"These haughty words of hers have batt'red me like roaring cannon shot, And made me almost yield upon my knees." Duke Of Burgandy, *I Henry VI* ====================================================== Presenting "MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER NIGHTS" by Nightbreak # 20: LEMONADE: A COOL, REFRESHING DRINK! (A Double Lemon MSTing) "I Want To Have A Tentacle Enema" belongs to one Icarus Flatslab and he is welcome to it. Strangely enough, he asked me to MST it. After reading the sucker, I gladly accepted. "Sleepover" belongs to Senrab, whom I could not contact about his work. If he's out there, there is no offense intended to you, but here is the criticism you asked for. Mystery Science Theater is the property of Best Brains Inc. and other people who work with that show. All copyrights are respectfully theirs. I don't have any money, anyways. So I doubt they would get anything out of suing me. Soi belongs to Watashi Yuu, the creator of Fushigi Yuugi. I make no claim on her. On The Record: This is my *20th*MSTing. My first real milestone has been reached in only ten months. What a long way I've travelled since I first took on the "Ranger Moon" series. As well, I owe three people for Joel's invention today. JFelix, Xellos, and PlaidDragon all came together to come up with the idea and I promised them their due credit. Thanks, guys. WARNING: The following fanfictions contain rather twisted sexual situations. If you are underage, please go back. If you don't want to read this, please go back. If you value your sanity, please go back! And for those of you who don't know what a Furby is, it's an interactive toy that parents are reacting to like they reacted to Tickle Me Elmo. But this toy can learn to speak and pick up cues. Kind of like a parrot, only a lot less maintenance, a little less expensive, and a lot more popular. *SATELLITE OF LOVE, 1800 HOURS* *2500 HOURS IN THE PLACE WHERE SOMEONE FORGOT TO RESET THEIR CLOCK. . . * *AND LUCIEN BOUCHARD IS IN POWER ONCE MORE. . . * *AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!* "Pull!" As Joel Robinson underhand-lobbed the "pigeon" across the bridge, Tom Servo and Soi popped up from behind the main console. Tom had his special shotgun arm attached while Soi's hands spattered with electrical current. With a sharp *CRACK!*, Tom's shot nicked the target, sending it spiralling down. Before it touched the ground, though, Soi thrust her hands forward and a lightning bolt shot from her fingertips. *FZZZT!* In a little poof of black soot, the target thumped to the floor, charred fur smoking as wisps fluttered through the air. Soi lifted an index finger and blew on it dramatically as a last bit of current crackled. "Got 'im!" Over at the scoreboard, Crow T. Robot peered at the mess. "Joel, how do I score that?" "Uhhh, one point to Tom for hitting it, but three points to Soi for frying the Furby." "Roger." The chalk squeaked on the board. "So. . . that's fifteen points for Servo so far. . . and thirteen for Soi. What's left, Joel?" Joel peered into the box of stuffed Christmas toys. "We've done the Tickle Me Elmo, assorted cheap Beanie Babies, a couple of really expensive collector-item Beanie Babies, and about four Furbies." Soi leaned over to pick up the still-smoking former Furby. It gave a tiny squeak in her hands as she picked at the blackened material. "Ah, kawaii... Or at least, it *was* kawaii. Joel, I hear people on Earth are going crazy for these things. Why do we have so many up here?" Tom checked his ammunition. "Who do you think invented those puffballs, Soi?" Soi shrugged. "Beats me. Some big American company with a terminal case of the cutes?" "Nope. I'll give you a hint, though: He's a scientist, has the personality of a can of pineapple slices. . . ." Just then, the bridge lights began strobing a deep red. ". . . And he always picks the worst time to call." Joel tossed a collector's edition plush Popple back into the box. "We'll finish the Annoyingly Cute Christmas Gift Skeet Shoot later, guys. Rachel Prejudice and Tom Foolery are calling." *DEEP 13* "Ah hello, National Reject Association," sneered Dr. Clayton Forrester, "I see that I'm going to have to come up with another little invention for the holiday season, since you don't care much for my furballs. Well, while I think of something, you can go first." *SATELLITE OF LOVE* The box of gifts and the chalk scoreboard were gone. Instead, a plain gray fedora lay on the main console. Joel smiled as he picked the hat up. "Here we are, sir. The answer to any poor sap who doesn't know how to dance properly. We used some of the leftover computer parts up here to wire a memory network into the brim of this ordinary hat, and we've stored every single known dance step in the world on it. So, you just put the hat on your head. . . ." He slipped the hat on. ". . . think of the dance you want to do, like the mambo, and. . . ." Immediately, Joel began performing a flawless mambo step out the nearest door. "Or the waltz!" he shouted from off the bridge. As he sashayed past Cambot's lens again, he smiled. "We call it the Contagious Dancing Hat! What do you think, sir?" *DEEP 13* Dr. Forrester grinned evilly. "Not bad, Joel. Just don't accept any top hat, white tie, and tails invitations. Now, on to my invention." He gestured grandly. "Of course, Christmas is just around the next giant Price Sale at the department store and people are once again rushing to buy useless items by the ton. So I've decided to throw my own proverbial hat into the ring again. Frank?" His ever lovable and ever bumbling assistant, TV's Frank came out, carrying a gaily wrapped parcel. "Here you go, sir." "Ah thank you, Frank." Dr. Forrester quickly tore off the paper to reveal a box of . . . chocolates. "Feast your eyes, boobies! It's Pearl and Clay's Christmas Chocolate Confections!" On the viewscreen, his four guinea pigs exchanged glances. "If he says "Life is like a box of chocolates," I'm going to scream," muttered Tom. "Oh, give me some credit, boys and girl. I'm not all cliched! Frank, have a chocolate?" "Hey, thanks Steve!" TV's Frank reached over and selected one, then popped it in his mouth and chewed contentedly. Suddenly, an odd look came over his face and he dashed out of the room. Over the sounds of coughing and sputtering, Dr. F. beamed. "Well, let's look at the map and see which one he chose, shall we?" he asked, picking up the small card. "Ahhh. The Chocolate-dipped Potato Slice! One of my favourites. There's also the Sushi Surprise, Buttermilk Swirls, and Mother's personal triumph, the Christmas Crackle. I would tell you what it is, but it's a family secret!" With a smile, he tossed the box aside. "Anyways, enough holiday cheer for now. Your experiment today is a tongue-in-cheek lemon. Or should I say a tongue and. . . ah, never mind. Unhappy Holidays! Frank, let's roast their chestnuts over an open fire!" *SATELLITE OF LOVE* Soi rolled her eyes at his manaical laughter and punched the button. "I know some people who would pay good money to see him on stage." "Got the fanfic switcher, Soi?" Crow asked. She reached beneath the main console and pulled it out. "Right here. Whatever he's got, it's not going anywhere!" Then the jingling of sleigh bells filled the bridge. Joel slapped the Contagious Dancing Hat on his head as Soi threw the fanfic switch, changing fanfics in mid-stream. "OHHHHHH, WE'VE GOT LEMON SIGN!" Begin German Countdown Door Sequence! Door 6: *Sechs!* Door 5: *Funf!* Door 4: *Vier!* Door 3: *Drei!* Door 2: *Zwei!* Door 1: *Eins!* (The four of them enter the theatre, doing the Shuffle-Off-To-Buffalo. Soi takes the first seat, Crow the second, Joel the third, and Tom the fourth.) Joel (taking the Contagious Dancing Hat off): That was fun. ROLL 'EM! >I Want to Have a Tentacle Enema Soi: (turns gray): Ohhhhhhh no. . . It didn't work! (She frantically flips the switch back and forth some more.) Nothing! Crow (singing): All I Want for Christmas is . . . eep Soi (wraps her other hand around Crow's beak): If you say *one* more word, Crow, I am going to be using your head for a rather decorative bun basket. >by Icarus Flatslab Tom (singing): Icarus. . . Icarus Crane. . . Joel: That's *Ichabod* Crane, Tom. Tom: Eh, he's probably a German descendant or something. >DISCLAIMER: >I don't care what you all think, All: GREAT!! Tom (chanting): You think you can tell me what to do? Soi (chanting): You think you can tell me what to wear? Crow (chanting): You think that you're better? Joel (chanting): Better get ready. . . All: BREAK IT DOWN!! > because I'm right, and you're wrong? I can write about heinous rape and >violence towards women because I can't get any! Soi: Ooh. Someone's a little bitter this morning. Tom: Well, he probably attended the "Jon Arbuckle School of Dating", where their motto is, "A dial tone is *not* a -No!-" > Well, that and I enjoy striking back at women for tha abuse they have given >me... Crow (John Cleese): Don't give me that, you toffee-nosed, snotty-faced, vacuous pervert! Joel (Eric Idle): But I came here for an argument! Crow (John Cleese): Oh, I'm sorry. This is "Abuse"! > the rejection... and the mean way my mommy spanked my bum when I >started wearing her bra... oops. Soi: O.o Tom: Oh, just because he and Naga shared the same cup size. . . . >Basically, get out if you aren't going to bow down to my superior will Crow: And now, a short message from Dr. Clayton Forrester. Joel: Nope. He wouldn't tell us to leave the theater like that. >and recognize that anything you say will be promptly dissected by my >extreme intelligence, Tom: Still sounds like Dr. Forrester after too many cappuccinos. > and masterful crafting of the vernacular and formal languages, Joel (author): Besides, even if your minuscule intellect could completely comprehend the phenomenal impact of my magnus opus, I would still consider you beneath my presence and relegate you to being my literary inferior. Soi (author): Either that or I'll tell you to go and. . . Joel (hastily): Never mind, Soi. We made our point. > you should travel far, far away from this story. Crow (reaches under the seat and produces a suitcase): All packed! Soi: Stay where you are, Crow. >Because even though what I will write in this story will certainly make >you nauseous, Tom: Be honest. Can we think of any riffs that don't involve the words, "Airsick bag"? Crow: Uh, "Up the hatch?" Joel: "Booties down?" > or hate me... it's not my fault... it's yours. Tom (author): Oh, and you're also responsible for the Monica scandal, prostitutes at Santa parades, and the dubbing of "Darkstalkers". > See, I made this story to help people... Soi: It's being tested at Poison Control Centers, I hear. Crow: What for? Soi: To induce vomiting. > all anyone who complains about it does is hate. See, by seeing women > get raped, and by tentacles no doubt.. Joel: You can bost the annual salaries of many psychiatrists. > it helps people come in touch with their hate for women. Tom: In that case, I *really* hate Dr. Forrester, so could you. . .? > Yes, those vile, disgusting, despicable women. They really suck. Crow (Colonel Sanders from "Spaceballs"): Sir! It's Megamaid, sir! She's gone from "suck" to "blow!" > And they won't give me any. Really. Soi: Oh, I'll gladly give you some. Voltage, that is. (Soi gestures and, somewhere on earth, a bolt of lightning strikes a home computer.) >So, again, what I write should be taken as Holy word, Joel: Along with the sacramental marijuana. > so please read and enjoy. because remember, this is for pleasure! Tom: Ladies and gentlemen, the preface to the Kenneth Starr Report. >I WANT TO HAVE A TENTACLE ENEMA. All: NO, YOU DON'T!!! >----- >Hentai Dursheim walked down the road to Niederbrechen. Joel: Good guess, Tom. Tom: (German accent): Oh, Dhass is noot gud. > "Ja, what a wonderful day it is, eh? I haven't gotten laid by the beer nymphs, Soi: Beer nymphs? Tom (Barney Gumble): I don't know where you pixies came from, but I love your magic drink! > so now I am feeling lonely, horny and deserted! I think I should go and > find some girl to take. Joel: The words that spelled the end for many a politician. > But how? My personality is too offiicious for someone to sleep with me! Soi: Try taking your socks off when you get into bed with them! > Oh! I've got it! I'll turn into a tentacle monster! They get all the chicks!" Crow (Dursheim): Oh, and sometimes they get the girls, too! Soi (holding her stomach): Urk! Crow. . . > Hentai skipped down the road. Joel (imitating Chaos): Call him Hentanno-sama!! > >:-{ > Tom (irritated): Oh, bite us. >I came down to the village center. Crow: And immediately got caught in heavy construction. > All the maidens were in their homes asleep. So I needed a way to change > quickly into a tentacle monster. Tom: Call the Queen of Self-Insertion. She's probably got a few octopi to spare. >Wait!! I know! The Brunnen von ertrunkenem frechem Tentacle! Joel: I asked myself three questions: Was this fic a piece of weiner schnitzel? Had the author had too much Liebfraumilch? And when does Oktoberfest start? I'm getting hungry. > Crow (Hugh Larie): SAUSAGE TIME! Soi: Crow! >There was the fountain... at the edge of the village... Tom: If we're lucky, the villagers have put a minefield around it. > it had the statue of an octopus on the top of it. Ah, perfect... I thought. Tom (Announcer): We've secretly replaced their normal Tentacle water with Folgers Crystals. Let's see if anyone notices. . . > I immediately shed my clothes, my peepee bobbing free, already hard >enough to do its work. Soi (clapping her hand over her eyes): Oh, boy. Crow: Joel, can we pick up the Hubble on the next orbit? We're going to need it to even see his equipment. > I leaped into the shallow fountain, bonking my head, Tom (Dursheim): And that's when the idea of writing this fic came to me. > but since it was solid bone, I wasn't hurt. Joel (wincing): Ow. Imagine if it broke off or something! Crow: Wrong head, Joel. Joel: Oh. >Almost immediately, I began to transform. Soi (Dursheim): I became huge, grotesque, and hairy! Tom: In other words, Pavarotti? > My formerly 4.5 cm penis immediately extended to a robust 400 cm. Crow (pulls out a ruler): What'd they do, stick a flagpole up his rear end? Joel: And we can only hope they left the ball and flag on the pole. > My four other limbs spread out as well, and eventually, I had a hollow metal >casing. Tom: What does he think he is, a mortar shell? Crow: Just wait until he goes off! > My eyes turned to stalks, Soi (Alfred Hitchcock): The Celery Stalks at Midnight. > and pretty soon I became a full-grown tentacle beast, with 17 >glorious tentacles to torture Joel: Your readers. >... err.. pleasure my helpless female victims with. Soi: Listen, bub. If I want to be helpless and pleasured, I'd go and see Hino Rei for one of her. . . (Joel and the 'bots stare at her.) Soi (blushing): Oh. Never mind. > The biggest one, my penis tentacle, stiffened in anticipation of this glorious >task! Crow: Wow, he just took out the community centre with one swing of that thing! >Immediately, I sprouted some wheels and walked into the middle of >Niederbrechen. Tom: Why did he bother growing wheels if he's going to walk? Joel: Well, maybe he has a flat. Soi: I know one part I'd like to see deflated. > Good... nobody was outside. I looked around for a pleasing victim... Crow: A little difficult, since there's no one outside. > then I saw young Helga Von Brunnheim walking down Wuppertaller Strate, Joel: Take out an "l", rearrange the letters, and you get "Tupperware Rattles". >towards the village centre. Now's my chance! I hid in some bushes, Soi: That'd have to be a pretty big bush to hide 400 centimetres. Crow: (giggles) Soi: What? Ohhhhhh, (slaps her forehead in disgust.) Crow. . . . > and waited for Helga to go to her home. Tom: Little did he know that she was on her way to the weekly meeting of the Militant Feminist Lesbian Karate Class. >Helga walked up to her house, and opened the lovely little door with the >wooden squirrel on it that read "Helga". Crow: Then she closed it, shot the cute little dead bolt and turned on the charming alarm system. > Helga, Helga, Helga... how do I love thee... Soi (muttering): Let me count the dry heaves. > >Well, anyway, you miserable peons, I will continue. Tom (sarcastic): Oh, not on our account. Please. > >As soon as she shut her door, I walked up to a window. Joel (Boy on Simpsons): Pa, I thought I heard a noise outside. Crow (Father on Simpsons): So did I. Better get the gun. > Helga was changing into a pair of pajamas with oh-so-cute little bunny > faces on them. Soi: I may fwow up. > Ohhh... I felt my penis tentacle getting hard again... I am gonna score! Tom: Oh, but you had a tentacle in the crease, so your goal was disallowed! Crow: Don't forget the ten-minute major for excessive weenieness. >Helga stretched after changing. Joel (Helga): *SNAP, CRUNCH, POP!* Ahhhhh. . . that's better. > "Boy, I'm glad I'm all alone and helpless... that way, some evil guy can take >advantage of me or maim me or something!" Soi (sighing): Foreshadowing. How I love it. >I was overjoyed!! Here was a perfect victim... a helpless, horrible woman... Crow: And stupid enough to sign that fanfic contract without reading it first. > Ah, sweet revenge.. I will take what is rightfully mine! Tom (Princess Bride): You want to take what I've rightfully stolen! >I rolled to the door and smashed through it, Soi (Dursheim): *BONK!* Ow.. . . (muffled) Hey, someone want to open the door? Please? > and before she could say anything, I had a tentacle on each limb. Joel: Grow your own Tentacle Tree! > Damn, I'm good... I have 13 tentacles to spare and I didn't even use the >Master Blaster Love Piston yet! Crow: Or as we shall now refer to it, the Willie O' Doom. > I added another two tentacles to function as hands, and I moved forward. Soi (sarcastic): I am just *so* turned on by this. >Mmmm... so delectable. I licked at her buttons, and they conveniently came > off. Joel: If he flosses his teeth with the threads, I am going to scream. > Wow!! She's a perfect, helpless victim! It doesn't get any better than this! Tom (Weird Al singing "This is The Life!"): Each day I have a new girlfriend. . . The length of my rod just never ends. . . I just hope it doesn't bend. . . This is the life! >I opened the pajamas, so I could see her snowy-pale chest, Crow: Hostess Snowballs, the closest thing to a breast that you'll ever bite into for a long time! Joel: Thank you for that image, Crow. > with delectable little boobies tipped with little itty bitty poo-poo brown > nipples. Yum! Soi (claps a hand over her mouth): Ulp. . . > I ran my tongue over her wonderful little yabos, and then back across her > milkjugs. Tom: I'm just waiting for him to call them Massive Milk Melons, then my head can explode in peace. > Her little nippies got hard, and then I started to move my tongue down to > her peepee. My peepee was getting hard, so I wanted to put my peepee in > her peepee. Crow: Is it me, or does the sex-education system in our schools need some fine-tuning? Joel: You forget, Crow, that less than three-quarters of lemon writers actually know what they're writing about. > But she wouldn't let me. But I forced it in anyway. Soi: *But* she had an elaborate security system waiting. Crow (Dursheim): Ah, Vass is dos? Tom: (makes sound of mousetrap snapping.) Crow (Dursheim): AAAAIIIEEEEE! >"aaaaahhhh!" Helga screamed. Tom: And all in lower case letters, too. > I wrapped a tentacle around her mouth. Shut up, do you want someone to > come in and rob me of my hobby of mistreating women? Soi: I think I was at their annual convention a few years back. Or was that Howard Stern's birthday party? I couldn't tell. > I squeezed tight, so the wench would shut up. So I plunged farther, Crow: I have this sudden urge to buy a 62 piece tool kit from the local hardware store. > and I pressed against her swollen bladder, making her spray all over the >floor. Yum! All: O_O!! Soi: ACK! (Snatches the Contagious Dancing Hat off the floor and proceeds to be violently sick in it.) Tom (head spinning around crazily): Wide Beam. . . Wide Beam. . . Wide Beammmmm. . . . *KABOOOM!!* (His head explodes in a shower of shards of glass and sparks) > I paused and activated my suction tentacle. Yumm... a bit salty, though. A >lot better than when I had been eating shit all those years. Crow (looking distinctly unwell): Not to mention writing it. . . . (Soi chokes deeper into the fedora.) >I pumped my swollen central tentacle in and out... her boobies rising >and falling with every thrust. Joel: Should we bother doing that Simpson joke, guys? You know, "Breasts go up, breasts go down"? Tom (coughing as smoke rises from his shattered dome): Why not? *After* you repair my head! > And she's enjoying it! Hot damn this is fun! Soi (tossing the Hat away and wiping her mouth): Speak for yourself! > I pumped harder, banging against her pelvis. Crow (looking better): We can only hope he'd get a bruise somewhere nasty. > Yes! Who's box is this? Who's box is this? Tom (as Joel repairs his dome): Weird thing to ask. "Who is box is this?" Soi (Robin Williams): I . . . am job. I. . . am job. >"oooohhh... your box, take it, tentacle monster!" Helga moaned. Joel (bank manager): I'm sorry sir, but you can't remove that box from the premises. Now return it to the vault. > This girl was all mine. "Mmmmmm...." All: . . . mmmmmake it stop! > >Suddenly, her sister Heidi came in. Tom (bubbledome fixed): There's a "Heidi" joke in there somewhere. I'm just too dizzy to think of one. > She dropped her keg of beer on the ground, creating a frothy mess. Crow: You mean there wasn't one down there already? Soi (grimacing): Shut up, Crow. >"Vass is this? A tentacle monster raping my --" Tom (Heidi): Chia Pet? Now *that's* a garden weasel! > >Since she was also a helpless female, Joel: Albeit a "350 pound Fraulein" helpless female. . . . > and I had 12 tentacles free, I grabbed her with four of them. I added a > tentacle to rip off her clothes, and another tentacle to gag her. Tom (Blackadder): All right, Baldrick. We have four tentacles. And we add two more tentacles. What do we have? Crow (Baldrick): Some tentacles. Tom (Blackadder): No, we have four, five, *six* tentacles! So, how many? Crow (Baldrick): Four tentacles! Tom (Blackadder): What? Crow (Baldrick): And those two. Tom (Blackadder): So, we have four tentacles, plus two more. What does that make? Crow (Baldrick): A octopus with a handicap! > Once she was naked, and let me tell you, her boobies are nothing to be > ashamed of either... Joel: Hey, that's nothing. We've got one as President! > but I saw her butt. Soi (Dursheim): And I suddenly regretted quitting smoking. > Oooh, I want to bugger that sweet ass! And she's going to give >it to me! Tom: Hey, doesn't the donkey get a say in all this? > I shoved another tentacle far into her sweet little ass. Joel: If I were that donkey, I'd kick him sooooo hard. > Fuck that stuff about wait for the sphincter... I'm going full tilt! I plowed > her ass like a cornfield... Crow: Staying in nice straight rows? > even when the blood was ocming out. Tom (singing): O. . .C M, this is a crappy fic. . . > Haha! see!! This is what happens when you don't go out with me! Soi: How about I just take you out? I've got the perfect right hook. > She moaned and began to like it too! Bitchin'!! Joel: Lemon Cliche Number 5: All women enjoy rape, given a few seconds. Soi (glowering): Despite the dryness, pain, and tearing. >Pretty soon, she pissed on herself, and came. All: Ewwwwwww. > Her peepee was all covered with piss, it was great. I laid them down on the > bed. Now rub your pussies together and make out! Tom (Dursheim): I'll warn you now, though, you're going to get a lot of static electricity from those cats. > I want to see a lesbo porn flick! Crow: Starring Marta Nys and Samantha Jones! WHOOOOO! > >I made them rub their pussies together, it was great. Joel (Dursheim, chuckling): Every time those cats touched, you should have seen the sparks fly! It was so neat! > They even got to lick each other's boobies, it was so cool. Tom: Then they closed the booby hatch and their tongues got stuck. > I couldn't take anymore, All: NEITHER CAN WE!! > so I raised my penis tentacle and shot my load all over the bed. it drenched >them completely. I loved it. Crow: The maid's going to have a terrible time in the morning, you realize. She's not going to want to leave one of those little chocolates on the pillows. > >"So, Tentacle man... want to make a movie deal? Soi: I know someone who's shooting a Piers Anthony movie and they need a monster to play a tangle tree that gets its limbs tied in a knot! > I love being raped by you, and it makes us women look like helpless > objects! Tom (announcer): That's next on "Jerry Springer." >We need more people like that!!" Helga moaned. Joel: Yeah, someone has to make ordinary people feel good about themselves. >What could I say? I loved it! You bet, Baby! I picked her up Crow: And immediately got a hernia. >and licked her peepee. I gotta do this again sometime.. it's the best time to > pick up women! Tom: Because the wind's just blown them all off the trees. >*THE END* Soi (heaves a sigh of relief and slumps back in her chair): Ohhhh, thank you. >Well, that's the end of my story. I think that anyone who hates this > story is an ignorant peon. Joel: Did you have to use that last word after all we've seen in this fic? > I also would like to thank Feldspar Antaeus, he is my inspiration... Crow: Who's Feldspar Antaeus and what's he got to do with this? Tom: Beats me. Soi: I've heard of him. . . I think. > I love you, man! You taught me how to not accept responsibility if I write a > crappy story! Joel: Wouldn't be the first fanfic author to do that, either. > I would also like to thank Kefka, Oscar, and Satan. Soi (crosses herself): El Diablo? Socorro, Espiritu Santo! Crow: The hell? Soi, you're Spanish? Soi: Don't ask, Crow. You're better off not knowing. > Thanks much, it wouldn't be possible without you guys. > > So remember, if you don't like this story, you stink, Tom: Yeah? So's that room you filmed that story in! > and I don't care about you. All (getting up): UP YOURS!! Joel: Let's get out of here, guys. >-Icarus Flatslab (flatslab@mnkyspnk.net) > >-- (Joel picks up Tom with one arm and puts the other arm around Soi's shoulders, helping her limp out. Crow follows them, making ugly faces at the screen as he walks away.) Go to Part 2.