Disclaimer: The Wizard Of Oz belongs to MGM. Red Dwarf belongs to Grant-Naylor. I own nothing, nothing!

Acknowledgements: In writing this, I referred greatly to The Wizard Of Oz script I found at The Daily Script, and also several Red Dwarf scripts from the Red Dwarf scripts archive.

Later…

The trio came to a dark, mysterious, spooky-looking forest.

"Well, this is certainly a dark, mysterious, spooky-lookin' forest, ain't it?" Lister commented.

"Yes," Rimmer mused. "And it's likely to get darker before it gets lighter."

"D'you suppose we'll come across any animals?"

"We might, Mister Lister, sir," Kryten told him helpfully.

"Like what?"

"Well, sir, like Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils."

"Gelfs?" Lister repeated.

"And emohawks?" Rimmer swallowed nervously.

"And space weevils." Kryten finished.

The three continued on their way, a bit more warily this time.

"Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man," Lister breathed. "Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man. Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man. Gelfs and emohawks and space weevils, oh man…"

His anxious mantra was suddenly broken by a loud crash, and a bloodcurdling moan. Rimmer immediately dove for cover, while Kryten moved into a position where he could better protect his human master.

"That must be one huge smeggin' animal to make such a noise!" Lister observed.

The crashing got closer, and so did the moans. Just as Lister was reaching for the bazookoid, a figure fell onto the road in front of him. It was a tall, lanky man, wearing a nylon shirt, sideways-ironed flares, white socks with plastic sandals, and a decidedly unfashionable cardigan. His hair was cut in that awful 'pudding-bowl' style, and his teeth protruded nerdily from beneath his lips. To put it bluntly…this guy was a total geek. The Duke of Dork himself.

"Oooooh…" the geek moaned, clutching his injured head. As he got to his feet, he struck his head on Lister's bazookoid and fell to the ground again.

"Who the smeg're you?" Lister felt compelled to ask.

"The name's Duane Dibbley," the geek replied. "Believe it or not, I used to be cool!"

Rimmer, having crawled out from his hiding place, snorted scornfully. "You? Cool? Look at you! You're too geeky even for a science-fiction convention!"

"It's true!" Duane insisted. "I used to be the coolest thing in the forest, until this emotion-sucking polymorph came along and took all my cool! Now I got no style, no sophistication…"

As if to prove his point, Duane managed to somehow trip over his own feet and land sprawling in the dirt again.

"You see?! I'm a wreck!"

Lister lowered the bazookoid. He'd kept it up not because he thought Duane a threat, but because he thought he may have had to kill the poor blighter out of pure mercy.

"Y'know, we're on our way to visit the Wizard of Hol. We're gonna try and get 'im 'is decency back, and 'im to break 'is programming. Maybe 'e could give you back yer cool."

"You really think so?" Duane said enthusiastically, spraying spittle everywhere as he spoke.

"No worries, man! You ready to go?"

Duane thought for a moment. "Just let me check… Thermos, sandwiches, corn plasters, telephone money, dandruff brush, animal footprint chart…and one triple thick condom."

Seeing the others' bemused and disbelieving expressions, he shrugged. "You never know!" he said optimistically.

"Alright, then," Lister said. "Let's be off, then."

As they walked, Duane told them of his frustrations in song.

"It's sad, believe me, sirs, when you're born to be a nerd, without the style and rules. But fashion would be what I seek  – be a legend, not a geek – if I only could be cool. I'm afraid there's no denyin': fashion laws I'm defyin' – a fate I just don't rule. I'd be cool as a blizzard…"

"I'd be brave as a lizard," Rimmer interjected.

"I'd be variable as a gizzard," Kryten chimed in, secretly hating the fact that he got stuck with the bad rhyme.

"If the Wizard is a wizard worth 'is smeg," Lister reminded them.

"Then I'm sure to get to be brave," Rimmer said.

"Break my programming," from Kryten.

"Get home," Lister put in.

"Be cool," Duane finished.

As they walked off down the road, Lister started singing again.

"I didn't come here lookin' for trouble, I just came to do the Red Brick Road shuffle…"

"Lister, what did I say about that…?" Rimmer warned.

* * *

The new quartet may not have been quite so merry if they knew they were being watched by sinister eyes. The image of them walking down the Red Brick Road were displayed on gigantic monitors in the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector's hideout.

"So! You won't take warnin', eh?" the Simulant sniggered. "All the worse for you, then. I'll take care of you now instead of later! Ha! When I gain that golden guitar, my power will be the greatest in the universe! And now, my li'l friends! Som'fing with poison in it, I fink. Dreadful to the eye, and searing to the smell! Curries…curries will make 'em sleep. Sleep…"

* * *

"Look! Crimson City, just beyond this field of…"

Lister couldn't believe his eyes. He'd found his own personal Nirvana – an entire field of curries.

"Smeggin' hell…" he breathed. "I've died and gone to smeggin' heaven…"

Immediately, he bent down and started to scoff down as much curry as he could.

"Er, Lister, shouldn't we be heading for the Crimson City?" That Rimmer, always such a stick-in-the-mud.

"Chill out, man," Lister managed to get out between mouthfuls of vindaloo. "I'm just havin' a bit o' lunch, y'know?"

Before long, hunger got the better of Duane, and he too tucked into the curries. Between them, they consumed an area bout three squared metres in area. It was only then that Lister felt anything but appetite.

"Urrrgggh…tired…need sleep…"

Rimmer put on his 'alarmed' expression. "Lister…probably not a good idea…"

"Just a few winks, man…" Lister got out before he collapsed, snoring on the ground.

"You know, I think…he's…onto…something…" Duane yawned, and fell down next to Lister.

"Oh my!" Kryten fretted. "What are we going to do? We can't just leave them here!"

"We can't?" Rimmer asked in all seriousness.

"No, sir!" Kryten looked about to blow a circuit or two. "We can't! We have to carry them out of this field!"

"I can't touch anything, remember? I'm a hologram," Rimmer reminded him. "You'll have to do it yourself."

Kryten bent down and hauled Lister over his left shoulder. When he tried to lift Duane Dibbley over his right shoulder, the mechanoid overbalanced and fell backwards.

"It's no use, sir!" Kryten moaned. "We can't get them out of here, and if they stay here, they'll surely die!"

Rimmer stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I bet this is the work of that Sinister Simulant. He must've planted these poisoned curries here to get Lister's golden guitar from him!"

"Help! Help!!" Kryten bellowed.

"What are you screaming for, you gimboid? No one'll hear you!" Rimmer berated him.

"Help!! Help!!!" Kryten continued, not paying Rimmer any mind at all.

His cries did not go unheeded, however. Kristine had heard his plaintive pleas, and had decided to lend a hand.

Small, silvery cylinders began to sprout from the ground. Kryten picked one up and examined it.

"Leopard Lager? Of course! The only thing that can kill a curry!"

His squarish plastic fingers ripped the ring-pull off, and he tipped the can's contents over Lister and Duane. It took a couple of cans' worth of the thin, fizzy beer, but eventually, Lister and Duane stirred.

"Uuuurrrrrgh…" Lister groaned. "Man, I could really go for a kebab right about now…"

Kryten nodded kindly. "Suggest we leave any further ingestion of foodstuffs until we reach the Crimson City, sir."

* * *

While the quartet set off for the Crimson City again, celebrating their deliverance from death, the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector wasn't so cheery.

"Curse it!" he ranted. "That 'uman's always got someone 'elpin' 'im! Guitar or no guitar, I'm still great enough to conquer 'im.  And woe to those 'oo try to stop me!"

* * *

"Look! There it is! The Crimson City!"

Lister wasn't the only one pleased to see the object of their search. The sight even brought a smile to Rimmer's unfriendly face.

But the Simulant had his eyes set on the Crimson City too. Leaping onto his space-bike, he gunned the engine and took off in a cloud of smog.

Meanwhile, Lister and his posse had reached the gateway of the Crimson City, and had pressed the door buzzer. A podgy-faced man with a military-style haircut (thinning on top) poked his head out of a hatch above the door. This, for those who haven't realised, is meant to be Captain Hollister—TFG

"State your business," he said in a bored American voice.

"We've come to see the Wizard of Hol," Lister replied.

"The Wizard?" the doorman repeated incredulously. "But nobody can see the Great Hol! Nobody's ever seen the Great Hol! Even I've never seen him!"

Lister furrowed his brow. "Then 'ow do you know there is one?"

The doorman faltered for a second at that. "Because he…I…oh, you're wasting my time!"

"Listen here, me-laddo," Rimmer interjected. "We're here to see this Wizard of yours, and we're not going to take 'no' for an answer! Got that, Private Nobody?"

"Yeah, and besides, this girl named Kristine sent me!" Lister put in.

The doorman raised an eyebrow. "Prove it."

Lister swung the golden guitar over his shoulder to display it for all to see. "I've got the golden guitar she gave me," he said, a little unnecessarily.

The doorman squinted as he examined the shining instrument. "Well, so you have! Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

The doorman's head ducked behind the gates for a second.

"Polygraph checks out…" he mumbled, then popped his head out the hatch again.

"Come in!"

The gates opened, and Lister's posse entered. What met their eyes amazed them. The entire city looked to be constructed like a spaceship, all red-painted metal studded with rivets. A man dressed in skin-tight green Lycra and a silvery facemask standing next to a doorway waved them over. This is Legion, for those who can't keep up—TFG

"You gonna take us to the Wizard, eh?" Lister inquired.

"The Wizard? Oh yes," the man replied in a very cultured voice. "But first, we'll take you somewhere where you can clean up a little."