their faces and large bellies.

TOM: The mice drew little happy faces on their tummies.

>Hubie: Oh Boit, I feel like a king.

CROW: Dah-dah-dah-dah! Imperial!

>I must have eaten more than ten mice do in a single lifetime.

TOM: I see impacted bowels in their future.

CROW: I smell 'em.

MIKE: You two! Okay, that's enough potty talk. You two are grounded!

TOM: Grounded?!

CROW: You can't ground us. We're electrical appliances!

>Bertie: Yeah Hubie, I won't be able to move for weeks. Mice shouldn't have it so good.

MIKE (Bertie): I won't be able to move because I can't get my landlady to break the lease.

>Hubie: I've died and gone to Heav...

CROW (Hubie): As you can tell by my putrifying remains.

MIKE: CROW!

CROW: Yes? Want to ground me some more?

>(Robot then grabs mice in a swift movement)

TOM: I had a swift movement this morning!

MIKE: TOM!

TOM: We're right here. And there's nothing you can do to stop us.

(MIKE gnashes his teeth.)

>Robot: Now I've got you! Master will be SO happy to see you, maybe he will even massacre me! (sort of singing the last line as he starts skipping to the living room)

MIKE (Hubie): Oh, you're going to get murdered? Fine with us.

>Bertie: Hey what's a dog like you doing with mice?

CROW (Bertie): I mean vacuum! Why'd I say dog?! Drat it!

>Robot: But I'm not a dog? I'm a trash can, the dog and master told me so! (doubtful now) I am a trash can, aren't I.

TOM (Robot): I'm really a plaything to you, huh? Just a plaything to tell some new outrageous story so the plaything looks all stupid.

>Bertie: You mean you believed all that? Don't you know it's April Fools Day? Ain't it Hubie.

MIKE (Hubie): Yup. We've eaten library paste that wasn't as thick as you, R2D2.

>Hubie: But Boit, It's June 10th.

>Bertie slaps Hubie saying: No it isn't, it's April 1st, why don't ya listen to me!.

CROW: Is Hubie speaking or Bertie?

TOM: A sentence so nice, it ended twice.

>Hubie: Oh Yeah Yeah its April 1st!

MIKE: Happy Iranian Revolution Day! Let's burn Salman Rushdie in effigy!

>Robot: So everything you, master, and the dog said was all a trick?

TOM: It sure wasn't a treat.

>Bertie: Yes, and now I'm tellin' ya the truth! YOU are a dog, and do ya know what dogs do?

CROW (Robot): From what I've seen, they sleep 24/7.

>Robot: No.

>Bertie: They bite the Mail Man!

TOM: He's one of the lesser known members of the Justice Society.

>Robot: What's a Mail Man?

CROW: Well, a Chain Mail Man can be either a knight or a pyramid scheme operator.

>The two mice and the robot huddle up and Bertie whispers,

MIKE: Hubie doesn't know what a Mail Man is, either.

>the scene then fades to black and re fades to the robot crouched by the mailbox.

TOM: He's learned how to piddle like a dog.

>The Mail Man then comes and the robot jumps up and ferociously bites the Mail Man,

CROW: Right through the Mail Truck.

>the Man then screams in pain as a taxi cab drives up and drops off the dog.

MIKE: Have no fear! Hack Driver will save Mail Man from this predicament!

>Dog: Thanks mac (giving the driver some money), keep the change.

TOM (Dog): And here's a Beggin' Strip for you. I don't know they're not bacon, you know.

CROW: So this is how dogs make mysterious long-distance journeys. I'll never look at "Homeward Bound" the same way again.

>He then spies the robot stuck to the Mail Man's behind.

MIKE: You'd think the mailman would at least try to get the robot off his rump.

>Dog: (looks aggravated) What do you think you are doing?

TOM (Dog): You're not in the union!

>Robot: (lets go of the Man, Man runs off to truck and drives away) I'm just doing what dogs are supposed to.

CROW (Robot): I've got "lick myself" and "pee on things" next on the agenda.

>Dog: And who, pray tell, told you you were a dog? It wasn't that lyin' cat, was it?

MIKE (Robot): No, this time it was the lyin' mice.

>Robot: No the cat, my Master, told me to take you to the pound, it was the mice that told me I was a dog, they made everything make sense!

CROW (Robot): I'm going to vacuum myself and take myself to the pound now!

>Dog: Well, if you REALLY want to be a dog, then you should have come to me, I happen to be an expert on dogs.

TOM (Dog): And the first thing you'll need is a breath mint after having that guy's butt in your mouth.

MIKE: Have you ever smelled a dog's breath?

TOM: No.

MIKE: Then you have no idea how wrong you are.

>Robot: Really? Well how do I be a dog?

>Dog: Why, you rip the mangy cat to shreds, got that Rover?

CROW: So, the dog doesn't want revenge on Hubie and Bertie?

>Robot: Yes Yes, I'll do that right away!

>Robot then goes into the house, then the living room and he begins to rip Claude to sheds.

TOM: Stop him! He's tearing that poor cat into outbuildings!

>Claude breaks free, and pantingly says:

>Claude: What's gotten into you! Get out right now!

MIKE (Robot): Well, you've gotten into me, and the dog has, too.

>Robot: But I...

>Claude: GET OUT!

>Robot: all right...

CROW: Claude used up all the capital letters and didn't leave any for the poor robot!

>Sadly, the Robot goes out to the back alley and sits, contemplating suicide through thought bubbles,

MIKE: And Blossom and Buttercup.

>until he is greeted by a wise Mynah Bird, the bird then whispers to the robot.

TOM (Robot): It's down the hall and to the right.

>Robot: You want to know what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong!

CROW (Robot): People think they can boss me around just because I'm a robot, that's what's wrong!

TOM (Robot): Where do people get these ideas, anyway?!

>I've been told that I'm a cat, a vacuum cleaner, a trash can, and a dog, but nobody is ever happy with what I do and I don't know who or what I am! (starts to cry)

MIKE (Rowan Atkinson): Your name is Baldrick, and you live in a pipe in the upstairs water closet.

>Mynah whispers to him.

CROW: What a shy bird. Speak up, man!

>Robot: You mean I'm not any of those things?

MIKE: He doesn't have real intelligence, just artificial intelligence.

>Mynah whispers again

TOM (Mynah Bird): Nelly's Folly, 8 to 1 in the fifth.

>Robot: Well Thanks, it all makes sense now, I'll do just what you said!

CROW (Robot): I'll bzz bzz bzz bzz bzz bzz....

>The robot picks up Claude, then the dog, then Hubie and Bertie, he zooms over to the City Pound and drops them all off.

MIKE (Dogcatcher): We're a DOG pound, not a cat or mouse pound!

>It the cuts to a scene looking down the street, you can hear horse noises.

TOM: Plop, plop!

CROW: Plop, plop! Hey, we're already grounded!

TOM and CROW: Plop, plop, plop, plop, plop!

(MIKE sighs.)

>Then, the Robot appears, with the Mynah Bird on his back, galloping like a horse!

MIKE (Robot): Quit galloping on my back!

>He then says:

>Robot: I'm Silver! I'm Silver! Hi Ho SILVER!... AWAY!!

CROW: Silver? I thought he was a dumb brass!

TOM: I zinc you're right!

MIKE: Stop with the puns or I'll call a copper!

>They then both ride off down the street into the sunset.

TOM (Robot): Ahhh! Hot, hot!

>(iris out)

MIKE: Good-bye, Iris.

>That's All Folks!

CROW: All folks, all the time!

[don Jaime]

(MIKE, TOM, and CROW exit the theater. Doors slam as we return to the living quarters. TOM and CROW giggle in front of the hexfield.)

CROW: Man, that last one was pathetic! Wallabies? I mean, wallabies?

TOM: They've had almost a whole minute. Let's ask them again.

CROW: Okay. Hey, Cambot, if you please!


(Onscreen: HUBIE and BERTIE, who is biting his nails. Both are on the verge of a nervous breakdown.)

TOM: Us again! We did some checking and we're pretty sure we're not wallabies.

CROW: Yeah, we tried that hopping thing and it just didn't work.

HUBIE: Okay. Not wallabies. Not pandas, not penguins, not mandrills, not rhinos, not giraffes, not moths, not storks, not angelfish, not grouse, not frogs, not octopuses, not ducks, not lions, and not wallabies.

BERTIE: And not octopuses, too.

HUBIE: I said that.

BERTIE: Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure.

HUBIE: Let me think. How about camels?

CROW: We're camels? You sure?

BERTIE: Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure.

HUBIE: You gotta be camels. You got the humps, dontcha?

TOM and CROW: Y-e-e-e-es!

HUBIE: And you hardly ever drink water, right?

TOM and CROW: Y-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-es!

HUBIE: But when you do drink water, you drink a lot, is that correct?

TOM and CROW: Y-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-es!

HUBIE: Good! Camels! That's a relief.

CROW: Okie-do, thanks a bunch! Camels, over and out!

(Screen fades.)

TOM and CROW: Camels! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

(MIKE enters.)

MIKE: Hey, guys! What's so funny?

TOM: We're camels, Mike!

MIKE: Uh-huh. Right.

CROW: We're not really camels, Mike. We're pestering those two mice from the fanfic. We call them up and say we don't know what we are, like the ever-so-clueless model #252833, and then the tell us what kind of animal we are.

TOM: And then we call 'em right back and say they're wrong. Speaking of which...Cambot, one more time!


(Onscreen: HUBIE and BERTIE, heads in hands.)

CROW: Yeah, we don't we're camels. Those humps turned out to be warts.

TOM: And I'm already thirsty, and I don't think camels do that. What are we, really?

BERTIE: I'll tell you what you are. You two are a couple of TOTAL A-

HUBIE: Don't say that, Boit! (Slaps him repeatedly.) Get a grip on yourself.

BERTIE: (Weakly.) Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure.

HUBIE: One of youse is a bat, and the other's an anteater. Got that?

CROW: Which is which?

HUBIE: Whichever you want. I don't care.

TOM: Dibs on anteater!

CROW: I wanted anteater! Hubie-e-e-e!

HUBIE: You can both be anteaters. Just leave me alone. (Notices MIKE.) I suppose you want to know what you are, too, huh?

MIKE: I know who I am: the disciplinarian. Sorry these two troubled you guys.

HUBIE: (Brightening.) Oh. Thanks! (Screen fades.)

MIKE: I thought I grounded you two in the theater.

TOM: You did, but you didn't say from what.

MIKE: Prank calls are automatic on the no-no list. Go to your rooms.

CROW: Make us!

MIKE: GYPSY!

GYPSY (Offstage): Whatever it is you two are doing, stop it and do what Mike tells you!

TOM: Aw, man! This day sucks!

CROW: C'mon. We can plot revenge over the walkie-talkies.

(TOM and CROW exit.)

MIKE: And you think about what happened!

(GYPSY enters.)

GYPSY: What were they up to this time?

MIKE: Oh. They were prank calling mice.

GYPSY: And?

MIKE: Gypsy, they were tormenting two innocent mice.

GYPSY: Innocent, my black spiral fanny! Mice are filthy, disgusting vermin. We don't care what happens to them.

MIKE: But, Gyps'....

GYPSY: We poison them by the truckload! We let scientists torture them for fun and profit!

MIKE: C'mon, Gypsy....

GYPSY: We feed them to snakes at zoos! We sell them to small children for pets! We don't care what happens to the horrid little beasts, no matter how vicious it is! Now you find Crow and Tom and apologize.

MIKE: But....

GYPSY: MARCH!

MIKE: Yes, ma'am!


(MIKE exits. Onscreen: FRANK and FORRESTER.)

FORRESTER: Oh, hello. Is Nelson there? I still want to know what today's fanfic was about.

GYPSY: I sent him to the back of the satellite.

FORRESTER: I see. And the other two robots, the ones who also read the story?

GYPSY: That's who I sent Mike to find.

FORRESTER: Mmm-hmmm. Did they happen to tell you what the fic was about?

GYPSY: No.

FRANK: Well, I guess you'll never know.

FORRESTER: Can't say that upsets me. Push the button, Frank.

(FRANK pushes the button. As the credits roll, we hear:)

FORRESTER (VO): I think it involved a bat. Or maybe an anteater.


>Master will be SO happy to see you, maybe he will even massacre me!


(Special thanks to Jack for offering his work for this project. MST3K property of Best Brains Inc, Looney Tunes property of Warner Bros Animation, used without permission.)