In the not-too-distant future --
Written by CPFace
(We're in the SOL. Servo's standing alone on the desk.)
Servo: Hi, everyone, welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Tom Servo, I'll be your host this evening, and. . . why, here comes Crow T. Robot. Hiya Crow!
Crow: (distractedly, his attention fixed on the thing he's holding) Oh. Hi Tom.
Servo: Hey, what's that?
Crow: (snapping out of it) Oh, it's Bob's icon. Check this out.
(Bob comes walking up.)
Bob: Hey, guys, I lost my icon, have either of you seen --
(Crow clicks Bob's icon. With a flash, Bob's dressed up in a goofy doggy costume.)
Servo: Hey, cool!
Crow: Yeah, watch this!
Bob: Hey, what the --
(Crow continues clicking Bob's icon. He's dressed up as a chicken, Napolean, TV's Frank, and Barney in rapid succession. Crow and Servo laugh hysterically.)
Servo: That's neat! What else can you do?
Crow: Well, there's this thing where a person who has your icon can make you do anything you want them to.
Servo: Cool! Let's take him down to the metal shop and make him eat things!
(Suddenly, Gypsy pops up and Mike follows her, holding a small spacey-looking pod)
Gypsy: Mail call!
Bob: (snatching his icon out of Crow's hand) Yoink!
Mike: Yeah, our order of Girl Scout cookies has finally arrived!
Servo: Wow! What kind did you get?
Mike: (reading the attached order form) Let's see, there's the Thin Mints, the Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Cinnamon Snaps. . .
Crow: Let me at those Peanut Butter Patties!
Bob: Yeah, and some of those weird raisiny doohickeys.
Mike: Calm down, there's plenty for all in here. (starts to open the pod)
Servo: Ahhhh. . . these sweet goodness that can only come from the confections sold by a corporate conglomeration disguised as a cute little club for preteen girls.
Gypsy: (shocked) You guys! This pod is empty!
Bob: (startled) What?
Crow: (horrified) No!
Servo: (crestfallen) Say it ain't so, Mike!
Mike: It is. . . it's empty. . .
(Red light starts flashing.)
Mike: Oh, Wednesday and Pugsley are calling.
(Hits the light)
(Cut to a gas station. The Widowmaker is parked in front of a pump. Megabyte's working the pump as Pearl sits inside, eating a package of Thin Mints. Suddenly, she looks up at the camera.)
Pearl: Hey guys. Just gassin' up. Want me to get you anything? Maybe some. . . cookies? AH HAHAHAHAHA!
(Back to the SOL)
Servo: (quivering in rage) Why you. . . horrible. . . This time you've gone too far, Forrester!
Crow: (sobbing into Bob's shoulder) No Peanut Butter Patties. . . no Cinammon Swirls. . . no Reduced Fat Lemon Pastry Cremes. . .
Bob: (patting his back consolingly) There there. . .
Mike: Come on, give us back our cookies! We've been waiting a long time for them and stuff!
(Back to the gas station. Megabyte has finished pumping and is regarding the nozzle curiously.)
Pearl: Sorry, gang, finders keepers, and all that. Well, seeing as how it's almost time for your story, I'll just get it out. . .
(Pearl rummages around in the glove compartment. Behind her, Megabyte puts the pump in his mouth, takes it back out, and smacks his lips experimentally.)
(Back on the SOL. Bob is looking a little uncomfortable as now Servo, Crow, and Gypsy are all crying all over him.)
Mike: Look, we'll get some new cookies, all right? We'll stop at the next intergalactic 7-11 and pick you up some Oreos, how's that sound?
Servo: (sniffling) It's just not the same!
(Back at the gas station. Megabyte's sucking on the nozzle and gas is pouring out the corners of his mouth as the little "overflow" bell rings repeatedly.)
Pearl: (holding a 3.5" floppy disk and reading the label) Here we go. Your fix of freaky fanfic this week comes in the form of a vile little enigma called "No Time for Games". It's about our favorite bewildered Mainframers playing a game. Go fig. Anyway, open wide, cause here it comes.
(Suddenly, there's a loud crash. Pearl looks puzzled, then looks over her shoulder to find Megabyte sprawled out on the pavement.)
(Back on the SOL. Lights and sirens are going.)
All: WE'VE GOT MOVIE SIIIIGN!
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