Post by Afgncaap5 on Nov 24, 2003 1:05:22 GMT -5
Crow’s Art
By Afgncaap5
Chapter 1: Timothy C. Robust
*****
Author’s Notes: The “Crow’s Art” section seemed a bit lonely. All of the other sections had people posting to ‘em like crazy, but Crow’s Art? Nothin’. Nadda. Zilch. Zippo. So, naturally, I decided to give some attention to this problem by writing a story. And, just for fun, I made the first piece here on “Crow’s Art” a story that happens to be about....well....Crow’s Art....um....you’ll see. However, I’m a horrible writer, so I don’t want any of you reading this. You here me? NONE OF YOU READ THIS STORY!
Now then, enjoy. AHA! That was a TEST! You were getting ready to “enjoy” the story, weren’t you? DON’T do it! To enjoy it you have to read it, and YOU PEOPLE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO READ THIS!
With that out of the way, read on.
AAARRGGGHHH!!!!!! There’s NO getting THROUGH to you! Just stop reading here and now! STOP IT!
Time Frame: Mid-Season 6
*****
Crow wrote furiously. He wasn’t even sure if his pencil scratches would be legible by the time that he finished, but he needed to write what he was thinking while it was still fresh in his mind. The movie had ended a few short seconds earlier, and he knew that he didn’t have much time before Mike or Tom would find their way back to the Bridge. If Dr. Forrester didn’t expect the three of them to at least make an appearance after the movie (for “scientific accuracy in his notes,” he claimed) Crow would have darted to his own room for a little more privacy. As it was, Crow could probably evade suspicion by not going out of his way to draw attention to the notepad. If all else failed, he was counting on his bad hand-writing to prevent Mike or Servo from reading what he was writing. Only Cambot was present to witness this, and Cambot didn’t ask questions.
Hearing Mike laughing in just the next room, Crow pushed the notepad under the Bridge’s table. Moments later, Mike stepped in wearing a gigantic Cucumber costume. Servo hovered in as well, dressed as a bottle of salad dressing. “Hey, Crow!” Mike cheerfully chuckled. “I’m the Venusian Cucumber, and Servo’s the Radioactive Vinaigrette that was left in the fridge for too long!”
Crow sighed. “Great, Mike. Just great.”
“Crow, we’ve got a plastic bag costume that’d pass for a giant bag of croutons!” Servo chimed. “Come on, before the mads call!”
“Not today, guys,” Crow muttered. He really wasn’t in the mood for this at the moment. There was certainly no way that he would help it along. He was spared from arguing with Mike and Tom about the costume arrangements by Deep 13’s light flashing. Crow quickly tapped the button.
The monitor to Deep 13 quickly powered on, revealing a leering Dr. Forrester with TV’s Frank sitting at a desk and working on some paperwork in the background. “I’ve got to say that this particular experiment seemed like a success. ‘Salad From The Sun’s Second Sphere’ certainly pushed you a little far. Especially during the scene with the sheriff at the steak house-”
Servo screamed and ran zipped under the table to whimper. “Knock it off, Dr. Forester, Servo took that scene pretty hard!”
“Well, Mike, I’d love to knock it off, but it’s my job to gloat. I almost broke your will with this one, Mike!”
Mike squirmed a little uncomfortably. “Well, it was rough, I’ll admit-”
“Oh, come on Mike! I’m monitoring your mind! I didn’t even get this level of pain from Red Zone Cuba!”
Mike though for a moment and just laughed. “Well, yeah. It was directed more horribly than Coleman Francis directed Red Zone Cuba, so of course it’s gonna hurt more.”
Servo popped back from under the table to speak his mind. “And the lighting and sound quality? Talk about cheap! I was expecting it to be the same crew from Manos, but with the skilled workers missing!”
Dr. Forrester chuckled. “And what do you think, Crow?”
Crow refused to look anyone else in the eye right now. “I liked the plot.”
Stunned silence filled the Satellite of Love and Deep 13. Gypsy’s head poked into the room and TV’s Frank looked up from his paper work. The silence only lasted for a few seconds, though, quickly shifting to laughter. Loud, irritating laughter.
“Oh, sure Crow! Almost had me there!” Servo guffawed. It looked like he was having trouble concentrating and floating above the desk. Mike was lying on the ground, unable to get up (though the cucumber suit probably aided to that situation). Dr. Forrester and Frank were just laughing their regular evil laughs, though possibly with a bit more gusto. After about ten seconds, Dr. Forrester broke off from his laughing. “Nice try, Crow. I think that I’m going to look around for more movies that were written by....let’s see, who wrote this one again? Ah, yes, a Mr. ‘Timothy C. Robust.’ I almost couldn’t watch the three of you heckle, the plot was so dull! I have to make some phone calls to see if I can find more films by this person....assuming that his career lasted beyond this one, that is! Push the button, Frank!”
And with that, the mads’ comm-link to the Satellite Of Love was temporarily severed. Mike and Servo took this as their cue to return to their respective rooms, still chuckling about Crow’s “joke,” while Gypsy slithered away to work on some obscure aspect of ship maintenance. When he was absolutely sure that the coast was clear, Crow picked up his notepad and pen, and ran to his room.
After making sure to lock the door behind him, Crow continued his scribbling. “Mongoose Warrior? No, too dull....Pre-Teen Cyborg Judo Lizards! No, that’s not the name of a screenplay....Death Of A Sailor! Hmmm....needs something....”
Crow wrote down the titles for potential screenplays, scratching each one of them off. He needed just the perfect title before inspiration could strike. Something dramatic but enjoyable. Something filled with intellectual humor, but still obviously funny for the morons of the world.
After pondering it for five minutes, Crow desperately wrote what he felt would be the key. “Mystic Koala: A New Screenplay By Timothy C. Robust.”
*****
Okay, the story’s over. NOW you can start reading. But don’t read anything above that line of asterisks just above this paragraph. Ever. I MEAN it! And if I happen to write extra chapters, don’t read those Either! Grrrrrrrr!
By Afgncaap5
Chapter 1: Timothy C. Robust
*****
Author’s Notes: The “Crow’s Art” section seemed a bit lonely. All of the other sections had people posting to ‘em like crazy, but Crow’s Art? Nothin’. Nadda. Zilch. Zippo. So, naturally, I decided to give some attention to this problem by writing a story. And, just for fun, I made the first piece here on “Crow’s Art” a story that happens to be about....well....Crow’s Art....um....you’ll see. However, I’m a horrible writer, so I don’t want any of you reading this. You here me? NONE OF YOU READ THIS STORY!
Now then, enjoy. AHA! That was a TEST! You were getting ready to “enjoy” the story, weren’t you? DON’T do it! To enjoy it you have to read it, and YOU PEOPLE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO READ THIS!
With that out of the way, read on.
AAARRGGGHHH!!!!!! There’s NO getting THROUGH to you! Just stop reading here and now! STOP IT!
Time Frame: Mid-Season 6
*****
Crow wrote furiously. He wasn’t even sure if his pencil scratches would be legible by the time that he finished, but he needed to write what he was thinking while it was still fresh in his mind. The movie had ended a few short seconds earlier, and he knew that he didn’t have much time before Mike or Tom would find their way back to the Bridge. If Dr. Forrester didn’t expect the three of them to at least make an appearance after the movie (for “scientific accuracy in his notes,” he claimed) Crow would have darted to his own room for a little more privacy. As it was, Crow could probably evade suspicion by not going out of his way to draw attention to the notepad. If all else failed, he was counting on his bad hand-writing to prevent Mike or Servo from reading what he was writing. Only Cambot was present to witness this, and Cambot didn’t ask questions.
Hearing Mike laughing in just the next room, Crow pushed the notepad under the Bridge’s table. Moments later, Mike stepped in wearing a gigantic Cucumber costume. Servo hovered in as well, dressed as a bottle of salad dressing. “Hey, Crow!” Mike cheerfully chuckled. “I’m the Venusian Cucumber, and Servo’s the Radioactive Vinaigrette that was left in the fridge for too long!”
Crow sighed. “Great, Mike. Just great.”
“Crow, we’ve got a plastic bag costume that’d pass for a giant bag of croutons!” Servo chimed. “Come on, before the mads call!”
“Not today, guys,” Crow muttered. He really wasn’t in the mood for this at the moment. There was certainly no way that he would help it along. He was spared from arguing with Mike and Tom about the costume arrangements by Deep 13’s light flashing. Crow quickly tapped the button.
The monitor to Deep 13 quickly powered on, revealing a leering Dr. Forrester with TV’s Frank sitting at a desk and working on some paperwork in the background. “I’ve got to say that this particular experiment seemed like a success. ‘Salad From The Sun’s Second Sphere’ certainly pushed you a little far. Especially during the scene with the sheriff at the steak house-”
Servo screamed and ran zipped under the table to whimper. “Knock it off, Dr. Forester, Servo took that scene pretty hard!”
“Well, Mike, I’d love to knock it off, but it’s my job to gloat. I almost broke your will with this one, Mike!”
Mike squirmed a little uncomfortably. “Well, it was rough, I’ll admit-”
“Oh, come on Mike! I’m monitoring your mind! I didn’t even get this level of pain from Red Zone Cuba!”
Mike though for a moment and just laughed. “Well, yeah. It was directed more horribly than Coleman Francis directed Red Zone Cuba, so of course it’s gonna hurt more.”
Servo popped back from under the table to speak his mind. “And the lighting and sound quality? Talk about cheap! I was expecting it to be the same crew from Manos, but with the skilled workers missing!”
Dr. Forrester chuckled. “And what do you think, Crow?”
Crow refused to look anyone else in the eye right now. “I liked the plot.”
Stunned silence filled the Satellite of Love and Deep 13. Gypsy’s head poked into the room and TV’s Frank looked up from his paper work. The silence only lasted for a few seconds, though, quickly shifting to laughter. Loud, irritating laughter.
“Oh, sure Crow! Almost had me there!” Servo guffawed. It looked like he was having trouble concentrating and floating above the desk. Mike was lying on the ground, unable to get up (though the cucumber suit probably aided to that situation). Dr. Forrester and Frank were just laughing their regular evil laughs, though possibly with a bit more gusto. After about ten seconds, Dr. Forrester broke off from his laughing. “Nice try, Crow. I think that I’m going to look around for more movies that were written by....let’s see, who wrote this one again? Ah, yes, a Mr. ‘Timothy C. Robust.’ I almost couldn’t watch the three of you heckle, the plot was so dull! I have to make some phone calls to see if I can find more films by this person....assuming that his career lasted beyond this one, that is! Push the button, Frank!”
And with that, the mads’ comm-link to the Satellite Of Love was temporarily severed. Mike and Servo took this as their cue to return to their respective rooms, still chuckling about Crow’s “joke,” while Gypsy slithered away to work on some obscure aspect of ship maintenance. When he was absolutely sure that the coast was clear, Crow picked up his notepad and pen, and ran to his room.
After making sure to lock the door behind him, Crow continued his scribbling. “Mongoose Warrior? No, too dull....Pre-Teen Cyborg Judo Lizards! No, that’s not the name of a screenplay....Death Of A Sailor! Hmmm....needs something....”
Crow wrote down the titles for potential screenplays, scratching each one of them off. He needed just the perfect title before inspiration could strike. Something dramatic but enjoyable. Something filled with intellectual humor, but still obviously funny for the morons of the world.
After pondering it for five minutes, Crow desperately wrote what he felt would be the key. “Mystic Koala: A New Screenplay By Timothy C. Robust.”
*****
Okay, the story’s over. NOW you can start reading. But don’t read anything above that line of asterisks just above this paragraph. Ever. I MEAN it! And if I happen to write extra chapters, don’t read those Either! Grrrrrrrr!
