![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spookyeviloneI watched the BSG miniseries last night. As predicted, I did not like it. (Keep in mind, I'm the only person on earth who loathed Cowboy BeBop and I also loath Babylon 5.) I do admire their writers, though. The premise of "How many characters can we kill and still have a storyline" was pretty wicked.
Cylons: Pitiful humans! You are DEAD! And you don't even know it yet! Muahahaha!
Adama Sr.: *has his ass kissed by wibbly fan-things as he slowly tries to make his way across ship* I wwill speak in a monotone throughout this entire series to prove just how calm and focused I really am, even if it makes me sound like a sociopath.
Tigh: I'm a drunk with a furiously repressed boner for this butchy pilot who's young enough to be my daughter. I will upend a table in rage when she interrupts my fantasizing to remind me that I'm married! Rar!
Starbuck: I have crazy eyes and am in most other ways a totally out of control fucking lunatic.. Oh, but my boyfriend died and I'm carrying an asston of guilt, so I will confess to my boyfriend's brother at the worst possible moment. I shall also use this phallic representation to show my absolute defiance of stereotypical gender roles! How dare Tigh fantasize about me?! How dare he objectify women!? I will give him such headpunchy!!!
Tigh: TO THE BRIG! .. where there are bars.. and chains.. and whips.. Adama, we still have whips, right? For the floggings?!
Adama: .. No.
Tigh: SUCK!
Adama: And you might want to let her out, because she's the best we have. We can overlook a little insubordination, even though it happened in front of all the other pilots.
Tigh: NO WE CAN'T! Lost face, must.. punish.. her.. Maybe with some hot wax, and shackles..
Adama: Well, seeing as you started it..
Tigh: DID NOT!
Adama: DID TOO!
Tigh: Did No... Did I?
Adama: Totally. So as I was saying.. Be a pal. Let her out and we'll just forget this whole little insubordination and striking a superior officer thing. It's not like we're REALLY the military or anything.
Tigh: Fine FINE! Fine. Let her out. But not before your son has a chance to see her.
Apollo: One small step for mankind, one giant leap for.. ah frak it. Coming in. Auto.. controlly.. thing.. engage.
Control: Nope. You have to bring it in yourself.
Apollo: Homie say WHAT?!
Control: Remember the very first thing you learned in wee pilot piloty school? "Land, not Crash"? Yeah. Practice that right now. Manual landing, flyboy.
Apollo: Say.. WHAT?
Control: LAND THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANE BY HAND, ASSHOLE!
Apollo: Fine. FINE! See? Landed. Didn't even crash it.
Chief: OMG OMG OMG Son of the Big Man! Can I touch you?! Can I lick you?! Your dad is my hero! Totally! I want to be him when I grow up! You got half his genes! Can we do a transfusion? I'd pay big bucks to have some of his blood in my veins. GIVE ME YOUR BLOOD! Oh.. and we lovingly restored your dad's ancient ship and he wants YOU to fly it for the ceremony. I'm not jealous. I already sat in the seat that once held his farts, sniffing it to see if I could catch any lingering hint of aroma..
Apollo: Dude, seriously, he's just a guy.
Chief: BLASPHEMER!
Apollo: 'Tever. So I have to fly that ... wreck?
Chief: ANTIQUE! LOVINGLY RESTORED!
Apollo: *sigh* Lame. Ok. Where's SB?
Chief: Where do you think.
Apollo: Right. Off to the brig. Hi Thrace. Funny seeing you here, oh wait, it's not.
SB: I HAVE CRAZY EYES!
Apollo: So you do. And nice tits.
SB: And the LOVE OF YOUR FATHER!
Apollo: Fuck you, you fucker!
SB: No, YOU'RE the fucker!
Apollo: I'm leaving!
SB: FINE!
Apollo: FINE!
Six: This entire scene is designed so you can see just how much prettier I am than everyone else on this planet. Oh look, a baby!
Baby's mom: Uh.. Hi.
Six: This larva, it makes my uterus feel tingly. I must identify this feeling. Give me the larva!
Babymomma: Ok. *signals frantically to husband - crazy woman holding the baby! Rescue me! SOS!*
Husband: *oblivious*
Six: So small. So fragile. So warm. So.. wet?!
Babymomma: *SIGNALS!*
Husband: *snort* guhwhat? Oh! Oh, right! HONEY! We have to go.. look at this thing.. over here... with the .. stuff!
Babymomma: *weak smile* I'll just be right back. *hisses to husband* You were supposed to be watching! We agreed that this symbol means 'send help' and this one means 'bring me chocolate' and /this/ one means 'I wanted a puppy but OH NO, you said..'
Six: Despoil my shirt with the foul liquid by-product of your inefficient digestive system, will you? *crack* Your neck looks better in this position. I'll leave you like that. I have to go have sex now.
Babymomma: And FURTHERMORE..! .. Oh, she's gone! Let's get the baby and get out of .. OMG HE'S NOT BREATHING! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! His neck's all.. floppy!
(Me: *laughs entirely inappropriately through that entire scene.*)
Six: Sex sex sex! The tingly uterus demands sex! GAIUS! Sex now!
Gaius: Yes, my mistress! .... Ooooh, vinyl panties!
Six: Which I shall keep on during this scene!
Gaius: That's hot!
Six: Tell me you love me!
Gaius: *chokes*
Six: Hee hee hee, juuust kidding!
Dr.: Mme President, you have cancer.
Laura: My life sucks. Today can't possibly get worse. Oh, and I'm not the president.
Dr.: Like I'm going to bother remembering your name, when through the next several seasons, we all call you Mme. President.
Mme. President: You have a point.
Cylons: Remember what you said about today not getting worse? JINX!
Six: Gaius!
Gaius: *snores*
Six: GAIUS! QUIT SLEEPING WITH THAT WHORE AND WAKE UP! I DEMAND ATTENTION!
Whore: Who's that?!
Gaius: Uh.. my friend. UHM, and what I mean when I say 'friend' is clearly 'more than a friend' and, ... oh shit, I'm in a hole and everything I'm saying is just.. bad (Dear Men: Take notes. Sleeping with someone and referring to them as 'your friend' in introductions to other people is not a wise life choice because we may secretly be robots who could CRUSH YOU WITH ONE HAND!)
Six: Bye, whore.
Whore: WHAT!? Gaius..!
Gaius: Um.. no, really. Bye. See you later?
Whore: LIKE HELL!
Gaius: I'm sorry, Six. It's not you. It's me.
Six: Yes. I know. Now shut up with your sniveling, I have exposition to impart. I'm a Cylon, I was able to breach all the Colonies' defenses, and oh yeah, it totally IS YOU! And the Cylons are here to kill you all.
Gaius: Ha ha, very funny. I don't bellliieeeeve you!
Six: See the mushroom cloud?
Gaius: That... that could be anything! Not.. not Cylons! You can't be a Cylon! What you said can't be true because then I'd have made a mistake! I DON'T MAKE MISTAKES!
Six: You'll never be able to say that again. Aren't you supposed to be a genius? Cuz I'm pretty sure you're safe from zombie invasions. Too bad Cylons aren't zombies.
Adama: We will now decommission Battlestar Galactica. It kicked major ass in the last war because it was never networked with the other ships, so the Cylons couldn't get control of it. You'd think we'd have learned from that but OH NO! Real time reporting capability, they said. Easier to standardize the curriculum, they said. Cost savings in upgrades, they said! NOW LOOK, YOU FUCKERS! LOOK WHERE THAT GOT YOU! You damn kids and your 'internets'! Oh, and I'll insert a metaphor for the death of my younger son here.
Apollo: *wibbles*
SB: *wibbles, then goes back to chasing imaginary ponies*
Mme. President: ... I wonder if he's single..
The civvies get back on their gov't issued transport and head for home, followed by the Battlestar. The theme song from Gilligan's Island plays in the background.
Peon: SIR! Cylons.. attacking.. everyone.. dead.. SIR!
Adama: *sigh* I knew it. I knew those bastards would be back. I knew that SOMEDAY.. Everyone get ready.
Tigh: ... With what bullets, again?
Adama: SUCK! Man the fighters!
SB: What.. fighters?
Adama: Down by the gift shop! Those 40 'antiques' that Chief spent every moment of his spare time licking and caressing and restoring!
SB: Uh... but they aren't space worthy..
Adama: So FIX THAT! Fuck, do I have to do EVERYTHING around here?!
SB: Woo hooo hoooo! Crazy rampage through the museum time! WHEE!
Adama: She's so cute when she's crazy!
Captain of the civvie vessel: So, Apollo, this must be a major honour for you..
Apollo: Honour?! HONOUR?! Flying this ancient shitheap in front of a civilian vessel as a guard you don't need since the Cylons have been gone forever?! Instead of out with my unit, doing something useful?!
Captain: ... Like patrolling for Cylons that have been gone forever?
Apollo: YOU SHUT YOUR FACE! I'm changing my name when I get back. I'm sick of this shit!
Captain: UHHHH.. hey Apollo? Remember those Cylons that have been gone forever?
Apollo: .. and all I wanted was a trip to Disneyland but OH NO, flight training school will build character, he says..
Captain: APOLLO!
Apollo: WHAT?!
Captain: Cylon ship!
Apollo: Holy shit!
Captain: Shouldn't you be SHOOTING IT?!
Apollo: YOU SHUT YOUR FACE! .. FINE. Shooting. See?! It's dead. And I'm hit. Does YOUR ship have auto.. landy.. lander things?
Captain: Yes, but your guidance system has been shot off.
Apollo: This SUCKS!
Mme President: I'm 43rd in the chain of command. I'm the Secretary of Education, so.. y'know.. at least I'm smart.. and I have breast cancer. There's NO WAY I'm going to be in command. I'll wait for someone to find someone else higher up the food chain..
Captain: Um, M'am? Tag, you're it.
Mme President: ... Right. We've already lost the war. Get out there, find every ship you can and start bringing refugees into this one. Get me every jump-capable ship, get it ready to run, and let's get the fuck out of here.
Man in red coat who is OBVIOUSLY A CYLON: Wait, what?! You're not going to fight?! You're gonna turn yellow and run?! NO FAIR!
Mme President: Go.. make yourself useful.
MiRC: Hey, Apollo, you have testosterone. Go tell that bitch that we must be manly and stand and fight superior forces in a civilian ship. DEATH AND GLORY, MAN!
Apollo: She wants to run? What?!
Mme President: Civilian ship. No guns. Your ship - damaged, and oh yeah, ANTIQUE guns. Every other ship and planet - already bombed to fuck. Yes, we're going to grab the survivors and run.
Apollo: Huh. That makes sense to me, but my dad isn't going to like it.
Mme President: Fuck your dad. I'm the President.
Apollo: .. I.. I think I love you.
MiRC: BUT...! But.. we must fight! We're humans! They're Cylons! We must fight them! We.. always fight them!
Mme President: Adama, get your ship and come over here and help me rescue people.
Adama: No.
Mme President: I'm the President!
Adama: And I have a BATTLESTAR!
Tigh: .. with no ammunition..
Adama: Shut up, she doesn't know that!
Mme President: Adama, I order you..!
Adama: Make me.
Cally, Helo, Boomer, and the rest of the supporting cast are introduced with painful slowness.
Helo: Heyyy.. aren't you Gaius Baltar?
Gaius: WHAT? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! YOU CAN'T PROVE IT! IT WASN'T MY FAULT!
Helo: .. but.. you're a genius. Get on the ship.
Boomer: HELO! No! He's unbathed! It's recirculated air! Are you trying to kill me?!
Helo: His brain is huge. All the daytime talk shows said so.
Gaius: .. Yes. Yes, huge brain. Save me!
Head-Six: And it's not just a huge BRAIN he has..
Gaius: AAUUUGH! I mean.. cough, cough.
Chief: Fuck! We're hit! There's fire crawling up one entire side of BSG! It's headed right for the fuel storage tanks! What do we do??
Tigh: Uh.. Adama?
Adama: Busy! Take care of it.
Chief: What do we do?!
Tigh: Seal the bulkheads.
Chief: MY MEN ARE IN THERE!
Tigh: Fuck 'em. Seal that shit.
Chief: But I just need one more minute to get them out..
Tigh: Lissen, bucko, you asked me what to do. You didn't present a working plan and ask if you could do that, you asked ME what to DO, and now I'm fucking TELLING YOU what to do! Seal the fucking bulkheads!
Chief: ARRRGH!
Tigh: And besides, if you had taught them anything at all, they'd have their suits on and we can collect them after we vent that side of the ship.
Chief: There's a lot of rookies! This was supposed to be a cushy job!
Tigh: Sucks to be you. Vent that area, now!
Chief: Mr. Adama Sir! Tigh is a big poopyhead! He's not you!
Adama: I'd have done the same thing.
Chief: .. well.. then.. that just makes it alright, then. I love you, Mr. Adama Sir!
Adama: I know. Peon! Is this ship still capable of jump?
Peon: .. Yes? By the sheer grace of god, they hadn't gotten around to decommissioning the jump drive yet.
Adama: Right. Let's get the fuck to Ragnar station so we can get some ammo.
Mme President: What?! They're jumping?! Adama, I told you I needed you to stay here and guard us while we pick up refugees! Adama?! ADAMA!?
Adama: I can't heeeear yoooou!
Mme President: ADAMA! Fine! fuck him! Let's go round up more humans so we have a decent gene pool to start rebuilding the species.
Captain: CYLONS!
Everyone else: AUUGH!
Apollo: I'm going to use an experimental weapon!
Adama: MY SON!
Tigh: Sucks, man. 50 megaton explosion. Really. Sucks. But shouldn't we get the fuck out of here and go get some bullets?!
Adama: Yes. The war must go on. Bullets! Jump!
Creepy Little Girl: And my parents will meet us at the spaceport, and we'll go for dinner and then we'll go home and then my daddy will read me a story and then I'll go to bed.
Mme President: Aw, isn't that cute! Here's a story for you.. One day, bad robots rose up and attacked the humans, wiping them out but for a small percentage. That percentage had to rebuild, which meant having lots and lots of babies, so it's every human's duty to have as many babies as they can as early as they can. How old did you say you were, sweetie?
CLG: Six.
Mme President: Well then, in just five, maybe six short years, YOU'LL be able to start doing your duty to your species and having babies! Won't that be FUN?!
CLG: Are they like dollies, babies?
Mme President: Yes. Exactly like dollies.
CLG: Ok.
Later:
Far Too Young Presidential Aide: Uh.. remember that little girl you bonded with?
Mme President: Yes?
FTYPA: Her ship has no jump capabilities and the Cylons are incoming. She's going to die. Thought you'd want to know.
Mme President: Today could not get..
FTYPA: SHUT UP! Every time you say that, Cylons show up and kill half of everyone who's had screentime yet and even more people who haven't! Don't you LEARN?!
Mme President: I HAVE CANCER! I CAN SAY WHAT I WANT!
FTYPA: *sigh*
Mme President: Fuck it. Jump. Save our asses. Let's go find Adama so I can yell at him some more.
Adama: Yay, weapons!
Chief: Yay, weapons!
Crazy Guy: MINE!
Chief: No, MINE!
CG: MINE!
Chief: YOU CAN'T SHOOT ALL 2000 OF US, SO FUCK YOU! MINE!
CG:.. Fine. Yours.
Chief: No, wait, be careful - don't drop that!
*boom*
Chief: ADDAAAMMMAA!! Noooooo! We'll get you out, Sir! I promise!
Adama: No, idiot! *giggling* Get the guns. Get the ammunition. I'll find another way out. *pause* There IS another way out, isn't there?
CG: Yes.
Adama: Show me.
CG: Help, help! I'm being oppressed! Come see the violence inherent in the system!
Adama: Shut up, CYLON!
CG: I knew you knew.
Adama: I knew you knew I knew.
CG: I knew you knew I knew you knew.
Adama: Whatever. Your mom's fat.
CG: I SHALL CHOKE YOU! NOBODY MAKES FUN OF MY MOM!
Adama: *gack* But.. you're a robot! You don't .. *gack* have a mom!
CG: *pause* Oh, yeah..
Adama: *HEADBASHY!*
Adama: I have returned!
Chief: Where was the guy you were with?
Adama: .. Infirmary. Sick. Totally not a Cylon that looks like a human. Totally.
Tigh:... so they look like humans now?
Adama: Yeah. Bummer, right?
Peon: INCOMING!
Adama: BATTLE STATIONS!
Peon: No, wait, it's our own people!
Tigh: Verify that, you idiot! They have Cylons shaped like people! VERIFY THAT!
Peon: .. I did. They're ours.
Apollo: Hi, Dad.
Adama: MY SON! Hug me!
Apollo: No!
Adama: I AM YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER AND I DEMAND HUGGIES!
Apollo: Fine! *hug* Ew! Who are you and what did you do with my father?!
Adama: Wait, you knew about the humanoid Cylons too?!
Apollo: .. What?
Adama: NOTHING! Nevermind. Ha ha, funny joke there.. run along now, Son.
Head Six: Gaiiiuss.. sex now!
Gaius: NO!
Six: If you give me sex, I'll point out the evil Cylon bits in this room!
Gaius: Very well, then.
Peon: .. What are you doing?
Gaius: NOTHING! TOTALLY NOT HAVING SEX WITH A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION!
Peon: ... Right.
Gaius: Now.. how to tell them about the Cylon bits without incriminating myself.. I know! I'll incriminate the guy in the red jacket!
Six: *snerks*
Gaius: What?
Six: Nothing. Carry on.
Gaius: HIM! HIM! HE'S A CYLON! I've come up with a way to detect Cylons and he's one and he put that.. small blobby thing up there, which I recognize as a Cylon device due to superior brain power! Arrest him!
Red Jacket: But I'm NOT A CYLON!
Adama: But you might be a Cylon, so we're going to leave you on Ragnar while we all run away.
Red Jacket: NOT A CYLON!
Later: He totally is a Cylon.
SB: HOLY FUCK, WE'RE SURROUNDED BY CYLONS!
Adama: But we have guns and ammo now, right?
Chief: Right, Sir!
Adama: Ok. We'll..
Peon: Mme President, the captain of Unimportant!Ship asks what to do with the cargo hold full of prisoners he has.
Mme President: .. What?
Peon: He was transporting prisoners and still has them.
Adama: Kill them all.
Mme President: NO! We can't do that. We'll hold onto them until we think of something else to do.
Peon: Couldn't we just dump them on the station like we did with the Cylon guy?
Adama: Yeah! .. No, wait, there are guns there! Guns + convicts left to die = BAD!
Mme President: More importantly, we are men, not beasts, and we only treat suspected Cylons as sub-human, not people we're SURE are human. Besides, we may need them to make babies with later.
Adama: Ok, so .. like I was saying.. we'll go through and provide covering fire for the Civvie ships. Civvie ships, you jump as far as it's been humanly possible to jump. We'll follow.
Tigh: AFTER we shoot us some Cylons!
Adama: 'course!
Adama: Are we ready to jump?
Peon: Yes, but SB and Apollo are still out there.
Adama: We're not jumping. Give me a radio.
SB: WOO HOO HOO! KILLIN' THINGS FO SHO! BEIN' CRAZY LIKE A CRAZY THING!
Apollo: ..Fuck, it hit me.
SB: See you broke your dad's plane, there.
Apollo: Fuck you!
Adama: I will now use the hypnotically implanted safe phrase to bring SB out of psychospace and make her do my bidding. What do you hear, Kara?
SB: .. A whole lot of shit exploding!
Adama: WHAT DO YOU HEAR, KARA?!
SB: ..Oh. Oh yeah. Nothin' but the rain, Sir!
Adama: Go get my wayward son and bring his ass back.
SB: YES DADDY! ... I mean, Sir!
Apollo: SB.. what the fuck are you.. AAAUUUGH! YOU ARE MORE THAN INSANE!
SB: Woo hoo hoo! More crazy eyes! I have the crazy eyes, I have the crazy eyes, and yoooou don't! Daddy loves me best!
Apollo: HE DOES NOT!
SB: Does too!
Apollo: DOES NOT!
They jump. They have a swearing in ceremony. Adama lies to them about Earth. Mme President calls him on it, then agrees to keep up the lie because "Let's go find Earth!" sounds so much better than "Let's run like fuck and pray the Cylons can't find us!" SO SAY THEM ALL! Cylons take Ragnar and reveal Red Jacket to be a Cylon. AS IS BOOMER! Ominous music ensues.
Apollo looks like a young Michael J. Fox.
Cylons: Pitiful humans! You are DEAD! And you don't even know it yet! Muahahaha!
Adama Sr.: *has his ass kissed by wibbly fan-things as he slowly tries to make his way across ship* I wwill speak in a monotone throughout this entire series to prove just how calm and focused I really am, even if it makes me sound like a sociopath.
Tigh: I'm a drunk with a furiously repressed boner for this butchy pilot who's young enough to be my daughter. I will upend a table in rage when she interrupts my fantasizing to remind me that I'm married! Rar!
Starbuck: I have crazy eyes and am in most other ways a totally out of control fucking lunatic.. Oh, but my boyfriend died and I'm carrying an asston of guilt, so I will confess to my boyfriend's brother at the worst possible moment. I shall also use this phallic representation to show my absolute defiance of stereotypical gender roles! How dare Tigh fantasize about me?! How dare he objectify women!? I will give him such headpunchy!!!
Tigh: TO THE BRIG! .. where there are bars.. and chains.. and whips.. Adama, we still have whips, right? For the floggings?!
Adama: .. No.
Tigh: SUCK!
Adama: And you might want to let her out, because she's the best we have. We can overlook a little insubordination, even though it happened in front of all the other pilots.
Tigh: NO WE CAN'T! Lost face, must.. punish.. her.. Maybe with some hot wax, and shackles..
Adama: Well, seeing as you started it..
Tigh: DID NOT!
Adama: DID TOO!
Tigh: Did No... Did I?
Adama: Totally. So as I was saying.. Be a pal. Let her out and we'll just forget this whole little insubordination and striking a superior officer thing. It's not like we're REALLY the military or anything.
Tigh: Fine FINE! Fine. Let her out. But not before your son has a chance to see her.
Apollo: One small step for mankind, one giant leap for.. ah frak it. Coming in. Auto.. controlly.. thing.. engage.
Control: Nope. You have to bring it in yourself.
Apollo: Homie say WHAT?!
Control: Remember the very first thing you learned in wee pilot piloty school? "Land, not Crash"? Yeah. Practice that right now. Manual landing, flyboy.
Apollo: Say.. WHAT?
Control: LAND THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANE BY HAND, ASSHOLE!
Apollo: Fine. FINE! See? Landed. Didn't even crash it.
Chief: OMG OMG OMG Son of the Big Man! Can I touch you?! Can I lick you?! Your dad is my hero! Totally! I want to be him when I grow up! You got half his genes! Can we do a transfusion? I'd pay big bucks to have some of his blood in my veins. GIVE ME YOUR BLOOD! Oh.. and we lovingly restored your dad's ancient ship and he wants YOU to fly it for the ceremony. I'm not jealous. I already sat in the seat that once held his farts, sniffing it to see if I could catch any lingering hint of aroma..
Apollo: Dude, seriously, he's just a guy.
Chief: BLASPHEMER!
Apollo: 'Tever. So I have to fly that ... wreck?
Chief: ANTIQUE! LOVINGLY RESTORED!
Apollo: *sigh* Lame. Ok. Where's SB?
Chief: Where do you think.
Apollo: Right. Off to the brig. Hi Thrace. Funny seeing you here, oh wait, it's not.
SB: I HAVE CRAZY EYES!
Apollo: So you do. And nice tits.
SB: And the LOVE OF YOUR FATHER!
Apollo: Fuck you, you fucker!
SB: No, YOU'RE the fucker!
Apollo: I'm leaving!
SB: FINE!
Apollo: FINE!
Six: This entire scene is designed so you can see just how much prettier I am than everyone else on this planet. Oh look, a baby!
Baby's mom: Uh.. Hi.
Six: This larva, it makes my uterus feel tingly. I must identify this feeling. Give me the larva!
Babymomma: Ok. *signals frantically to husband - crazy woman holding the baby! Rescue me! SOS!*
Husband: *oblivious*
Six: So small. So fragile. So warm. So.. wet?!
Babymomma: *SIGNALS!*
Husband: *snort* guhwhat? Oh! Oh, right! HONEY! We have to go.. look at this thing.. over here... with the .. stuff!
Babymomma: *weak smile* I'll just be right back. *hisses to husband* You were supposed to be watching! We agreed that this symbol means 'send help' and this one means 'bring me chocolate' and /this/ one means 'I wanted a puppy but OH NO, you said..'
Six: Despoil my shirt with the foul liquid by-product of your inefficient digestive system, will you? *crack* Your neck looks better in this position. I'll leave you like that. I have to go have sex now.
Babymomma: And FURTHERMORE..! .. Oh, she's gone! Let's get the baby and get out of .. OMG HE'S NOT BREATHING! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! His neck's all.. floppy!
(Me: *laughs entirely inappropriately through that entire scene.*)
Six: Sex sex sex! The tingly uterus demands sex! GAIUS! Sex now!
Gaius: Yes, my mistress! .... Ooooh, vinyl panties!
Six: Which I shall keep on during this scene!
Gaius: That's hot!
Six: Tell me you love me!
Gaius: *chokes*
Six: Hee hee hee, juuust kidding!
Dr.: Mme President, you have cancer.
Laura: My life sucks. Today can't possibly get worse. Oh, and I'm not the president.
Dr.: Like I'm going to bother remembering your name, when through the next several seasons, we all call you Mme. President.
Mme. President: You have a point.
Cylons: Remember what you said about today not getting worse? JINX!
Six: Gaius!
Gaius: *snores*
Six: GAIUS! QUIT SLEEPING WITH THAT WHORE AND WAKE UP! I DEMAND ATTENTION!
Whore: Who's that?!
Gaius: Uh.. my friend. UHM, and what I mean when I say 'friend' is clearly 'more than a friend' and, ... oh shit, I'm in a hole and everything I'm saying is just.. bad (Dear Men: Take notes. Sleeping with someone and referring to them as 'your friend' in introductions to other people is not a wise life choice because we may secretly be robots who could CRUSH YOU WITH ONE HAND!)
Six: Bye, whore.
Whore: WHAT!? Gaius..!
Gaius: Um.. no, really. Bye. See you later?
Whore: LIKE HELL!
Gaius: I'm sorry, Six. It's not you. It's me.
Six: Yes. I know. Now shut up with your sniveling, I have exposition to impart. I'm a Cylon, I was able to breach all the Colonies' defenses, and oh yeah, it totally IS YOU! And the Cylons are here to kill you all.
Gaius: Ha ha, very funny. I don't bellliieeeeve you!
Six: See the mushroom cloud?
Gaius: That... that could be anything! Not.. not Cylons! You can't be a Cylon! What you said can't be true because then I'd have made a mistake! I DON'T MAKE MISTAKES!
Six: You'll never be able to say that again. Aren't you supposed to be a genius? Cuz I'm pretty sure you're safe from zombie invasions. Too bad Cylons aren't zombies.
Adama: We will now decommission Battlestar Galactica. It kicked major ass in the last war because it was never networked with the other ships, so the Cylons couldn't get control of it. You'd think we'd have learned from that but OH NO! Real time reporting capability, they said. Easier to standardize the curriculum, they said. Cost savings in upgrades, they said! NOW LOOK, YOU FUCKERS! LOOK WHERE THAT GOT YOU! You damn kids and your 'internets'! Oh, and I'll insert a metaphor for the death of my younger son here.
Apollo: *wibbles*
SB: *wibbles, then goes back to chasing imaginary ponies*
Mme. President: ... I wonder if he's single..
The civvies get back on their gov't issued transport and head for home, followed by the Battlestar. The theme song from Gilligan's Island plays in the background.
Peon: SIR! Cylons.. attacking.. everyone.. dead.. SIR!
Adama: *sigh* I knew it. I knew those bastards would be back. I knew that SOMEDAY.. Everyone get ready.
Tigh: ... With what bullets, again?
Adama: SUCK! Man the fighters!
SB: What.. fighters?
Adama: Down by the gift shop! Those 40 'antiques' that Chief spent every moment of his spare time licking and caressing and restoring!
SB: Uh... but they aren't space worthy..
Adama: So FIX THAT! Fuck, do I have to do EVERYTHING around here?!
SB: Woo hooo hoooo! Crazy rampage through the museum time! WHEE!
Adama: She's so cute when she's crazy!
Captain of the civvie vessel: So, Apollo, this must be a major honour for you..
Apollo: Honour?! HONOUR?! Flying this ancient shitheap in front of a civilian vessel as a guard you don't need since the Cylons have been gone forever?! Instead of out with my unit, doing something useful?!
Captain: ... Like patrolling for Cylons that have been gone forever?
Apollo: YOU SHUT YOUR FACE! I'm changing my name when I get back. I'm sick of this shit!
Captain: UHHHH.. hey Apollo? Remember those Cylons that have been gone forever?
Apollo: .. and all I wanted was a trip to Disneyland but OH NO, flight training school will build character, he says..
Captain: APOLLO!
Apollo: WHAT?!
Captain: Cylon ship!
Apollo: Holy shit!
Captain: Shouldn't you be SHOOTING IT?!
Apollo: YOU SHUT YOUR FACE! .. FINE. Shooting. See?! It's dead. And I'm hit. Does YOUR ship have auto.. landy.. lander things?
Captain: Yes, but your guidance system has been shot off.
Apollo: This SUCKS!
Mme President: I'm 43rd in the chain of command. I'm the Secretary of Education, so.. y'know.. at least I'm smart.. and I have breast cancer. There's NO WAY I'm going to be in command. I'll wait for someone to find someone else higher up the food chain..
Captain: Um, M'am? Tag, you're it.
Mme President: ... Right. We've already lost the war. Get out there, find every ship you can and start bringing refugees into this one. Get me every jump-capable ship, get it ready to run, and let's get the fuck out of here.
Man in red coat who is OBVIOUSLY A CYLON: Wait, what?! You're not going to fight?! You're gonna turn yellow and run?! NO FAIR!
Mme President: Go.. make yourself useful.
MiRC: Hey, Apollo, you have testosterone. Go tell that bitch that we must be manly and stand and fight superior forces in a civilian ship. DEATH AND GLORY, MAN!
Apollo: She wants to run? What?!
Mme President: Civilian ship. No guns. Your ship - damaged, and oh yeah, ANTIQUE guns. Every other ship and planet - already bombed to fuck. Yes, we're going to grab the survivors and run.
Apollo: Huh. That makes sense to me, but my dad isn't going to like it.
Mme President: Fuck your dad. I'm the President.
Apollo: .. I.. I think I love you.
MiRC: BUT...! But.. we must fight! We're humans! They're Cylons! We must fight them! We.. always fight them!
Mme President: Adama, get your ship and come over here and help me rescue people.
Adama: No.
Mme President: I'm the President!
Adama: And I have a BATTLESTAR!
Tigh: .. with no ammunition..
Adama: Shut up, she doesn't know that!
Mme President: Adama, I order you..!
Adama: Make me.
Cally, Helo, Boomer, and the rest of the supporting cast are introduced with painful slowness.
Helo: Heyyy.. aren't you Gaius Baltar?
Gaius: WHAT? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! YOU CAN'T PROVE IT! IT WASN'T MY FAULT!
Helo: .. but.. you're a genius. Get on the ship.
Boomer: HELO! No! He's unbathed! It's recirculated air! Are you trying to kill me?!
Helo: His brain is huge. All the daytime talk shows said so.
Gaius: .. Yes. Yes, huge brain. Save me!
Head-Six: And it's not just a huge BRAIN he has..
Gaius: AAUUUGH! I mean.. cough, cough.
Chief: Fuck! We're hit! There's fire crawling up one entire side of BSG! It's headed right for the fuel storage tanks! What do we do??
Tigh: Uh.. Adama?
Adama: Busy! Take care of it.
Chief: What do we do?!
Tigh: Seal the bulkheads.
Chief: MY MEN ARE IN THERE!
Tigh: Fuck 'em. Seal that shit.
Chief: But I just need one more minute to get them out..
Tigh: Lissen, bucko, you asked me what to do. You didn't present a working plan and ask if you could do that, you asked ME what to DO, and now I'm fucking TELLING YOU what to do! Seal the fucking bulkheads!
Chief: ARRRGH!
Tigh: And besides, if you had taught them anything at all, they'd have their suits on and we can collect them after we vent that side of the ship.
Chief: There's a lot of rookies! This was supposed to be a cushy job!
Tigh: Sucks to be you. Vent that area, now!
Chief: Mr. Adama Sir! Tigh is a big poopyhead! He's not you!
Adama: I'd have done the same thing.
Chief: .. well.. then.. that just makes it alright, then. I love you, Mr. Adama Sir!
Adama: I know. Peon! Is this ship still capable of jump?
Peon: .. Yes? By the sheer grace of god, they hadn't gotten around to decommissioning the jump drive yet.
Adama: Right. Let's get the fuck to Ragnar station so we can get some ammo.
Mme President: What?! They're jumping?! Adama, I told you I needed you to stay here and guard us while we pick up refugees! Adama?! ADAMA!?
Adama: I can't heeeear yoooou!
Mme President: ADAMA! Fine! fuck him! Let's go round up more humans so we have a decent gene pool to start rebuilding the species.
Captain: CYLONS!
Everyone else: AUUGH!
Apollo: I'm going to use an experimental weapon!
Adama: MY SON!
Tigh: Sucks, man. 50 megaton explosion. Really. Sucks. But shouldn't we get the fuck out of here and go get some bullets?!
Adama: Yes. The war must go on. Bullets! Jump!
Creepy Little Girl: And my parents will meet us at the spaceport, and we'll go for dinner and then we'll go home and then my daddy will read me a story and then I'll go to bed.
Mme President: Aw, isn't that cute! Here's a story for you.. One day, bad robots rose up and attacked the humans, wiping them out but for a small percentage. That percentage had to rebuild, which meant having lots and lots of babies, so it's every human's duty to have as many babies as they can as early as they can. How old did you say you were, sweetie?
CLG: Six.
Mme President: Well then, in just five, maybe six short years, YOU'LL be able to start doing your duty to your species and having babies! Won't that be FUN?!
CLG: Are they like dollies, babies?
Mme President: Yes. Exactly like dollies.
CLG: Ok.
Later:
Far Too Young Presidential Aide: Uh.. remember that little girl you bonded with?
Mme President: Yes?
FTYPA: Her ship has no jump capabilities and the Cylons are incoming. She's going to die. Thought you'd want to know.
Mme President: Today could not get..
FTYPA: SHUT UP! Every time you say that, Cylons show up and kill half of everyone who's had screentime yet and even more people who haven't! Don't you LEARN?!
Mme President: I HAVE CANCER! I CAN SAY WHAT I WANT!
FTYPA: *sigh*
Mme President: Fuck it. Jump. Save our asses. Let's go find Adama so I can yell at him some more.
Adama: Yay, weapons!
Chief: Yay, weapons!
Crazy Guy: MINE!
Chief: No, MINE!
CG: MINE!
Chief: YOU CAN'T SHOOT ALL 2000 OF US, SO FUCK YOU! MINE!
CG:.. Fine. Yours.
Chief: No, wait, be careful - don't drop that!
*boom*
Chief: ADDAAAMMMAA!! Noooooo! We'll get you out, Sir! I promise!
Adama: No, idiot! *giggling* Get the guns. Get the ammunition. I'll find another way out. *pause* There IS another way out, isn't there?
CG: Yes.
Adama: Show me.
CG: Help, help! I'm being oppressed! Come see the violence inherent in the system!
Adama: Shut up, CYLON!
CG: I knew you knew.
Adama: I knew you knew I knew.
CG: I knew you knew I knew you knew.
Adama: Whatever. Your mom's fat.
CG: I SHALL CHOKE YOU! NOBODY MAKES FUN OF MY MOM!
Adama: *gack* But.. you're a robot! You don't .. *gack* have a mom!
CG: *pause* Oh, yeah..
Adama: *HEADBASHY!*
Adama: I have returned!
Chief: Where was the guy you were with?
Adama: .. Infirmary. Sick. Totally not a Cylon that looks like a human. Totally.
Tigh:... so they look like humans now?
Adama: Yeah. Bummer, right?
Peon: INCOMING!
Adama: BATTLE STATIONS!
Peon: No, wait, it's our own people!
Tigh: Verify that, you idiot! They have Cylons shaped like people! VERIFY THAT!
Peon: .. I did. They're ours.
Apollo: Hi, Dad.
Adama: MY SON! Hug me!
Apollo: No!
Adama: I AM YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER AND I DEMAND HUGGIES!
Apollo: Fine! *hug* Ew! Who are you and what did you do with my father?!
Adama: Wait, you knew about the humanoid Cylons too?!
Apollo: .. What?
Adama: NOTHING! Nevermind. Ha ha, funny joke there.. run along now, Son.
Head Six: Gaiiiuss.. sex now!
Gaius: NO!
Six: If you give me sex, I'll point out the evil Cylon bits in this room!
Gaius: Very well, then.
Peon: .. What are you doing?
Gaius: NOTHING! TOTALLY NOT HAVING SEX WITH A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION!
Peon: ... Right.
Gaius: Now.. how to tell them about the Cylon bits without incriminating myself.. I know! I'll incriminate the guy in the red jacket!
Six: *snerks*
Gaius: What?
Six: Nothing. Carry on.
Gaius: HIM! HIM! HE'S A CYLON! I've come up with a way to detect Cylons and he's one and he put that.. small blobby thing up there, which I recognize as a Cylon device due to superior brain power! Arrest him!
Red Jacket: But I'm NOT A CYLON!
Adama: But you might be a Cylon, so we're going to leave you on Ragnar while we all run away.
Red Jacket: NOT A CYLON!
Later: He totally is a Cylon.
SB: HOLY FUCK, WE'RE SURROUNDED BY CYLONS!
Adama: But we have guns and ammo now, right?
Chief: Right, Sir!
Adama: Ok. We'll..
Peon: Mme President, the captain of Unimportant!Ship asks what to do with the cargo hold full of prisoners he has.
Mme President: .. What?
Peon: He was transporting prisoners and still has them.
Adama: Kill them all.
Mme President: NO! We can't do that. We'll hold onto them until we think of something else to do.
Peon: Couldn't we just dump them on the station like we did with the Cylon guy?
Adama: Yeah! .. No, wait, there are guns there! Guns + convicts left to die = BAD!
Mme President: More importantly, we are men, not beasts, and we only treat suspected Cylons as sub-human, not people we're SURE are human. Besides, we may need them to make babies with later.
Adama: Ok, so .. like I was saying.. we'll go through and provide covering fire for the Civvie ships. Civvie ships, you jump as far as it's been humanly possible to jump. We'll follow.
Tigh: AFTER we shoot us some Cylons!
Adama: 'course!
Adama: Are we ready to jump?
Peon: Yes, but SB and Apollo are still out there.
Adama: We're not jumping. Give me a radio.
SB: WOO HOO HOO! KILLIN' THINGS FO SHO! BEIN' CRAZY LIKE A CRAZY THING!
Apollo: ..Fuck, it hit me.
SB: See you broke your dad's plane, there.
Apollo: Fuck you!
Adama: I will now use the hypnotically implanted safe phrase to bring SB out of psychospace and make her do my bidding. What do you hear, Kara?
SB: .. A whole lot of shit exploding!
Adama: WHAT DO YOU HEAR, KARA?!
SB: ..Oh. Oh yeah. Nothin' but the rain, Sir!
Adama: Go get my wayward son and bring his ass back.
SB: YES DADDY! ... I mean, Sir!
Apollo: SB.. what the fuck are you.. AAAUUUGH! YOU ARE MORE THAN INSANE!
SB: Woo hoo hoo! More crazy eyes! I have the crazy eyes, I have the crazy eyes, and yoooou don't! Daddy loves me best!
Apollo: HE DOES NOT!
SB: Does too!
Apollo: DOES NOT!
They jump. They have a swearing in ceremony. Adama lies to them about Earth. Mme President calls him on it, then agrees to keep up the lie because "Let's go find Earth!" sounds so much better than "Let's run like fuck and pray the Cylons can't find us!" SO SAY THEM ALL! Cylons take Ragnar and reveal Red Jacket to be a Cylon. AS IS BOOMER! Ominous music ensues.
Apollo looks like a young Michael J. Fox.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-08-03 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-03 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-03 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-03 07:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 02:14 am (UTC)