... 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... *...
[SOL Bridge. A small kitchenette has appeared from nowhere. Belldandy is cooking something on it while humming an awful tune. Mike, Tom, Crow, and Gypsy are gathered 'round.]
BELLDANDY: [humming (see, I told you)] Oh egg, oh egg, I'm gonna mix you...
MIKE: So, uh, Belldandy, what did you think of the post?
BELLDANDY: Oh, from everything I've heard they're supposed to be terrible. But actually, it was quite a lot of fun!
TOM: Really?
BELLDANDY: Of course! When you mock the terrible posts that get sent to you, you reaffirm how happy you really are to be alive -- even if it is up on a satellite in space. And as long as you have that hope and happiness, the posts are just words and letters; they cannot harm you.
CROW: Huh. I never thought about it that way.
BELLDANDY: All done!
[She starts apportioning out plates of whatever it is she's cooked.]
GYPSY: Yum!
MIKE: What is it?
BELLDANDY: Well, let's see. It's boiled octopus, folded over in fried hake, poured on French toast.
MIKE: Er...
BELLDANDY: Don't worry, I made some without RAM chips for the two of us. Dig in!
[Cut to Deep 13. Dr. F looks seriously perturbed.]
FORRESTER: No, this is unacceptable! The subject, actually enjoying himself? That'll ruin all my experimental results! Seven seasons -- er, years of hard research, wasted! The National Mad Science Foundation might take away my grant! [determined] No, it won't happen. This must be stopped! I'll have to hit Godai and Kyoko up there where it hurts, and finish them off with one blow! [He jumps up and starts looking through a file cabinet. From each file folder he produces something evil and ugly-looking.]
FORRESTER: Let's see... Deep Hurting... concentrate of Ratliff... -_- additive... essence of ? Yeargh! That's too evil, even for me.
[Finally, at the back of the cabinet, he finds a tiny glowing crystal.]
FORRESTER: A-ha! Of course... desperate times call for desperate measures! Install this in the console, will you, Fra -- oh, that's right.
[Dr. F installs the crystal in the console himself.]
FORRESTER: Let's see you Nut Sabers stand up against... Hypno-Helio Static Stasis! Ah-HA, hahahahahahaahahaaaa!!
[Cut to SOL bridge. Everyone is enjoying the food with gusto, bots making "yummy" noises, and so on.]
MIKE: This is great!
GYPSY: Delicious!
BELLDANDY: I knew you'd like -- [Pause. She suddenly looks worried.] Do you hear maniacal laughter?
MIKE: Um, well, now that you mention it --
TOM: Say, Mike, could you, uh, help me out here? Er, what with the arms and all.
MIKE: Sure thing, bud.
BELLDANDY: [quickly] Please, allow me! [She spears a bit of food with her chopsticks and offers it to Tom.] Open wide!
TOM: Why, thank you!
[Tom eats the morsel and suddenly springs out of his seat.]
TOM: AAAH!!
CROW: Huh?
BELLDANDY: What's wrong?
TOM: It's TOO GOOD! I... I can't TAKE IT!!
MIKE: Hey, Tom --
TOM: WHAT FLAVOR! Tastier than the five-star cuisine of the finest chefs! A hundred -- nay, a THOUSAND -- nay, TEN THOUSAND TIMES TASTIER! HOW CAN I EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE SUCH FLAVOR?!
[He collapses loudly on the floor. Pause.]
CROW: I'll have what he's having.
[Movie Sign alarms go off --]
MIKE: Uh oh. We've got FANFIC SIGN!!
... *... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...
-Logan
-----------------
"Because Science DEMANDS it!!"
-----------------
[SOL Bridge. A small kitchenette has appeared from nowhere. Belldandy is cooking something on it while humming an awful tune. Mike, Tom, Crow, and Gypsy are gathered 'round.]
BELLDANDY: [humming (see, I told you)] Oh egg, oh egg, I'm gonna mix you...
MIKE: So, uh, Belldandy, what did you think of the post?
BELLDANDY: Oh, from everything I've heard they're supposed to be terrible. But actually, it was quite a lot of fun!
TOM: Really?
BELLDANDY: Of course! When you mock the terrible posts that get sent to you, you reaffirm how happy you really are to be alive -- even if it is up on a satellite in space. And as long as you have that hope and happiness, the posts are just words and letters; they cannot harm you.
CROW: Huh. I never thought about it that way.
BELLDANDY: All done!
[She starts apportioning out plates of whatever it is she's cooked.]
GYPSY: Yum!
MIKE: What is it?
BELLDANDY: Well, let's see. It's boiled octopus, folded over in fried hake, poured on French toast.
MIKE: Er...
BELLDANDY: Don't worry, I made some without RAM chips for the two of us. Dig in!
[Cut to Deep 13. Dr. F looks seriously perturbed.]
FORRESTER: No, this is unacceptable! The subject, actually enjoying himself? That'll ruin all my experimental results! Seven seasons -- er, years of hard research, wasted! The National Mad Science Foundation might take away my grant! [determined] No, it won't happen. This must be stopped! I'll have to hit Godai and Kyoko up there where it hurts, and finish them off with one blow! [He jumps up and starts looking through a file cabinet. From each file folder he produces something evil and ugly-looking.]
FORRESTER: Let's see... Deep Hurting... concentrate of Ratliff... -_- additive... essence of ? Yeargh! That's too evil, even for me.
[Finally, at the back of the cabinet, he finds a tiny glowing crystal.]
FORRESTER: A-ha! Of course... desperate times call for desperate measures! Install this in the console, will you, Fra -- oh, that's right.
[Dr. F installs the crystal in the console himself.]
FORRESTER: Let's see you Nut Sabers stand up against... Hypno-Helio Static Stasis! Ah-HA, hahahahahahaahahaaaa!!
[Cut to SOL bridge. Everyone is enjoying the food with gusto, bots making "yummy" noises, and so on.]
MIKE: This is great!
GYPSY: Delicious!
BELLDANDY: I knew you'd like -- [Pause. She suddenly looks worried.] Do you hear maniacal laughter?
MIKE: Um, well, now that you mention it --
TOM: Say, Mike, could you, uh, help me out here? Er, what with the arms and all.
MIKE: Sure thing, bud.
BELLDANDY: [quickly] Please, allow me! [She spears a bit of food with her chopsticks and offers it to Tom.] Open wide!
TOM: Why, thank you!
[Tom eats the morsel and suddenly springs out of his seat.]
TOM: AAAH!!
CROW: Huh?
BELLDANDY: What's wrong?
TOM: It's TOO GOOD! I... I can't TAKE IT!!
MIKE: Hey, Tom --
TOM: WHAT FLAVOR! Tastier than the five-star cuisine of the finest chefs! A hundred -- nay, a THOUSAND -- nay, TEN THOUSAND TIMES TASTIER! HOW CAN I EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE SUCH FLAVOR?!
[He collapses loudly on the floor. Pause.]
CROW: I'll have what he's having.
[Movie Sign alarms go off --]
MIKE: Uh oh. We've got FANFIC SIGN!!
... *... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...
-Logan
-----------------
"Because Science DEMANDS it!!"
-----------------