[ OPENING ] [ 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. ] [ INT SOL. Camera pans over to Hex Field View Screen, where GYPSY, CROW, and TOM SERVO are looking outside the open window. Stars and a moderately heavy snowfall are visible. MIKE walks in from the right. ] MIKE: Ah, hi, everybody, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. These are my beloved robot friends, Gypsy... GYPSY: [ Cheerily ] Hi there! MIKE: Crow... CROW: [ Also happy ] Greetings! MIKE: And Tom Servo. TOM: Cheerio! MIKE: [ Motioning outside ] Would you look at that? This morning when we got up, not a flake on the ground, then just after breakfast it started coming down harder and harder. CROW: It's been real cool! MIKE: [ Walking back towards the desk ] More than that. We're still waiting for the official word, but the rumor is the Superintendent is going to make this a half day, that they're calling the buses back, getting the drivers out of the bars, notifying the parents... [ SOUND: Annoying high-pitched electronic BEEP. MIKE tries talking for a few seconds, then gives up and waits it out. ] MIKE: Anyway, it's... MAGIC VOICE: Attention. Attention please. [ MIKE rolls his eyes ] The Superintendent and school board have decided we will be closing after a half day today. We will continue the rest of the day on the half day schedule. That is all. TOM: Yaaay! CROW: Yipee! GYPSY: Huzzah! MIKE: Continuing, so we were... [ SOUND: Annoying high-pitched electronic BEEP. Lasts as long as before. ] MIKE: So we were going to have... MAGIC: Attention. Will the following students please report to the attendance office: Richard Searfoss, Scott Altman, Kathryn Hire, Richard Linnehan... [ MIKE sighs and walks back and forth. ] MAGIC: [ Continuing ] Dafydd Rhys Williams, Jay C. Buckley, James Pawelczyk, Charles Precourt, Dominic Gorie. That is all. MIKE: Fine. So, then... MAGIC: [ Interrupting ] Attention. Also Wendy Laurence, Franklin Chang-Diaz, Janet Kavandi, Andrew Thomas. That is all. CROW: Boy, those Mercury 7 punks get the whole gang in trouble. MIKE: Whatever. Moving on... MAGIC: Attention. Will the owner of a black Grand Marquis, licence plate DLR 81A, please move your vehicle? You are blocking the bus lane. That is all. MIKE: We don't have a bus lane, Magic Voice. MAGIC: Don't make me call you to the Vice Principal's office, Mike. [ MADS SIGN starts flashing ] MIKE: Oh, great, speaking of whom... [ MIKE taps MADS SIGN ] [ INT GALACTIC STUCKEYS. OBSERVER and PEARL FORRESTER are standing between tables stacked with cheap memorabelia and junk food displays, in front of a faded, mustard-yellow wall. ] PEARL: Nelsonic the hedgehog, hello. We're just stopping off here for some pop and souvenirs, what's your excuse? Oh, that's right, Brain Guy has your ship trapped in our control! OBSERVER: [ Nodding ] Yes, now, would you care for a Mello Yellow or a Tab cola? BOBO: [ Walking in, holding some bumper stickers, giggling ] Hee hee! Lawgiver, Brain Guy, did you see these? "Have You Dug Wall Drug?" Ha-ha! OBSERVER: Yes, Bobo, we saw them. We got the joke the last fifteen thousand times you inflicted that on us. BOBO: [ Annoyed ] Fine. Okay. [ Noticing the table ] Ooh! Lawgiver, look! PEARL: [ Uninterested ] What? BOBO: [ Grabbing some candies ] Boo Boo Globules! I *love* these! [ Unwraps the chocolate lump candy, gives it to PEARL ] Here, taste! PEARL: It looks like a Snickers pot pie. OBSERVER: You shouldn't eat those, we haven't bought them yet. PEARL: Hey. [ Slaps OBSERVER lightly ] Brain guy, we'll pay at the register. [ Bites into the Globule; chews. Mouth starts getting stuck. ] BOBO: Delightful, mmm? PEARL: [ Before mouth closes up entirely ] What is *IN* this thing? BOBO: Oh, a little marshmallow, a little sugar, a little corn syrup, some molasses, some sourghum, a bit of honey -- actually a *lot* of honey... [ PEARL motions frantically at her mouth. ] OBSERVER: Oh, now you've done it, you insufferable slob. Tell me, do you think you could possibly locate yet *another* item in this gargantuan nightmare of minor league commerce to inflict on us? Anything at all? Is that within the limits of your addled mind? [ PEARL takes to glaring silently at BOBO. ] BOBO: [ Angrily ] Yes, Brain Guy, it is. [ Grabs a kazoo from the table. ] Here. Enjoy a kazoo. [ Jabs it tightly into OBSERVER's brain; he winces in pain. ] OBSERVER: [ Speaking as if through a kazoo ] Aaaugh! BOBO: [ Unwraps another Globule and chews on it, sealing up his own mouth. He chews happily until he notices PEARL and his mouth. ] BOBO: [ Muffled ] Uh-oh. OBSERVER: [ Speaking as if through kazoo ] Well, now she's quite mad. [ PEARL glares at OBSERVER, then at the camera. ] OBSERVER: [ Still as before ] Oh, yes, and she's going to take it out on you, Nelson. [ SOL. MIKE, TOM, and CROW are at the desk, protesting. ] MIKE: But we didn't do anything! CROW: Yeah, why make us suffer for Bobo? TOM: Blame him! [ STUCKEYS. As before ] [ PEARL grins and nods evilly at OBSERVER. ] OBSERVER: [ Kazoo ] No, no, she's just going to do evil things to you. In this case, a fanfic retrieved in the late 1980s from a Commodore bulletin board service named...QLink...weird. Can't imagine anything ever became of that company. [ PEARL slaps OBSERVER, and rolls hand in 'hurry up' signal. ] OBSERVER: [ Kazoo ] Right. Nelson, do you like the comic strip "Peanuts?" [ SOL. As before ] MIKE: Love it. What's going on? [ STUCKEYS. As before. ] OBSERVER: [ Kazoo ] Fine. Today's story is a crossover between "Peanuts" and ... and "Doctor Who?" Lawgiver, am I reading your evil scheme correctly? [ PEARL nods proudly ] OBSERVER: [ Shudders ] Good luck. [ PEARL slaps OBSERVER. ] Sorry. BOBO: [ Mutters something sheepishly ] [ PEARL starts slapping BOBO. ] [ SOL. MIKE, TOM, and CROW are staring out the snowy window. ] MIKE: It never looked so ominous before. TOM: As though each flake were a ten-ton weight upon our souls. CROW: I still want to make igloos. MIKE: But you forgot the eggshells... [ MOVIE SIGN flashes ] ALL: AAAUGH! WE GOT MOVIE SIGN... [ 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. ] [ ALL file in ] > THAT'S JUST PEANUTS TO SPACE MIKE: [ As Edith-Ann ] An' that's a fact. Pthhhb. > > by R.J. Hall CROW: I'll take what's behind door number two. > > > Tom Baker drove the car down the unfamiliar streets with a > sigh. TOM: Triple A says you shouldn't pick up hitchhiking sighs. > It was bad enough being here in America doing terrible > American shows and being unable to show his face in respectable > public, MIKE: Tom Baker would be mobbed in normal life, but have no problem at a science fiction convention? > and it was bad enough being invited to some rinky-dink TOM: Rinky-Dink! The hot new board game. For ages four and up. > Doctor Who convention in America with a crowd of about 666 poor > people, and it was bad enough being in sufficiently dire straits to > accept the invitation. But, to top all that off, CROW: His cat was filing for divorce. > he had to drive > this rented cheapo car around some American town trying to FIND this > convention. He would almost certainly be late as it was. TOM: At least that's what he'll *claim* when they ask why he never showed up. > Once he got there, at least he'd be surrounded by hundreds of > adoring fans worshiping at his feet. MIKE: Yeah, being covered in glory is a pain, isn't it? > Americans were like that. > That's what Baker liked best about America. CROW: The ready availablility of fireworks in many states. > That and rich American > producers. Maybe he'd be able to sell lots of copies of his new > children's book of limericks. TOM: His new children are writing books? > But first he had to find the place. These directions he'd been > given were confusing, and having to drive on the wrong side of the > roads didn't make things easier. MIKE: "I'll give them two more miles, then start driving on the top of the road. How am I supposed to see underground anyway?" > He must have made a wrong turn > somewhere. This upper-class neighbourhood TOM: Oh, see, it's the Canadian spelling; they need thirty percent more letters to get the same meaning as the U.S. version. > he was in now, with big > houses and perfectly manicured green lawns, somehow did not strike > him as a place where hundreds of broke scruffy science fiction fans > would be meeting. CROW: He should ask for all the 30 year-olds living in their parents' basements. > He cursed angrily when suddenly the cheapo rented car coughed, MIKE: Ironically, Cheapo Rental Cars cost thirty percent more than the industry standard. > sputtered, and died. Here he was, lost in the badlands of uncharted > America somewhere, with no car. Now he'd have to go up to one of > these houses and make a phone call. TOM: Oh, no! CROW: Never! MIKE: How unthinkable! > If those American fans > worshiped him so bloody much, they should be honoured to personally > pick him up here and drive him to their bloody convention! TOM: So much bloody stuff here. It's like an ER fanfic. MIKE: Will all great Neptune's oceans wash this fanfic from our lives? > He got out of his car and walked to the nearest house. CROW: Hey, he can't leave yet. He hasn't opened up the hood to look and see that the engine's still there. TOM: Yeah, he should know that sort of routine troubleshooting. > > "Sorry, Peggy, that's all for today," Snoopy thought as he > stopped twirling around on top of his doghouse and lay down to rest. MIKE: Horribly, that's not even one of the 25 worst non sequiturs we've seen this year. > That Peggy Fleming, always coming around to him for skating lessons! > Kind of touching, how much she adored and admired him. CROW: You know how they say a picture's worth a thousand words? MIKE: Yeah. CROW: Why do some people think they can use a thousand words to replace a picture? > But she > would just have to learn that he was a busy beagle, and he couldn't > afford to spend 24 hours a day with her. > He went down to the ground and entered his house. MIKE: Oh, so, here, we're going to get to see the author's vision of the interior of Snoopy's house, something we can only imagine from the astonishing descriptions suggested in the strip? TOM: No. > He rummaged > around a bit, then came out wearing a starched flying scarf and > goggles. "Duty calls," he thought to himself as he climbed back on > top of his house. CROW: On to window-washing practice. > "Here's the World War I flying ace on a mission in his Sopwith > Camel," he thought, holding his paws out, as if flying a plane. MIKE: That explanation provided for the three people who've never seen Snoopy doing this. > He > looked with mild interest as he saw an old, broken-down car pull up > to the curb about 42 feet away. TOM: On a second glance he noticed it was exactly 41 feet, ten inches, four grys, three hogsheads, eight ounces, and five grains from him. > "Suddenly he sees an enemy agent > lurking about on the ground!" Sure enough, a man got out of the car > and started walking toward the round-headed kid's house. CROW: Oh, no, a leading cheese importer is visiting Charlie Brown! > "The agent > is attempting to return to his home base! For the sake of the > allies, I must stop him!" > With a growl, TOM: And a bustle. > Snoopy leaped off the house and ran (on his hind > legs) toward the stranger, who paid him no mind. MIKE: Sure it wasn't little heed? CROW: No, it was really short shrift. > "The agent is > trying to act nonchalantly, but cannot conceal a look of fear from > his face as he spots the famous flying ace!" CROW: If only Snoopy remembered the guns on his Sopwith Camel, we could be out of here... > Snoopy was about to (attempt to) tackle the person, but > suddenly stopped short. TOM: Somebody took his shrift. > He looked with strange apprehension and > fear at the stranger's face. Was he the veterinarian? No, but he > sure looked familiar, CROW: It's Martin Mull! > and Snoopy did not know why he was so afraid > of him. He slunk back toward his doghouse. MIKE: That Thompson, always getting in one scrape after another... > > Baker waited tensely at the door for a few minutes. Surely > somebody was at home? TOM: Yes, every house is always occupied, every hour of every day. > He rang the bell again. > A young child, about 9 years old, answered the door. MIKE: The door was asking questions Baker couldn't answer again. > Good, I > get along so well with children, thought Baker to himself. CROW: And not at all thinking to the audience. > This > child was rather unusual. His head was perfectly round and almost > bald, and must have massed at least as much as the rest of his body. MIKE: Also, he was a world-famous, instantly recognizable cartoon character. > A hydrocephalic, Baker thought compassionately. Well, I get along > well with handicapped children too. He must have a terrible time > holding that head up with such a small neck! TOM: That must be why he carried his head around in a little tray. MIKE: Hey... > The child did not seem discomfited at all. "Yes?" he said. > "Hello," said Baker. "I was just passing by here when my auto > broke down. I wonder whether I might use your telephone for a > moment, hmmm?" CROW: "I know The Phrase that Pays for the Morning Zoo's call-in contest today." > He put on one of his grins and opened his > wild-looking eyes in a way which never failed to charm children. MIKE: Or get the kid to scream someone's trying to kidnap him. > "Sure, right this way," said the kid, who didn't seem to have > noticed Baker's expression. Well, he probably never even heard of > Doctor Who. > He followed the child to another room. TOM: "And here you see our 'another' room," so called because it's not the first room. > The phone was being > used by a woman, probably the child's mother. She looked completely > ordinary, CROW: Ah, what an innovative technique to describe the adults in the "Peanuts" continuity. > but her voice did not sound human. It sounded instead > like a muted trumpet. TOM: Ooh, you know it's wacky when they mention stylistic decisions! > "Wope wop woe wah wow?" she said into the > phone. > "My mother is using the phone right now," said the child. CROW: I heard that rumor somewhere. > "You > can use it in a few minutes. I may as well feed the dog now. I'm > Charlie Brown." TOM: Do you like beans? Light bulbs provide light. Blue is a color. > "Tom Baker," said Baker, following the child into the kitchen. > Now that he'd seen both the unusual kid and the unusual mother, he > was MIKE: Remembering having encountered the kid's appearance 87,000 times in his life already? > slightly curious to see how unusual this dog was. > Charlie Brown got out a can of dog food, opened it, and dumped > the contents into a plastic bowl. CROW: The madcap action never ceases, does it? TOM: Or, well, starts. > Then he opened the kitchen door > and called, "Snoopy! Suppertime!" > Sure enough, the dog was also peculiar. He was white with > black markings, CROW: No! MIKE: On a dog? Never! > had a big, furry, "banana-nose", and strode into the > house on his hind legs. His forepaws, which seemed prehensile, held > small metal gadgets Baker could not identify. TOM: It's just jumping jacks. > He stared strangely > at Baker, with an expression resembling hatred. > "What breed of dog is that?" Baker asked nervously. > "Snoopy's a beagle. B-E-A-G-L-E," replied Charlie Brown. TOM: That spelling bee movie came out...in about 1969, was it? MIKE: "A Boy Named Charlie Brown." Yup. TOM: So...references to its punch line are just a wee bit exhausted, right? MIKE: Yeah. > "I, uh, see," said Baker. Snoopy ate the entire contents of > his supper dish with a single gulp, then turned around and walked > back out, not even acknowledging his master's existence. MIKE: Aw. I wanted the Suppertime Dance. CROW: Not from this writer you didn't. > "He's so independent," Charlie Brown said sadly. "No gratitude > or anything." TOM: I want him under my tight psychological control! > Snoopy manipulated one of his gadgets. Suddenly Baker, not > under his own volition, CROW: [ As Baker ] Hey! You bring my volition right back here! > walked out of the door behind the dog. "Hey > mister, where are you going?" called out Charlie Brown. When Baker > did not answer, he merely shrugged and closed the door. TOM: So this is what it takes to make "High School Big Shot" look upbeat. > Baker was terrified. This dog had somehow hypnotized him or > something, and was somehow forcing him to march toward some > intangible evil. CROW: If this turns into a dirty story about Miss Othmar I'm going to be sick. > From ancient habit, he looked around for a camera > to stare worriedly into for a few seconds. MIKE: And somebody throws a pie in his face. > > "No sign of him," Roger Wilco, the organizer of the convention, CROW: Roger Wilco. TOM: Okay, somebody slap this story. > said worriedly. "He should have been here half an hour ago!" MIKE: You figure the folks who play Dr. Who get teased that they shouldn't ever be late, they have a time machine? > Lis Sladen, who along with Ian Marter had also been persuaded > to come here (at such paltry fees that they thought of this as a > charity), TOM: Only seven hundred dollars a sentence. > encouraged him a little. "I'm sure he'll be here very > soon. Tom probably just got lost somewhere." CROW: Maybe out in the middle of nowhere. > Wilco was looking at her with a peculiar mix of emotions: > embarrassment, MIKE: Humiliation > gratitude, MIKE: Languidity... > disbelief, MIKE: Peanut butter. > awe, TOM: I'll take it. Gerbils... > worship, and TOM: Pinochle. > attraction. TOM: And finally, watchbands. > Sladen always got a big kick over the attitudes of the American > fans. CROW: And a shock over the suggestions they offered. > They put the Who stars on incredibly high pedastals, and > always had to nerve themselves to dare to even look at or speak to > one. They were always so pleasingly grateful whenever she or Jon or > Tom or anybody even said the slightest thing to them. MIKE: "You're standing on my foot." > The American > attitude was, "Oh thank you, supreme perfect being, for deigning to > look upon such minor insignificant scum as I! Your every syllable > shall be treasured for all eternity! TOM: Captured the American voice even better than Mark Twain did. > Simply being in a conversation > with such a god/goddess as yourself so completely overwhelms me that > I am on the verge of fainting from sheer ecstacy!" CROW: No, wait, it's just lack of oxygen! Keep forgetting to breathe...I feel so goofy. > Whereas, by > contrast, the British attitude was more like "Hey you, there, hurry > up and get over here and give me your autograph! I haven't got all > day!" Yes, she liked American conventions! CROW: Also string is cool too! > "I hope so," Wilco said finally, "that crowd is getting > restless." MIKE: Or the wrestler is getting crowdless. Whichever. > > Linus Van Pelt went over to the doghouse. Snoopy was not to be > seen. Oh well, he wouldn't mind it if Linus just entered his > doghouse for a brief moment, would he? Of course not. TOM: It's just a little illegal tresspass. > Linus got down on his hands and knees and crawled through the > little opening into the doghouse. There was a lot of space inside. > Murals, paintings, pool tables, chairs, boxes, CROW: Guys named "Pete." > stairways, and all > sorts of things cluttered the area. MIKE: You know. Stuff. > Undaunted, Linus went down the > stairs. When he reached the room at the bottom of the steps, he > began searching through all the junk. TOM: Now I know I left some daunts here last summer. > Hundreds of books were here, > as well as all of Snoopy's unreturned bottles. That postage meter > had to be down here somewhere! Linus was out of stamps. MIKE: Whew. So this guy is following up on plot points Schulz hasn't touched since the 1960s, is that it? CROW: I can only guess, Mike. > > Snoopy entered the doghouse, and Baker, crawling on hands and > knees, soon followed. CROW: "I'm glad to have you down here...not many people are interested in my potato pancake collection." > Snoopy fiddled with one of his devices, and > Baker responded by sitting down on the floor and remaining > motionless. TOM: And now, Mister Baker, if you won't dance, I'll *make* you dance! > Then Snoopy activated his other little device, and a > computer-synthesized voice filled the air. CROW: With jelly. > "I am surprised, Doctor, MIKE: By this swelling in my neck. > that such a primitive control device > as this worked on you. How easy it was to entrap you! I am > surprised and disappointed!" CROW: Get out of here! Go out and let me catch you again. And wriggle more this time. > HE was surprised?! Baker had never been more surprised in his > life! "I... I am not the Doctor! TOM: But I am Spock! Does that count for anything? > I just look like him! I... > portrayed him in a TV series! That's all! I am not the Doctor!" MIKE: Oh, and I like the Professor most on Gilligan's Island, but that doesn't mean anything! Lots of people do! > "Oh, come now, Doctor," said the device, which apparently was > voicing Snoopy's thoughts. CROW: Or maybe picking up a "Swat Kats" cartoon. > "You can do better than that. Yet, you > have always played the fool, haven't you? TOM: I played the fool and the fool won. > Well, you must know me > better than to think that I can be fooled by your ridiculous ploys!" ALL: [ Groan ] MIKE: So why is it, whenever reality and the fiction cross over, neither *ever* understands it? Have the last 30 years of Star Trek fanfics taught us nothing? > "Actually, I don't know you at all! I've never seen any > creature remotely like you in my life! And as far as I can remember > from the show, neither has the real Doctor! MIKE: "I've lived in a complete cultural vacuum ever since 1949!" > Well, there isn't > really a real Doctor, he's just a fictional character, but, well, > you know what I mean!" TOM: "I just want you to hug me, is that too much to ask?" > "Stop babbling, Doctor! Of course you know who I am! I look > different now, CROW: I've got more noses than I used to. > but obviously you knew who I was -- otherwise, you > would not have come here to capture me!" TOM: Or something! > "Look here, eh, Snoopy, I haven't the slightest idea who you > are, nor the slightest intention of capturing you! MIKE: Though if I could get a giant plush doll of you, I'd appreciate it. > My name is Tom > Baker, and I'm here because my car broke down outside!" > Snoopy sighed. "Listen, Doctor, even a human would know who I > am! CROW: Where I come from. TOM: If I have room for Jell-O. > Have you not noticed that this doghouse is bigger on the inside > than on the outside?" TOM: It's just an illusion, though, caused by the fact the doghouse is inside-out! > Baker fought insanity. MIKE: Join the club. > "A... a TARDIS?" he said at last. > "Of course it's a TARDIS! What else could it possibly be?" CROW: An ice cream cookie? MIKE: A famous living American male? TOM: Roadside America in Shartlesville, Pennsylvania? > snapped Snoopy. "So, what does that make me, eh?" > It must have been those weird Hollywood drugs. "Um, a renegade > Time Lord?" TOM: No thanks; I just had lunch. > "Very good! Very good!" sneered Snoopy. "Now, WHICH renegade > Time Lord?" MIKE: Isaac Asimov! TOM: Warren G. Harding! CROW: Vladimir Zworkin! > Baker paused, too terrified and confused to say > anything. "I'll give you a hint. MIKE: I'm bigger than a breadbox. Barely. > I am not the Doctor. This is > because YOU are the Doctor!" CROW: And YOU over there! You're the eggman! And down there, that guy THERE is the walrus! > "The Master?" said Baker hesitantly. Maybe this was an > elaborate skit staged by the Who conventioners. TOM: Maybe it's just a kidnapping. > "No, of course not the bloody Master!" screamed Snoopy. "You > know very well, Doctor, that I am the great Morbius!" CROW: Oh, pootertoots. If this thing is crossing over to Sonic the Hedgehog... TOM: No, hold it, he said Morbius. With an orb. > Morbius? Did he know that name? MIKE: Something Morbius-like about that name. > It sounded familiar... CROW: Like something a Morbian would be named. > "Oh > yeah, Morbius. MIKE: The guy with the name Morbius. > Wasn't Morbius killed in, uh, I can't remember the > name of the episode, but, uh, wasn't he killed?" TOM: Like death stops *anybody*? > "Doctor!!" screamed "Morbius" in frustration. MIKE: Or, well, in Santa Rosa, California, anyway. > "Very well, I > shall have to tell you what you doubtless already know, you and > those Time Lords who sent you! TOM: And by the way I'm not saying all this so the reader has a hint of what's going on, either! > "Yes, Doctor, my body was executed on the planet Karn. Solon, CROW: And thanks for all the fish. > that hideously treacherous human who claimed to be a loyal follower, > kept my brain in a tank for an intolerable length of time. TOM: It's Backstory Days here at the Satellite of Love! Yes, everybody has a long, boring personal history and we're being forced to read it. > Finally, > after the Time Lords found out about me and sent you to Karn, Solon > agreed to put my brain into a new body. CROW: The body I picked would be the envy of every hormone-crazed, dweebish, adolescent-brained male on the Internet! TOM: That is to say, everybody on the Internet? CROW: Ka-zing! > But did he put my brain > into the conveniently available body of his servant Condo? NOOO! MIKE: He put me in his glove compartment! > He insisted on constructing a confused mishmash of body parts with > some idiotic, painful fishbowl for a head! ALL: [ Snicker ] MIKE: Sounds like H.R. Pufnstuf's neighbor. > And this was after he, > or Condo, rudely dropped my brain onto the floor! CROW: And right after they had mopped, too. They had to redo the whole kitchen. > There's loyalty > for you! To have waited all that time for a body, and to get that! > Hah! TOM: I wanted Ms. Pac-Man's body once and for all! > That's how I know that evil, rotten, disloyal, treacherous > human Solon was so evil, rotten, disloyal, treacherous, a human, and > named Solon! CROW: What? TOM: So is the villain wacky, or did the story pick up a glitch when it got uploaded? > "Anyway, even in that stupid monster and fishbowl body, I still > managed to defeat you in a mind-battle, Doctor. MIKE: At least...I think I did. I forget. > But then Solon's > crude handiwork betrayed me and caused me to fall off a cliff to my > death!" CROW: Oh, and this wasn't a cheap cop-out of a story resolution either! Honest! > "Yes, I do seem to recall a plotline like that..." mumbled > Baker. TOM: Which leaves some fascinating thoughts about the nature of free will, and the potential to experimentally confirm or refute such a thing, but never mind that; we have a cheap fight scene to get through. > "But!" continued Morbius. "Even in that wretched state, the > greatness of Morbius could not be so easily extinguished. TOM: Though I did turn to writing fanfics for a while. I'm ashamed of it now. > My broken > body-like object, faced with imminent death, but attached to my > supreme Time Lord brain, was still able to regenerate!" CROW: When I woke up, I was a Mister Coffee machine. > "Good for you," muttered Baker. > "Silence, fool! Now, my brain had been so damaged and the body > had been so alien that the regeneration was not perfect. MIKE: I had four left arms and no mouth. I was frustrated. > I > regenerated into another monstrous body, but at least it had healed > sufficiently from my fall to allow me to crawl to my hidden TARDIS, > which even Solon had not known about. TOM: Why, it was so secret, even I never heard anything about it. > Once I got there, I decided > to regenerate again, into a decent, civilized body, one which could > rally billions of loyal followers once more to my noble cause! CROW: Or at least surround myself with more inept assistants. > I > set my TARDIS coordinates for a long journey and went down to the > Zero Room. TOM: It was right before the one room, but after the negative three room. > Since I only had one regeneration left, I had to make > sure it would be a good one. MIKE: So I started looking through certain 'naughty' web sites... > "Unfortunately, my TARDIS had been sitting on Karn neglected > for so long that it became a bit faulty. TOM: The pre-mixed salad he'd left in the fridge had spoiled. > Just as I started the > regeneration process, it suddenly crashed down on this fetid planet > Earth. CROW: I found myself covered in cheese, and sorely afraid. > The confusion and collision messed up my regeneration > horribly. I emerged to find myself in a place called the Daisy Hill > Puppy Farm, MIKE: You know, the Puppy Farm's now a six-story parking garage. TOM: Thank you, Michael. MIKE: Well, it *is*. CROW: If we don't care about it, it's not information, Mike. > with my TARDIS in the shape of a doghouse and my body in > the shape of this... this... this dog! TOM: Could be worse. Suppose he regenerated into the doghouse and the Tardis took on the shape of the dog? > Very soon afterward, I was > bought -- I, Morbius, BOUGHT by a human child! -- and brought with > my TARDIS to this place." MIKE: No! I call foul. Snoopy's doghouse has been destroyed several times since its first appearance, and the house built after the 1965 fire was *definitely* conventional construction and *not* a magic TARDIS device! CROW: Can we punch him in the stomach if he does that again? TOM: Yes. MIKE: Look, I can document this. > "By the way," interrupted Baker, whose terror had gone to the > back of his mind for a moment TOM: Because anyone would be pretty blase about this by now. > but which he knew was waiting to jump > out again at any moment, "why do both Charlie Brown and his mother > look or sound like strange mutants?" > "This TARDIS was slightly damaged in the crash," said Morbius, CROW: It no longer felt like playing with its old friends. > "and was leaking radiation which, after a time, altered all adults > in this area so that their voices sounded like muted trumpets, and > all the children in this area so that they gradually developed large > heads. MIKE: Oh, oh, sheesh, no... > In addition to that, my TARDIS also emitted a curious time > field, which stopped the children from aging. Charlie Brown has > scarcely grown in the last 30 years!" MIKE: Guys, is it my imagination or is this story revolting? CROW: It's not your imagination. TOM: Nope. This is bad. > "If you had a TARDIS, why did you stay around here for 30 > years?" asked Baker. MIKE: I had tenure. > "Because my mind had been altered by the regenerations. I > honestly believed I was Snoopy, that round-headed kid's dog. CROW: It was better than that time I honestly believed I was Pam Dawber. > Occasionally bits and pieces of past memories came to me, such as my > having fought in World War I in a different incarnation a long time > ago, but these were dismissed as fantasies. TOM: Because I made them up. > But now that I have > seen your face, Doctor, my identity as Morbius has returned! MIKE: And it's going to take me weeks to update my magazine subscriptions! > And I > especially remember the part you played in my death, Doctor! That > is why I shall kill you, very slowly!" CROW: It's a slow acting poison...take about 99 years to get all done. You don't have any plans, do you? > Baker started looking around insanely. Morbius laughed. > "Looking for a means of escape?" MIKE: No, I'm looking for a means of escape. > "No, actually I was looking for a director to say 'cut!' to > me." TOM: Oh, he is being wacky, again. > "You are insane, Doctor. You should thank me for putting you > out of your misery." CROW: Thank you! > "Yes, thanks a lot," said Baker. CROW: D'oh! > "Come to think of it," said Morbius, "if I were to kill you > here, the Time Lords would just send others. Instead, I'll go to > your Time Lord base with you MIKE: So I can fall into a booby trap. > as my hostage and demand that they > leave me alone in exchange for your life!" > "What a splendid idea," said Baker. TOM: "Could we get bagels while we're going?" > "We should have known we > couldn't outwit you that easily. Very well, let's go to 155 > Trashview Lane," giving the address of the Who convention, CROW: Trashview Lane, the street for the convention center. TOM: Apparently the city boosters are clinically depressed. > as it was > the only thing he could think of at the moment. MIKE: All right, but I'll only fall for this just once! > "Very well!" repeated Morbius. He worked some controls on the > wall, and the TARDIS was soon in motion. TOM: Guys, it's time to go. CROW: Yeah, let's blow this popsicle stand. MIKE: Okay, all right... [ ALL leave ] [ BREAK ]