If you were to beat the shit out of Mister Peabody, shoot Sherman, steal the WayBack Machine (tm), travel back in time to the age of iron, and use your modern technology to terrorize a small village smithy into building you a computer terminal, the resulting piece of hardware would doubtless be large, heavy, boxlike, and deadly when dropped on your head from even a relatively low altitude.
Up in the machine room, a space has been cleared of wreckage. The Trolls Guild and auxiliaries stand silently around the fringes of the cleared area, "solemnly" observing the tableau in the center of the room.
Troll, being the guildmaster, feels a certain perverse obligation to deliver some sort of eulogy to commemorate the occasion.
He clasps his hands before him, and contemplates for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat and says, "Bet that hurt."
Brad looks over at him and says, "Bet it didn't."
In the center of the circle, firmly embedded in the elevated floor, is an old PLATO IV terminal. Most of Dave protrudes from beneath the gargantuan piece of electronic hardware.
Even though the terminal is clearly not hooked up to anything, the screen is still "live". It says:
"And not likely to ever resume," says John.
The group once again lapses into silence.
**** We interrupt this story for a televised message. ****
The screen fades up from black. We see the inside of a typical, working class kitchen. There is a typical, working class-looking guy standing there. He is wearing a plaid work shirt, open at the collar. He looks directly at the camera, in a no-nonsense manner.
He says, "OK, I'm only going to explain this one more time."
The camera pulls back to reveal a huge, old terminal sitting on the kitchen table. "This," he says. "Is a PLATO IV."
The camera pulls back some more. The guys reaches out of the shot and violently drags Dave into view. Dave says, "HEY! WHAT?"
"And this is Dave." says the guy.
"What the hell is going on?" asks Dave.
"And THIS," the guy says, as he pulls a lever on the wall. "Is a PLATO IV on Dave!"
Another PLATO IV falls past the camera, crushing Dave brutally to the ground.
The guy leans toward the camera. "Any questions?" he says, clearly expecting none.
The screen fades to black again, and then the following disclaimer appears: "This message is purely of an explanatory nature only, and does in no way affect the eventual gory outcome of the story. The guy in the commercial is NOT, repeat NOT the killer. Thank You."
**** We now return you to your regularly scheduled story. ****
Everyone jumps as the door is suddenly slammed open. Missy, Trista, and Catherine barge into the room. "WHAT is SO FUCKING IMPORTANT?" Missy sweetly inquires. "Ick." She adds, when she catches sight of the center of attention.
Trista walks over to Dave's feet, and nudges them. "Dave?" she says.
John stares at her. "What are you doing?" he asks.
"WAIT!" says Mez. "I hear something! Help me get this panel up!" He begins furiously working on a section of raised flooring next to the sections which have been crunched. Everybody looks at him like he's gone bonkers, or something.
"Have you gone bonkers, or something?" Jim asks.
"I think Dave's trying to tell us something!" Mez shouts, as he tugs and pries at the floor.
"Um, Mez? Dave's not telling anybody anything. He's been squashed flat." says Troll, wondering where the nearest strait-jacket might be.
Brad interjects, "Yeah, but he was nearly flat, anyway! Maybe he was only 'mortally wounded', and he's got a message for us."
After several minutes of uncoordinated chaos, the floor panel is lifted out. Mez leans into the opening and says, "Dave? What is it, Dave? Who did this to you?" He listens, intensely.
"He's saying something!" Mez shouts! "Somebody get me some paper and a pencil!"
A handy ream of fanfold paper is brought to him. He begins furiously taking dictation.
"What? What was that last thing? What about the Macedonians? Watch out for the who? Who's Horton? Wait! Slow down!" Mez screams. He goes into overdrive, trying desperately to keep up with the stream of gibberish welling up from beneath the Maggie-of-death.
Troll starts to read over Mez's shoulder, "Beware the silver blender of destiny, who will return to make quiche of the world?' What the hell is this? 'Two gods fought, one god fell?' This is drivel! 'Think Bunny.' What the fuck does 'Think Bunny' mean? Mez, you are wasting your time."
"NO!" Mez screams. "THIS COULD BE IMPORTANT! GET ME SOME MORE PENCILS!" His writing hand is a blur at the end of his arm, as he fights to keep up.
The rest of the group moves out to the hallway, to discuss their plight.
"Well, what do we do now?" Dana demands.
"This isn't gonna be any fun, is it?" Catherine asks.
"It seems unlikely." Brad replies.
"Well, what do we do now?" Dana reiterates.
"We FIGHT!" John suggests.
"HOW?" demands Lori. "If this is a slasher flick, there is virtually no way in the world to fight it, until there's only one or two of us left alive!"
"So what do we do? Wait around until most of us get killed off? I'm not liking this idea." says Gabe.
"Now hang on. We might just have an advantage here, which we can use to our own . . . advantage." says Troll. "How many slasher flick victims have monsters on their side?" He turns to look at Missy and Zuki.
"Um, actually, we aren't going to be able to help much, actually" Says Zuki.
There is a general outburst of disbelief.
Missy says, "We can't take the risk that this might be a monster movie instead of a plain old slasher flick."
"Right," says Zuki. "We wouldn't want to interfere with another monster's fun. It's professional courtesy."
"But . . . " says Troll.
"But . . . " says Brad.
"Forget it," says Missy. "It just wouldn't be proper."
"So, what? Are you just gonna hang around and watch us get slaughtered?" BLuR asks.
"No, of course not. That would be cruel," Missy says.
"And heartless." adds Zuki.
"So we're gonna go dancing, instead."
Missy and Zuki dash down the stairs, dragging Trista with them.
Dan is stunned. "I am stunned!" he says. "Here I am, preparing to fight for my very life, and my babe has abandoned me to go DANCING!"
Troll cuts in, "Speaking of fighting for our lives, we need to come up with a strategy."
"Yeah!" says Brad.
Troll continues, "We need to be ready for this bastard!"
"Yeah!" says John.
"We have to arm ourselves, and prepare for combat against a dastardly foe!"
"We are SO fucked!" says Jim. He is immediately beaten into submission.
"We are gonna crush the enemy and revenge The Hammer!"
"YEAH!" shouts the crowd in general.
"But FIRST . . . WE ARE GONNA GO EAT!"
"FOOOOOOOOOD!" bellows Brad. He turns and leads the charge down the stairs, in search of hapless consumables.
Catherine, still at the top of the stairs, yells at the rapidly vanishing horde, "Go EAT? Are you crazy? What about Mez? What about Dave? Shouldn't we get him to a hospital?" Eventually, she gives up the rational approach, and follows.
Back in the machine room, Mez sits in the midst of a small, but rapidly expanding pile of scribbled-upon paper, writing away like mad.
