I stayed up until 11 last night, finishing the "Avengers in Green Acres" parody I started this summer. Start with Part 4, if you've been following along. But if you don't happen to think it was worth the loss of sleep, I don't want to know. (Geez - LOL - Jo, maybe that's why nobody ever leaves comments.)
If you're an Avengers fan, you ought to visit Cal Westray's website. He's amassed quite an impressive compilation of all things Avengers-related. He e-mailed me earlier this month, and also linked to my site, which caused an exciting spike in my stats, let me tell you. Heady stuff, this being famous among dozens ... for two days ... :-)
This is a total coincidence, because Anthony and I are working on a crossover episode of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" guest-starring the cast of "Friends". I'll take this as a sign I need to share a short passage here.
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[Young Ensign Wesley Crusher prepares a romantic candlelight dinner for Phoebe in one of the Holodecks. However, since Wesley's mother, Dr. Beverly Crusher, doesn't trust Phoebe (after curing her of twelve different social diseases in Sick Bay), she asks Klingon Security Officer Lt. Worf to chaperone the date.]
Wesley: Phoebe, you look ... well, wonderful. Shall we eat?
Phoebe: Yeah. This is, like, an amazing restaurant. I didn't know you see the Eiffel Tower from space!
Wesley: Well, actually, we're in the holodeck, Phoebe. You see, I programmed the computer to simulate a restaurant on Earth, and a combination of this specialized sensory grid and nanotechnology work to ...
Phoebe: Uh, hello, Earth to ... wherever we are ... never mind. [smiles and begins to eat] So, am I the first girl you've brought to this place?
Wesley: No, but you're the first WOMAN ...
Phoebe: [flattered] You're kind of cute. I know something we can do between courses ...
Worf: [sitting alone at the next table] Ahem!
Phoebe: Calm down, Mr. Shar-pei Head, you can be my dessert!
Worf: [glowering] Doctor Crusher would not approve.
Phoebe: Ohhh I see. She's the jealous type. [to Wesley] Y'know, I know she's your mother and all, but she's like, so uptight!
Wesley: [agrees with his mouth full.]
Phoebe: I mean, you're what? Sixteen? Eighteen?
Wesley: Thirty-eight. But Mom keeps me younger-looking with hormone therapy, so that nobody will guess her true age.
Phoebe: Whoa! And you've never ... had a WOMAN ... here?
Wesley: Not yet ...
[Phoebe and Wesley jump up and pull the tablecloth off the table. Dishes and glassware shatter. They mount each other in a frenzy. Polyester earth-tone clothing starts to fly off in all directions. Worf jumps up, but his mile-wide streak of prudery prevents him from intervening directly. He attempts to contact Doctor Crusher by communicator, but discovers the signal is jammed.]
Worf: Computer! Arch!
Computer: Sh-h-h, hold your horses. I'm taping this one to sell to the Romulans.
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Update: I've put up a whole blog devoted to our parodies. Go here! And please leave a comment. If you don't like the stuff, leave an anonymous comment. I'm not proud.
Out of the blue, I got an email from someone named "Biff". It turns out she's a woman of rare refinement and good taste, as she liked my "Avengers in Green Acres" crossover episode. Or at least Part 1, which is as far as I've gotten. Anyway, how nice of her to take the time to write me. I'm inspired now to finish the silly thing. Better rent an "Avengers" DVD (the series, not the movie, thank you) from Netflix over the holidays, and bone up on my Cold War-speak. (Won't need "Green Acres". My brain still retains a disturbingly large volume of Hooterville lore.)
The Avengers in Green Acres
The Avengers are sent to the U.S. to investigate
wrongdoing in America's Heartland ... a temporary
assignment ... or so they believe ...
(John Steed and Mrs. Peel are tooling down a country
road in the Bentley.)
Mrs. Peel (affecting her patented nonchalance): So
this is America. Funny, it's not as big as I thought.
Steed: No, well I expect that map of the USSR may have
thrown you off a trifle.
Peel: Dosvedanya! (Tosses map out the window.) You
know, I read the intel, Steed, but for the life of me,
I don't understand why we had to come here in person.
Steed: Well, Mrs. Peel, had to see for ourselves, didn't
we? You want something done right, pip-pip and all
that. Not to worry, we'll meet our agent at the
rendezvous, set up housekeeping, then pop up the
telephone pole to find out our next move.
Peel (eyebrows raised): Set up housekeeping, Steed?
Together? In ... HOOTERville?
Steed (so suave he practically growls): That WAS the
general idea, Mrs. Peel. Prob?
Peel: It's just that I get allergic smelling hay.
* * * * *
Peel: Steed, that man is walking a pig down the
street like a dog.
Steed: This is America, Mrs. Peel; stranger things
will happen before we leave.
* * * * *
(Outside the Hooterville General Store, Mr. Kimball
the county agent, and Ralph the county lesbian, are
waiting to greet the newcomers. Steed and Peel park
and walk over.)
Kimball: Howdy! Welcome to Hooterville, Mr. and Miz
Steed: Mr. Kimball, I believe. A pleasure. (They shake
Kimball: Now, here's the deed to yer rental, an'
here's a map t' get there -- Ralph drew it herself on
the back of this-here tabacca pouch ...
Ralph (who can't take her eyes off Mrs. Peel):
Them're mighty purdy leather pants, Miz Douglas! I
reckon you could rope a steer inside o' ten seconds in