the mst adventures of Pumpkin and Sunnybunny
A Horse Called Mary Sue Burritos, Bacardi and A Really Crappy Story Everybody Must Get Stoned This Story Makes The Baby Jesus Cry This Story Makes The Baby Jesus Cry Home	Pumpkin and Sunnybunny are usually sweet, polite, genteel members of society. Usually. Unfortunately, sometimes they are forced to endure suffering that would turn even the sweetest of people into raging and profane alcoholics. Yes, gentle reader, I am talking about badfic. For there is such fic in this world, my friends, that would turn the stomachs of the strongest and test the gag reflexes of the healthiest. And it is into this fray that Pumpkin and Sunnybunny fling themselves, regardless of their own safety, to attempt to destroy some of this madness. Their aim is to make you, the intelligent reader, cackle and you, the unintelligent fic writer, commit hara kiri. Are they mean? Yes, they are. Do they care? No, they don't. And on that note, here is a very approximate representation of the events that brought our two heroines together... SCENE: Cyberspace. Two young women, hunched over their computers, are IM-ing each other. They are both reading another webpage and snorting. We look over their shoulders at the IM screens. Pumpkin: No, forget it, it’s too risky. I’m not doing that shit. Sunnybunny: You always say that, the same thing, every time: never again, I’m through, too dangerous. P: I know that’s what I always say. I’m always right too. S: You sound like a duck. P: *stares at the IM incredulously* Sunny, you can’t hear me. S: Quack quack quack. P: Ohh-k. *pause* What was I saying? S: It’s risky. P: Right. The way I see it, it’s the same as snarking on a mafioso’s fic. It isn’t the giggle it used to be. Too many teenies who are actually complete psychos in disguise. You tell ‘em: “your fic is illiterate, illogical, poorly written and disrespectful to the source material” and they don’t understand what you mean. They make it too personal. Can’t post in any more guestbooks, the flames are getting too hot. *pauses and looks around* Garcon? Coffee. S: Dude, we’re online. P: Oh. Right. Duh. *pause* I don’t even drink coffee. This fic is addling my brain. S: Tell me about it. And have you noticed that we’re channelling Pulp Fiction? P: We so are. *stares at the computer screen sadly* God, I’m depressed. S: Heeyyy… Have you ever seen Mystery Science Theatre? P: I live in England. We don’t have these things. We’re still waiting for the X-Files. S: Really? P: No. S: *smacks Pumpkin* They snark on bad movies, a couple of them commentate while they watch them. P: Yeah? S: Like, you could take this fic, and put comments in it, and snark that way. I bet you could really cut down the hero factor in a fic that way. Plus you could get to every single spelling mistake and grammatical error. A lot of opportunities for a lot of snark. P: That’s a good idea. S: Pretty smart, huh? P: Pretty smart. Ok. I’m ready, let’s go, right here, right now. S: Remember, same as before, you’re crowd control, I’ll take care of the employees. P: Dude, it’s a fic. There are no employees. S: *pause* Right. They both regard the IM screen for a moment, then take out their walking canes and lay them beside their computers. S: I love you, Pumpkin. P: I love you too, Sunnybunny. They raise their canes and jump up on their desks. S: *yelling* Everybody be cool this is an MST! P: *screams* Any one of you fucking shithouse writers moves and I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of you!