[INT SATELLITE OF LOVE. Mike, Crow T. Robot, and Tom Servo are horsing around at the console with Joel's Rock'n'Wreck guitar. The Deep 13 call button flashes.]
MIKE: Whoops, Fripp and Eno are calling.... (Hits the button)
[INT DEEP 13.]
DR. FORRESTER: Greetings, Crow D., Flavorless Flav, Tominator X. Something a little different today, punkies: Frank was trying to write a shell script on the mads.deep-13.com server and accidentally crosswired alt.tv.beavis-n-butthead and alt.music.nin. So you'll be getting your first music video today.
MIKE: (Butt-Head voice) Huh huh. He said "script." Huh huh huh....
CROW: (Beavis voice) Yeah. Hmm hmm mmm hmm....
TOM: (Mr. Anderson voice) Whut th' hell?
[INT DEEP 13.]
DR. F: Joke while you can, Martha Quinn, this'll be a killing joke! No, not the band Killing Joke -- I mean Nine Inch Nails. (Draws himself up and points at camera) Bow down before the one you serve!
TV'S FRANK: You're going to get what you deserve....
DR. F: I bring you "closer" -- to PAIN. Send 'em the video, Frank.
(Movie light/buzzer goes off)
ALL: AAAAAIIIGH, WE HAVE BUZZ CLIP SIGN!!!!
[Door sequence: 6...5...4...3...2...1...]
(Heart letting off steam)
CROW: What is this, the Jarvik 6?
TOM: When I asked for a plate of "steamers," I wasn't expecting this!
(Bald lady with eggs spinning on fingers)
MIKE: Hey, it's Edie the egg lady!
(Trent holds nautilus shell)
CROW: I can never remember -- is that a nautilus shell or a conch shell?
TOM: Hey Mike, they "conched" him on the noggin, too!
MIKE: Don't remind me....
(Millipede crawling around)
(Man behind ticket window)
MIKE: Ladies and gentleman, the president of TicketMaster!
TOM: Thank you, thank you. A ten-dollar-per-ticket service charge is more than fair, and Pearl Jam are just a bunch of whining dickweeds....
CROW: "Rhesus To Be Cheerful, Part 3."
(Trent dangles in midair)
TOM: Thunderbirds are Alternative!
CROW: He's wearing the Playtex "No Visible Means of Support" jockstrap.
(Committee of old men)
CROW: Hi, we're from the PMRC. Tipper wants to make sure you don't do anything...y'know...nasty.
MIKE: "Grumpy Old Men."
TOM: It's the Franz Kafka Appreciation Society!
(Trent claws at himself)
TOM: Nurse? Some Prozac for Mr. Reznor, please.
(Trent sings "You can have my everything!")
MIKE: Of course I don't want everything! Where would I put it?
(Machine with pig head on top)
TOM: Pork -- The Other Erector Set!
MIKE: Don't worry, pig lovers, we didn't use a real pig!
CROW: Yes we did!
MIKE: Uh -- okay, but it was just this once....
(Blurred nude woman posing with steer skull)
MIKE: Uh, I think that's the point.
CROW: Huh? Oh. Saaaaaayyy....
(Moray eels swimming)
TOM: ...plus two heels, an L, and an electric eel.
CROW: Ah, here it is! "Long-nailed man fears for brain...."
(Man in top hat holding cow's tongue)
BOTS: (singing) "Smelly tongues...look just how they felt...."
(Little girl lounging on chair)
TOM: Alice In Reznorland!
CROW: Kathy Ireland -- The Preschool Years!
MIKE: (dirty old man voice) Hey, little girl, wanna be the next Tawny Kitaen?
(Hand operating old-fashioned adding machine)
MIKE: ...fifty thousand for payola this week, eight thou for the cocaine....
(Trent buffetted in wind tunnel)
TOM: Major John Paul Strapp -- The Musical!
(Film catches and burns up in frame)
CROW: (disgusted) Union projectionist....
(Man blows dust off top hat)
ALL: *cough!* *cough!* *choke!* *gasp!* *wheeze!*
(A dangling Trent plays piano at the end)
CROW: "Trent Plays Tori Amos -- Badly!"
TOM: Madame Sousatzka, I'm ready for my lesson now....
(Final shot of burning candles)
MIKE: Extinguish your candles! (Where applicable...)
CROW: I'm getting closer...to nausea. Let's go.
[Reverse door sequence: 1...2...3...4...5...6...]
TOM: Well. Scar me for life, why don't you?
CROW: You get the feeling the wrong band did "I Hate Myself And I Want To Die...."
MIKE: Come on, guys, it wasn't that traumatic. Didn't you enjoy the faux-antique cinematography? The nods to Man Ray and Mark Pauline?
CROW: Not to mention self-loathing so thick you could eat it with a fork!
TOM: Yeah, but use a spoon -- you'll want to gouge out every last drop of your spleen!
MIKE: Teenyboppers. (Call light flashes) What do you think, sirs?
[INT DEEP 13.]
(Frank is dangling from a wire. A drum synthesizer thumps mournfully in
FRANK: Oh, I'm so depressed. Oh, my life sucks. Oh....
(Dr. Forrester comes into view)
DR. F: Well, Depeche Mode, I see that clip left you thoroughly "broken." (Chuckles at his little joke) Now if you'll excuse us, I have to have Frank "fixed"....
(Dr. Forrester pushes Frank away. Frank swings back, slams into Dr. Forrester, and pushes him into the control panel.)
-- created by robert payes