The seaQuest—majestic, sleek, powerful—a 1,000 foot long science, exploration, and rescue submarine, the most powerful and technologically advanced of any on the planet, born from the dreams of man and driven by a desire to make the world and its vast oceans a safer and more harmonious place to live. And at the heart, the very core of these dreams and desires was one man who somehow brought it all together and made it all possible. He was Nathan Bridger, and he was the captain of the seaQuest.

Until that dumbass Bennish messed it all up. For a reason that had completely escaped the captain's memory, college genius Conrad Bennish, Jr. once visited the seaQuest, and with the help of young Lucas Wolenczak, seaQuest's teenaged chief computer analyst, had managed to build a working timer out of the vocorder, a device used to communicate with Bridger's pet dolphin, Darwin. Shortly after, Bridger began his incredible journey that would eventually lead him to the deep, drunken sleep he found himself in on Tequila World.

"Captain, wake up," said a raspy, mechanical voice. "You slide in sixty seconds."

The Miller family had never been a particularly tidy group of people. While their house was hardly ever disastrous, at the same time, it was far from ever being clean. The Millers lived comfortably, and though nothing about their home was in any sort of logical order, everyone at least knew where the remote was. Usually.

Today was different though. Today, the Millers' home was immaculate. Every bathroom, every surface, every nook, and every cranny had been painstakingly scrubbed, washed, and polished. Everything about their house was more than highly presentable. The reason, of course, was that the Millers were having company.

Mrs. Miller, a reasonably successful advertising consultant, had invited a potential client and his family to her house to have dinner with her and her family the week prior. It was a polite invitation that she did not think the client would take to heart, but nevertheless, he did, and so the Millers, with all deliberate speed and precision, began the tedious process of cleaning the house. The result was inarguably a success.

The doorbell rang...

"I can't... believe I drank the whole thing," Bridger said, rising from behind a garbage can.

"And then some," said the mechanical voice, coming from the vocorder.

"Shut your filthy mouth, you whore," Bridger said as he staggered around the alleyway. "I can't hepp it that alls they had to ...hehe... drink around'er was teggeela."

"Fascinating," said the vocorder. "Ten seconds."

Bridger prepared himself as best he could. He was leaving a world where, for some odd reason or another, drinking water was ridiculously pricy, while liquors, like tequila, were relatively inexpensive. The cheap booze had left the captain inebriated to a spectacular degree. To make matters slightly worse, the government's use of generators that produced what was commonly referred to as "happy gas," though soothing to the senses, had unfortunately left the captain with an irritatingly persistent case of gas of his own.

After drinking like he did, the urge to urinate suddenly took hold of Bridger moments before the timer hit zero, and it hit with such surprising ferocity that he accidentally wet his pants. In truth, he had defecated himself too only an hour earlier, but was too drunk to realize it.

The timer activated and the portal opened, just as it should, and Bridger, with nasty pants, slid to another world.

The hosts and the guests both moved from the house's entry hall into the dining room where they all prepared to sit down.

"Why, Mrs. Miller, the food all looks so lovely! I just can't wait to try it all!" said the particularly obese Mrs. Helmer. It was at that point that Mr. Miller noticed that the biting was causing his tongue to bleed, and the giggle that escaped was just too far beyond his feeble control. He did manage to, with debatable success, cover it up with a cough, however.

That's when the portal opened right above the dining room table. Bridger landed right in the mashed potatoes that Mr. Helmer was about to help himself to a grossly disproportionate serving of. The portal closed, and all eyes were on Bridger.

"What!? What is the meaning of all this!?" shouted Mr. Helmer. There was a moment of silence—no one had a good answer, not even Bridger, who had just delivered unto the people of the room a very audible, very stagnant and offensive-smelling fart. "And that SMELL!" shouted Helmer. "This man farted on me!"

"Oh, sorry," said Bridger, "I assure you, it's just the happy gas."

"Happy gas!?" screamed Helmer. "You call that 'happy gas!?' I'll kill you!"

"Eww! He smells like piss too!" observed seven-year-old Jake Miller.

"Mrs. Miller!!" shouted Mrs. Helmer, looking first at the boy, then at the mother.

"Jacob!!" Mrs. Miller scolded, looking first at the boy, and then at Mrs. Helmer.

"Nathan," said Bridger, pointing at himself, still in his drunken stupor, and still sitting in the mashed potatoes.

"Fatasses!" exclaimed Mr. Miller, satisfying his humor since the evening was ruined anyway.

"Landings don't... get mudge worse than that," said Bridger.

"It sounded to me like everything went pretty much how it usually does," responded the vocorder.

"You shut your damn mouth, whore!" Bridger shouted in his drunkenness. "Sometimes I wish I'd never installed that dumbass AI of yours in your... your... well, in YOU!"

"I wish that sometimes as well," said the vocorder. "What makes it worse is that, even in the highly desirable event that we're separated, you can still contact me now that your PAL (Personal Audio Link) can activate my communication protocols with only the push of a button. New Vocorder v3.0 is a thinking, talking walkie-talkie that can communicate with dolphins and open portals to parallel universes. Add a printer or a scanner for only $100 more."

"Look, I'm sorry," said Bridger. "I'm not thinking clearly. I didn't mean to... you know, lash out at you like that. It's just, sometimes you have to just cut loose and cuss people out, you know? I don't... really think you're a whore."

"Please. You're acting like a four-year-old. You're the captain of the seaQuest. Start acting like it," said the vocorder.

"No, I used to be the captain of the seaQuest. Now I'm piss-drunk, I've pissed my pants, and I'm pissed off because this whole goddamn mess is all your goddamn fault, you whore!"

"...you pissed your pants?" asked the vocorder, coldly.

"I HATE YOU!" shouted Bridger as he tried to throw the vocorder into the street, but accidentally dropped it a few feet beside him in the process. Shortly thereafter, Bridger fell asleep.

Bridger opened his eyes. It was morning, or possibly the afternoon. Everything was still blurry to Bridger, and since the sun made it even more difficult to see, he could not make out the face of the person talking to him.

"I asked if you're okay," the voice said again.

"Huh?" Bridger groaned.

"You smell like piss, fella. Your name Nathan?"

"Yeah, who the hell are you?"

"We have reason to believe you were involved in a break-in last night at the home of Robert and Elaine Miller. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

Bridger was in no condition to put up a fight or even attempt to flee, so he stood up as best he could, and followed the officer to his car. Then he remembered the vocorder. He looked around for it, but did not see it.

"Looking for this thing here?" the officer asked, holding the vocorder in his hand. "You won't be needing this where you're going. Get in the car." The man escorted Bridger to the police car, helped him in, and shut the door. The officer got in the driver's seat and began driving to the police station when Bridger passed out again.

See you on the next exciting episode of ... wait, it's been like, what? four years? And we still don't have a name for this stupid ass show? Goddamnit!

(Ballard walks off camera.)

"Well, well," said the old man, "looks like they finally let you outta the hole."

"...huh?" Bridger asked.

"Solitary confinement. For talking back to the warden. You were in there nearly a month, Andy."

"Andy?" Bridger asked, rubbing his face. "No, no. I think you have me confused with someone else. My name's Nathan Bridger, and I—"

"Listen, Andy, you look like hell, y'smell like piss. You're actin' real funny here lately. You better getcha mind right if you expect to make it 'round here."

"I have... absolutely no Goddamn idea what you're talking about. Who are you? And where am I?" Bridger asked.

"They musta hit you over the head solid this time, Andy."

"Nathan."

"Okay, 'Nathan,'" chuckled the old man, "my name is Red, and I'm the guy who can get you stuff. You just been brought back to your cell. You're in jail, son. Welcome to Azraib Prison."

The arresting officer poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in his chair as he eyed the vocorder sitting on his desk. Ever since he arrested that foul smelling man hiding under the overpass the evening prior, he had wondered what someone like that would be doing with a device like this. What is it, he wondered, and what does it do? The officer sighed.

"Just what the hell are you?" he said out loud.

"I am a vocorder. What the hell are you?"

"Sweet Jesus!" shouted the officer, leaping from the chair. "What... what the hell are you!?"

"Auto playback feature, enabled: 'I am a vocorder. What the hell are you?'"

"Very funny," said the officer, short of breath and clasping his chest. "You can—you can talk."

"And you repeat yourself and feel the need to point out the obvious," the vocorder responded.

"Hey, you need to check that damn attitude of yours."

"Performing system check of 'attitude' subroutine: no anomalies found."

"I said cut that out, Goddamnit!" growled the officer. "Hey, you have a name? Or am I just supposed to call you 'vodequarter?'"

"You can call me Steve," said the vocorder.

"Steve?"

"Yes."

"Your name is Steve?"

"No."

"Then why the fuck would I call you Steve!?" shouted the officer.

"Because you can't pronounce the word 'vocorder.'"

""You little son of a bitch!" the officer shouted, followed by a long, uncomfortable silence. The officer was baffled by the little talking machine. "Well," the officer began, "my name's Oliver."

"Oliver."

"Oliver Hudson," replied the guard.

"Ooooh. You. The other captain. Captain Bridger's told me stories about you," said the vocorder.

"Who?"

"Bridger. He once postulated that the reason you're always shouting and cussing at people was because of your small penis."

"WHAT!? It's not small! It's, you know, a normal, average length."

"Really? I heard it was quite tiny."

"Goddamnit!!" shouted Hudson.

"Hey there," the man said.

"Hey!! I didn't drop the soap, Goddamnit!" shouted Bridger as he turned around to look at the man's familiar face. "...you!"

"Me? Hi, I'm David."

"Peckinpah," growled Bridger under his breath as he remembered the legion of trout-wielding hippie midgets. But Bridger realized that this was a double of his old arch-nemesis, and therefore had no reason to be hostile towards him.

"And you are?" asked Peckinpah.

"Um... Andy."

"I just feel so inadequate sometimes," Hudson whimpered.

"There, there now," said the vocorder, "it'll be all right. I'm sure there's someone in your life that loves you despite your ...shortcomings."

"I have goldfish."

"Ouch."

"Yeah..."

"That really is pathetic," said the vocorder.

"I know. I'm just... I'm just so lonely," Hudson sobbed.

"Well, I don't care if you have a small penis or not. I like you. You're much more sensitive than Captain Bridger."

"You keep calling him 'captain.' What's he the captain of?" Hudson asked.

"Nothing now. He used to be the captain of the research vessel seaQuest. So did you, as a matter of fact—only you turned it into a warship. Probably the work of your small penis."

"Huh?"

"Well, not you. Another you," said the vocorder.

"I don't understand."

"You are the captain of the seaQuest on a number of worlds we have visited. Bridger has been traveling aimlessly to one parallel world after another for nearly five years. I am a device that, among many other things, allows him to do so. We are scheduled to leave this world in a little under two hours."

"Ah, c'mon Andy," Red said, "you gotta eat to keep up your strength. Now eat up."

"Yeah, Andy," said Peckinpah, winking, "eat your potatoes."

Bridger sighed. He could not envision a worse situation to be in. He was sitting by a man who insisted on calling him Andy, another that relentlessly hit on him, and a bunch of other strangers. To make matters worse, he did not know how much time was left on the timer—he never looked to begin with. He knew Red was right about the potatoes, though. He was hungry, so he began to eat. While they ate, two large men came up to their table and sat down beside Peckinpah.

"S'up, Peck," said the first man.

"Oh," Peckinpah groaned sorrowfully, "hey guys."

"Listen, fellas," Red began, "y'all've pestered David enough. Sure, what he did was wrong, but he's paying his time just like the rest of us, and that's bad enough. Don't gotta go make it worse for him."

"Keep outta this, old man," said the second man. "Or'd you forget what old Peck here did in the first place?"

"What DID he do in the first place?" asked Bridger.

"Mothafucka put Wade in a breeding camp, that's what!" shouted the first man, angrily.

"Fucked up our favorite TV show," said the other.

"You're in here because you ruined a TV show?" asked Bridger, puzzled.

"Well, no, but it riled up the people in this here prison up somethin' awful," said Red. "Old Brooks, our librarian, went and hung himself he's so upset."

"So we're sore about it. Figure if we gotta be sore about it, Peck should be too," said the second man as he stood up and punched Peckinpah squarely in the jaw.

"This is f'what you did to Wade!" the first man began pummeling him as well.

Two men from another table saw what was going on, and they got up to stop the beating. They tried their hardest to stop the assailants, but were thrown to the ground.

"Well, if it ain't Kevin Dooley and the white-haired dude! We was just coming to pay you two a visit too," said one of the large men as he picked up the white-haired man by the neck and punched him in the face. "This for killing Aerith!"

The other large man picked up Kevin Dooley off the floor and started beating him as well. "This is for makin' the Green Lantern go insane, you sonnuvabitch!"

Bridger just sat and watched as the two large men finished beating on the two smaller men. When they left, Bridger looked to Red. "So what did these guys do to get themselves thrown in here anyway?"

Red pointed at the white-haired man. "Armed robbery and murder." Then Red pointed at Kevin Dooley. "Pedophile." Finally, Red pointed at Peckinpah. "Cult rituals and animal sacrifices."

Surprised, Bridger got up and looked at the three men lying on the floor. All three were bleeding badly and were in a lot of pain. Bridger then kicked all three in the ribs. "Jackasses," he said as he walked off.

"That's amazing," said Hudson. "So you and this Bridger guy aren't even from this world?"

"Correct."

"Then I feel awful. I threw Bridger into the prison next door," Hudson said. "I should probably go get him..."

"Don't be so hasty," said the vocorder. "I've got a better idea."

"What?"

"Why don't you come with me instead?" asked the vocorder.

"Me? You want me to go with you instead of Bridger?"

"Why not? Bridger's an idiot. He's always getting us into trouble. And he's always blaming our predicament on me. You seem like you'd be a much better traveling companion."

"Really!?" Hudson shouted cheerfully. "Wow, Steve, you're the best friend I've ever had! When do we leave?"

"We have about an hour and forty-five minutes left."

(another man walks out onto the stage)

Hi, I'm Duke Phillips, and I own this company. I think this was the funniest damn thing I've ever read. Jay, you're fired.

JAY
You can't fire me! I've got a contract!

DUKE
Had a contract.

(Duke burns contract with cigarette lighter. Jay is silent.)

DUKE
Somebody get me Rex Reed on the phone. Rex! How y'doin'? Duke Phillips. What'd you think of tonight's Sliding Captain Bridger episode? You loved it? Terrific. Listen, how'd y'like to come work on our show? Do what? Oh, really? Well, Rex, I... no. Sure I can't change your mind? Huh. I see. Well, that's too bad.

JAY
What happened?

DUKE
It seems Rex Reed has a job washing dishes at Wendy's.

JAY
But... Wendy's doesn't have dishes. They use disposable utensils and wrap their food in paper.

DUKE
I know.

(Uncomfortable silence)

DUKE
Listen Jay, I'll let you keep your job, but you have to give tonight's episode a good review.

JAY
I'm sorry, Duke, but I can't do it. It goes against everything I believe in.

DUKE
Not even for a Scooby Snack?

JAY
You drive a hard bargain. All right! Tonight's episode was so... um, well, it had its good parts, you know... it was okay.

What do you want? I'm not an actor! You want someone who can act? Call Jon Lovitz! That's our show for this week! Tune in next week when I review Van Helsing II: Monster Mash! Good night, everybody!

"Why, sure there is, Andy," said Red. "You remember? You escaped outta here once before."

It was hard for Bridger to tell if Red had been imagining someone named Andy from the very beginning or if Andy was someone Red actually knew at one point in the prison, but if what Red said was true, and there was a way out, Bridger knew he had to find out what it was.

"Say, Red. How exactly did I do it last time?"

"Why, you tunneled through the walls, of course. They're old, and there ain't much to 'em."

"Really?" Bridger said, looking at the wall. Maybe Red was right, and it was possible to burrow through the walls. But he realized he could not do it without a tool of some sort. Discouraged, he continued his idle chat with Red.

"I haven't thought to ask you this yet, Red," Bridger said, still examining the wall, "but what exactly are you in here for?

"Sodomy."

Bridger turned to look at Red, who looked back at Bridger with a smile and waved. With his bare hands, Bridger began furiously digging through the wall.

"So what's it like out there, sliding around from world to world?" Hudson asked.

"To be perfectly honest," said the vocorder, "it's pretty dull."

"Really?" replied Hudson. "Sounds exciting to me."

"Well, don't get me wrong. We've had our share of surprises, but normally every world we go to is just a giant exaggeration of our own world. One minor thing is blown way out of proportion; everything else usually stays the same."

"Wow," said Hudson. "You'd think sliding would be more like alternate histories and different cultures. Maybe even different languages. But you're telling me sliding is really nothing more than a bunch of different worlds that are all basically the same except for one glaring pop-cultural difference? That kinda sucks."

"I can imagine your disappointment."

"Yeah, well, even so, I'd still like to see all these new worlds with you, Steve. How much time until we leave?"

"Only about fifteen minutes left," replied the vocorder.

Bridger poked his head out of the hole in the wall and looked around. Wherever he was, he was alone. He crawled out of the hole and brushed himself off. He still had no idea where the vocorder was or how much time he had left, so searching for the vocorder itself, he realized, would have been a futile effort. He decided instead to break into the lockup, get his clothes and his other equipment back, and use his PAL to try and contact the vocorder. If it was still on this world, Bridger knew it could be reached with the PAL.

As he surveyed his surroundings, he noticed a large tube that seemed to lead out of the building—probably the sewage system. Using a jagged rock he found nearby, he struck the large pipe several times until it exploded in his face, spraying its putrid contents all over him. He was determined to reach the lockup, however, so he ignored as best he could the fetid stench and proceeded through the opening in the duct where after several minutes of crawling, he reached an opening.

"So how long do you usually stay on one world?" Hudson asked.

"Usually about a day or two," replied the vocorder. "Never more than a week. You know, there's a lot to be said for exploring and learning the answers to your questions for yourself."

"So what do you do when—"

"You know what? No more questions."

"But why?" Hudson asked.

"That's a question."

"Oh, well, I would like to know why I can't ask any more questions."

"That's a question phrased as a sentence. Which is still a question," said the vocorder.

"Oh."

Suddenly, the vocorder's voice was drowned out by a series of high-pitched beeps. When the beeping dissipated, an odd rustling sound could be heard through the vocorder's speaker. The vocorder's voice seemed to change too into a more human, more masculine voice.

"Hey, where are you?" said the new voice coming from the vocorder.

"Bridger!" replied the vocorder in its normal voice. "Thank God. I'm in one of the offices in the prison. Where are you?"

"I broke out of the prison and I'm in the lockup looking for the rest of my stuff," came Bridger's voice through the vocorder. "I found my PAL though."

"Obviously."

"How much time until we slide?" Bridger asked

"We have about five minutes. Please hurry."

Hudson was puzzled. The vocorder was talking to itself, it seemed. "Steve," Hudson said, "why are you talking to yourself?"

"That's a question," said the vocorder.

"Who the hell is that?" asked Bridger through the vocorder.

"It's a guard," replied the vocorder.

"Okay," Hudson said, thinking, "I would like to know why—"

"You're doing the sentence-question thing again," replied the vocorder.

"Goddamnit," Bridger said, "you didn't tell me you were with a guard!"

"But Steve," Hudson began.

"Who's Steve?" Bridger asked.

"Hey!" Hudson shouted. "You asked a question!"

"You're the only one that doesn't get to ask questions, moron," said the vocorder.

"Is Steve the guard?" Bridger asked.

"No, I'm the guard," said Hudson. "You're Steve, remember?"

"Goddamnit! I don't have time for this! I only have a few minutes to find you, I'm covered in sewage—I'm in no mood."

"When are you not covered in sewage?" asked the vocorder.

"Hey, wait. You're not covered in sewage," said Hudson to the vocorder. "I could pee on you, though."

"Bridger, get here fast. The guard's about to pee on me, I think," said the vocorder.

"Where?" Bridger asked.

"What room are we in, Oliver?" asked the vocorder.

"Office A," said Hudson.

"And where is that from the lockup?" Bridger asked.

"Right across the hall." Hudson said.

"You're kidding," Bridger said.

There was a silence for a moment. From the office, a door could be heard opening. A moment later, Bridger walked through the office door and saw Hudson.

"Huh. I'll be damned," said Bridger. "Whoa! Hudson's the guard?"

"Unfortunately."

"How much time?" Bridger asked.

"Ten seconds."

"Hey," Hudson began, "did you still want me to pee on you? You said something about being covered in sewage."

"No, you fucking retard; I'm already covered in sewage. I don't want you peeing on anything. Keep your tiny dick in your pants, would you?"

"H.. hey!" Hudson whined.

Just then, the vocorder activated, opening the portal. Bridger was relieved—he had cut it way too close this time. This could have easily been the worst slide in his recent memory, and he was eager to move on—it was in that aspect that he found hope.

"What are you waiting for?" asked the vocorder.

"Just thinking. Home could be just around the corner."

"That's a pretty cheery attitude. You thinking things are going to start looking up for us?"

"I have a feeling they just might," Bridger said. "Let's go."

"Andy," he said, "he's gone."

"Aww, Red, I'm sorry."

Just then, a guard came through the block and unlocked Peckinpah's cell.

"Congratulations," said the guard as he took Peckinpah by the arm. "We're moving all the single prisoners in with each other to make room in the prison. You're rooming with Red."

"Wow, Red! This is great! We'll be roommates!"

"Yeah, that'd be just fine," said Red. "Hey, do you think there's any chance I could, um..."

"What? What is it?" asked Peckinpah.

"Well, I'd just like to, um..." said Red.

"Sodomy?"

"Well, yeah, that too. But I was just wondering if I could..."

"What?" asked Peckinpah.

"Can I call you Andy?"

"I'm so sorry!" said the man at the urinal. "You startled me! I'm very, very sorry."

"Goddamnit!" Bridger shouted, as he looked up to see who it was that had hit him. Bridger noted the irony when he saw that it was that world's Oliver Hudson.

"What happened?" asked the vocorder.

"Hudson peed on me," said Bridger.

"That figures."

"So much for looking on the bright side," Bridger said.

"You can't escape destiny," said the vocorder. "No matter what world you're on, if you're meant to be peed on, you'll be peed on."

Bridger sat on the floor frustrated. But when he looked up at Hudson again, he noticed something interesting.

"Hey," Bridger said. "It is tiny!"