This is my first-ever fan fiction, so naturally I'm putting my full effort into this. This story will be soaked in my blood, sweat, tears, and urine. After all, the show this is about is one of my favorites, possibly favorite overall. There have been many great fanfics about this show, and I want this be one of them. So, share and enjoy. P.S. Cambot's lines are italics.
Also, I do not own Mystery Science Theater 3000 or its characters. It belongs toitscreators at Best Brains, Inc.
By Major Monty the Straw Vulcan
Chapter 1: Do Panic
"Do you think they're gonna send up another guy?" asked Gypsy.
"Well they're bound to," responded Tom in his usual pompous manner. He was in charge now, or at least that's what he said. He had what it takes to lead his fellow robots. Not.
"But until then, PANIC!" yelled Servo, as they all started to scream and flail around.
"JOEL'S GONE, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?!" screamed Crow as his eyes and basket fell off, preceded by Tom's dome, as Cambot observed as usual.
Come on, thought Cambot, call. After what seemed like a few seconds, (because it was a few seconds) the red light on the panel started blinking, however this went unnoticed by Crow, Gypsy and Servo as they were too busy panicking. Next, Cambot switched the video feed to Deep 13, which then appeared on the Hexfield Viewscreen that was reserved for the Mad's transmissions.
Finally, thought Cambot, as he was now free to move about the ship. He looked at his fellow bots, as they panicked and panicked and panicked some more.
I have to do something, the camera robot thought, something to help them out. So, with all of his might, the camera robot did something that the other three will never forget. He started panicking, too.
"JOEL'S GONE! JOEL'S GONE! GAME OVER MAN, GAME OVER!" screamed Cambot. So for a time that seemed to last longer than Rock Climbing and Sandstorm combined, the bots continued to panic, causing more of their parts to fall off. After about twenty minutes or so, they finally stopped. They just stood there, catching their breaths. (If robots had breath, which they don't. But you know what I mean. Unless you don't, then I apologize for the confusion.)
"Well, how about those MallomarsTM, Crow?" asked Tom, remembering his golden-plated companion had mentioned that he had found where Joel had hid them.
"Sure Tom," replied what was left of Crow. "But first one question: WHERE ARE MY EYES! TOM YOU JERK, YOU STOLE THEM AGAIN DIDN'T YOU!" yelled Crow, obviously peeved with the fact the two ping-pong balls Joel gave him as the mechanical equivalent of the human eyes have now gone MIA.
"I didn't take'em you nut, they must've fallen off, like your arm and that basket thing on your head." Tom responded.
"WHAT! MY BASKET TOO! OH TOM, CAMBOT, GYPSY, LOOK AT WHAT'S BECOME OF US! JOEL'S BEEN GONE FOR A HALF HOUR AND THIS FAMILY IS FALLING APART! LITERALLY!" ranted Crow.
"You're right Crow! Without Joel, we're DOOMED!"
"DOOMED!" Yelled Tom and Cambot, as the three normally happy-go-lucky movie-riffing popular culture-referencing automatons started to whine and carry on and just make a big scene. Gypsy watched her three little brothers as they continued to blubber on and on. Now don't get me wrong, she was just as upset as the rest of them. It's just that Gypsy was more mature than the others, and she not only knew how to calm herself, she also knew how to calm down the other three.
"Come on guys, we'll be okay."
"No we won't," blubbered Tom.
"Who will tuck me in at night?!" cried Crow.
"Who will feed my turtle?!" inquired Servo.
"Who will wipe my lens?!" whined Cambot.
"Boys, calm down," yelled Gypsy, getting their attention.
Then, in a gentle, soothing tone, she said: "Let's go to the repair room, fix you boys up, then we can have MallowmarsTM."
"Okay, Gypsy" the others said in unison. And together, they headed off to the repair room; the thought of a new human was the last thing on their minds.