I Will Show You How To Turn Potatoes Into CASH!.

TOM:48 out of 152 by my count.

CROW:Yeah, but there were like a dozen assists.

TOM:They don't count when you get yelled at for them.

CROW:They do too! Mike! [ Startling MIKE, who drops the ball. ]
Tell Tom they count!

MIKE:Tell Tom what counts and for who's counting, Crow?

TOM:Oh, don't pad, Mike.

CROW:Our *statistics*, Mike. We've got to update our statistics
on riffs attempted, riffs completed, laughs gotten, bobbled
references, all these things.

MIKE:And this is important ... why?

TOM:For our rotisserie league! Sheesh, don't you follow anything?

MIKE:Constantly. What rotisserie ---

[ MADS SIGN flashes. ]

MIKE:Oh, for the love of ... hello?



[ DEEP 13. TV's FRANK is sitting at a collapsible table with many
sheets of grid paper and books as he works. DR FORRESTER
sits opposite him with a small pile of cash. ]

FRANK:So center seat I've got Mike ... left seat I'm going to stick
with Tom ... right seat ... what do you think, ten bucks for Crow?

DR F:Absolutely.

FRANK:[ Handing a bill over to DR F ] All right! I got a team!

DR F:[ Pocketing the bill ] You've got a rare talent, Frank.

[ DR FORRESTER faces the camera. ]

DR F:Well, now, minions. Did you know everything you can count
can be turned into money for people who aren't you? It can.
Now off to the theater and let's generate some statistics,
mmm? Your game today is an advertisement for potato chip
manufacture ... riff all you want, boys, we'll make more.


[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. ]

TOM:Did he just Jay Leno all over us?

CROW:This can only end in tragedy. And party snacks.

[ MOVIE SIGN flashes; general alarm. ]

MIKE:Later, we got movie sign!

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


[ THEATER. ALL file in. ]

CROW:All right! Tie game so far!

MIKE:And practical jokes!

CROW:Like the spelling.

TOM:[ Snorting ] Blazing its way from print, to us, to you.

MIKE:It's not so much snail-mail as continental-drift-mail.

TOM:Oh, now we've got blog all over the ... potatoes into cash?
The heck?

MIKE:Worst counterfeiting scheme ever.

CROW:[ Taking odd offense ] Yeah? Well ... start *you* in a
profitable potato chip business at home, then!

MIKE:Excuse me, that's [ Booming, announcing ]
*A* marvelous *NEW* machine.

TOM:After the big Ruffles-Lays bailout.

CROW:Hand-carved by traditional artisans working under a stern
but understanding taskmaster.

MIKE:[ Booming ] Unless you meet my demands immediately!

CROW:Won't the potato chip market be all greasy and have that
salt grit all over your fingers?

TOM:I don't have a pocket.

MIKE:[ Announcing ] I'll show you how to afford a pocket!

CROW:I don't have a rake.

MIKE:[ As above ] You'll be able to afford a rake!

TOM:A pocket rake!

CROW:Stores selling things! Why, it's brilliant!

MIKE:Oh, now, he's thought of everything.

TOM:[ Announcing ] The fourth, sixth, and ninth days you have
to wing it!

MIKE:One hundred percent John-Travola-free in minutes!

CROW:They're right! It's amazing! For the first time!

TOM:Third time it's just kind of `huh'.

TOM:[ As the advertiser ] And sold to the worldwide potato oil
cartels!

CROW:What if I want to stay fresh wider? What then?

MIKE:Potato chips with the great, great taste of guys who
buy stuff from Modern Mechanics ads.

TOM:And fabulous cash prizes!

CROW:Even with no potatoes!

MIKE:No, bigger!

TOM:It's a wild profiteeria!

CROW:[ Amused ] They're potato-y chip-tacular!

TOM:[ Announcing ] Any raw material! Have some bauxite?
Make potato chips with that!

CROW:[ Feebly ] We, ah, we're still working on this part but it's
going to be great!

MIKE:[ Amused ] Cash or potato chips!

TOM:Wow!

CROW:Why, that's nearly twenty-four dollars!

MIKE:You can almost buy Manhattan on that potato chip fortune!

CROW:[ Humoring this ] Why, in two days you could make a profit
of $47!

TOM:[ Humoring ] Hey, that's a whole twenty-*seven* dollars a day!

MIKE:[ As the announcer ] The money is just pouring in! And it's
just potatoes and bauxite!

CROW:I call it ... the POTATO machine!

MIKE:It's amazingly fantastic and chip-based!

TOM:Or toss it immediately on the pile for the garage sale.

MIKE:Far less than the payment for a whole car company!

CROW:[ Announcing ] Mail anything to anything else!

MIKE:[ Likewise ] Just mail something! You'll get valuable
free information!

TOM:[ Likewise ] And if you meet a Postal then send it!

MIKE:[ Announcing ] Include a sample of your favorite potato chip!

TOM:*Uh*-oh.

CROW:Full explanations of what a potato is!

TOM:Clear diagrams show what parts are the skin!

MIKE:Helpful ``Frequently Asked Questions'' show how to identify
a potato in under twenty minutes a day!

TOM:We make our money selling potato chip toner!

MIKE:Just your friends and family rolling their eyes and talking
to you through clenched teeth!

TOM:Didn't he have a series on Mutual Broadcasting?

CROW:Here on Huron?

TOM:Huron chips!

MIKE:Chicago! Potato chip by the Lake!

CROW:406 potato chips by the Lake!

TOM:Time to blow this popsicle stand.


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

[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. CROW and MIKE are behind the desk, with General
Store-type toy junk scattered haphazardly. From one plastic
barrel MIKE takes and eats a potato chip. ]

MIKE:[ With an Arkansan accent, kept until the note later on ]
Well, if this weren't one of the most underwhelmed p'tato chips
I ever did see.

CROW:[ Similar accent, also kept until the note ] I doggies, Lum,
I knowed it, but what are we s'pposed to do 'gainst the Squire's
p'tato chip monopoly?

MIKE:[ As a jingling bell rings ] Hold on there, that's a stranger
come into our store, ain't it?
[ TOM, with a bouquet of potato chips in his bubble, enters; he speaks
normally but ebulliently. ]

TOM:Gentlemen! Could I interest you in as many potato chips as I
have bauxite to make and pass the savings on to you? Please try
a sample --- my bubble is perfectly hygienic!
[ MIKE samples a chip. ]

MIKE:By gum --- this here 'tato chip tastes like more than p'tatoes!

CROW:Now, that's plum silly, how can that happen?

MIKE:[ Giving CROW a chip ] But it's got itself a tasting like they
was sour cream and chives in it! Chives!

TOM:Yes! I bring you chives! And at under twenty-three dollars!

CROW:[ Finishing nibbling ] Why if it weren't the most amazing thing
I ever did see! What a future we got ourselves to live in!

TOM:And we are near a breakthrough on dip!

MIKE:[ Folding his hands together, and, bowing --- with this, MIKE
and CROW give up the accents and resume speaking normally ]
And ... scene.
[ Eating another chip from TOM ] Thank you, gentlemen. Now,
Tom, you had a special announcement, didn't you?

TOM:Why, yes. Our potato chip bit is all in fun ---

CROW:[ Muttering to himself ] Potato chip bite.

TOM:*Thank* you, Crow. But for Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan
fictions or MiSTings, whichever comes first, plus MiSTing quotes
yanked out of all context, why not try the shiny new web site

http://www.nebusresearch.com/mst3000/

TOM:Thank you, won't you?

CROW:And what about the Dibs List for future MiSTing authors?

TOM:[ Looking at CROW ] You can't just let me have my moment,
can you? For shame, Crow, for shame. [ TOM exits, sulking. ]

MIKE:Right, ah, what do you think, sirs?


[ DEEP 13. DR FORRESTER and TV's FRANK are piling up open baskets
of potato chips. TV's FRANK eats one. ]

FRANK:Dip? Dip?! Why, we've almost solved the problem of cheddar
cheese potato chips! Get out of here with your dip!

DR F:As the henchling says, gentlemen. Why, at 23 dollars and 50
cents we'll be rolling in crispy, fried money by tomorrow.

FRANK:Oh, and I'm going to trade Crow for a used Sklar.

[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. CROW is riled up; MIKE is eating potato chips. ]

CROW:What? Me? What for? Which Sklar?

[ DEEP 13. As before. ]

FRANK:Who knows? Besides, I'm getting a blogger for trading Tom.
Hey, Steve, shall I push the button?

DR F:No, Frank, you should push the button.

FRANK:Oh, OK, I'll do that instea --- huh?


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Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters and situations and
everything are the property of Best Brains, Inc, and don't think anyone
is challenging that at all. O K Miller's advertisement copy is used for
non-commercial parody and commentary purposes so don't get the idea any
infringement-like things are meant. I'm curious how the machine worked.
No defamation of the Squire was intended.

Rotisserie League sports have that name because of a group of
Philadelphia Phillies fans in early 1980 who gathered at Manhattan's

Rotisserie Francaise restaurant on East 52nd Street for fantasy league
meetings. Special thanks for the ``tragedy ... and party snacks'' line
as well as to my beta testers.

The bit about http://www.nebusresearch.com/mst3000/ is for real
and it'd be nice to see you there, which is not to say anyone is peeking.

Keep circulating the posts.