[Coauthor's Note: Hi. This is my second MiSTing (well, second sent to 
the public), and Dennis's first. C&C would be appreciated. Mail it to 
avanrhyn.lnk@ispi.net (for me) and red_paladin@rocketmail.com (for Dennis).

As for the fic... it's a good thing Erato is an RL friend, because this 
sucker hurt. Just to add to the pain, Erato seems to be completely in the 
dark about how self-insertion Katira is. If it walks like an avatar and 
talks like an avatar... 

Other Notes: This MiSTing is rated PG for a little smut, a lot of 
Freudianism, and a contrivance-based plotline that could forever scar your
unborn children's sense of literary plotting. Be warned. 

Anyway, feel free to fetch yourself a refreshing beverage... turn off your 
lights (and give yourself a severe case of eyestrain), and enjoy. 
	- Amanda]

Mystery Fanfic Theater 3000: "Fatal Destiny: Katira’s Tale"
Original story by Erato 
MiSTing by Amanda Van Rhyn and Dennis Man
Credits and Disclaimer(s) at the end of the MiSTing 

[The Theme Song plays... the Door Sequence does its thing... 
and our scene opens...]

	[Scene: SoL Bridge. Tom and Crow are onstage, wearing turbans and 
surrounded by phones. The phones ring on and off at random intervals. 
Mike walks in from stage left.]

	MIKE: Hi, everyone, welcome to the Satellite of Love. I’m Mike, 
	and... hey, guys, whatcha doing now?

	TOM: Oh, it’s quite simple, Mike! Know how we want to make those 
	engine improvements so we can blast out of the tractor beam coming 
	from Brain Guy on that godforsaken rock down there?

	MIKE: Well, that ‘godforsaken rock’, as you put it, is my home planet, 
	but otherwise I catch your drift. 

	CROW: And know how the Nanites demanded pay next time they did 
	anything like that?

	MIKE: Yeah, a little ridiculous, I know... but what does this have to 
	do with the swami outfits and speakerphones?

	TOM: Well, this is our plan to come up with the Nanites’ scratch! 
	We’re running one of those ‘psychic hotlines’ you see advertised all 
	the time on late-night cable and cult TV shows with unlikely 
	premises but surprisingly large viewerships! And we’re raking in the 
	dough! 

	[A phone rings.]

	CROW: I’ll get that. (He picks up the receiver with one claw.) Hello, 
	Cosmic Truth Satellite Hotline? Yes, this is Swami 
	Crowmeoevich-Binkinanda speaking. Oh, yes, hello again, Kimberly. 
	Shall we resume where we left off on your last call?

	MIKE:  How’s he gonna pull this off?
	
	TOM:  You’d be amazed. He’s a bot with a gift. 
	Now, shut up, so the caller doesn’t hear us. 

	CROW:  No, that was just... the spirit voices. Speaking 
	to me. Now, when we last spoke, you were speaking of your romantic 
	travails? Yes. Now, the voices are telling me that communicating 
	better with your loved ones is the key to all your problems... 

	MIKE:  We’ll be right back. 

	[Commercials. Maybe one for the Cosmic Truth Satellite Hotline? Who 
	knows?]

	[We’re back to the SoL.]

	CROW: ... and in conclusion, Kimberly, just keep 
	speaking your mind and cutting down on the flaming Pop-tarts, and 
	life should be better. Thanks, and call again! (hangs up phone)

	MIKE: Wow, Crow, you really do have a talent for this. I’m impressed. 

	CROW: Yep, and it’s really paying off! We’re rolling in green!

	[From the mass of phones, we can still see the Mad Sign going off.]

	MIKE: That’s great, but Gilligan, the Professor, and Mary Ann are 
	calling. (presses the light) Hello, Evil Geniuses for a Better 
	Tomorrow?

	[Scene: Castle Forrester. Pearl, Brain Guy, and Bobo are just kind 
	of ... loitering.]

	PEARL: Well, I *guess* it’s nice to see that somewhere, someone is 
	excited about something. You see, down here we’ve all caught cases 
	of... acute apathy.

	[SoL. M&TB are gasping.]

	TOM: Pearl! Not... acute apathy! What happened?

	[Castle Forrester] 

	BRAIN GUY: I have the story. Basically, it was just a normal day... 
	plotting to take over the universe... but then, we realized *nothing 
	was happening*. Bobo wasn’t breaking anything or being stupid or 
	disgusting. 

	BOBO: Lawgiver wasn’t being the evil schemer she usually is. 

	PEARL: And Brain Guy wasn’t playing any weird braintricks on anyone. 
	By then it was too acute to do anything about. 

	[SoL]

	MIKE: Well, I guess this means no fanfic today, Pearl?

	[Castle Forrester] 

	PEARL: And it’s there that your train of thought derails, Nelsonius 
	Maximus. Of *course* we have a fanfic for you! It’s called 
	“Katira’s Tale”, and it’s a sequel to that Disney ‘classic’ 
	_Hercules_. 

	[SoL]

	CROW:  Disney... sequel?

	MIKE: Oh, you are *evil*. 

	[Castle Forrester] 

	PEARL: Well, you know what they say. Not rain nor sleet nor acute 
	apathy can keep a Forrester from delivering her fanfic! Relish the 
	pain, Waste O’ Electrons and pals! Brain Guy, do the... thing. 

	BRAIN GUY: Uh, I guess so. (He does the post-sending Brain Guy thing, 
	but a little lacklusterly.)

	[SoL] 

	TOM: WE GOT FANBOY SEQUEL SIGN!

	[6]
	[5]
	[4]
	[3]
	[2]
	[1]

	[SoL Theater. M&TB take their usual seats.] 

	TOM: Actually, I rather liked the old Hercules myth. Haven’t seen the 
	movie, though, seeing as that was something like 500 years ago and 
	it’s long disappeared from the earth. 
	CROW: I’ve seen it. Believe me, this whole disappearing-from-the-Earth 
	gag is a *good* thing. 

> Fatal Destiny: 

	CROW: Uh oh, is this gonna be anything like ‘Altered Destiny’?
	(the Bots shudder)
	MIKE: Altered Destiny?! What’s that?
	CROW: Oh, nothing. A piece of Sonic crud we got when the other guy 
	was here.

>  Katira’s Tale

	TOM: ... is prehensile?
	(Tom does his own rimshot. Crow and Mike groan.)

>   written by Erato


	MIKE: Uh, who’s Erato?
	TOM: Let me check my inner database... hmm... the ancient Greek muse 
	of poetry.
	MIKE: Ahh...  That would explain why her name is 
	attached to a work of prose! 

>	The girl sighed, and took out her flute.  She had failed to get 
> anything today, and her empty stomach protested with hunger. 

	TOM:  Hey, babe, I don’t care what kind of a diet you’re on, 
	one rice cake will *not* do it!
	CROW: That reminds me, I'm gonna go get some nachos. 
	Mike: Sit down. (pulls Crow back into his seat)

> A few sweet notes were played on the flute, but the maiden soon took it 
> out of her mouth,

	MIKE: Hey, since when do you put a flute in your mouth?!
	(Bots look at Mike)
	MIKE: All right, it was lame, but it kept Crow from making a comment.
	CROW: Hey!

> and curled up with her shabby blanket

	TOM:  Ahhh, Boo Boo Bankie.

> and a few animal skins.  Perhaps tomorrow would turn out better.

	CROW:  Tomorrow, tomorrow, there’s always tomorrow... 
	
> The girl gazed into the starlit heavens, she gazed toward the Acropolis 
> in the distance, and toward far-away Mt. Olympus, her longed-for home.  
> As she watched the constellations in the sky, she could find and name 
> them all, 

	MIKE:  Uh, that's Andy the Cowboy and that's 
	Jack... the Cowboy.

> she began to hum softly.

	TOM: Yay! Two back-to-back pseudo-run-on sentences!

>  She took up her flute once more, and played the music for awhile.  She 
> removed the flute, and hummed the tune again.  Soon, the humming turned 
> into lyrics. 

	MIKE: I have a bad feeling about this...  

> SONG CUE: 

	ALL: Nooooooooooo!

> Longing 

	CROW: I’m longing for some nachos.
	TOM: I’m longing for the fanfic to end.
	MIKE: I’m longing to *get off this satellite* and *go home* and 
	*see my girlfriend again* and...
	(Mike continues ranting while the bots speak)
	TOM: Uh oh, I think Mike vaporlocked. Shock him, will ya?
	CROW: Gladly.
	(Crow scuffs his unseen feet on the theater carpet and gives Mike an 
	electric shock.)
	MIKE: And... aaaaaaaieeee! What was that for??
	CROW: Another vaporlock, Mike.
	Mike: Ah.

> (original melody)

	CROW: Albeit one similar to ‘I Know a Song that Gets on Everybody’s 
	Nerves’. 

> The girl:
>  I look into the world above
>  And see a far-off hope

	MIKE: Aww, that? That’s just a skeet pellet. 

> I want to spread wings and fly
> Fly away home

> But baby, who’m I kiddin’?

	CROW: Hmm... your imaginary friend Bosco?

> It’ll never happen
> Rogues don’t become goddesses

	TOM: I sense that this is the Exposition Song.
	ALL: Nooooooooooo!

> I want to see my fabled kin

	MIKE:  But honey... you wouldn’t hug Aunt Rhea at 
	the *last* reunion...

> I want to step among the stars

	CROW: Enh, no... but you *can* sleep with the fishes!

> I walk free among the wilderness
> Yet why am I behind bars?

	TOM: Well, Protagonist Girl, when you commit all those Class A 
	felonies...

>Bars of neverness

	MIKE: Wow, philosophical. Or acid-trippy.

> Look at me

	CROW: See me, feel me, touch me, heal me. 

> Here I am

	ALL:  Stuck in the middle with you...

> The plebeian of Greece

	TOM: Wait... Mike, weren’t there a LOT of plebeians in Greece? 
	Millions of the buggers?
	MIKE: Yeah, Tommy boy, but it’s called poetic license. Although this 
	metaphor should get Erato the equivalent of a reckless-driving 
	citation.

> Here I am

	ALL:  Back on the road again...

> The nameless one

	CROW: Yep... c’mon, Erato, would it hurt so bad to give your 
	protagonist a NAME already?!

> The rapscallion and thief

	(M&TB begin humming/whistling “The Rascal King” by the 
	Mighty Mighty Bosstones.)

> I know the Olympians sit high and far above
> Looking on the mortals

	TOM: And smiting them with locusts and suchlike...
	MIKE: And cackling maniacally...
	CROW:  Smite, smite, smite! This is fun!! You know, 
	I think I’d like to decide who liv - 
	MIKE:  We’ll see about that.

> The goddesses in finest dress
> While I lie, overlooked, in rags

	TOM: Isn’t capitalism *fun*?

> I’m longing to know
> Longing to know

	CROW: What? The answers to the calculus final?
	MIKE: Why, if God is an all-merciful being, there is so much 
	suffering in the world?
	TOM: What that chick is actually singing in 
	“Neunundneunzig Luftballoons”?

> Will I ever stroll with them

	MIKE: Leisurely Walking... OF THE GODS!!

> Be among them
> I think I know the answer
> And I think that it is “no”

	CROW: Well, Protagonist Girl, can you blame ‘em? Who would actually 
	hang out with *you*?

> Tonight lay here hungry
> Again, tonight, I starve
> But this is all too common
> A ritual
> How pitiful
> A ritual with me
> So normal here with me

	TOM: OK, so she practically never eats... shouldn’t she be 
	long-dead by now?

> No one sees me in the streets
> No one there would care
> I should be better off
> After all, I’m an immortal’s daughter

	MIKE: Um... all righty... guys, what the Inferno is going on?!?
	CROW: Search me. I think she just admitted to being another one of 
	Zeus’s little mistakes...
	MIKE: Oh, like half of ancient Greece?
	CROW: Yeah, basically. 

> I’ll never go
> And this I’m sure I know
> Yet still I hope
> I’ll never forget who I’m meant to be

	TOM: What an inspirational message! “Kids, NEVER forget you were 
	meant to be a woebegone skank!”

> ***

	CROW: Oooohhh... Tribble menage a trois. 
	MIKE: Enh, I should probably get on you for that one, but after all 
	the Tribble jokes I pulled in _X_, that one can get through.

> With this slight hope,

	ALL:  We’ve got sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiight hopes! We’ve got 
	sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight hopes!

> she fell asleep.

	CROW: Oh, good. That means the song is officially over.

>	Bright and early the next morning, the girl woke, picked up her empty 
> pouch and flute, and left her camp.  

	TOM: Uh oh, her Girl Scout counselor’s gonna make her miss swimming 
	and lanyards after they get her back.

> She headed into town.  Many persons were crowding about the agora,

	CROW:  What a *lovely* sweater!
	MIKE: Crow, that’s *angora*. The Agora was a large open-air 
	marketplace and secular social area in ancient Athens.
	CROW:  I knew that! Always trying to spoil a little 
	bot’s fun, you big human bully! I’m gonna tell Gypsy on you!! 
	(Crow starts sniffling as if he’s about to throw a tantrum.)
	MIKE:  There, there, I’m sorr... hey!
	CROW:  Ha ha, made ya comfort!

> and no one noticed a dark-cloaked figure make her way through the mobs of 
> people.  

	TOM:  This was Mos Eisley, after all. Jawas were 
	*everywhere*!

> Normally, the marketplace wasn’t quite this busy, and she wondered what 
> the occasion was.  Looking for any sign of the presumed event, she 
> casually swiped a loaf of pita bread off one of the stands. 

	MIKE: All right... so, if noone is watching, 
	this character would rather steal one loaf of crummy pita bread 	
	than a rather large amount of money? I’m really close to giving up on 
	your protagonist here, Erato!

> No one noticed that either, thankfully.  She began nibbling on the bread,

	TOM:  Ow! My tooth!
	MIKE: Crappy bread?
	TOM: Yeah.

> being careful to save some for later, since chances were it would be all 
> she’d have for a few days at least.

	CROW: And at the last of those three days, she would also get the 
	added benefit of penicillin!

>  She put the rest of the bread in her pouch, and continued her rounds 
> through the city.  She heard some commotion off to her right, and turned 
> to see what was happening. 

	MIKE: It's a stampede! Quick, she stopped. Get her!

 A young man, appearing not much older than 
> she, was trying vainly to pass through the crowds as well.

	TOM: Oh, yeah, quite vainly. Just look at him checking himself out in 
	all the windows... 

>  The flute player looked at him curiously.  She’d never seen him before. 
> Many teenage girls were throwing themselves all over the stranger,

	MIKE: Why, look, my friends, it’s Leo DiCaprio! Wave to the nice teen 
	idol, everybody!
	(M&TB wave at the screen)
	
> and she stifled a laugh.  Yes, the guy, whoever he was, was quite handsome 
> indeed, but otherwise, she saw no reason for the fanatic groupies to be 
> going crazy over him.

	CROW: They’re *groupies*. They gotta follow *someone*. It was either 
	that guy or the Agora equivalent of C.M.O.T. Dibbler. 
	TOM: Hmm... how do you say “Say, groupies, how’d ya like a 
	Sensational Sausage? Get them while they’re hot! At a dollar and 
	fifty pence, I’m cuttin’ me own throat on this deal!” in archaic 
	Greek, anyway?
	MIKE: Say, did that guy before me ever tell you two that you take 
	your Pratchett way too seriously?
	TOM: Oh, yeah, he did! When we got into the Susan Death spiel that 
	one time!
	MIKE: (sighs) I’m just not gonna ask.

>  She kept watching him.  As he was being chased, she saw an expression of 
> relief cross his face, and he ducked into an alley. The groupies passed 
> right by the alley, never seeing the boy just around the corner. 

	CROW: Why look! It’s Plot Contrivance #7! I spotted a numbered plot 
	contrivance, I get a RAMchip, nah nah na nah naaaah... 
	TOM:  Shut up! Just shut up!

> The flute girl shook her head in pity, and pulled out her flute.

	CROW: Eeeewwww, in public?
	MIKE: Just tell me why you needed to give us that image, Crow. Just 
	*why*?

>  Herself in a small alley, she began to play. 

	(Mike’s hand starts going for Crow’s beak.)
	CROW: Geez, have faith in me, Mikey! That one’s too easy anyway!
	MIKE: Oh. Sorry there. Tell you what... I’ll give you all the 
	RAMchips you want if you can keep from making off-color comments for 
	the entire fanfic, ok?
	CROW: Deal!

> The notes were barely audible over the crowds, but luckily, she got a few 
> coins tossed near her feet.  She gratefully stuck them in her pouch along 
> with the pita. She looked to see how the stranger was doing.  His golden 
> armor flashed in the sun as he raced through the throngs of people.  
> The flute girl took pity on him, and grabbed his hand, yanking him to 
> safety,

	CROW:   You can do it, Crow. You don’t need to 
	make a comment there.
	TOM: Wow, I admire your courage, brother.
	CROW: Thanks, man. It’s just one riff at a time.

> as he was running past.  He put on hand to his head, wiping away some of 
> the sweat, as he stood up.  He looked at the flute player, seeing only a 
> vaguely human form concealed in a worn, dark brown cloak.

	MIKE: Sooo... vaguely humanoid, dark brown concealing cloak, steals 
	stuff... this is *so* Jawa.
 
> It didn’t matter, though.  Whoever it was, she, or he, he couldn’t tell 
> which, had helped him out.

	CROW:  She then mutated into an horrible monster. The man 
	quickly slew it. End of story.  Alright, it's over, I'm 
	gone.
	TOM: You should know by now that that never works... 

>	“Gee, thanks,” he said, panting.

	TOM: PANTS PARTY!!! 
	ALL: (start chanting ‘Pants, pants, pants!!’)

>	“No prob.  Come on, let’s get you out of here before the welcoming 
> committee finds you again,” she replied.  She led the boy though some 
> back alleys, until they emerged outside in the surrounding meadows and 
> forests.

	TOM: So *what*, they just have a whole bunch of sylvan glades in a 
	*major metropolitan area* within walking distance of the 
	*main secular area of millions*???
	MIKE: Steady, Tommy. You know what? I’ll give you the same deal as 
	Crow got, but only if you can keep from grammarflaming or getting 
	overly obsessed about the continuity, all right?
	TOM: OK... but I can still gripe about Disney bastardized mythology, 
	right?
	MIKE: Oh, of course. Can’t expect me to take that away from you... 

>	“Thanks a lot,” he repeated, sitting underneath a tree.  The flute 
> girl finally got her first good look at the boy.  

	CROW: Yeah, yeah, we know, boy meets girl. Now, give us some plot 
	here...

> He was very handsome, and looked about 18 or so.

	TOM: Oh, of  course! Can’t have any old, middle-aged, ugly, or 
	average-looking heroes in Disney movies!
	MIKE: What about Quasimodo?
	TOM: No comment. 
  
> Muscles rippled all over his body, and a sword gleamed by his side.  
> He ran a hand through his blond hair, and fixed  his blue cape.

	MIKE:  I am... SuperGreek! 

> She felt she was supposed to know who he was, but she hadn’t a clue.
>	“Like I said, it was nothing,” she said lightly, “Who are you, 
> anyway?”  He looked at her, obviously surprised.

	CROW:  Don’t you recognize me?! I’m faster than a speeding 
	arrow! More powerful that a Spartan phalanx!

>	“Me?  I’m Hercules!”

	ALL: Dunh DUNH DUUUUUUNHHHHH! Exposition to the Rescue!

> he answered, incredulous at the question. The girl just raised her 
> eyebrows slightly, but did nothing.
>	“That’s nice,” she said.  Hercules was puzzled.
>	“You aren’t doing anything,” he remarked.
>	“No, I’m not.  So your name’s Hercules.  Big deal.  If you’ve want to 
> make a fuss over it, that’s your problem, pal,” she said, a touch of 
> exasperation in her voice.

	TOM: She’s a Greek Wild Rebel!

> Herc
	
	CROW: Wait, shouldn’t those four letters be followed by -ules ?
	TOM: Not in Disney fanboy talk...
	CROW: Fanboy? But isn’t Erato female?!
	TOM: (sighs) Crow, you should know by now that fanboy is really a 
	unisex word. 

> smiled.  For once, there was a girl who didn’t make any fuss over him.  
> In fact, this girl, whoever she was, kind of reminded him of Meg.

	MIKE: OK, ya got me here, fanfic. Who’s Meg?
	TOM: Um, Megara, the wife whom he would later kill in a fit of rage. 
	That’s why he performed the Twelve Labors; it was repentance. 
	You see, the entire story of Hercules in Greek mythology was a 
	parable for not knowing one’s own strength...  
	MIKE: Well, yeah, but you know. This is Disney. We can’t have the 
	real story or anything.

> Meg, he remembered rather guiltily, was back home at Thebes, waiting for 
> his return.  He shrugged.

	TOM:  What she doesn't know can't hurt her.

>	“Surprise, surprise,” mumbled Herc to himself.
>	“What brings you here anyway?” asked the concealed girl.
>	“Well, I was told a monster was around here, 

	MIKE:  Well, that's me!

> and when I fought it off,

	CROW:  I fled in complete abject terror, screaming like a 
	little girl and wetting my armo ... er, no... I slew it with the 
	power in my mighty thews! Yeah, that’s better. Hehehehe.

> my pet Pegasus

	TOM: OK, bastardized mythology, make up your mind! Is he Hercules or 
	Bellerophon? Sheesh, next thing you know, he’ll slay Medusa while his 
	wings melt in the sun.
	CROW: I think you just found the next plot development, Tom!

> ran away for some reason I don’t know.  So, here I am, with nowhere to go,”
>  he answered, still a little ticked off at Peg leaving him behind at 
> Athens.

	CROW:  I'll kill him, I say! I'll kill him!
	MIKE: Calm down. Sheesh.

>	“Hmph.  Sounds like fun,” she laughed sarcastically.

	MIKE: My, that’s a long sarcastic laugh.

>  Herc smiled.
>	“So, what do you do around here?  I get to be a hero,” 

	TOM: Uh, Mike?
	MIKE: Yeah?
	TOM: Do you still have those dried frog pills I asked you to keep for 
	me?
	MIKE: Yeah... why?
	TOM: I think I’m desperately going to need some to avoid ranting 
	about how badly Disney screwed up this myth. 
	MIKE: Ah. OK. Here, have two dried frog pills and two Bacon Pills. 
	(He hands them to Tom, who scarfs them down. Crow says ‘Hmph’ in a 
	tone that suggests he thinks Tom is cheating.)

> he asked, trying to make conversation with his rescuer.  It was too bad 
> she wore that cloak, since it hid her from view.

	CROW: I would say he's lucky.
	(Mike nods)

>	“Oh, now isn’t that nice?

	MIKE:  Isn’t that 
	*conveeeeeeeeenient*.

> Around here, not much.  Normally, I’d get you something to eat, but times 
> are tough.  It’s not that I like my life in this condition, and if I can, 
> I buy what I need, 

	TOM: Well, duh.
	CROW:  I'm going to buy something that's 
	totally useless!

> but lately, I haven’t been able to afford anything,” she said.

	TOM: Poor girl, not even enough money for one of Dibblerius’s 
	Sensational Souvlakis.
	(Mike looks confused... at least, as far as we can tell from the 
	Shadowrama silhouette of the back of his head.)
	CROW: (to Tom) Enough Pratchett refs... we’re starting to scare Mike.

>	“So, what’s your name?  Where are you from?  I’m from Thebes.”
>	“Well, I was born in Delphi, mostly raised in Corinth,

	TOM: Raised by wolves?
	CROW: No, I think that's "on the frozen tundra". 

> and I recently made a move here to Athens from Olympia.  I tend to move a 
> lot.

	MIKE:  You see, it’s really easy to pack up your 
	things and go when you’re a penniless beggar!
	CROW:  Lord, I was born a rambling dork... 
	
>  As for my name, these days, I think it’s “Thief”!” she laughed.

	MIKE: Wow, interesting laugh.
	CROW: Please, Erato, tell me you’re kidding! It takes you this long 
	to give this character a name, and it turns out to be “Thief”?!

>	“Why?” asked Herc, a little surprised by her answers, especially the 
> last one.
>	“I don’t like being dishonest, and as I said, I buy my needs when I 
> can.  It’s just that as of late, I haven’t gotten any money.  
> I practically try to sell myself to the people, but they won’t buy. 

	(Mike and Tom look at Crow)
	CROW: I’m not going to say anything about that.
	MIKE: That’s a good bot.

> And if I’m broke, what do you expect me to do?  I’ve tried the begging 
> thing, but it didn’t work out.  Anyway, it was too humiliating, since I’m 
> too proud to resort to that, but then, most people are. 

	TOM: <”Thief”, Protagonist Girl, whatever she is right now> Besides, 
	if I was a beggar, I couldn’t be a chooser. 

> So, anyway, I steal. 

	CROW:  Oh, and I do drugs, but not the hard stuff.
	TOM: Like we're supposed to sympathize with that...  

I don’t steal money, I try to earn it.  I only 
> steal food, cloth, water, whatever.”

	CROW: Oh, big difference there. You don’t steal any actual money... 
	you just steal the stuff that would have been the entire purpose of 
	having the money! I get ya!

>  Herc’s jaw dropped open audibly.

	MIKE: Splat!
	TOM: Crash! Bam!
	CROW: Thunk!

>  He’d never known anybody who had to steal before, nor did he know what 
> it was like to be penniless. 

	CROW: Well, of course not... he *was* the illegitimate son of a god 
	and a Theban princess... 
	TOM: Hate to burst your lacrosse net, Crow, but in the Disney version 
	he’s the legitimate son of Zeus and Hera. Doesn’t make any sense, but 
	it displays family values... 
	CROW: So only the story is bastardized now?
	MIKE: All right, you were toeing the line there, buddy. 

> True, as a child he wasn’t exactly rich, but he and his adoptive parents 
> still had enough money to support the family. 

	MIKE: Ah, smell that aroma of bastardized-mythological backstory we 
	missed.

> Now, he was one of the richest people in all of Greece, able to buy 
> anything he could ever want. 

	CROW: Hercules! You're a freaking god!
 
> The girl’s situation wasn’t at all what he was expecting.

	TOM: So, when he gets pulled aside by a homeless person in a 
	shapeless robe, he expects her to have a stable income?
	MIKE: A dumb god, it seems.
	TOM: No, I think the word is ignorant.
	MIKE: Oh, yeah.

>	“So what is your name?” he pressed.  She sighed softly.

	CROW: Please, Erato, tell us already!! Naming your protagonist helps 
	a lot!!

>	“I wish I knew, Hercules.  The truth is, I never really had a name.

	ALL: Aaaaaaaaaargggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!
	CROW: Erato, if you have something against naming your characters, 
	why don’t you just say so?!

> Something happened to my folks before I got to know them or my own name 
> well,

	TOM: We know what it is, Protagonist Girl. It’s called a plot 
	contrivance.

> and nobody really bothered to name me, since I never stayed in a home 
> longer than a few months.

	MIKE: Ah, so she was just a really awful squatter.
	CROW: Or a really good arsonist.

>  I don’t remember them, my real parents, that is, at all.  All I know is 
> that I’m about 3/4 immortal,

	TOM: Soooo... she doesn’t know who her parents are, but she can 
	automatically assume godly lineage? For all she knows, she could just 
	be carrying on the family begging business. 

> but it’s that one-quarter human that keeps me down here,” 

	TOM: Whoa, let's just re-write Greek mythology here. Stupid Disney.
	MIKE: What's not wrong with Disney?
	TOM: Nothing.

> she answered wistfully, pointing to the ground.

	MIKE:  Yeah, and that pesky law of gravity. 

>	“Boy, do I know the whole part-god scenario. 

	CROW: But... according to the Disney version he’s all god... oh, man, 
	I’m confused.
	TOM: Y’know, I’d rather watch the Eddie Murphy version of 
	_Dr. Dolittle_ at this point... at least it unashamedly ignored the 
	very existence of the novels, while Disney’s _Hercules_ got *just* 
	enough mythology right to show they knew the real story and just 
	didn’t care!! Aaaarrrggghh! I think I need another dried frog pill, 
	Mike.
	(Mike passes Tom another dried frog pill and watches him take it.)

> Technically, I should be on Mount Olympus, but a couple things happened,

	TOM: ... on the way to the Forum?
	(Mike and Crow groan)
	MIKE: No! Not a story where a couple things happened!! Say it ain't
	so, Erato!
	
> and here I am.  Just curious, but if you don’t mind, how’d you survive 
> without your parents?”

	MIKE: Mmm, maybe she's part god?!  Ignorant?
	CROW: Very.

>	“I stayed with people who’d take me in for a while.  After some time, 
> when I’d worn away my welcome,

	TOM: Yeah, you know how it is... those part-gods are so cute when 
	they’re little, but when they start to grow up and wreck the 
	furniture you have to go have them put down.

> I’d go find somewhere else to live.  Nobody ever bothered to give me a 
> name, and since I spent a good deal of it, my life I mean, alone, ever 
> since I was six.

	CROW: So, her parents took care of her until she was six, and she 
	can’t remember them or her own name?! Charlie Gordon pre-operation 
	could have taken this chick in a battle of wits!
	TOM: Or Lenny, or Groo, or Homer Simpson, or Constable Detritus, 
	or Barliman Butterbur, or... 
	MIKE: OK, guys, we get the idea.

>  I never needed to have one since there wasn’t anyone to call me by a 
> name.”
>	“I suppose we’ll have to come up with one for you,” suggested Herc.

	TOM: Wow... good thinking, Hercules! Main characters with names, what 
	a concept!

>	“Whatever.  Go ahead and try.  Jeez, it’s kind of hot.

	MIKE: I’m not sure what’s worse in that piece of dialogue... the 
	non sequitur pacing or the fact that people were apparently taking 
	the Lord’s name in vain back in the BC’s.

> I’d like to take off my cloak, but-but-” 

	CROW:  I don't want you to know that I'm 
	really an alien sent to destroy earth.

 She didn’t end her sentence, 
> but her head appeared to drop slightly.
> 	“But what?” asked Herc gently.
> 	“Well, the truth is, I’m a little ashamed of the way I look,” she 
> said, fidgeting.
> 	“It’s okay.  I won’t mind.  Your voice sounds pretty, at the very 
> least,” said Herc.

	CROW: Besides, if she wasn’t beautiful, she’d have to have a great 
	personality, and we’ve already proved that wrong... 

>	“All right, but don’t say you weren’t warned!”  And so, she began 
> untying the closure strings.  The shabby brown hood fell off her head, 
> and she tossed the garment off to her side. 

	TOM: Woohoo! Take it all off, baybay!
	MIKE: Crow... remember... oh, wait, never mind. Tom!

> Herc gave a startled gasp,

	TOM: ... as one of her tentacles reached out and choked him to death.

> and could only gape at her.

	CROW:  Wow, she looks like Megara... and Esmerelda... and 
	Jasmine... and Ariel... and Cinderella... and Pocahontas... and most 
	other Disney movie heroines for that matter!

>  She had a head full of sleek, dark, mahogany-brown curls,

	MIKE: Her head was *full* of hair? So it was actually *inside*? That 
	explains a lot.

 > that were occasionally knotted in tangles. 

	TOM:  Tee hee, those aren’t tangles, those are the 
	snake heads! Ooops... he’s already stone. 

 > Her eyes were large and shining, the grey-blue of a stormy sea. 

	CROW: Aww, noone can resist her Bambi eyes. 

> She was 5’7 1/2” tall,

	TOM: Ooh! Stats! You know, this get better and better.
	MIKE: Does it really?
	TOM: No. 

> with a 38-19-35 3/4 figure. 

	MIKE: Guys, before you get your hopes up... not only is that often 
	considered to be a nearly physically impossible figure for a human 
	woman, they also usually can’t suddenly rattle off their exact 
	measurements. 
	BOTS: D’oh!

> Her lips and cheeks outdid the prettiest rose,

	TOM: ... although it’s a little-known fact that the ancient Greek 
	word ‘rose’ means ‘pernicious and unsightly crabgrass’. 

> her face looked like it was beautifully chiseled out of ivory,

	MIKE: I get it! She’s Galatea!

> and her body had the same perfection.  Her skin was milky white, as 
> smooth and pale as the best marble,

	CROW: All right, when was the mass Aryan migration to ancient 
	Greece again?

> the envy of every woman, and as soft as a bundle of the finest silk.  
> Her figure was a bit skinny around the waist, 

	TOM: .... and her teeth were discolored from all the bingeing and 
	purging... 

> but firm and supple, yet delicate and as soft as her skin.  She was the 
> loveliest girl he’d ever seen, 

	CROW: I think she's cheating.
	TOM: Ehn, what are you going to do? If she was ugly, noone would 
	keep going.

> and he temporarily forgot about Meg.  
> Even Aphrodite would have difficulty matching her looks!

	MIKE: Well, of course. Aphrodite’s not a Disney heroine.

>  The only thing that marred her beauty was her dress.  It was originally 
> blue, but some places were discolored to a greenish tint from mildew.

	TOM: Dry cleaning accidents...  OF THE GODS!!

>  It was also badly torn, faded, and dirt-smeared, but she looked gorgeous 
> anyway. 
>	“You’re ashamed of the way you look?” he asked, making sure he’d 
> heard right.
>	“Yes.  I know I’m not really very pretty, and if you’d like, I can 
> put my cloak back on,” she said, blushing slightly.

	CROW:  Oh, no, definitely n... aaarghh!
	MIKE: You’re right on the edge of losing all those RAMchips, 
	mein freund. 

>	“What do you mean by that?  You’re positively beautiful!” he said, 
> confused and surprised by her words.
>	“So, you don’t want me to put the cloak back on?” she teased.

	TOM:  Naa-naa-na-naa-naa, doesn’t want me 
	to put my cloak back on!

>	“No, no, not at all.  Well, unless you want to, of course, but it 
> would hide you again, which I really wouldn’t like to see such a, well, 
> nice girl hidden away!”

	MIKE:  Nice. Yeah, that’s the word, nice!

> he sputtered, still a little in shock.
>	“Aw, shucks, thanks.  So did you think of a name?” she queried, 
> sitting down beside her new friend.  Herc studied her,

	CROW: Yeah, she was his biology project, I guess... 

> trying to find a suitable title for her.  He looked straight into her 
> pretty eyes, and she shyly smiled, blinking once and shrugging one creamy 
> shoulder.

	TOM: A *creamy* shoulder?!
	MIKE: Yeah. At least, that’s what Jeffrey Dahmer said. Really creamy, 
	and great with a little oregano...
	CROW: My, Mike... aren’t we in a dark and completely out-of-character 
	mood. I’m impressed. 

>	“Hmm.  I’m not really the best at choosing names, but how about...
> Katira?”

	TOM:  It’s Theban for ‘weird dirty peasant with an 
	inexplicable backstory involving immortals’!

> he asked, hoping she’d like it.

	CROW: But it's a *dumb* name. 
	TOM: Well, it connects the title to the story.
	MIKE: Story?
	TOM: The... thing... then.

>  She thought about it, and, unconsciously, Herc squeezed her hand in 
> anticipation.

	CROW: I think this just became one of those cheesy pregnancy-test 
	commercials. (Suddenly realizes what he said and attempts to justify 
	it) Y’know, with the hand-squeezing and all... not that I’m implying 
	anything... of course not! (laughs nervously)
	TOM: C’mon, Mike, he’s pushed it one too many times!
	MIKE: Nah... Crow can keep his RAMchips. I get his point on that one.

>	“Katira.  Hmm.  Yeah, I like that! 

	(All cheer)
	CROW: Thankyouthankyouthankyou, Erato!! She has a name now!! Woo!!

> Thanks, Herc.  You’re really sweet,” 

	MIKE: I take it that’s another one of Dahmer’s professional opinions?
	TOM: Mike, you’re cool and all, but you’re really bad at being dark.

> she said, giving him a quick hug.  Herc was unsure of what to do.  This 
> wasn’t quite the response he’d expected from Katira.  Katira pulled out 
> her flute, 

	(Crow senses the scene that’s about to happen; he rummages around 
	under his seat and pulls out a large roll of duct tape. He then 
	carefully duct-tapes his own beak shut.)

> and began to play some of her favorite melodies, some traditional, and 
> others her own compositions. 
	
	MIKE and TOM: NOOOO! Please, no more songs!!!
	CROW: mmph...
	(His self-control is beginning to give out, so the duct tape does the 
	work. We can’t make out anything he says.)

> Herc watched her play. 

	CROW: Mmmph mpph mmphhls?

> Her slender fingers moved very quickly along the instrument, yet her 
> arms never moved at all.

	CROW: Mmmph mpppphh mph mmmmpppphhhh mphhhh!

>  Katira’s elbows rested on her knees, and the flute was almost an extra 
> appendage to the girl. 

	CROW: Mmph mmphhh mph mmmph! Mmmmmppphhhh... 

> She played it very well, as well as any god. 

	TOM: She *is* a god. Sheesh.

> Rumor had it that it had once been part of the Pipes of Pan,

	MIKE: Peter Pan? 
	TOM: Search me.

> and had been given to her when the longest pipe had fallen off.  

	CROW: Mmmpph! Mph mmmmpphhh’s mppphhh mmmph!

> This wasn’t true, of course, but Katira had always loved the story the 
> townsfolk told about her flute.  It made her feel more 
> “three-fourths god” than her “one-quarter 

	MIKE: ... moisturizing cream?

> mortal”

	TOM: Well, of course! 3/4 is obviously more than 1/4! It’s simple 
	arithmetic!
	CROW: Mmph mmphh mph mmmmmmph!

> and she liked it that way.  After some time, she put her flute down, and 
> got a brief applause from her guest.

	(Crow takes off his duct tape.)
	CROW: Wow, that was close! Thank the powers that be for duct tape!
	TOM: Aw, c’mon, Mike! That was cheating! I bet he was making all 
	sorts of dirty comments that we couldn’t hear!
	MIKE: It’s OK, Tom. You get your pills, Crow gets his tape. It’s 
	fair. And could you blame him?

>	“You’re a very good player,” he commented.  Katira just blushed a 
> little and shrugged one shoulder.

	(M&TB all attempt to shrug one shoulder. As a group effort, it’s 
	highly spastic-looking.)

>	“It’s a part-god thing,” she said.

	TOM: Do I have to say it again?

> Herc and Katira exchanged smiles over their common ground.

	CROW: Yeah, yeah, we know, they’re part-immortals. Can we have a plot 
	now?

>  Katira ran her fingers through her long, loose hair.  She felt she and 
> Hercules would become very good friends.  Herc, too, felt that there 
> would always be a special bond between him and his new-found comrade.  

	MIKE: Remember, kids: If they’re not your soulmate within an hour, 
	it’s a waste of time!
	
>	“Exactly how are you part-god?” asked Herc.  He was “whole god,” but 
> his love for Meg had kept him mortal.

	CROW: Nice. Did he buy her a ‘My Love for You Has Kept Me Mortal’ 
	Hallmark card?
	TOM: Crow, it’s ancient Greece. 
	CROW: All right, a Hallmarkius card. 

>  He was perfectly happy with that choice, though, and knew he and Meg 
> would be together just about forever.

	TOM: Well, until they *die*, because they’re both *mortal* and all 
	that...
	MIKE: I’m impressed, Mr. Darkness. 

>	“If what I was told is correct, my mother was Erato, and-” 
> she began.

	MIKE: Ohgod. Don’t tell me we’re starting to deal with a really 
	twisted self-insertion angle here...
	ALL: Augghh!

>	“The Muse Erato?” asked Herc, interrupting her.

	CROW:  No, the author Erato. She writes really crummy fanfic 
	about... oh, never mind. 

>	“Yeah.  Anyway, so Erato was my mother, and some half-god dude

	MIKE: There's no Greek word for 'dude', is there?
	TOM: No, but I think we already did a few jokes about the whole 
	anachronism thing. 

> was my father.  I forget who he was. Maybe some relative of Orpheus, or 
> something. 

	TOM: So, she said she had no idea who her parents were, but know she 
	suddenly knows, and her mother and the author person have the same 
	name and AAAGHHH! (Tom’s head begins shooting sparks) Oh no!! Mike, 
	can you put me out... and did I just lose all my RAMchips??
	(Mike digs a fire extinguisher out from under his seat 
	(hey, it comes in handy at times like this) and sprays Tom’s head. 
	Tom begins cleaning up his dome.)
	MIKE: Weelll... technically, that should forfeit your RAMchips, 
	but since I’ve given Crow so much leeway, it’s forgivable.
	TOM: Woowoo!
	MIKE: But keep in mind... one more mistake for either of you and 
	Gypsy and Cambot are going to end up with all those ‘chips... 
	BOTS: Aaagh!

>  I don’t know, but I sure want to.  I just wish there was some way I 
> could become a real goddess, instead of just mostly goddess.

	MIKE:  She’s only *mostly* 
	goddess!

> On Olympus I wouldn’t have to worry about money, food, clothing, or 
> anything else, like I do now,”

	ALL:  It’s always Christmas in Olympus... 

> she said, with a soft sigh.  

	TOM: si... de of Sears!
	CROW: Laaaaame.

> She looked over her ragged dress and other possessions that were 
> equally tattered,

	MIKE: How do you tatter a flute? Isn’t that physically impossible?

> and shook her head.  One of the saddest looks that can be put on a 
> person came into her eyes. 
	
	MIKE: Quickfire!!
	CROW: ='( ?
	TOM: :~( ?
	CROW: =(((((((( ?
	TOM: =’@ ?
	MIKE: Nice emoticons... although how you pronounce those, I’ll never 
	know. 

> Herc just looked at her.  The poor girl was totally broke and penniless,

	TOM: This message brought to you by the Dept. of Redundancy 
	Department!
	CROW: Ah, the old jokes are the best. 

> and she didn’t deserve it.

	MIKE: Well, we all know that nearly all the other homeless and poor 
	people deserve their fate! Right? 
	(Bots glare at Mike.)
	MIKE: Um, joke... lame one, but a joke... 

>  He reached into his pocket,

	CROW:  Yessss, Precioussss.... Yess.... 

> and pulled out his own purse of money.  He gave another look at Katira, 
> and tossed it to her.  She looked up, surprised, and 

	TOM: ... had a heart attack and died! The End!!
	MIKE: Tom, that gag has *never* worked. You even told Crow that 
	earlier. Give it up already. 

> picked up the pouch.  The coins inside tinkled, a sound Katira hadn’t 
> heard for a long time.  She opened the bag, and poured the coins out at 
> her feet.

	CROW:  Wow, 20 pieces of silver! Where’d you get this?

>  She’d never seen, nor touched, this much money before in her whole 
> life.  She felt torn.  She wanted to keep it all for herself, but felt 
> her friend should be able to keep some too.  So she took out the very few 
> coins, which were battered to being nearly worthless, she had in her 
> pouch with the pita bread,

	TOM: Wow, that’s *hard* pita bread if it can batter coins like that. 

> and divided all the money in half.  She put one half in her pouch, and 
> tried to give the rest back to Hercules.  He smiled and shook his head.
>	“You keep it, Katira.  Believe me, I have plenty back home,” he 
> said, laughing.  Katira giggled a little as well.

	MIKE:  Tee hee! The concept of personal wealth is funny!
	
>	“No one’s ever given me a gift like this before.  I don’t know how to 
> thank you,” she said, gratefully planting a kiss on his cheek.  She 
> thought for a while, and then took her bread out from her pouch, split it 
> in half, and offered one piece to her friend.

	TOM: Wait, isn't there mildew in that pouch?
	MIKE: Well, if her possession are "equally tattered", then yes.  

> Since it had been a while since he’d eaten himself, 

	CROW: Eeeewwwww, self-cannibalism? 
	MIKE: Gross, yes, and dark, but not dirty. Go on.

> he graciously accepted it.  Katira went to her largest bag, containing 
> all the possessions she owned, and she drew out a small wineskin.

	TOM:  Now, let us commence the Dionysian rites!

>  She herself had made the juice,

	CROW: Wait, don’t grapes make grape juice?

> while the sun and her travels had made it into wine.  From the tree, she 
> pulled off two pieces of bark,

	MIKE:  Hoom! You’ll pay for that, hooman!

> and after folding them a few times, fashioned them into two cups.  
> She divided the wine, and gave one to Herc, and kept the other for 
> herself.

	CROW:  One of these cups contains 
	iocaine poison... 

>  He was sort of surprised at Katira’s skills with nature, since she was 
> the only girl he knew who could do that. In fact, he’d never known how 
> either.

	TOM: Crow... I believe that was your cue... 
	CROW: No! You can’t trick me into surrendering my RAMchips!
	MIKE: C’mon, guys, can’t we all just get along?

>	-Wow.  She’s so much like Meg, and yet, she’s definitely different. 
> Meg was on her own for a while.  I wonder if she can make little cups out 
> of bark.- thought Herc, even though he never said it.  A rather cold 
> breeze blew, and he realized it was already nightfall. 

	TOM: You see, it was a *dark* and *stormy* night... 

> Katira knelt, and started up the campfire.  Another surprise.

	MIKE:  Haha! Women no make fire! 

>  Then Katira took her bread and held it over the fire. 

	CROW:  Ow ow ow!! Maybe I should put this bread on a stick or 
	something and toast it that way!

 > Soon, it was lightly toasted and warm. 

	(M&TB hum the After Dark Flying Toasters Song.)

>  It seemed like an interesting idea, so Herc tried it too. 

	TOM: This is starting to remind me of Torgo's last scene from 
	_Manos_. 
	CROW: Oooooh... I'd take Torgo over this Hercules any day. 

 > Unfortunately, he wasn’t as skilled as Katira, and accidentally ignited 
> the bread.  Katira laughed, and took it from him.

	MIKE:  Burnt bread?! Gimme! Mine!

>  She blew gently on the bread, and when it had stopped burning, took her 
> knife and carefully scraped away the charred parts until there was only 
> pita bread left.  Then she gave it back to Herc.
>	“You never learned to cook, did you?” she asked slyly. 

	CROW: Y’know, slyly is like banana... you can spell it, but you have 
	to know when to stop... 
	TOM: Yeah! One bad circuit and it’s slylylylylylylylylylylylylyly..... 

> Trying not to laugh, Herc shook his head.  All the same, they shared a 
> round of laughter.  Herc thought she had such a pretty laugh.  
> Pretty looks, pretty voice, and a pretty laugh,

	CROW: But a cruddy personality and a tendency towards kleptomania... 

 > or so he felt.

	MIKE: Wow, Hercules is synaesthetic! He can feel laughter!	

> Another gust of wind blew, and Katira put her things away, and sat right 
> by Herc.  She leaned against him, and let her head rest on his shoulder. 

	TOM: Mike, hold me. 
	MIKE: What??
	TOM... then pick me up and take me out of the theater. 
	It’s break time. 
	MIKE: Ah. OK.

	(M&TB file out of the theater)

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