As usual, ThomasMalthus was tending bar. In the blender was TM's latest concoction. It was azure in color and smelled of exotic fruits and... was that turpentine? Nah, couldn't be. And there was another smell Recall couldn't quite place.

R317: TM, a draft, please.

TM: Wouldn't you like to try my latest creation? I call it PTSS.

R317: Post Traumatic Slide Syndrome?

TM: No. Persimmon Turpentine with Side of Sausage.

R317: Um, I think I'll stick with the beer. Persimmons make me break out in hives.

TM: Suit yourself. <pours himself a glass of the now fizzing drink.> Nice job, following Tigs' segment.

R317: Thanks, I wasn't sure I could do it.

CoolSlider approached the bar, unlit cigarette in his mouth.

CS: Yeah, how'd you come up with it that quickly?

R317: I dunno. It just kind of came to me, really.

Unseen, Yeontoo had walked up behind Recall.

Y: I see. And how'd you manage to keep it on track? I mean with no history on any of the characters to pull from?

R317: <looking nervous> I, um.. I just guessed at how these characters might respond. Tigs did leave some clues.

BritSlider: <from seemingly out of nowhere> Really? And I suppose the whole 'aspiring poets' bit was all yours too?

R317: <noticing that most of the cave dwellers were now gathered around him> What is this? I didn't expect a kind of Story Game inquisition!

With that, a trapdoor opened under Recall's feet, dropping him into darkness. Recall managed to land on his feet, only slightly turning his ankle. In the darkness he could hear people moving about. Then a spotlight came on, illuminating Recall, but making it very hard for him to see. Surprisingly, standing beside him under the light was Tigs. Through the light, he could just make out a room full of red robed figures.

DMD: NOBODY expects the Story Game Inquisition! Our chief weapon is Peckinpah's Memoirs...Peckinpah's Memoirs and a video of 'Enter the Duck'...'Enter the Duck' and Peckinpah's Memoirs...

ST: That's two.

DMD: Right, our two weapons are 'Enter the Duck' and Peck's Memoirs...and a recording of 'Shiny'....

SouthernSlider: That's three.

DMD: Our *three* weapons are 'Enter the Duck', Peck's Memoirs, and a recording of 'Shiny'...and an almost fanatical devotion to Tormè....

Blinker: Four.

DMD: :-| Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as 'Enter the Duck', Peck's Memoirs.... I'll come in again.

The spotlight dims.

R317: <gamely> What is this? I didn't expect a kind of Story Game Inquisition.

The spotlight turns back on, blinding Recall317 once again.

DMD: NOBODY expects the Story Game Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: 'Enter the Duck', Peck's Memoirs, 'Shiny', an almost fanatical devotion to Tormè, and nice red uniforms - Oh damn!

DMD: <to Jenneration_X> I can't say it - you'll have to say it.

JX: What?

DMD: You'll have to say the bit about 'Our chief weapons are ...'

JX: <rather horrified>: I couldn't do that...

The spotlight goes out again.

Tigs: <getting bored> I didn't expect a kind of Story Game Inquisition.

Spotlight once again.

JX: Er.... Nobody...um....

TM: Expects...

JX: Expects... Nobody expects the...um...the Story Game...um...

HK: Inquisition.

JX: I know, I know! Nobody expects the Story Game Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect -

SweetOne: Our chief weapons are...

JX: Our chief weapons are...um...er...

MSR: Peckinpah's Memoirs...

JX: Peckinpah's Memoirs and --

DMD: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah! ... our chief weapons are Peck's Memoirs...blah blah blah. SpaceTime, read the charges.

ST: You are hereby charged that you did on diverse dates commit heresy against Sliders. 'My old man said follow the--'

DMD: That's enough.
<to Tigs and R317> Now, how do you plead?

Tigs: We're innocent.

DMD: Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Blinker: We'll soon change your mind about that!

To be continued?

Author's note: This skit is done COMPLETELY in jest. No offense to the authors of SG parts 1 and 2 is intended. Thanks to Blinker for some skit elements.

No posters were injured in the course of filming this skit.

Void where prohibited and in Arkansas.

Warning: Pregnant women, the elderly, and children should avoid prolonged exposure to skit.

Caution: Skit may suddenly accelerate to dangerous speeds.

Skit contains a liquid core, which if exposed due to rupture should not be touched, inhaled, or looked at.

Do not use skit on concrete.

Discontinue use of skit if any of the following occurs: itching, vertigo, dizziness, tingling in extremities, loss of balance or coordination, slurred speech, temporary blindness, profuse sweating or heart palpitations

If skit begins to smoke, get away immediately. Seek shelter and cover head.

Skit may stick to certain types of skin.

When not in use, skit should be returned to its special container and kept under refrigeration.

Failure to do so relieves the author of skit, Wazootymann Products Incorporated, and its parent company, EustiSlider Unlimited, of any and all liability.

Ingredients of skit include an unknown glowing substance which fell to Earth, presumably from outer space.

Do not taunt skit.

Member, FDIC.

CS: What's with him?

TM: I dunno. He asked for a draft, got this far away look in his eyes, mumbled about something. I could've sworn he was talking about turpentine and sausage. Then just zoned out.

DMD walked up.

DMD: Him too?

TM: Him too, what?

DMD: Tigs and I were discussing her poetry when she just seemed to go zombie on me.

The three looked about the cave. Everyone else seemed normal.

MSR completed her part in the game. "HA! Now if anyone tries to kill them, they can't. They're immortal."

MSR saw TM, CS, and DMD standing around the vacant Recall317.

MSR: Hey guys. What's.... up....... with.............

TM: Great. Now it's her, too.

For MSR, the cave grew dim and she couldn't seem to get her words out. Then she was blinded by a spotlight shining in her eyes.

MSR: .... Recall?

R317: Hmmm? Oh, hi. Join the fun.

MSR: Tigs, is that you?

Tigs: Hullo. It seems we're being Inquisited or some such for our parts of the story.

MSR: I hadn't expected an Inquisition.

DMD: NO ONE expects the Story Game Inquisition!

No one else seems to have noticed MSR's switch from Inquisitor to Inquisitee. (yes, I made that word up.)

DMD: 'Enter the Duck', Peckinpah's Memoirs, and a most fanatical-- [controls himself with a supreme effort] Ooooh! Now, Brit -- the rack!

[BritSlider produces a plastic-coated dish-drying rack. DMD looks at it and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums heavily to cover his anger]

DMD <to SL4ever>: You....Right! Tie her down.

SL4: Uh, which her?

DMD: Ugh! That one! She started all this.

[Brit and SL4 make a pathetic attempt to tie Tigs on to the drying rack]

DMD:Right! How do you plead?

Tigs: Innocent.

DMD: Ha! Right! Yeontoo, give the rack [oh dear] give the rack a turn.

[Y stands there awkwardly and shrugs her shoulders]

Y: I....

DMD: <gritting his teeth> I *know*, I know you can't. I didn't want to say anything. I just wanted to try and ignore the mistake.

Y: I...

Blinker: It makes it all seem so stupid.

SweetOne: Shall I..?

DMD: No. Y, just pretend for God's sake. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Y turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish-rack.

DMD: HurriKain, read the charges.

HK: Now, you are accused of heresy on three counts -- heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action -- *four* counts.

DMD: Do you confess?

MSR: I don't understand what we're accused of.

DMD: Ha! Then we'll make you understand! JennX! Fetch...THE CUSHIONS!

[JARRING CHORD]

[JX holds out two ordinary modern household cushions]

JX: Here they are.

HK: Now, you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of heresy, reject the works of Peckinpah -- *two* last chances. And you shall be free -- *three* last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.

R317: I don't know what you're talking about.

DMD: Right! If that's the way you want it -- Sarah! Poke her with the soft cushions!

[Slider_Sarah carries out this rather pathetic torture]

DMD sat in a big comfy chair with SweetOne seated on his lap, running her fingers through his hair, nibbling on his ear. When the trap door opened and Blinker and ThomasMalthus fell to the floor in front of them, DMD jumped from his seat, dropping SweetOne to the floor on her behind. "Sorry hun," DMD said as he gave her a helping hand to her feet. "Hummph" SweetOne replied.

DMD ignored the sarcastic tone in SweetOne's voice and went straight to the newcomers.

DMD <to Y>: Bring them over to stand with the others.

As Y was leading the confused cave dwellers under the bright lights, she disappeared. Seconds later Y dropped through the trap door, barely avoiding landing on Blinker. DMD seemed oblivious to the fact that his Inquisitors were vanishing around him, and SpaceTime finished herding the new arrivals to join their co-conspirators.

DMD: Resume poking them with the soft cushions!

Brit: Confess! Confess! Confess!

HK: It doesn't seem to be hurting her, lord.

DMD: Have you got all the stuffing up one end?

JX: Yes, lord.

DMD [angrily hurling away the cushions]: Hm! They are made of harder stuff! BritSlider! SpaceTime! HurriKain! Fetch...THE COMFY COUCH!

[JARRING CHORD]

[Zoom into SweetOne's horrified face]

S1 [terrified]: The...Comfy Couch?

[The three men pushes in a long, comfy couch -- a really plush one]

DMD: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see! Put them in the Comfy Couch!

[Southern, HK, JX, ST, S1 and Brit roughly push Tigs, R317, MSR, Blink, TM and Y onto the Comfy Couch]

DMD [with a cruel leer]: Now -- you will stay in the Comfy Couch until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven. [aside, to Southern] Is that really all it is?

SS: Yes, lord.

DMD: I see. I suppose we make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Confess, sinners. Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess!

S1: I confess!

DMD: Not you!

HK: Me then?

DMD: UGH! NO! THEM!!!!

Tigs: Um, excuse me, but I think I'll be going now.

R317: Yeah, I've had quite enough of this.

DMD: Silence! Unrighteous creatures, how DARE you...

Blink: Stuff it Monkee-boy.

TM: Unless you haven't noticed, we've almost got you outnumbered.

DMD's cronies started backing away, into the darkness.

DMD: No matter! I am invincible! I've got Peck's Memoirs, Enter the Duck, and Shiny!

MSR: Let's get him.

The Sliders writers jumped DMD, wrestling him to the ground.

DMD: No! No one expects the Story Cave Inquisition! Enter the Duck! Enter the Duck! Shiny! SHINYYY!!!!

DMD's vision began to blur under the onslaught of the former prisoners until......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DMD: SHINY!!!!!!!

DMD felt chilled water splash down on him. Opening his eyes, he saw the story cave writers gathered around him. (Well, except for ST, who was playing Choplifter and using the 'copters to kill the hostages he was supposed to be saving). Tigs was holding a bucket, obviously the source of the frigid water.

S1: Are you okay, hun?

DMD: What happened?

Tigs: You read my manuscript and passed out.

DMD: So it was all a dream?

At the sound of that, the DSE roared to life and began chasing DMD around the cave.

~~~~~~~~

Thanks to SweetOne for kicking me in the a$$ to write the final part of the Inquisition, and for help in writing it.

WM