In a [not-too-]distant, dark
future...
The German group Rammstein
disappeared mysteriously. Although the press says they all died in a tragic
airplane crash, the fans prefer to think they had too much sex and died of
exhaustion. Both sides are very far from the truth...
Well, perhaps not *that* far.
Actually they were abducted by an
evil and totally lunatic madman...
Dr. Yuko: *cough*
...madwoman. The six musicians are
now held captive in a satellite, orbiting around the Earth, where their job is
to review some of the most disturbing tales invented by obviously corrupted
human minds. Dealing with terrible grammar, spelling, plot and with out of
character behavior is just a small part of the challenge.
Today, you are invited to enjoy
with us...
The Rammstein Science Theater
3000!
(waiting for the RST3k Love
Theme...)
�
In the not-too-distant future--
Next Sunday in Berlin--
There was a guy named Till
Quite different from you and me
He had a really confusing mind
(the worst Dr. Yuko could find)
One day she took him to her base
But he turned into a basket case,
So she shot him into space!
She'll send him crappy fanfics,
The worst ever made (la-la-la),
He'll have to sit and read them
all,
And there's no escape! (la-la-la).
Now keep in mind Till can't control
Where the fanfics begin or end
(la-la-la),
As he tries to keep his sanity
And the sanity of his friends!
Rammstein Roll Call
Richard:
I Richard. You Jane. Ooga booga!
Paul:
Here we go! W00t!
Christoph:
IT'S SCHNEIDER!
Flake:
...*sneers*
Olli:
*silent*
If you're wondering how he eats
and breathes
And other science facts,
Just repeat to yourself it's just
a fanfic,
You should really just relax
For Rammstein Science Theater
3000.
*-*-*-*-*
Door 6: It's a curtain made of
beads. They explode when you approach.
Door 5: It splits in six ways.
Door 4: It falls towards you,
almost hitting your feet.
Door 3: It's a dungeon gate with
upside down arrowhead bars. It rises into the ceiling.
Door 2: It�s made of metal, and
melts away when you touch it.
Door 1: It's a vault door. The
center ring swirls and the door opens.
Door 7: It's the swinging door of
a theater.
*-*-*-*-*
Till
�Engel�
Till: Look, the story has my name!
Richard: And it's written by a guy
named "Engel"!
NC-17 fucked up dream sequence
SPOOKY DISCLAIMER: I DON�T OWN
JACK SHIT! WOOT!
Flake: Neither do we.
Paul: Is this fic about Jack Shit,
anyway? Because I thought it was a Rammstein fanfic.
Wait, that�s bad�never mind. I no
own Rammstein,
Schneider: Which is great, considering we would be doomed if we depended on your grasp of the English language.
but if I did I�d fuck their brains
out�O.o* yes, I just said that, and MEANT it. HAHAHA!
All: ...huh!?
Richard: All right guys, we are
dealing with an insane author! The ride promises to be fun!
This never happened, but surely
Till must dream, ja?
Till: No.
Ja.
Till: NO!
Read and review, if not I know
where you live and where you sleep at night, and when you crawl into bed at
night it�s me riding the washing machine around downstairs as if spits bubbles
from the over-abundance of soap. HAW!
Olli: If the disclaimer is spooky,
imagine the story...
Schneider: No, don't imagine...
Till Lindemann
�Engel�
Flake: Till Lindemann, another
masterpiece by "Engel".
Till: My mom isn't called
"Engel", as far as I know.
Till rolled over in his sleep,
deeply troubled by his dream, usually his dreams had some sort of pattern;
Paul: Plaid, floral, animal...yes,
many patterns.
Schneider: If you don't know how
to use semicolons, do us a favor and don't try to. Thanks.
mindless violence, stupid drugs, shows, good fucks, bad fucks, any kind
of fuck�lately though, they seemed to seethe with a mind of their own, crawl
over his brain and out into reality.
Richard: LSD�already?
Olli: And to think it�s just the
*first* paragraph�
Never had he been so deeply
disturbed than lately�lately, the fine, blurry line of reality and dream seemed
to fade and dissolve�he now wondered if it left altogether.
Paul: <as Fine and Blurry Line
of Reality and Dream> This job pays me no good! I get more working at
McDonald's! *leaves*
Till: <as Rose from Titanic>
Line...come back...*coughs*...Line!...*voice fades*
He held up the photo one by one
Schneider: Someone can�t write plural�
and set them aflame,
"Flammen." he muttered,
Richard: Wow! Till does magic!
Paul: Without a wand? No way!
Till: *smirks* I�ll show you my �wand��
watching the pictures curl and
turn to ashes on the floor. Ollie and him, Paul and him, Richard and him, Tim
Skold and Ginger Fish, Marilyn Manson and crew all staring morosely forward, as
if dead,
All: HUH!? WTF!?
Flake: All right, I'm lost.
Others: Idem!
Twiggy in pants for once, out of a
dress, Paul draped over Flake, and seeming to enjoy himself in the process.
The photos, and memories curled
and died in his hands.
Richard: <as the photos> No
please!!! *curl* Leave us alone! * die*
Olli: What about the memories?
Richard: I don't know; I, unlike
Till, cannot *hold* memories in my hands�
Paul: *sings* Lucy in the Sky
with Diamonds�
He sighed, brushing a few loose
piles of the dark ash aside, then made his way to the attic window. Dreams were
unexplainable, like why was his town in Germany so small that he could see
every rooftop in the town?
Schneider: Why a town is small is
hardly an unexplainable fact.
Flake: The fact he can see every
rooftop, however, is.
Till: <as R. Kelly> I beliiiieve I can flyyyyy...I
beliiiieve I can tooooouch the sky...I think about it every niiiiight and
daaaaaay...
city? village?
Paul: Burg? Metropolis?
Schneider: Capital letters?
He didn't know, just pushed open
the window and took a leap of faith,
Till: <as R. Kelly> Spread my wings and flyyyyy
awaaaaaay....
hurling into the night air,
screaming out, "Ich engel!"
All: *fall from their seats*
ArghuwehfqhsrgwjhWTF!!!!1111
Flake: I see one capital letter.
In the *wrong* place.
Schneider: I see one sentence in German. And it's ALL
wrong!
Till: This author is the ultimate
proof that evolution *can* go in reverse.
at the top of his very developed
lungs, landing with a dull thud on the neighbor's roof,
Till: And throwing himself from it because he no longer
wants to be a part of this story.
sliding back near the street.
Instead of letting himself drop to the ground below and allowing his body to
crunch against the concrete he worked his leg muscles and threw himself forward
and upward on the rooftop, taking long, lithe strides to the peak; then,
rolling over the peak, worked his way down, leaping off that edge onto the
neighboring rooftop. He pumped his legs and leapt to the other roof, roof
hopping until it felt like his lungs would burst, his heart explode, his throat
collapse, his knees buckle.
Olli: What's THAT?
Till: My LSD induced madness.
He blinked and looked up at the Cathedral tower and proceeded to scale
it, as if nothing more than routine for him,
Richard: Spiderman!
"Hoppe hoppe Reiter und kein
Engel steigt herab, mein Herz schl�gt nicht mehr weiter, nur der, Regen weint
am Grab. Hoppe hoppe Reiter eine Melodie im Wind, mein Herz schl�gt nicht mehr
weiter und aus der Erde singt das Kind!� he screamed, reaching the top of that
immense building, screaming out loudly in his dream, "ENGEL!"
Till: No, it's SPIELUHR!
to the town, arms lifted in a V of
victory. He blinked, seeing the ground below, turning around slightly he saw
two large angel wings protruding from his shoulders,
Richard: The hallucinations are getting worst!
"Engel." he whispered,
Paul: Holy crap, is that the ONLY
thing he can say!?
Flake: Of course, it's the only
word in German the author knows!
looking to the sky, then hurling
himself into the air, arms raised, wings spread...and he dropped into the
abyss.
Schneider: And died and the fic
ended.
Olli: Don't get your hopes up...
Screaming, his feathers falling
off,behold, they were just a lie,
Till: No shit! REALLY!?
like his life and loves, lies, all
lies...
"Hoppe hoppe Reiter und kein
Engel steigt herab, mein Herz schl�gt nicht mehr weiter, nur der, Regen weint
am Grab. Hoppe hoppe Reiter eine Melodie im Wind, mein Herz schl�gt nicht mehr
weiter und aus der Erde singt das Kind." was somewhere in the background.
All: *shut their ears* AGAIN!?
Till: I never thought I'd regret
writing a song!
He was going to hit. You always
woke up before you hit though...He shut his eyes.
And hit.
Paul: Why the fuck did he shut his
eyes if he knew he was going to hit!?
Richard: Calm down Paul...this
story stopped making sense in the first paragraph...
The pain was intense as panic
gripped at his heart and he jolted awake, looking to the fellow bandmate as he
pulled on his clothing,
Schneider: Who pulled on the
clothes, Till or the fellow bandmate?
Flake: Who cares? Nothing makes much sense anyway...
"Where are you going?"
he leant over, nearly falling off the bed, and clicked on the light, staring at
him with worried and slightly panicked eyes. Ollie�s slightly winded voice
whispered softly, �To Flak-ah,
Flake: I hope this Flak-ah isn't
mean to be me...
Paul: What kind of person has an
hyphen in his name!?
to sleep with him, you were
screaming in yer sleep,
Olli: 'Yer sleep' courtesy of
www.talklikeapirate.com
und I want to sleep tonight, not
comfort you.
Flake: So you are saying you have
been 'comforting' Till, eh?
Paul: Something slashy this way
comes... *naughty grin*
Till looked hurt and mused to the
floor silently, ashamed of his constant dreams, the now nightmarish landscape
in his head was fading as fast as the dream itself did: was he flying? What was
he doing exactly?
He didn�t remember.
�Ollie?�
Richard: OH NO! It's the Ollie
dude again! *shudders*
Paul: Sadistmunky is back! Run for
your lives!
Oliver turned and looked down,
�Hmm?�
�Ich lieBe sie, Ollie.�
Till: *goes postal*
"LIEBE". Is. NOT. With. EZETT(�)!!!!!
Flake: And here is yet another
pathetic attemp at German...
Ollie blinked in the darkness
Olli: <as Ollie> Whatever.
Schneider: I thought Till had
turned on the light!
Till:
*cough*PLOT*cough*HOLE*cough*
and said nothing, but breathed a
soft, �Right back at you Till, just�I want to sleep, you know, do not be mad,�
his voice broke and he looked ashamed.
Till nodded, slowly, hoping his
pain did not show through his soft grey eyes, �fine Ollie, you sleep good,
okay?�
Flake: <as Olli> No. As a matter of fact, I'd rather sleep bad.
Schneider: 'lfine' is not an actual word Mr. Author, I hope you realize that.
Till: You give a whole new meaning to the expression 'wasting saliva', Schneider.
Flake: You should suck a cock instead.
Ollie nodded and left the room
suddenly, muttering something to himself.
Till rolled over and screwed his
eyes shut, �G�night my ass.�
Paul: <as Till's ass> G'night! Can you sleep face
down tonight?
He scoffed loudly into the pillow,
cursing loudly as he felt fatigue run its course.
Till: Damn you fatigue for running your course!!!
The dreams continued to reasons
unknown to him; hateful, painful, hurtful, harmful�
Flake: And all other synonyms the author found in the
Thesaurus.
all of them: murder, escape,
falling, drugs, sex, violent sex, horrible creatures after him, horrible people
that, in reality were as nice as anyone,
Paul: Horrible people that
actually are nice...you have a weird choice for friends Till.
Till: That's why I've friended
you.
Paul: Very funny.
but once in the dream they warped
and became demented, horrible beasts that wanted nothing but to hurt him. This
was no way to live.
�Ollie! Paul! Ginger! Timmy!
Flak-ah!
Richard: WHAT!? Who are them?!
Flake: We've been replaced!
I go fer walk now!�
Olli: 'Fer walk' also a courtesy
of www.talklikeapirate.com
Till: I not only speak *German*
(which IS my first language) wrong, but I also talk like a buccaneer!
he called over his shoulder as he
pulled on a leather jacket.
There came a muffled response from
Tim as he was, right now, being fucked over the washing machine violently by
Ginger.
Richard: <as Tim> We
actually aren't...uhhh....a part of this story...ahhh...ignore us...oh yes so
close!
Till: <as Ginger> Stop
talking and fuck harder, candyass!
Flake was playing with his
lighter,
Flake: Wondering what the hell he was doing in this
fanfic.
musing upward at Till as he
prepared to leave. Richard was attempting to kiss Paul, but Paul just shoved
him off, yawning out, �Only on Fridays, Richie, not now. Nein!�
Till: You guys have a...DAY to
fuck?
Paul: "All I leant about Sex
I learnt with Schneider" - 3rd Edition.
SOON TO BE DONE SOON TO BE HERE:
Flak-ah goes to the mall all�.ALONE!
Flake: Ohhhhh...the suspense! All sort of things can
happen when one goes to the mall...alone...mwahaha.
WOOT CRAZINESS! YAYNESS!
Paul: More!? God spare us!
Till: <as God> No.
Till und his fucked up dreams�erg,
more of em!
Richard: More of em? Thank goodness we all love ems!
Schneider:� Is it just me or this author cannot write
'and' with 'A'.
Olli: This author *cannot* write
anything!
FIN
All: *sigh*
Till: What...the hell was this
piece of crap all about?
Flake: Hum...let me see...how
about *your* LSD trips?
Till: I've never used LSD,
shitface!
Paul: It doesn't matter...we
got another 'martyr Till' fanfic and it's all RICHARD'S FAULT! *points*
Richard: H-hey guys...I've already
paid for that.
Paul: Yeah but still...*snaps
fingers*
Dr. Yuko: NO violence against your
fellows allowed, Paul!
Paul: But...
Dr. Yuko: No buts! You must play
nicely kids...specially because in the next episode there--
Till: What?! More LSD-induced
nightmares?
Paul: More pointless Till/OlliEEE
fanfics?
Others: *bit their nails
nervously*
Dr. Yuko: Hum...not telling.
All: *groan*
Till: Well guys...cut the chat.
Lets go before the author decided to write Chapter 02: Flak-ah Meets Mall...
-- WHOOOSH! --
The Rammstein guys were created
by...their respective mothers.
They do not belong to me, I'm just
borrowing them for fun.
This is not a personal attack
against the author of the fic,
no matter how much he or she may
deserve it. Don't take too
seriously.
And remember: cries and complaints
about how this MST has hurt
your feelings will just make me
eviscerate you with a rusty butter
knife, then sell your mortal
remains in the black market.
Ditto!