So, TM time to start things off.

Everyone continues congaing as TM sits down to write.

A blue vortex illuminated the darkness that enfolded the place. Within seconds of each other, four exceedingly cranky travellers landed with four thuds on the sticky floor.

"Oh, that does it," Rembrandt bellowed, "I'm never ordering food again."

"It's a good thing we got out of there before Fourth Breakfast," Wade said. "I must have gained fifty pounds on that Earth."

Arturo stood up and grinned widely. "All and all, not a bad world to spend a few months on, eh?"

"Speak for yourself," Quinn half-moaned. "I can't imagine ever losing my trim, muscular physique, but that world just about did me in."

"How much time til the train leaves, Q-Ball?" Remmy asked, moving towards the Egyptian timer to get a look for himself.

"About three days," he replied, stashing the thing in his pocket. "Which, if we're lucky, means less than thirty-six meals."

"Hey, where are we anyway?" Wade queried. Quinn, Rembrandt and Arturo sluggishly began to investigate their surroundings.

"It looks like a movie theater," Arturo commented, pronouncing 'theater' as thee ay tur.

"An empty one, too," Rembrandt said. "What do you think, 'Titanic 2'?" The Crying Man chuckled as he playfully hit the Professor in the arm.

Wade looked indignant. "Hey, just because that movie was a total bomb on the last three worlds we were on doesn't make it a bad movie!!" Rembrandt kept laughing. "Quinn, you liked it. Back me up."

Quinn was spared this horrible fate by a group of twenty-somethings, about seven in number, walking through the theater doors. The foursome then quietly took some seats in the back. The chairs were large and luxurious, with holders on each arm, and a drink despenser and bag of popcorn in each.

"Hey, convenient!" Quinn exclaimed as he dug into some fresh buttered popcorn.

"How can you be hungry after that last world???" Wade demanded frustratedly.

"Hey, I got kind of used to Fourth Breakfast. And, frankly, wasn't First Lunch just the best meal of the day?" Mumbled agreements came from the Professor and Remmy, who had begun munching on their own popcorn. Surrendering, Wade began gingerly popping a few kernels into her own mouth. It was rather tasty.

Suddenly, the lights went completely out and the movie screen started to flicker to life. "Shh, the movie's starting," Quinn said in a stage whisper. He was becoming the master of stating the obvious lately.

The post-teens in front of them were sitting on the edge of their seat, eyes glued to the screen. "Must not have trailers on this world," Rembrandt threw out and was subsequently 'Shhh'd down by the others.

"MUTANT ENEMY PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS..." flashed across the screen. The youngsters looked positively in ecstasy and one of them excitedly babbled "This is it, man, this is it!!!" before being shushed down even more harshly than Rembrandt had been.

"A JOSS WHEDON FILM..." was what followed. More than one of the twenty-something looked as though they were crossing themselves in reverence.

Suddenly the Sliders eardrums nearly bursted with John Williams-esque music, although slightly more classical and eery, as an epic scene was laid out before them of what looked like a huge war between normal humans and a bunch of multi-colored things in suits with lots of make-up.

"THEY THOUGHT THE WAR WAS OVER..." A late-twenty-something man clad completely in black kicks a bleached-blond guy across the room.

"THEY THOUGHT THE MENACE WAS SUBDUED FOREVER..." Another guy, slightly less buff, darker hair and bigger ears then showed up on screen, spouting, "Oh, man, I just hate it when the bad guys don't know when to stay dead."

"THEY THOUGHT THAT THEY WOULD NEVER HAVE TO BAND TOGETHER AGAIN..." A red-haired 20-something turned to a blond-haired 20-something and emphatically cried, "We can't stop this thing alone! It's too powerful!"

THEY THOUGHT THEY WOULD NEVER AGAIN HAVE TO CALL ON...A thinner blonde girl popped up, wooden stake in hand. "Buffy. The Vampire Slayer. I'm so tired of saying that."

Suddenly dozens of images flashed quickly on the screen and the Gen-Xers up front seemed to take in every frame with genuine awe. Lastly, a musical crescendo boomed in their ears as the message flashed, "Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Movie. Coming this Fall."

The group of young people then left the theatre just as the screen flashed "And Now Our Feature Presentation". "Good heavens," the Professor commented to his companions. "Those people are leaving before the movie's even started!"
The foursome thought they could hear general comments of intense approval among the group. "That was so awesome!" "Gonna be standing in line for days." "Way better the fifteenth time!"

"They came just for the trailer. It must be some big movie event on this world," Wade reasoned.

Rembrandt looked around at his companions. After letting this all sink in for a few moments, he turned to Quinn earnestly and said, "Wasn't 'Buffy' already a movie????"

***

Fifteen minutes later, the Sliders exited the theatre.

"Even if they were obsessed 'Buffy' fans, those guys had the right idea," Quinn said with a distasteful look on his face.

"Who knew 'Waterworld' would generate so many sequels?" The Professor disgustedly bemoaned.

Wade was even more outraged. "A second and third I could get. But 'Waterworld 5: The World Has a Little Less Water'???? That's just going too far!"

Leaving the theater and engaged in their own conversation, they remained completely oblivious to the world around them. Walking into a nearby cafe, The Bronze: Starbucks, the Sliders decided to order a few drinks. Wade, Quinn and Rembrandt sat down to a table, which happened to have a TV on it. "Well, here's an innovation I like," Rembrandt said approvingly.

"We get all three channels," one of the clerks walking by said boastfully.

"All three?!?" Rembrandt asked disappointedly.

"Yep," the young woman agreed blissfully, oblivious to Rembrandt's disapproval. "ABRC, AAC and AFC!"

Desperately craving something to get the first fifteen minutes of bad Kevin Costner acting out of his brain, Quinn turned on the television. Flipping between the channels, the style of programming seemed to be pretty similar, dark atmosphere, lots of action and fighting, and fairly humorous quips. As much as Quinn might have liked that stuff, having that be all there is was a little disheartening. "Hey, what's going on with this?" Quinn asked.

Wade picked up a program guide and her eyes popped wide open. "Get this- AFC stands for the 'All Faith Channel' and AAC stands for the 'All Angel Channel'..."

"Nothing but religious programming, huh? Not the first world we've been to like that." Rembrandt said, matter-of-factly.

"I don't think so," Wade said. "ABRC stands for the All Buffy Rerun Channel," she finished. "My guess is they're all related somehow."

Arturo returned to the table with a sour look on his face. "Professor, you're not going to believe how weird the TV programming on this Earth is!"

"We have a bigger problem," Arturo interrupted. "This earth's money does not have past presidents on it. It has a bunch of young Gen-Xer television writers!!"

All was hushed for a few seconds after the news was broken. Rembrandt finally broke the silence with, "Oh, man, I don't even wanna know what they think about minimum wage on this crazy world!"

***

Blinker comes in the story cave as TM puts the pen back down. "Hey, why the smeg is everything so happy and peaceful in here?!?" He then walks over to the refrigerator and screams, "In the name of everything that's holy!! Somebody stocked the fridge with 'Mellow Yellow'!!!!"

Everyone in the cave gasps.

BritSlider: "It appears that a great mystery is out there to be solved. Being British, I have the most authority to investigate this matter. Someone out there has deliberately made the Story Gamers more mellow! Was it.......YOU?????????

ThomasMalthus(It Wasn't Me!)

"Well, it seems to, aside from the Buffy infatuation, and the money, it's a pretty normal world." Wade looked to her companions for agreement.
Quinn replied, "I sure hope so. But, we need to find some money real quick. We need to pay for this stuff. And, no matter what Wade says, we do need to eat."
Remmy looked around. "I'll be right back, guys, ok?" He got up from the table and jogged down the street a ways.
"Now where does he think he's going?"
"I'm not sure, Miss Wells, but I'm sure we will find out soon enough."

misswells downed her fourth Mello Yellow, and took a deep breath.

Remmy jogged back over to the table, a bunch of green paper in his hands. "Here we go guys! Two hundred and fifty dollars! That should be enough to hold us for a few meals, right? I didn't want to take too much from my double. We can get the rest of us later."
He dumped the stack of twenties on the table. The foursome gathered around, staring at the twenties and the ten, like little kids just learning that there's an owl in the corner of their money.
"Hey, this is cool money," Wade exclaimed. "I think we should start collecting money sometime. That would be a great collection. Money from parallel earths."

Later that night . . .

"Guys, I don't know about you, but, I'm getting sick of Angel. And Faith. And Buffy. Let's rent a movie. The room has a VCR."
"Yeah, but, who says the movies are any better?"
Remmy glanced at Wade. "You may be right sweetheart, but at least they have other movies besides Buffy. Waterworld anyone? Maybe the fifth will be more entertaining if we see the other three."
The group, having nothing better to do, set out to find one of the only Blockbusters that carried more than Buffy, Angel, and Faith movies. Then they settled down to watch Waterworld 2, 3, and 4.

misswells threw down the pen. "I can't write anymore. This is giving me a headache." She tossed out her empty cans in the new recycling bin marked cans only . . .
. . . "Yes, I can do that!" . . .
. . . and grabbed a few more cans. "Well, my work here is done. Now I have to find out how the last one ended."
misswells curled up to read the last game, and drink her Mello Yellows.

misswells

Sarah: Oh great, well this was my filler. I will be back in the next couple of days. Promise!!!

Sarah: Okay…

----

Suddenly, the video player explodes with a severe excess of really really really bad scripts and somehow the TV also gets offended and also explodes. The explosions catch a stack of full gas canisters in the corner of the room and the whole hotel explodes in one huge fireball.

The Sliders die instantly.

-----

Robin14334: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no… <she takes a deep breath>

SouthernSlider: …<she continues for her> No, no, no, no, no, no…

BritSlider: You can't do that!!!

HurriKain: You can't end it here!

SouthernSlider: Oh I thought we were talking about killing Quinn.

Robin14334: So was I.

The guys roll their eyes.

Sarah: But Tigs said I should take the story where my imagination went!

Tigs: Yes, but not there!

BritSlider: Don't take out your boring day on us!!!

Sarah: Okay, okay, okay…. I'll scrub that out and start again if I must…

-----

The professor closed his eyes and groaned. "Uuuggghhh… who's atom-sized brain's idea was it to rent the whole Waterworld collection? I don't think I can even look at water for the next five years!"

"Umm," began Quinn, "don't you need to drink?"

"I will drink only wine!" the professor announced proudly. "Fine wines from around the world! And the odd bit of champagne, of course."

Wade edged further and further away from the professor in mocking. "Does that mean you won't wash??? I don't think I want to slide with someone with someone who makes a skunk drop dead from a mile away!"

Arturo brushed over the insult, preferring to just look indignant. "I will have to just put up with it, I suppose. And Englishman is always strong of will."

Meanwhile, Remmy had been making himself very small and insignificant, knowing that it was his suggestion that had led them to hire the entire Waterworld series so far. They had been given Waterworld 1 free as a bonus for hiring the other films. The clerk had been horrifically surprised that that had taken them all and had wished them all a great night's sleep. Now Remmy understood why. He looked at his watch. "Woah! Those films were longer than we thought! It's 8pm again!"

"Your watch must have stopped Remmy," dismissed Quinn, but Wade back the singer up.

"No, it really is 8pm!" She pointed at the clock on the wall. "Look!"

Quinn glanced around the room. There were bits of popcorn strewn around from the fight they'd had in the middle of "Waterworld 3: We're still going to make a film even though we blew the place up last time and we will spend three hours explaining why", the empty crisp packets and coke bottles, both diet and normal and realised he was hungry. "Anyone wanna come out and see if we can find some food? We could check out the night-life while we're at it."

The professor declined immediately. "I think I'll stay here and order something in. That last film made me sleepy."

"And the others didn't??"

Wade agreed with the professor. "I'm a bit tired too. I think I'll watch a little Angel and then go to bed."

"I didn't know you were a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fan." Quinn was somewhat surprised.

"I'm not," replied Wade, nonchalantly. "I'm an Angel fan, or rather, a David Boreanaz fan."

Quinn closed his eyes and wished he hadn't asked. He should have expected that, even from Wade.

"And that Nicholas Brendan is pretty cute too. And there's just something about Seth Green that's adorable. Oooh, and I LOVE Glenn Quinn's accent… that is so sexy!"

"Wade! Do you mind?"

Wade hung her head. "Sorry," she mumbled. Sometimes it could be really hard being the only female Slider. She had no one to share that kind of thing with.

Quinn continued his original train of thought, "Anyway, you gonna come Remmy?"

"Yeah, why not," his friend answered. "It beats hanging around here all night."

* * *

"Halt, who goes there!" came a voice from the shadows.

Quinn and Remmy stopped dead in their tracks. The alley was dark and they couldn't see where the voice emanated from. There were fire escapes on either side of them, but it didn't appear to be from there. And it definitely wasn't behind them. That left in front, but their vision was impaired by two strategically placed dustbins.

"Er…"

A figure appeared from behind one of the dustbins. "Human or Vampire."

"Um… human?" Quinn wasn't sure whether this was a good thing to say or not.

The man walked straight up to them and shook Quinn by the shoulder. "Don't worry, man, just messing with ya. Everyone knows Buffy, Faith and Angel are just fiction. You look lost. Can I help?"

"You wouldn't know a good hangout around here would you?"

"Preferably one that does food," was Remmy's contribution.

"As it happens, I'm on my way to one now. Come along if you like."

The two Sliders followed their new friend, all three completely oblivious to the disaster that was about to occur at the poor guy's usual haunt. A disaster that would leave many dead and would prevent the Sliders from returning to their companions for some time.

-----

SL4ever: Oh why don't you just write my part for me! You've dictated what I need to do!

Sarah: Sorry, I needed to give it SOME plot at least! I couldn't leave it like that.

SL4ever: Yes you could.

Sarah rolls her eyes. BritSlider approaches.

BritSlider: Oi! Missy! I want a word with you.

Sarah: uh oh…

BritSlider: I may be a long while out of school but I still remember some German!! And I am not very very very old! You're just stupidly young!

Sarah: Here we go again… er… I think I have a lot of things I need to do… catch y'all later!!!!!

She runs out the cave so fast BritSlider doesn't even have time to register that she's gone until she's disappeared completely.

Torch: Will you get on with it?!

*****

"So what's your name?" Quinn wanted to know.

Their guide beamed. "Dexter. Yours?"

"I'm Quinn and this is Remmy."

"Queen and Rimmer. Got ya."

"Um, that's QUINN and REMMY!" Remmy corrected.

"Oh. Sorry, I'm a little hard of hearing."

They arrived at the only lit up building in sight a couple minutes later. The rest of the block was dark and closed up, leading them to believe that most people were home watching TV once prime time started. The open establishment was called "Greasy Gatsby" and featured a grinning greasy spoon standing next to a grinning slice of overcooked bacon.

Half a dozen people were scattered around various tables and then another half dozen were sitting together around one large circular table in the back. Most of the isolated customers were in their 30's, obviously having stopped to eat after a long day's work, while the large group was composed of people a decade younger. It was to this large group that their companion led them.

"Hey fellows, this is Quince and Rhymey. I think they're Sliders! They can help us!"

Before either of the Sliders could react, a large green vortex opened behind them with an angry roar.

****

Wade was paging through a magazine (Buffy Weekly with the headline, "10 Steps to Achieving a Shrill Irritating Voice Just Like Buffy's!") and Arturo was paging through the phone book when there was a sudden knock on the door.

Eyebrows raised, Arturo cautiously walked to the door and peeked through the eyehole. Wade followed him with a vase clutched in one whitened hand.

Apparently Arturo felt comfortable with who was knocking because he opened the door. Two dirty, bedraggled young women darted in. "Close the door!" The cleaner (but not by much) one pleaded.

Arturo did so, then noticed Wade's weapon. "That's 5th dynasty! Put that down, foolish girl!"

Wade tossed it in a chair where it balanced precariously on the edge of the cushion. "It's a fake. They wouldn't put a real one in a smegging hotel room."

"What can we do for you ladies?" Arturo asked, trying not to look disapprovingly at their rags and general disheveledness.

The other girl produced a small electronic tracking device. "We homed in on your timer. You two have to be Sliders! We need your help!"

The other girl glanced nervously at the open windows. "My name is Myra, and this is Camille. We've escaped from a slave camp on another Earth. Camille is a native from the Slave World who was forced into labor when she protested the practice. I was one of the Sliders who unfortunately gave the world the technology to become Transdimensional Slavers."

"It's a jungle world with odd radiation levels on 90% of the surface which prevents most technology from working. My civilization developed on this one large island where the radiation was not present, but they couldn't spread out over the world unless they lived in the most primitive way." Camille added mournfully.

"They need the labor to clear out the jungles on the other continents and start mining out the radioactive ore that is preventing technological expansion."

"That would take centuries by hand!" Arturo protested.

Camille nodded. "But the way they look at it is that if they don't do it, several centuries from now they will still be in the situation they're at right now. And it's not the decision makers doing the digging and clearing."

"How can we help?" Wade wanted to know.

"The rest of our friends are hiding in a nearby restaurant. The other man who was with us followed two guys that came from this hotel when we were homing in on the timer. Do you have two male companions?"

"That would be Quinn and Remmy," Arturo comfirmed.

"Then we were right to have him follow them. We've been hiding on this world for a month, waiting for the faint chance that someone would Slide through here." Myra informed.

"The only problem is that when we use our stolen equipment the Slavers can return the favor and home in on us. So we don't have much time. We need to Slide out of here as soon as possible to stay ahead of our pursuers."

Arturo pulled out the timer and glanced at the readout. "That might be a problem. We still have two and three quarters days left on the timer."

The two escapees looked resigned. "There is no way we can duck them for even a fraction of that time."

****

Ten heavily armed men stormed through the vortex and quickly trained their weapons on everyone in the room. They were an odd group. None of the ten wore the same style of clothes or carried the same weapon. There were 1920 pistols, World War II era machine guns, an early version of the AK-47, and even something that might have been an energy weapon. They were obviously mercenaries gleaned from various worlds with various technological levels.

The leader, the one with the energy weapon, barked, "everyone stay seated! We're going to reclaim our wayward souls and be on our way! Anyone who moves gets their dome split wide open! Is that clear?"

Dexter stood up. "Um, may I make a suggestion? It's not necessary to make such melodramatic statements to get people's attention. You just appeared in this room from an f-ing green VORTEX, for crissakes! You are ten deep, and you're all armed with various but equally menacing weapons. What is the point of hyperbole on top of that? At best it is not going to make any of us more likely to be docile because if your magical appearance, grim nature, and weapons are not enough to subdue someone then ineffectual threats will be likewise ignored. And at worst it makes you sound like an impotent punk. So, therefore-."

The leader pointed his weapon at Dexter and vaporized him. The greasy spot on the floor hissed angrily. The leader glared at the escapees and the two Sliders. "Cuff 'em boys. They're going back to camp."

"What about the rest?" A Scottish man with a kilt and a massive hatchet wanted to know.

"I lied. Kill 'em."

****

Ten minutes later the two female escapees and the two remaining Sliders found the restaurant empty save for a half dozen dead innocents bodies and one hissing greasy spot.

******

HK: That was cold blooded.

SL4: Hey! Sarah demanded blood! What else was I supposed to do? I personally would have had leader spare everyone else but the Blood Goddess demanded a sacrifice!

Slider_Paul: I've checked the fine print. He's right, there was no way out of it. We've had too many dream sequences.

Tigs: If I'd been left with that I would have just done a reverse omission and written the skits but skipped the story part this time!

BS: So how are you gonna follow up on this, Hurri? Don't leave me with this nightmare!

<HK taps his fingers together and gives him an evil Mr. Burns grin>

SL4: Well, I better get back to the Pilot. We're entering the final act.

<After SL4 departs, BS resumes his former dialogue.> : So what is the nature of cave reality? Are we the players or the played? Is there a higher story power dictating our actions, or do we have free story will?

Blinker: And where do these people and objects keep appearing from and disappearing to?

Robin: More importantly, who swiped my happy sprinkles from the fridge???????????

<SL4 makes his way to the MSTing wing, happily munching sprinkles.>

Sentry: "Put me through to the home of Citizen General Arturo..."

TM: ... I don't care if this IS his Tupperware party night! I need to talk to him! It's important!

SL4: Time's up, Cha-cha. Pony up that seat.

TM: You can have it! Whichever horrid individual was chewing gum in this seat needs their >:-# spanked! <TM departs to go change pants and rejoin the Story Game.>

SL4 <sitting down and pulling out a stick of Wriggly's "extra sticky" gum and popping it in his mouth.> : So, where were we?

TBH: We're entering the seventh and final act. Ratings are at an all time low so we have to increase funniness, raunchiness, and annoyance.

SL4: I can plainly do that.

BritSlider and TM did as HK said, and the storm walked towards the desk to do his bit.

"Dammit! We're too late!" Cammile yelled as she looked at the slaughter's aftermath.

"What in the blazes happened here?" asked Arturo, who is staring at the large grease pool.

Myra lowered her head, "Looks like they've finally found us!"

Wade grew worried. "Where's Quinn and Remmy?"

"I'm sorry," Myra said, "But it looks like you friends were also captured."

----------------------

HK: I.... I can't do it! I can't go on! AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
<runs and jump in Chasm>

Tigs: Oh man... Brit, its your turn!!!

And with that, Brit began to write.............

-----------------------------------

Cammile looked at the greasy spot on the floor that Arturo had been staring at.

"What in blazes happened here?" Asked Arturo.

Cammile noticed something next to the greasy pool: "They vaporised Dexter. Look, there's a piece of cherry pie he must have dropped just before they killed him."

Wade couldn't believe what she had just herd. "Vaporised? You mean like with a ray gun?"

"Exactly that," said Myra. "The Transdimentional Slavers use mercenaries from many different earths. All of them bloodthirsty savages. I hear they even have a Scotsman amongst them!"

Arturo shuddered. "Good heavens! Is there no end to the depths of depravity that these people will stoop to?"

"Look you guys," interrupted Wade. "We have to find our friends. Is there any way we can find out where those mercenaries went to?"

Myra and Cammile glanced at each other for a moment, before the former answered her question. "They will have taken them back to the Slave World, where they will be put to work mining the radioactive ore."

Arturo quickly grasped the gravity of the situation. "Then we have to get them out of there; too much exposure to that radiation would kill Quinn and Remmy!"

"Nice idea professor, but how are we going to get to their world?"

Myra had started backing away from others. She had an idea what Arturo was about to suggest, and she didn't like it one bit!

"It's simple my dear Miss Wells; we must get ourselves captured like they did. At least once we are all together again we should be able to furmulate some plan to get off that forsaken hellhole."

Cammile looked at them in shock. "You can't be serious! Do you have any idea how hard it was to escape from there in the first place? No way am I going back!"

Arturo softened his voice a little to try and calm her down. "My dear girl we simply have no choice. They only way we can rescue our friends is to go to that world and escape from there. If we can survive for two days then our timer will be able to help us slide out; provided we are in the right part of your world. That is why we will need your help. It's the only chance you'll have of getting away from there once and for all."

Cammile was somewhat dejected to say the least. After all the hard work they had done to escape from that world, now she was going to go right back there? But she knew that it was the only way to save her friends, and if these two could help them slide once they got there, then maybe their plan might just work. She looked over to Myra, and they both knew that this was their best hope for freedom. Myra took out the tracking device she had used to locate the sliders in the first place.

"When I press this blue button on the side," she said, with no small hint of resignation. "The tracker will start an active search for any passing wormholes. Those mercenaries should be able to home in on it and slide in to get us."

"Then we had best get on with it," said Arturo.

The four stood together as Myra pressed the blue button. Arturo made sure to hide the timer in his underwear. He was sure that even the most depraved of mercenaries wouldn't dream of looking there for anything!

In less than a minute, a large green vortex appeared, and ten men leaped through the opening; training their weapons on the four people inside the 'Greasy Gatsby'.

"Okay, everyone stay seated! We're going to reclaim our wayward souls and be on our way! Anyone who moves gets their dome split wide open! Is that clear?" Shouted the leader, before realising that there were only four people in the restaurant.

"Damn," said Myra in faux annoyance. "You found us!"

The leader of the mercenaries grinned evilly at her. "Did you think you could hide from us forever? You're coming back to finish the work you started; along with your new friends! Cuff them all; and let's get out of here!"

The four were soon habdcuffed, and bundled through the vortex. They only hoped that their plan would work........

---------------------------------------------

BritSlider stood up from the writing desk, his work done. The torch seemed satisfied that another part of the story had been written, and glowed contentedly.

TM: Hey! You've taken them off of 'Buffy World'! Do you have any idea how much effort I put in to create that place?

Blinker: Don't worry TM, I'm sure it will always be there whenever you want it; all you have to do is close your eyes and think about it.

TM: Gee, thanks Auntie Em! That's the last time I make my special cocktails for those ingrates!

SS walked over to see what Brit had written: Hmmm, I guess I'll let you off; at least we seem to be working towards some kind of conclusion here.

Brit didn't care, all he wanted was to grab a beer, a pizza, and sit down on the couch to watch the football game..................

SS: I'll be baaaaaaack. "Glory, glory to ol' Georgia. Glory, glory to ol' . . . .

<Robin sits down to write....>

"Ouch," Arturo said.

~Robin

(I'm sorry... I haven't even read the rest of it yet... Tigs gave me the idea, blame her...) <runs off to study for the history test tomorrow>

SS: ALL RIGHT!!!! Picks pen up and resumes writing.
-------------------------------

Myra, Cammile, Arturo and Wade were tossed out of the vortex on their collective behinds. The ten mercenaries were right behind them. Arturo grumbled as they hoisted him to his feet.

"My good man, would you be so kind as to take your hands off my clothing." said Arturo. He felt the timer slip in his underwear.

"Shut your trap!" said the head mercenary. He grabbed both Wade and Arturo and roughly guided them away from the others. "Take our two wayward souls back to their work camp." he ordered. Myra and Cammile were hauled off in the opposite direction.

When Wade and Arturo were dumped into the barracks and left alone, they began to look around for clues of their friends. There were two greasy spots next to one of the cots.

"You don't suppose that's what's left of Quinn and Remmy, do you?" Wade asked.

"My dear child. Have faith. I don't believe Mr. Mallory and Mr. Brown would allow such a thing to happen. They know we would come after them. I'm sure they are cooperating for the moment. No need for alarm." said Arturo. He only wished he believed himself.

"Hey! You two. Put these on and follow me." yelled one of the mercenaries. He deposited to metallic-looking suits on the floor at their feet.

Arturo picked up his leg to slide into the suit and the timer came tumbling out.

"Well, what do we have here?"

"Oh, it's nothing." said Arturo as he bent to retrieve it, but the mercenary was quicker. He scooped it up in his hand.

"Well, I'll be. I haven't seen one of these since . . . Hey, wait a minute. You're not one of THEM?" The man ran to the door and called out to a passing sentry. "Go get the General, quick. We've got a big problem."
-----------------------------------

SS laid down the pen and dusted her hands together.

SS: Now that wasn't too bad. Robin should be able to handle it from there.

She jumped up and headed to the bar to find HK.

SS: I'm finished. Now how about returning those claws. No need to get nasty over this. Everything is back to normal. The story is progressing again, and everybody is happy.

She looks around to see the lathargic figures lying about the cave. Boy, it must have been a rough weekend for everybody, she thought.

HK: I'm going to read your part first. Then we'll see.

SS:<rolls her eyes> You'd think I could get a little trust around here. I didn't muck it up, or write just one word. It's a 'for real' part.

HK takes off toward the desk. SS heads for the Homework room.

SS: Oh, Rooooobin. You can come out and REALLY do your part now. I'm finished. <heads for the bar for MegaPizza and a glass of White Zin. Mentally starts a list in her mind for the next tailgate party>
------------------------

SS

Tigs donned her headphones, walked towards the desk, and strangely winked at HK.

~~~~

Arturo and Wade found themselves strapped to exam tables. Wade looked around. "Quinn, is that you?"

"Yeah," Quinn grunted. "They took us here as soon as they realized we weren't slaves."

"How do we get out of here?" Arturo's voice cut into the conversation.

Quinn replied, "we thought you were going to rescue us."

"Oops," Wade gave her best bimbo giggle. "Out. Who's next?"

As she freed Quinn, Rembrandt and finally Arturo no one spoke. The same thought echoed in all their heads. "How'd she do that?" For her part Wade smirked and then, as if reading their thought, said, "I totally watched Buffy."

"Oh," for a moment Quinn sounded like a dumb big screen jock.

"Uh," and Arturo's phenomenal intelligence came through powerfully in a single syllable.

"How do we get the timer? Are you gonna make some Buffy moves?" Rembrandt chuckled.

"I totally havea wonder bra," Wade cocked a hip and gave a saucy wink to the three boys.

Quinn groaned, "can we come up with a BETTER plan?"

Rolling her eyes Wade slammed Quinn with, "what's your plan boy genius?"

"Ouch. What's up with your attitude?" Quinn was getting a bit insulted.

During the entire conversation Rembrandt had been rooting around the room. "Uhm, guys. Isn't this our timer?"

~~~~

Tigs put out the torch and laid the manuscript to rest in the "finished" file. Satisfied she took off her headphones only to hear the babble of distraught gamers. Three officers, from different dimensions, were interviewing the inhabitents. Tigs heard snatches of the conversations.

"Will he live?"

"Wrapped the pie around a pole?"

"We tried to stop him."

"TM just kept serving him tekila."

"This is awful."

"I never should have given him the keys."

HK slipped away from his heartfelt and tearful conversation with one of the officers to check out the finished story game. He slipped two boxes to Tigs as he perused the pages.

HK: I should get a cop out card for this.
Tigs: Totally not. I wrote skittage.
HK: But this is bad. Where's the resolution.
Tigs: Timer's back.
HK: True.
Tigs: So, what's going on?
HK: Oh, apparentally SL4ever got into a little accident. He was eating cherry pie and it ended up all over a telephone pole. He's cooling his heels in jail.
Tigs: That's awful. Oh, are these my claws? And more goojf cards? That's so sweet.
HK: You deserve them.
Tigs: Is TM still in the bathroom?
HK: Yup.
Tigs: He should've eaten a pie. Cherry juice and pickle juice are the only cures.
HK: That's sick.

HK knocks on the bathroom door. He hears grunts and groans of pain.

HK: Drink this.
TM: It's pickle juice.
HK: Trust me.

[These skits were written under duress. No harm or insult was intended towards anyone mentioned. Please don't lynch me.]