MSTed: OUT OF BODY, OUT OF YOUR MIND

                            MiSTied by Lisa Jenkins

DISCLAIMER:

_Mystery Science Theater 3000_, its characters and situations are copyright 
1994 Best Brains, Inc.  This publication is not meant to infringe on any 
copyrights held by Best Brains, Comedy Central, its employees or the 
originators of the material for this post.  This article is free to distribute 
as long as its contents and this notice remains intact. 


[Satellite of Love]

[MIKE, CROW and TOM stand over the control board.  MIKE is hunched over, 
 listening to the boom box as it plays Moody Blues' "Nights in White Satin."] 

MIKE: [sings along] "I love you.  Oh, how I love you!  Ahhh!"

TOM: Please, Mike.  I can't hear Justin over your singing.

MIKE: It's no fun at a concert if you can't sing with the band.

CROW: Face it, Mike.  This isn't a concert.  This is a pre-recorded tape of 
      "Moody Blues: A Night at Red Rocks."

MIKE: If I were back on Earth, I could go to a Moody Blues concert.

TOM: [chuckles] You're kidding, right?  The Moody Blues is still doing 
     concerts? 

MIKE: Sure.  They're playing in Fargo, North Dakota March 8 with the Fargo-
      Moorhead Symphony Orchestra at the Fargo Dome.

[CROW and TOM laugh.]

TOM: Oh, please!  FARGO?!

CROW: And the dome!

[CROW and TOM laugh some more.  MIKE stands straight and rolls eyes.  Mads' 
 light flashes.]

MIKE: Some people have no culture at all.  Speaking of which, Thomas' Hopes, 
      Wishes and Dreams are calling.

[Deep 13]

DR F: Planning to go to a Moody Blues' concert, are we?  Don't forget to bring 
      your parka, Nelson!  It's really cold in Fargo!

FRANK: Brr!

DR F: Our invention exchange this week, Neil Carter, revolutionizes the audio 
      broadcast industry.

FRANK: It's something we like to call the Radio-Rooter. 

DR F: Much like Roto-Rooter, the Radio-Rooter will find your favorite music 
      on your favorite radio channels and root them out.

FRANK: But then the rules change.  Things start to go astray.

DR F: And suddenly your favorite music is replaced by country rock, talking-
      head DJs, and endless amounts of light rock stations!

FRANK: Ooo!  Neil Diamond!

[Satellite of Love]

MIKE: Have you reached the pleasure threshold with your bathsoap?

CROW: Are you really plant life?

TOM: Would you like to get back at all those dreadful feminine product 
     placements? 

ALL: Sure, we all do!

CROW: That's why we've made the anti-feminine product placement blank-out.

MIKE: Just attach it to your VCR or cable-ready television set.

TOM: Now you will no longer have to face tampon ads during evening meals with 
     the family. 

CROW: You no longer will need to wonder why your mother never walked with you 
      on the beach--

MIKE: --and wonder no more why you never asked your mother about not feeling 
      "fresh"! 

CROW: The security of non-slip feminine product placement ads -- the anti-
      feminine product placement blank-out for only three easy payments of 
      $99.95! 

TOM: Buy yours today!

MIKE: Now, with wings!

[Deep 13]

FRANK: I could use that!

DR F: Shut up, Frank.  Today's feature is a journal of a nightly excursion 
      only weird enough for the pathetically insane.  But first, a little John 
      Winston. 

[Satellite of Love]

MIKE: That's it.  I refuse.  I'm not trying to pronounce _-_ again.

CROW: How did you do that?

MIKE: What?

[Movie sign lights flash.]

MIKE: We've got repost sign!

[Door sequence]

[Satellite of Love Theater]

> Newsgroups: alt.alien.visitors,alt.conspiracy,alt.religion.kibology

CROW: I say, that's a wide variety of subject matter there, I must say.

> Subject: Milpitas Monster.

MIKE: "Milpitas Must Fall!"

TOM: That was Maitreya, Mike.

MIKE: Whatever.

> Message-ID: <101565@cup.portal.com>
> From: John_-_Winston@cup.portal.com

TOM: [sarcasm mode] Oh, is the great John_-_Winston going to post to us again? 

> Date: Thu, 20 Jan 94 06:45:12 PST
> Organization: The Portal System (TM)
> 
> Dear Folks: 

MIKE: I realized my life is not worth living.  I have decided to end it all 
      and stop posting once and for all....

CROW: We wish!

> 
>   Be sure and not tell Kibo

MIKE: --especially as I am posting this in alt.religion.kibology where it's 
      known Kibo does not read--

> but there are plans being made to make the 
> movie The Milpitas Monster #2. 

TOM: The first movie was a block buster hit, grossing out more people than re-
     runs of E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial.

> I am afraid that this will cause the Earth
> to go into such a crisis that it will never recover

CROW: I know MY head is spinning at the thought.

> (or was that said
> by Ike when Val from Venus suggested that they would help the Earth out of 
> it's present problem). 

TOM: No, that was "You stupid minds!  Stupid!"

> Anyway I have volunteered to be part of a crowd
> of 5,000 people running and screaming over the top of a hill yelling the 
> words, Hi Ma. 

MIKE: Of course.  Just about every other day I like to get together with five 
      thousand of my closest friends and run screaming over the top of a hill 
      yelling, "Hi Ma!" 

TOM: "--look at me!  I'm in a really bad movie!"

CROW: Just so long as he promises to jump off the hill afterward.

> I am waiting with great expectation to see if I get the 
> part because 42,001 people are trying out for it.

TOM: [laughs] Are you JOKING?!  Forty-two thousand people are trying out for 
     the part to run off a hill screaming?!

MIKE: [doing an impression] Forty-two thousand and one exactly.  Exactly 
      forty-two thousand and one. 

> John Winston

MIKE: No longer "John_-_Winston," now simply to be known as "John Winston." 

CROW: That "_-_" was just too hard to pronounce.

> Newsgroups: alt.out-of-body

CROW: Out of body, out of your mind.

MIKE: Isn't that out of sight, out of mind?

CROW: Same difference.

> Subject: Fragment from a dream diary

MIKE: Dear Diary, I had a dream today...but of course you know that.  This is 
      a dream diary!

> Message-ID: <1994Jan20.114742.27901@ucl.ac.uk>
> From: ubjtp80@ucl.ac.uk (Mr M Peatfield)

TOM: Hmm.  Mr. Peatfield.  Sounds appropriate to me.  Dig him up, boys, and 
     let's stoke the fire!

> Date: Thu, 20 Jan 1994 11:47:42 GMT
> Organization: Bloomsbury Computing Consortium
> Keywords: OOBE lucid dreaming

CROW: OOBE-Wan Kenobi is just called Ben now.

> 
> Unedited fragment from a dream diary.

TOM: We're in for a real treat here, folks.

> 
> I force my way from my body and into the astral ether,

TOM: --because, quite frankly, my body is repulsed by my mind.

> my jaws
> clenched and my arms executing powerful, determined arcs. I have no
> time for the gentle tricks this world plays on me.

MIKE: Although I think I have a few minutes to watch a couple of card tricks. 

> I have no fear
> because I have been here before.

MIKE: "Sometimes I go into my own little world--"

CROW: "--but that's okay because they know me there."

> The darkness shudders, gives way to
> me knowing that I am not to be put off.

TOM: --the bed for snoring too loud.

> Even so, I encounter
> resistance when I meet the window.

TOM: Funny how that works, isn't it?

CROW: But I can SEE through it!  Why can't I PASS through it?!

> I increase the cycles until I am a
> high pitched whine, a dynamo of awesome power

TOM: I HAVE THE POWER!

> and the glass before me
> melts and I am into the night into an unknowing world.

MIKE: The world has no concept of physics, which is why I can flap my arms and 
      fly. 

> My lust knows
> no bounds but I have wasted so many trips satisfying it and the
> strength of my purpose twists it into a powerful rage.

CROW: So, we're getting into S and M here?

> Even so, I
> shall weaken when I see my first woman. 

MIKE: Very high libido, very low self-esteem.

> Typically, I do not recognise
> the houses, the trees or any of the features which make up this
> street.

MIKE: I generally don't go out at night.

> I have long ago recognised that though I feel myself, to all
> intents and purposes, normal, yet I am not fully

TOM: --knowledgeable in the English language.

> myself. My libido,
> for example, increases a hundredfold.

CROW: The sight of a two-story house turns me on.

TOM: Ooo, baby!

> I am, on occasion, not in the
> slightest curious in my novel surroundings.

TOM: Although I am, on the most part, interested in, occasionally, conjunctive 
     adverbs, on the whole. 

> Nevertheless, I see a sign
> and advance towards it.

ALL: [sing] "I saw The Sign!"

> It shudders before my gaze and the letters
> become indistinguishable.

MIKE: The sign saw him coming and feared for its life.

> In frustration I reach out to touch it.

CROW: Which is hard because I'm flapping my arms.

> The
> cycles, as if in warning, become slower and louder. I run past the
> sign and attempt flight. My body, for a moment and I hesitantly rise.

MIKE: But then I realize I am just standing on my tippy-toes and am not really 
      flying at all. 

> I let anger fuel my ascent and soon I am hissing through the clouds
> and snarling at the lights in the houses below.

TOM: I hate clouds and lights in people's houses.

> I descend rapidly, I
> am falling towards a road but I barely notice the impact for I know
> that I cannot die in this world

ALL: Damn!

> and it is silly to try and frighten me
> in that way.

CROW: Is there any other way we can try to frighten you?

> I half glide, half climb a set of stone steps to a house
> and enter through an already opened door.

TOM: Let this be a warning, folks -- don't leave your doors open at night for 
     fear flying out-of-body dreamers will come into your house. 

> A dinner party is in
> progress,

MIKE: And now, already in progress, a dinner party.

> they do not see me yet but at some point they shall and
> typically their faces will register mild puzzlement.

CROW: Is he the new neighbor?  Funny, I don't remember seeing him fly before. 

> What can they
> see? What do I look like?

TOM: You look like Bozo the Clown with a very bad hair day.

> A young girl looks up. Her hair is worn in a
> short bob,

CROW: --which does not include the pipe.  Only long Bobs include the pipe.

MIKE: Three-fisted, hot-buttered Bob!

> her dress is black and cut low over her milky white
> breasts, her lips are very red.

TOM: Dripping red from the blood she recently drained from her last victim. 

> I must have her and the lust is
> uncontrollable

CROW: Help me, Mike!  I think I'm going to EXPLODE!

> and I am consumed by it. Dimly, I recognise that

MIKE: --I am as stupid as I sound.

> my
> frenzied groping will cause the cycles to abruptly stop and I will
> awake in my bed

CROW: --with the sheets soaking wet.

> but I cannot resist her. Somebody said something and
> it was directed at me.

ALL: "Hey bozo!  Get outta my house!"

> I cannot understand the words but I recognise
> that the tone is one of gentle admonishment and also one of
> resignation.

MIKE: "I gotta move to a new neighborhood.  These out-of-body party crashers 
      just annoy me." 

> The man knows that I cannot be hurt or put off.

ALL: BUZZ OFF!

> How are
> they so calm?

CROW: They take a yoga class twice a week.

> Is this world so full of astral rapists that they can do
> no more than gently chide me?

TOM: Does this bug you?

> I remember my purpose and, momentarily
> baffled at how to execute it, I plunge my head into the girl's
> stomach.

CROW: Oh, man!  This guy needs HELP!

MIKE: Now, Mr Peatfield, let me tell you about the birds and the bees and the 
      flowers and the trees and the moon up above and a thing called love. 

> She is embaressed and laughs but settles back into the chair
> letting her eyes rest on the ceiling. 

TOM: As she rolls her eyes and thinks, "What a LOSER!"

> There is conversation but the
> words lack clarity and I continue my investigation.

CROW: --of the lint in my naval.

> I allow my head to
> sink into her breast and am overcome by the exquisite scents which
> make up this woman.

MIKE: --Roommate air freshener, and that sent they have in those perfume ads 
      in magazines. 

> The cycles become more jagged, my time here is
> very limited.

TOM: My mother doesn't like me gone after three a.m. during out-of-body 
     experiences! 

> Suddenly doubt intrudes.  Nothing is as deadly in this
> world as doubt.

MIKE: "Am I really a blithering idiot?  Do I lack what it takes to be admitted 
      to the human race?" 

> I know I can do anything but my immersion reality
> strangles my thoughts. This is why I find flight so difficult.

CROW: Either that or there is some physical law against flapping my arms and 
      flying. 

> Doubt
> makes glass impenetrable, stairs give way and sight, fail.

TOM: And English, falter.

> If I could
> totally banish doubt then I could be a god in this world.

CROW: I don't doubt you need professional help.  There.  I'm your new god now! 

> And then I
> know I have lost contact and the greatly decelerated cycles fill my
> head with roaring.

ALL: [sing] "Hear the engines roar now!"

> I am back in my bed and awake.

TOM: Damn!  I've got to stop eating chilly peppers before going to bed!

> I hear a bumping
> sound and become very afraid.

CROW: Then I realize -- it's me.  My face is so red.

> I rise to switch on the light to
> dissolve my fear.

CROW: And I didn't even have to get out of bed to do it!

> I have difficulty finding the lightswitch and there
> is now a presence in the room. I flick the switch

MIKE: Flick my Bic.

> but the room remains
> dark.

CROW: I hate it when the power goes out.

> I now know I am not awake.

TOM: Oh, obviously.  No light, not awake.

CROW: Oh, geez Louise!  The man's still got his eyes closed!

> Over the years, I have come to use
> the light's reluctance to go on as an index of my conscious state.

TOM: "Light -- see also 'conscious state.'"

> The
> presence grabs me and I panic.

CROW: Take the watch!  Take my money!  Just don't hurt me!

> But I know I am dreaming so to some
> extent, I am still powerful. I grapple with the presence and notice a
> low cut black evening dress.

MIKE: The dress catches my eye, and I simply know I MUST have it!  Thank 
      goodness for credit cards and American Express. 

> I do not connect this with the girl until
> later.

TOM: I frequently know men who wear low-cut black evening dresses.  I get them 
     confused with girls all the time.

> I move us towards the window with the intention of flinging the
> presence from me.

CROW: Oh, smooth move, Romeo.

> It is very strong and I have become tired and slow.

CROW: Yep.  Alcohol will do that to ya.

> Part of me registers despair because I have lost control and the dream
> world is playing with me.

TOM: [female voice] Oh, don't you hate men who always have to be in control? 

> I wake with a hoarse intake of breath, my
> heart thudding in my ears.

MIKE: Again?!

> I rush to the light switch but again, the
> light refuses to go on.

CROW: This guy just can't pinch himself awake?

> I am filled with terror, a raw naked terror
> that can never be experienced in reality. 

TOM: However, it can be easily explained on trips with LSD.

> In an emergency,

CROW: [Shatner voice] --dial 9-1-1.

> the only
> way to bring about a union between astral and real body is to wiggle
> ones toes.

TOM: Oh, yeah.  That's it.  That would do it.

> I mentally direct my toes to move and, abruptly, I am lying
> prone, my toes wiggling for all they are worth.

MIKE: This piggy went to market, this piggy stayed home.  This piggy had roast 
      beef, this piggy had none.  And this little piggy went "wee, wee, wee!" 
      all the way home! 

> The roaring in my head
> is deafening, I must stop the cycles before I can wake.

CROW: One last time -- is he or isn't he awake?

> My toes hurt

ALL: THEN DON'T WIGGLE THEM!

> so I jackknife several times to shock my body into wakefulness but the
> roaring becomes louder. Despair overcomes me and I do something that
> in waking life, has always puzzled me.

CROW: I take a magazine into the john with me and lock the door.

MIKE: That's enough, Crow.

> I say the Lord's prayer and
> visualise Jesus.

TOM: Suddenly I remember I'm a member of the Satanists, and boy is MY face 
     red! 

> The fear begins to ebb because in this dream state,
> where chaos reigns, the only thing I am certain even chaos respects,
> is Jesus.

MIKE: Either Jesus or Elvis, I can never remember which.

> I am convinced nothing evil will happen to me if I abandon
> myself to prayer and though in reality I am indifferent to any
> religion,

CROW: So I can get away with speaking in tongues.

> deep within me, when I experience utter terror, when I fear
> I will lose much more than life, it is the only thing that can comfort
> me.

MIKE: Besides, won't I feel stupid if I died in an out-of-body and found 
      myself face-to-face with the Creator? 

> I finally wake and reach for the light

ALL: NOT AGAIN!

> that I am now certain will
> go on and pace the room allowing the fixtures of reality to calm me.

MIKE: "Hey there, Peatfield.  This is your lamp speaking.  Have you been 
      trying to reach me?" 

> A
> car drives past and several voices are raised in a drunken chorus.

CROW: "Hey dummy!  Get off the road!"

> My
> fear is forgotten quickly. Banal and solid reality has that effect.

MIKE: Reading bad posts has that effect, too, but then the Mads step in.

> I
> extinguish my cigarette and the light, making all sorts of resolutions
> begin the deep breathing exercises that bring on the cycles.

CROW: Oh no!  He's going back to the beginning of the dream again!

TOM: Quick.  Let's get out of here before he starts to REM.

[Door sequence]

[Satellite of Love]

[MIKE has refitted CROW, using CROW's arms like helicopter blades.]

CROW: Mike!  Stop this!  I'm not a kitchen appliance!

MIKE: I'm not making you into a blender.  I'm experimenting with the out-of-
      body flying experience.

CROW: But I'm still IN my body!

MIKE: Technicalities.  Besides, you're the only one with working arms I can 
      experiment on.

[TOM enters stage left.]

TOM: Do-de-do.  Oh, hi Mike.  Hi Crow.  Whatcha doing?

CROW: Tom!  HELP!

MIKE: You can watch while I try to reproduce the out-of-body flying experience 
      that we saw in our post today.

TOM: Oh, you mean the way Mr. Peatfield flapped his arms and was able to fly 
     despite the laws of physics and gravity?

MIKE: That's the one.  Here we go!

[MIKE releases CROW whose arms start to spin around his body.  MIKE holds a 
 remote control device like one used to control model planes.]

CROW: Mike!  No!  Stop it!  Get me down!  HELLLLP!

[CROW begins to take flight.]

TOM: Cool!  Mike, let's see what that baby can do.

MIKE: You got it, Tom.

[MIKE manipulates the controls and CROW flies around the room.]

CROW: [cries out each time he passes in Cambot's view] Whoa!  Argh!  Help! 

[Sounds of a crash off-screen.  MIKE winches.]

TOM: Oh.  Ha ha.  Well, better luck next time, buddy.

MIKE: Yeah, I guess so.  Whadda think, sirs?

[Deep 13]

DR F: Well!  Experimenting on your friends!  What a novel concept!  Frank!  
      Come here and press the button.

[FRANK enters stage left.  He looks spaced-out like he's not really "there."  
 DR F turns Frank to the side to let us see what looks like a large hole in 
 Frank's head with nothing inside.] 

DR F: I did a little "out-of-body" experimenting myself.  Ha ha!  
      HAHAHAHAHAHA!

[As DR F continues in his "evil laugh/mad scientist" state, FRANK brings up a 
 large rubber club and swings it behind DR F.  As DR F goes down, he hits the 
 button.] 

[Blackness.]

DR F: [off screen] Ow.