Ernest Saves The Sliders
by Lynne Thompson

The vortex opened, spilling the Sliders out onto the soft green grass of Golden Gate Park. They picked themselves up and dusted off, checking to make certain everyone was okay.

Quinn looked across the park. This world seemed normal enough at first glance. There were a few people in the distance, jogging along the paths and one elderly man walking his pet dog. Noone had seen the party arrive. The air felt extremely fresh and damp, it was apparently early morning yet and must have been a chilly night. He pulled his lightweight jacket closer around him and zipped it closed. He noticed one side of his jacket and pants were damp from the dewy grass. At long as it wasn't in front, he noted with relief..

He checked the timer. Twenty-seven hours on this world. "Hey, guys, I could sure go for some hot coffee and breakfast. How about you?"

"Sounds real good!" Rembrandt agreed enthusiastically. The others nodded as well. The sound of rattling filled the air. They headed through the park and soon found an attractive coffee shop which was decorated in sort of a 'Fifties style. They slid into a comfortable booth and ordered breakfast from a gum-chewing waitress. Quinn noticed the menus were spotlessly clean and so were their surroundings. Even the waitress had been wearing a perfectly bleached apron over her uniform.

"Hey, does anyone else notice anything funny about this place?"

"What do you mean?" Maggie looked up from her paper placemat, where she had been drawing a dot-to-dot picture with pathetically shaky lines which nearly always missed the dots.

Rembrandt and Colin looked up and around, curiously. "Like what, brother?" Colin wanted to know.

"Everything's so perfect. Look how clean this place is. It's almost like a movie set. It's even more, well, colorful than normal." They conceded he had a point there. There WAS something rather unreal about their surroundings. Their food arrived and they prepared to chow down.

"How do you like my dot-to-dot cow, Quinn?" Maggie pushed her placemat over to him for approval. Quinn stared at it. It didn't in the least resemble a drawing of a cow.

"That's very good, Maggie. Now drink your orange juice."

"Okay," Maggie replied happily. Colin nodded his head, smiling happily. He liked the drawing Maggie had done. In his eyes, it was a work of art. Quinn rolled his skyward, then dug in his pocket for money to pay for breakfast.

They dawdled along the street, enjoying the crisp air, looking at the attractive storefronts. Every shop was as neat as a pin, with great colorful awnings shading the sidewalk and many different wares displayed outside as well as inside the sparkling plate-glass windows. After a while they decided to head on over to the Dominion Hotel. "Taxi!" Remmy hollered at a yellow checker cab as it swerved toward them. They climbed in and found themselves staring at even more extraordinary surroundings than in the coffee shop.

The cab was ostentatiously decorated, apparently by a child. There was a glitzy tinfoil garland strung around the ceiling of the cab's interior, a variety of suncatchers glued to the rear window, a dog statue with a bobbing head nodded happily on the rear dash, and a myriad of strange objects which included brightly colored rabbits' feet, dangled and swung from the rear view mirror. They jumped as the cabdriver swung around in the front seat to face them. "Howdy!" He grinned like a happy idiot. "What's your pleasure, fellas? Ernest P. Worrell, at your service!"

"The Dominion Hotel, please," Colin grinned back at him.

"Waal now, I've never heard of a Dominion Hotel here in town, but we do have top accommodations for our guests visiting Briarville Heights." The idiot, I mean, the cabbie ogled them from over the driver's seat and made some goofy faces trying to impress his passengers. "How's about the Briarville Hilton? I hear it's a five-star hotel. My passengers deserve the finest, know whut ah mean?" He pulled the cab away from the curb without waiting to hear an answer. So fast did he pull away the momentum pressed the Sliders backwards into the seat, grimacing and on the verge of getting whiplashed. "Lemme be the first to give you a grand tour of our fine city!" He shouted.

"Help," Quinn gasped. They stared in shock as the cab rounded corners at high speed and nearly hit an old lady creeping across an intersection. She shook her fist and cursed loudly at the disappearing cab. The passengers' screams could still be heard. The cab pulled to a sudden stop in front of the Briarville Hilton, causing their heads to snap forward suddenly.

"OW. Damn!" Rembrandt rubbed his neck. "Let's get outa here!"

"Good idea!" Quinn agreed. He threw a few bills at the driver, but the driver wasn't done yet. He climbed out of the cab and followed them inside.

"No luggage, I see," The hick crooned at Maggie. "Can I get the door for you, ma'am? A gentleman always opens doors for a lady. And Ernest P. Worrell is a gentleman's gentleman...know whut ah mean?" The idiot babbled on. Maggie smiled sweetly and sashayed inside. Quinn rolled his eyes skyward. A vision of the Professor, their old friend, suddenly invaded his mind. "Blistering idiot!" The vision exclaimed loudly.

Ernest P. Worrell didn't seem to hear it. "Can I be of further service to you fine people?" He begged. "Call me if you need another ride anywhere,"

"Okay, okay," Rembrandt shrugged. They escaped into the hotel. Only Colin stared back after the cab pulling away from the curb.

"What a nice guy," He said. There was a distant screech of tires and even more distant screams. Quinn rolled his eyes skyward.

The hotel turned out to be far too expensive for their means. "What do we do now?" Maggie asked as they stood at the desk. The others looked at her and decided to keep their mouths shut. Except for Colin, that is, who was busy elsewhere staring at a tabletop air purifier and trying to figure out what it was. The snooty-looking clerk waved them away and turned to answer a ringing phone.

"Well, I guess we'll have to walk to a pay phone and check the book there to see if there are any cheaper motels around here," Rembrandt said. They left the hotel and began heading up the block. There was a phone booth two streets over. Quinn checked the phone book there. He came out looking rather unhappy. "Sorry, guys, there's a couple of places outside of town, apparently. None close enough to walk to."

"Oh, man," Remmy groaned. "What should we do now?" Colin wanted to know.

As if in answer, a familiar yellow cab screeched to a halt nearby. "Shit," Remmy groaned again.

They stared at it. "Well, it's our only hope." Quinn resignedly began to walk over to the idling taxi. The others followed.

The chatter began immediately as Quinn had expected. "I have the answer to all your accommodation problems," Ernest P. Worrell bragged. "Forget about the hoity-toity Hilton and just picture this... a comfortable suite with a community kitchen and the feeling of home, where a person can put his or her feet up on the coffee table and relax, where a person can truly unwind after a hard day of driving a cab..."

"Sounds good!" Colin replied with enthusiasm, nodding happily. So did Maggie. Rembrandt groaned. Quinn rolled his eyes skyward.

After a few minutes of driving wildly, their benefactor screeched the cab to a stop in front of a house in the residential district. The Sliders could hardly believe their eyes. The house they had stopped in front of seemed normal enough, a modest inexpensive piece of tract property. It was the yard and everything in it which caused them to gap in varying degrees of disbelief. It was filled with odd decorations, homemade contraptions and weird statuary. It looked like something out of a demented Disney theme park. A little spotted dog barked at them from behind the gate. "Rimshot!" The cabbie yelled and charged to pick up the dog and nuzzle it. The Sliders followed, looking at all the weird stuff carefully. Colin was getting that happy grin and starting to nod again. He was in heaven here. Quinn tripped and sprawled over a hoe lying across the walkway. Remmy banged his head against a possum feeder hanging from a low tree branch. They crawled inside behind the others.

The inside of the house was just as fantastic, with what appeared to be some sort of elaborate automated system built to accomplish a number of tasks simply with the push of a single button. It ran around three walls in the living room and culminated in the kitchen area. They all stared in disbelief, well, except for Maggie whose brain had shut down and Ernest, who was busily picking his nose.

"Wow!" Rembrandt gasped. "So what does all this stuff do?" Quinn asked. He had to think of SOMETHING nice to say to their host. It wasn't hard to guess that one chore the contraption had taken over, was making breakfast. The stove was crusted with dried egg yolk and bacon grease. Rembrandt groaned.

Colin's face was wreathed in yet another wide grin and his head began to bob up and down violently.

"STOP THAT," Quinn snapped. They gradually relaxed and Remmy switched on the TV set. The news came on. Ernest's voice babbled in the background as he showed Colin around his invention. Remmy turned up the volume in a pathetic attempt to drown it out. There was a brief weather report, and a few other low-key topics.

Then, disaster struck.

A wild-eyed news announcer cut off Mr. Food's daily recipe in mid-sentence. "Damn," Rembrandt moaned. The news switched to a camera shot of a downtown city street. Above it, clouds were boiling and terrified people dashed in every direction. Not really going anywhere, just dashing back and forth. It just seemed like the the thing to do. The clouds broke and began to whirl madly, transforming into a...red vortex. Quinn and Remmy leaped to the feet.

"I don't believe it!" Quinn shouted. "They even want to invade THIS place?"

Colin and Ernest dashed over to stare at the mad scene on the TV set. "The Kromaggs are HERE?!" Colin exclaimed.

Ernest ran screaming in a circle for fifteen minutes before coming back to ask, "What's a Kromagg?"

Rembrandt and Quinn tried to explain.

Ernest looked confused. His mouth hung open.

"It's a humanoid creature which followed a slightly different evolutionary path than mankind has," Quinn answered.

Ernest looked confused.

"It's sort of human, but not," Remmy tried to explain further. Ernest looked confused.

"It's a weird lizard creature from outer space!" Quinn yelled in disgust.

Ernest's jaw dropped even lower. "AAAAUUUUGGGGHHHH!"

The vortex opened and a Kromagg ship glided out. Quinn ran outside and promptly tripped over the hoe, again. The possum feeder let go of its branch and cracked him a good one squarely on the skull. Birds twittered gaily somewhere close by.

The manta ship sailed over the city, searching for worthwhile prey. The Kromagg crew was about to give up and go home when a particularly brown-nosing ensign spotted a familiar human figure sprawled unconscious in front of a house with a junked-up yard. "Sir!" He called out to his superior. "Look down there!"

The Kromagg General sauntered over to the viewing screen and stared at it. "I didn't know they had possums in the city," He remarked.

"No, sir! The human! Does he look familiar to you?"

"Didn't we just torture and kill him last week?"

"No!"

"Was he in that slasher movie we just saw?"

"NO!" The ensign screamed in frustration.

General Kronos pulled his pulse laser pistol and shot the ensign dead. Then he popped an eyeball Cheezy-poof into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Oh, okay, NOW I remember that human!"

The other Sliders seized Quinn's passed-out carcass and dragged him back into the house. "Oh my gosh! This is just like the movie I saw on TV last night! 'Zombie Alien Biker Chicks From Outer Space!"

Ernest was babbling, stuck between being scared witless and just plain excited that monsters from outer space were actually invading his boring home town. Then he froze up and went over like a ton of bricks, smashing the coffee table and also the Sliders' timer. "NO!" They all yelled. Waking up, Quinn grabbed the timer. The data readout was akin to gibberish. "OH NO!"

"Ernest!" Colin shouted into the hick's ear.

"AAAUUUGGGHHH! They're coming! They're coming!" Ernest hollered. He ran straight into Rembrandt's fist. That pretty much stopped that.

"We need your help!" Quinn demanded. "Do you have any of the spare parts we have to replace in our timer? And fast!" Kromaggs were beginning to filter around the house, setting up their parameters for invasion. One of them tripped over a hoe on front walk and sprawled in a very undignified manner onto the ground. His crew snickered behind their hands.

"SHUT UP!" The General yelled.

"Down to the basement, everyone!" Rimshot barked as if to hurry them along. They pounded down the dusty steps, locking the door behind them as securely as possible. Quinn stopped and stared in amazement at the maintenance mans' wonderland his eyes beheld. Every wall in the basement was composed entirely of drawers, shelves, jars, boxes, hooks, and every one of those held almost every type of hardware and electrical item available at any Home Depot store. In fact, there was so little room even to stand, that Colin and Maggie were shoved together. They stared into each other's eyes. "STOP THAT," Snapped Quinn.

He fumbled with the timer, attempting to hurry in the poor light of the cellar. Upstairs, the Kromaggs began to pound on the front door with the butts of the laser pulse uzis. One of the uzis accidentally discharged, turning another one of the Kromagg redshirts into talcum powder. "Yowie!" hollered the one he'd been standing next to. That was a close call. Could have ruined his day in a major way. Quinn finished his fumbling and clapped the timer's cover back on. He worked feverishly, replacing the tiny screws which held the remote case together. The data readout still wasn't making much sense. In desperation he attempted to activate the vortex anyway. There was a intermittent fizzing sound and a few small bursts of blue appeared, then just as quickly faded out. That was it. Quinn began to resign himself to the fact that he and his friends were now dog food. The Kromaggs had broken down the front door and were searching all the rooms upstairs. They could hear the faint voices, a stronger one shouting orders, and the clump of heavy military boots coming closer and closer to the cellar door. Rimshot whined sadly. They were trapped.

Ernest could contain himself no longer. He looked around wildly, searching for an escape route. In fact, they all were. "Q-Ball, what are we gonna do now?" Remmy exclaimed. There was none to be had, except for the door leading directly to certain capture. "AH, I gotta tell you fellas something!" Ernest cried, "I get claustr...claustro.." "You mean claustrophobic?" "Yeah, what you said!" He began to hyperventilate. "OH MY GOD!" Maggie yelled, "You mean he can't breathe on this earth?!" "NO! He's FROM this earth, you idiot!" Quinn yelled back. Ernest panicked. What was he gonna do if he couldn't breathe on this world? He turned to run back up the stairs. Maybe he'd be able to breathe the air up there. "NO! STOP HIM!" Quinn hollered. Hands reached out to grab Ernest. He tried to fight them off and in so doing, knocked the timer from Quinn's hands. It hit the floor, activating the vortex. Blue light and wind filled the basement. "How'd it do that!" Rembrandt screamed over the noise of the vortex. "No time now! Everybody in!" Quinn ordered just as the Kromaggs broke through the cellar door. The pull of the tunnel took hundreds of tiny hardware items along with the Sliders and their guests. Exclamations of "OW!" "DAMMIT!" and "THAT HURT!" accompanied them along on their journey to the next world.

The vortex dumped them out onto a soft surface once more. They sat and picked embedded screws and thumbtacks off each other's hides for a good fifteen minutes, before rising to look around. they were on a tropical, jungle-edged beach with soft white sand. "How much time do we have here?" Maggie asked. "Uh a miit," Quinn answered as he attempted to dislodge a final paperclip out of his bottom lip. "Huh?" "Ang ong," "Huh?" "Just a damn minute!" He ripped it loose and threw it at her in exasperation. She shrieked and ran away. "Damn braindead...," He muttered.

They were all so busy watching Maggie's bottom bounce away that noone noticed the two men watching them from the bushes, an older fat gentleman wearing a skipper's cap and a skinny younger guy dressed like a sailor ...

End

Ernest And The Sliders On Gilligan's Island
By Lynne Thompson

They were all so busy watching Maggie's bottom bounce away that noone noticed the two men watching them from the bushes, a rather elderly gentleman wearing a skipper's cap and a skinny middle-aged guy dressed like a sailor ...

"Great," Muttered Quinn as he took off his shoes and poured the sand out. "Maggie," Colin shouted, as she disappeared just beyond some tall rocks. There was no response. Rimshot ran around wagging his tail happily and then lifted his leg on Quinn's left pant leg.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Ernest, could you control your dog, please?" He complained. "Ohh..come here Rimshot," Ernest picked the dog up and cooed at him, "That's a good dawg, Daddy loves you, best pals forever, you know whut ah mean?" Quinn rolled his eyes skyward.

"How much time till the next slide?" "Forty-eight hours." "Dammit!" Yada yada yada.

"Maybe we should go talk to them, Skipper" Gilligan suggested. "They might have a way to get off of the island."

The Skipper looked at his little buddy. "But we don't want to get the others' hopes up. We'll just invite them to stay with us. If we're lucky maybe they have a way to communicate with the mainland. I don't see any boat. Wonder how they arrived here? " "Maybe they came by helicopter," Gilligan began brainlessly sputtering and flew his hand to and fro in the air. "Gilligan, stop that!" The Skipper was growing irritated. He pushed his way out of the bushes and approached the strangers on the beach. "Hello, speaka da English?" Gilligan called out as he followed his master, er, friend. "Yeah, who are you?" Rembrandt asked.

"We're castaways," The Skipper said. "We were on a three-hour cruise aboard the U.S.S. Minnow and got caught in a storm. We had five passengers besides myself and Gilligan here. We washed up on this uncharted island about twenty-five years ago and have been stranded here ever since." Quinn wondered how the hell they could get stranded on an island probably within an estimated radius of no more than twenty-five miles or so from the California coastline. Must be a band of twits on the wrong side of Catalina, he decided. With no other frame of reference, that is.

"You've been stranded here for twenty-five years?" Remmy asked incredulously. "My god." "Where do you live? Are there dangerous animals on this island?" Colin wanted to know. "How could you be stranded here for so long without being rescued?" Quinn probed. "Just a three-hour cruise, and you wound up on a completely undiscovered island?!" He wondered what kind of an earth they had landed on THIS time. "We can take you to the huts and introduce you to the other castaways," "Skipper,"Gilligan mumbled. "We'll have a luau and the girls will make a coconut cream pie," "Skipper," "You can meet the Howells and Marianne, and Ginger and the professor," "Skipper," "WHAT, Gilligan!" The Skipper hollered. "The dog just went on your leg." "DOH!"

Everyone seemed to have completely forgotten about Maggie as they followed Gilligan and the Skipper along a path worn through the thick jungle underbrush. It was a warm tropical climate unfamiliar to the Sliders and soon all were sweating like pigs. The mosquitoes were the size of Harriers. "Look out! Here it comes again!" Ernest shouted and ducked as a particularly aggressive insect dive-bombed the band of travelers. It scattered them quite effectively in all directions. Quinn sprawled over the root of a yum-yum tree. "OOF!" He grunted. A monkey high overhead dropped the coconut it was fiddling with and the hard fruit nailed him squarely on the skull. Birds twittered gaily somewhere close by. "I hate my life," He muttered. They arrived at the castaways' village. The sudden appearance of total strangers on the island caused quite a sensation. They noted the comforts which the castaways had provided for themselves, comfortable huts, a picnic table, etc. Rembrandt stared at Ginger's curvacious figure and drooled while Marianne chattered excitedly. Unfortunately, Ginger was also no longer a spring chicken. The illusion of loveliness vanished above the neckline. He pictured a brown paper sack instead, with a crudely drawn face. That made him begin to snicker inappropriately. Rimshot proceeded to lift his leg on Mrs. Howell's formfitting slacks. She let out a shriek, "OH! What a horrid little dog!" She pulled off her flowery sunhat and prepared to beat the crap out of Rimshot with it. Rimshot ran away, with Ernest in close pursuit. "Come here, Rimshot! Come here, boy!" "What in the blue blazes...!" Exclaimed Thurston Howell III. He shook his bamboo cane threateningly in Rimshot's direction.

Maggie finally noticed she was alone about three-fourths of a mile further up the beach. "Oh my god!" She cried. "They've slid without me!" Now what was she going to do? "YEEHAW!" She yelped and left clothing strewn behind her across the sand as she headed for the surf.

The Howells hosted a luau for the castaways' guests that night. The meal consisted of baked coconut, boiled coconut, fresh coconut, coconut salad, coconut pudding, coconut bread and coconut cream pie.

Quinn looked as though he were about to be sick. "Don't you guys have anything else to eat?" "What's the matter, you don't like coconut?" Marianne queried innocently. "Well, let me put it this way...No, it basically sucks." Marianne fled in tears. Rembrandt stomped on Quinn's foot , grinding it viciously into the sand under the picnic table. "Can it, Q-Ball," He muttered. Quinn withdrew his horribly mangled foot and retreated. Colin drank his coconut milkshake with the little umbrella in it. A sudden thought struck him. "Say, where's Maggie?" "Oh, yeah, wasn't she with us on this slide?" Remmy wondered aloud. Quinn sat pouting in the corner and refused to speak to anyone. "Who is this Maggie?" The Skipper asked. "We didn't see anyone else with you on the beach." "Oh, she's just someone we picked up while sliding from world to world," Remmy answered. Gilligan and the Skipper looked at each other. Gilligan made little circles with his finger in the air near his head. "You're right, little buddy," The Skipper laughed. Quinn withdrew further into his corner and looked as if he wanted to cry. Meanwhile, in the jungle, Maggie was busy foraging for her own supper. "Come back here, damn you," She shouted as she pursued the brightly colored bird. It hopped and flew from branch to branch, eyeing her curiously and wondering what the hell she was becoming upset about. She finally gave up and settled for some fresh fat grubs she found inside an old rotted log. "Mmmm...Tastes like chicken," She thought as she chowed down. She caught a big brown cockroach for dessert. Then she looked around for shelter. Within twenty minutes, she had constructed a two-story modern split-level out of bamboo and palm leaves, complete with a hot tub. Survival training helps, you know.

Meanwhile, back in the castaways' village, everyone was preparing for beddy-bye time. "The one who picks the shortest straw bunks with the stuck-up, moody kid," The Skipper explained. "Damn," He himself cried a moment later. Ernest and Gilligan found themselves sleeping out on the sand. "Hey, isn't this fun! Just like camping, know what ah mean?" Ernest exclaimed, pulling his woven palm-frond quilt up to his waist. The little campfire they had built sputtered and crackled. Gilligan spread out a deck of cards and they prepared to play a rousing game of Old Maid. Rimshot snored happily nearby.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the darkened jungle, Maggie lay awake thinking of her friends and feeling rather lonely. She wished that she could hear Quinn's voice calling her a brainless deadbeat, just once more. Tomorrow she would begin to search for her pals. If they were still on this world, that is. She wiped a tear away and went to sleep.

The sun rose early, waking Ernest and Gilligan first. Rimshot stumbled blearily over to the Howells' hut and lifted his leg on it. Time to start a new day. Quinn was the first to emerge from one of the huts, complaining about all the really annoying pounding and sawing noises deep in the jungle last night. He was crabby, to say the least. Marianne emerged from the girls' hut at the same time, fresh and smiling. "Anyone for coconut pancakes?" She chirped. Quinn ran to the edge of the jungle to heave his opinion of that menu choice.

Gilligan mumbled resentfully as he wove his way through the jungle underbrush, searching for a patch of wild pineapple. The Skipper made him go just because some people were too picky to enjoy Marianne's superior cooking ability. He smiled as he pictured Quinn being kicked in the b..., I mean, shins. He didn't know what hit him. The next thing Gilligan realized, he was suspended upside-down in a net staring at what appeared to be a lovely jungle amazon holding a makeshift but lethal-looking spear. "Don't move or you're dead meat!" Maggie yelled. Her tight leopardskin- bound bosom heaved. Gilligan stared at it for a moment, then everything went black. "Help! I'm blind! I'm blind!" He hollered. Back at the village, the castaways and their guests were milling impatiently, waiting for Gilligan to return. "Where the heck can he be?" The professor exclaimed. He wanted some pineapple juice. "Guess I'll have to go look for him," The Skipper growled. He could picture his coconut pancakes growing stone cold on his plate while he had to go search for that idiot. He sighed and strode into the jungle. His belly rumbled back at him.

"Gilligan!..."

"Skipper! Over here!" A faint but familiar voice shouted. The Skipper followed the sound of it. He stopped and stared in awe at the sophisticated two-story hut which had apparently sprung up overnight in the heart of the jungle. "Gilligan, are you in there?!" He shouted. "Yeah, get me out of here, Skipper!" He found his little buddy bound up tightly inside the hut. Noone else seemed to be around. Gilligan began to babble as his rescuer cut him loose. "You should have seen her, Skipper, there was a wild jungle woman just like Nyoka out of one of the Bobo the Wild Jungle Boy movies. She had a leopardskin on and carried a spear and had hair all piled up on top of her head..." "We'd better hurry then, before she comes back,"The Skipper interrupted him. They returned as quickly as possible, to the castaways' village. There was a stack of stone-cold coconut pancakes sitting on a plate, untouched. "DOH!"

They discussed in a group meeting which included the Sliders, as to what they should do about the dangerous jungle woman. What if she struck again? "Maggie," The Sliders said in unison, when they heard Gilligan's babbled tale of kidnapping and terror. "That was Maggie?" The Skipper said, awestruck. He began to smile as he tried to picture what Gilligan must have seen, sans leopardskin. "We have to go get her," Said Rembrandt. Quinn mumbled something in a low voice. The other Sliders turned and looked at him. "What did you say?" "Nothing," He replied. They tromped through the jungle, shouting Maggie's name. A faint primeval scream , full of triumph, floated to them. They looked up as they passed through a clearing and saw a flock of scavenging birds circling overhead, at a distance. The Sliders pushed through the brush in that direction. Soon they came upon the freshly killed body of a huge tiger. The animal's nuts had been carved clean out of its carcass. "Wow," Remmy said softly. Quinn quickly decided that when they found her, he would be nicer to her from now on. They came across her upscale hut and decided to wait there for her to return. Better than chasing all through Jungle Land, Quinn remarked. After all, he was the brains of the outfit. It wasn't long before Maggie swung in, a freshly slaughtered half-grown wild pig in hand. "Hi guys!" She said as if they completely belonged there and she had never missed them. "Join me for lunch?" "No, no thanks, just had a big breakfast," They quickly begged off. She went back outside. The sounds of carving, cracking bone, and loud chewing could be heard. After lunch, the Sliders took Maggie to introduce her to the castaways. "Absolutely charmed, my dear," Mr. Howell took her hand and then grimaced as he stared at a smudge of pig blood dried on her chin. The others pretended not to notice. Ginger and Marianne took Maggie to their hut for girl stuff. You know, makeovers, clothes swapping, that sort of crap. A little while later, Maggie emerged wearing one of Ginger's gowns (in spite of the fact that they had only been on a three- hour tour, Ginger conveniently brought ten pieces of luggage crammed with expensive clothing along!) and face all tricked up like she was going to work on a street corner. Quinn looked at her but said nothing. He remembered the dead tiger. Maggie sashayed up to him and began to run a finger up and down his chest. "I missed my little Quinny-poo," She crooned. Quinn couldn't stop himself any longer. "If I had to choose between spending my last dollar on either you or a Pepsi, Maggie, I'm afraid the Pepsi would win." He looked horrified as the last two words slipped out of his mouth. A loud animal-like howl emerged from Maggie. She seized Quinn by the crotch and dragged him, doubled over, into the cover of the jungle underbrush. The other Sliders casually looked the other way as the sounds of a carnivore killing its prey as it screamed for help, filled the air. The castaways and Ernest looked properly terrified. Rimshot ran around barking, as if to say, "Brains? What brains?"

Supper that night was stewed coconut and leftover coconut cream pie.

The slide was scheduled for the following morning at eight o' connell, I mean, o' clock. The Sliders and Ernest rose early so as not to miss their rendezvous with the vortex. Quinn staggered out of the bushes looking like something the cat clawed to pieces, his watch alarm beeping loudly. Maggie smiled sweetly. "Good morning, Quinn," She said. Quinn cringed noticeably and cowered. Um, good morning," He mumbled. "Hey Q-Ball, you look like you had a rough night," Remmy commented. "Yeah, well, after Maggie finished beating me up, I got attacked by a bunch of wild pigs who seemed pretty pissed off about something, and then a gorilla humped me," Q-Ball replied.

"Well, cheer up, brother," Colin said, "Guess what we're getting for breakfast for a farewell party?"

"Let me guess," Quinn sighed, "Coconut oatmeal?" Colin stared at him. "Hey, how did you know that? Are you becoming psychic?" Quinn's stomach turned as if it were inside of a cement mixer.

"Oh man," He whined and stumbled back into the bushes to search for roots and berries. "Don't go far, we slide in an hour, " Remmy called after him and then snickered behind his hand.

As the timer counted down, the castaways began to carry belongings from their huts. "What are you doing?" Quinn demanded. "We're going home with you," The Skipper answered, puzzled.

"No, you're not,"

"Isn't there a boat coming?"

"No."

"A plane?"

"No."

"But you said you were leaving..."

"Yeah, and we told you that we slide from world to world in a wormhole. We don't have a boat, a plane, or anything else. We travel with just the clothes on our backs." Quinn replied snidely. Gilligan whispered to the Skipper and made more circling gestures with his finger near his head. Quinn pointed the timer and activated the vortex. It whipped sand around viciously as the tunnel opened. The castaways gasped in astonishment. "Oh, my hair," Ginger cried and dashed back into her hut. Quinn rolled his eyes skyward. Marianne and Mrs. Howell began to squeal, jibbering senselessly. Especially Marianne. Mrs. Howell's flowery sunhat was picked up by the wind and sucked into the vortex. "Come on, Rimshot," Cried Ernest. He grabbed the little dog and leaped in behind his friends. Tinkle patterned the sand as the animal hadn't quite finished decorating the Skipper's duffel bag. "DOH!"

"Such lovely people," Mrs. Howell remarked after the vortex had vanished. "I do hope they come to visit us again." The Skipper rolled his eyes skyward.

The end.