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MiST: Dear Steven

Spambusters character action

Original thing being MiST'd

TITLE: MiST: Dear Steven

SUMMARY: The unusual suspects ("me", Sean, Shane, Y2J, and Test)MiST a letter.

The five are gathered around the computer. Sean has the control of the computer, going through some of the new stuff that just got added to Robin's hard drive. He stumbles upon something Robin got from Missy (thank you!) called "Dear Steven" and decides to open it.

Sean: Let's see what this is all about.

Test: What if it's personal?

Sean: Who does she know named Steven?

Shane: Online penpal?

Sean: Then why would she have it saved here?

Chris: Because this is the best place for it?

Sean: And now for the most important question. Why is she so damned quiet?

Shane: She is being too quiet for my taste.

Chris: Maybe getting this started will get her going.

Dear Steven,

Robin: Oh goody! We're reading someone else's mail. And reading someone else's mail is a bad thing to do. Isn't it fun?

Sean: Oh God.

Shane: You can tell she just finished reading that Spike and Dru book, and now she's drinking regular Coke.

Chris: I swear she's got that multiple personality syndrome.

Test: Either that, or she's just got too many voices in her head.

Robin: Stop trying to ruin my fun! ::pouts::

Sean: Shall we continue reading Steven's letter?

As I write this open letter to you, I'm sitting at my desk here in Stamford with the blistering sounds of Kid Rock blaring through my tiny, headsets, four-times as much as your message of morals are worth to me.

Robin: Stevie-boy's message is worth a buck to this guy? It's not even worth a cent to me.

Sean: At least he's got Kid Rock going for him.

Robin: Limp Bizkit is better. But as far as bad words go, I like "Promise" by Eve 6.

Shane: There's almost no bad words in it.

Robin: But the ones that are there, they're just good. "I promise not to fuck with your mind."

Every other word out of the songs off "The History of Rock" vulgar. But just so you know, I don't greet people with vulgarity or come on to women with sexual innuendo that would make Beavis and Butt-head come off like Ricky Martin.

Shane: He's the type of freak that just sits on a computer all day, in chatrooms, trying to come off as cool.

Robin: Besides, Beavis and Butt-head could never come off like Ricky Martin. They're not Latin.

Put it to you this way, I just had a weekend in Hampton Bays, N.Y., where today's youth drank beer like water while stranded in the Sahara.

Test: And the APA is already there!

Sean: Can we not mention them, please.

Robin: Ok, no mentioning those nasty people while Sean's around.

Sean: ::looking a bit bewildered::

Test: When do we get our Robin back?

Robin: Not anytime soon.

Chris: Must we call CVH? *Connecticut Valley Hospital*

Robin: Nope. Just let me have my fun!

Women wore tight, cut-off shirts and shorts shorter than your snazzy new hair 'do.

ALL: Snazzy?

Sean: Never seen that typed before?

Chris: I can barely keep a straight face when I hear it.

Men and women ate candy off of each other's necks not to mention several other suggestive displays. All in public!

Robin: Because you'd never know about it if it weren't in public. But that candy idea does sound like fun.

Shane: Anyone got any tranqs? A straightjacket perhaps?

You might be interested to know that last month the residents of this and other surrounding towns called a board meeting to demand to the local government that this vile and nasty place be shut down permanently.

Test: Because they're all prudes and stiffs.

Chris: Well, I wouldn't say stiffs...

Shane: They'd be enjoying this debauchery if they were stiffs.

For the record, this has been ongoing for 30 years, yet the establishment continues to attract record numbers of today's stressed-out young men and women who vent their frustrations at a wild party rather than participating in destructive manners.

Shane: So this isn't considered destructive?

Chris: Unprotected sex, alcohol poisoning, drugs...yeah, really non-destructive.

The same applies to the fans of the World Wrestling Federation.

Sean: There's unprotected sex, alcohol poisoning and drugs in the WWF? Where have I been?

Shane: In WCW.

Instead of loitering the streets or dwelling on the misery that is Monday, millions of people who one week generated a RAW-record of 8.1, sit back and enjoy Federation programming. Women scream for The Rock, men drool for hos and the divas.

Robin: As the only woman in this room, I will now state that I do NOT scream for the Rock, nor have I ever. I save my screams for my boys here.

Sean: I'm flattered...I think.

Test: We should just let that go...

And yet you, Stevie - oh, sorry, "Steven"- Richards (can't help it if I'm not as sophisticated as you suddenly are).

Robin: Stevie-boy's never been much for sophistication, has he?

Shane: I think that's the most intelligent thing she's said all night.

The same person who when in ECW attempted to make amends with your ex-girlfriend with whip cream and subtle descriptions of your bedroom activity has now taken the route of dim-witted, decrepit baby-boomers and crusty corporate types.

Sean: He was in ECW? Now I'm scared. I don't want him anywhere near our side.

Test: Well, we don't want him!

Robin: He's just a bad man who should just go away.

Shane: Not again...

Excuse me while I switch CDs to "The Very Best of Deep Purple."

Robin: Who?

Test: What?

Sean: Deep Purple? Never heard of them.

One of their biggest hits was "Knocking on Your Back Door," a sleazy little tune about anal intercourse.

Robin: TMI.

Sean: TMI?

Shane: Too much info.

Sean: I see. I didn't need to know that either.

And now you've changed your tune in your attempt to censor programming and tell the Federation and rest of the country what they can and can't watch, because you say so.

Shane: Who does he think he is? Ashcroft?

Chris: Congress?

Test: George Bush?

Sean: A Savior?

Sean: What?

Robin: Stevie-boy's evil. He wants to control us, to make us like him.

You've covered attractive hos with blankets, which combined with the Godfather's jovial personality makes him one of the more popular Superstars in the Federation.

Shane: The Godfather's personality had nothing to do with his popularity. It was all about the hos.

When the Dudley Boyz compete, fans chant for their finisher, 3-D, and for tables, yet you come out and take it away.

Robin: Tables have such a variety of uses.

Sean: Unfortunately.

Have you tossed your Kip Winger T-shirt yet? I won't be surprised if the theme to the Brady Bunch becomes your entrance music.

Sean: Kip Winger?

Robin: 80s hair band singer person.

Steven, you were once referred to as a clueless putz. Nothing is more of the absolute truth.

Robin: I can refer to him as other things than just a clueless putz. He's a jackass, a moron, someone who's wheel is turning but the hamster's dead, not the brightest crayon in the box...

Shane: Stupid, too.

Tell me something, why do you suddenly care about what the Federation does each week?

ALL: He doesn't.

Are you an irresponsible parent looking at sports entertainment as a scapegoat?

Robin: I can't imagine him procreating.

Test: If they license people to drive, why can't they license people to breed?

Do you have a problem with turning the friggin' television off or even quitting this business all together so you can buddy up with "concerned parents." Have you forgotten that the root of the rock music you once loved so much is freedom of speech and anti-censorship?

Chris: Rock music rules.

Shane: Now you sound like Edge & Christian.

Chris: I think whatever she has is contagious.

Do you really not have that much of a life that instead of having fun like everyone else does you do run-ins wearing a wrinkled shirt and a 50 cent tie? Did being driven through tables in ECW and your experience in WCW traumatize you to the point of no return?

Test: Probably!

Sean and Shane: Watch it. We are WCW/ECW, remember?

Robin: No fighting!

Sean: The queen has spoken...

You know, come to think of it, I have this irresistible urge to cuss out my male co-workers. Then I'll make unflattering remarks towards women. It's not because I take full responsibility for those stupid thoughts. I blame Kid Rock. I blame the KISS concert I attended three weeks ago because Gene Simmons spit fire and blood after playing the devil's music. No wait, it was that hidden "Here's to My Sweet Satan" message I found on Led Zeppelin IV after, for no particular reason, playing "Stairway to Heaven" backwards that made me do it. Heck, it was Stone Cold Steve Austin who gave me the rush to drink on the job and punch my boss. With your blessing, I'll complain upstairs that the SummerSlam vignette degraded women, because Chyna, Trish Status and The Kat look too beautiful in bikinis. It can't be because they have the right and power to show it off can it?

Robin: That's all well and nice, but he is responsible for his own actions.

Shane: That's the point he's trying to make.

Ah, the power of blaming others instead of looking in the mirror. Thank you for showing me the way to a better, cleaner life. By the way, because you are a clueless putz, it is necessary to mention that the statements of cursing and inappropriate remarks reek of sarcasm.

Chris: Just like you reek of...

Test: Now this guy sounds like Edge and Christian!

Sincerely,

Jon Lane

Shane: Dear Mr. Lane,

Robin: Don't write him a letter!

Shane: Why not?

Robin: Where are you going to send it?

Shane: Ah, good point.

Sean: Can we expect the normal Robin back next time, or are we going to have to contend with this...Sprite.

Robin: Sprite? I'm not a soda.

Sean: I meant the mythical being.

Robin: Oh, that Sprite. I like that.

Chris: I'll make sure to have a straightjacket on hand, just in case.