AN: Came to me last night in a hallucination brought on by 36 hours of sleep deprivation. So it's really not my fault... Red Dwarf characters belong to Doug Naylor and Rob Grant, and Regis Philbin belongs to ABC televion. And he sold his soul to make it so. Joking... joking...
Who Wants to be a Smeghead?
"Hi everybody! I'm Regent Phillben and welcome to this newest episode of 'Who Wants to Be Millionaire?' Tonight is a very fun and exciting episode, because tonight we have on the program the entire crew of the JMC Red Dwarf!"
*Applause.*
"So, let's get started! You all know the rules, so..."
"Excuse me..."
"What? Who said that?"
"Um, I did. I don't know the rules..."
"Ah, shattup Rimmer! Weren't you paying attention backstage?"
"Lister, I'm just a little fuzzy on the 'life line' thing, and I really don't want to go into this without..."
"Listen, we don't have time to go over the rules again! Don't you ever watch this show? Jeeze! I'm gonna have a heart attack here!" *Sighs.* "Ok, I'm the host, you are the contestants, and you have to answer questions! Not that difficult!"
*Applause, followed by jeering and catcalls aimed at Rimmer.*
"So let's get ON with it! Put the following things in order according to dates. A) Columbus sailed the ocean blue. B) Declaration of Independance signed. C) Ford introduces mass production. D) The Beatles disband. F)..."
"Sir, you skipped 'E'."
*Lister smacks Kryten on the shoulder.*
"Whatever! Fine! E!!! President Regan is shot at. F) N'Sync has the number 1 album."
*Dramatic music while the contestants punch at the keyboards in front of them. Which drags on and on and on...*
"Don't you people have it yet? It's supposed to be a test of speed!"
"Hang on, Reeg, we've almost got it..."
"Dammit, don't call me Reeg!"
"Ah! It's a trick question! N'Sync has NEVER had a number 1 album..."
*Lister smacks Kryten on the shoulder again.*
"Yes they did! Right after this Columbo bloke sailed..."
*downward swooping dramatic music.*
"Finally! Who got it right?"
*Off camera whispering.*
"What'dya mean, NOBODY?!?!"
*More off camera whispering.*
"FINE! Kristine Kochanski, you've won the toss."
"Oh! Goodie goodie gumdrops!"
*Kochanski rushes up to sit across from Regent*
"Goodie goodie gumdrops? She's several biscuits short of tin, I told you, Mr. Lister..."
*Lister smacks Kryten in the head this time.*
"Hello, Kristine. Nice to have you on the show."
"It's nice to be here, Reeg."
"You silly twat, I TOLD you not to call me that!"
*Regent bitch-slaps Kochanski*
"Sorry."
"Forget it! You forfeit your turn! Get off my soundstage!"
*Kochanski flees, sobbing.*
"Cat, you're up!"
"Fine, Host Man. Wait, how'm I looking?"
*The entire audience yells out: YOU'RE LOOKING NIIIIIIICE!*
*Cat temples his fingers and stoops over.* "Excellent."
"Thank you, Mr. Burns. Ok, your first question, worth 100 dollarpounds."
"I'm ready, Mr. Phillben. And may I say that you're looking particularly sharp this evening? Really, you look mah-vel-us."
"Flattering the host will get you nowhere!"
*The cat jumps off the stool.*
"Fine! I don't want to play this stupid game anyway! And who ever heard of a brown suit with a lavender tie? Really, man, you look like the wardrobe people are holding a grudge against you or something!"
*The cat stalks off stage.*
"God, these people are in-SANE! It's in-SANE!! Kryten, I think you were the next in line for the speed test."
"Mr. Regent, sir, I do believe that the humans should go first. It's a matter of programming, I'm afraid."
*Regent pulls out a gun and shoots Kryten, who falls over dead, quite comically.*
"Lister! You're next!"
"Yes, I'm next! I-eeee'm sooo next!"
"No quoting Bugs Bunny cartoons. They're owned by the WB! We could get SUED!"
"Sorry, man."
"Ok, first question, worth 100 dollarpounds. What is your favorite color? A) Red B) Green C) A suffusion of yellow D) Marmoset."
"Now's the part where I ramble on for 20 minutes while I try to decide my final answer, right? Well, this one time, at band camp, there was a girl who stuck a flute up her..."
"And no quoting perverse movies about pie fucking, either!"
"Sorry. Ok, well, I've always been a big fan of the color yellow, and a suffusion of yellow would be very nice indeed. However, in the context of the question, which would be the question that you just asked me, which is to say that you've asked me a question that I presumably should answer in order to win the 100 dollarpounds, I don't think that a suffusion of yellow would be the logical choice, and I'm trying to be more like Spock in this point of my life, logic is very important you know, and a suffusion would indicate that there are other colors within the yellow, even though, as we all know that the color yellow is a primary color, which means that it's not made up of two other colors, such as the color green that you mentioned earlier. Which brings me to green. I've never been a huge green follower, as sometimes my urine turns green after one too many Mountain Dews. Rimmer once told me that my urine should only be green if I'm Mr. Spock, and like I mentioned earlier, I really like Mr. Spock so I'm only trying to be more like him. I guess that WOULD make me a green-liker, but I really wouldn't go so far as to say that it's my favorite color. As for red, once I had a chicken vindaloo that was bright red and made me sweat for 16 hours straight and nearly burned a hole in me tongue. But that didn't really phase me, as I'm quite used to it by now, what with all the vindaloos and shami kebabs that I've consumed at this point in my relatively young life.
*Cut to a shot of the Knights from Monty Python's Holy Grail.*
"GET ON WITH IT!!"
*Cut back to game show already in progress*
"Of course, I'm not adressing this to you, Regent, I'm not addressing this to you, I'm addressing this to all the pale and joyless fan fiction readers who at this very moment are scrolling through this paragraph, trying to get to the end of it where there's no end in sight. What a sad, pathetic life THEY'RE living!"
"Is that your final answer?"
"What?"
"That fan fiction readers, and authors, are sad, joyless hunks of gristle, fit only for wearing 'Wrath of Khan' t-shirts and living at home with their mums?"
"I'd like to poll the audience, please."
"Fine."
*Dramatic music sting.*
"The audience is split right up the middle on this one. 56% say 'Marmoset' and 59% say 'Sad, Joyless, Fan Fiction, Wrath of Khan t-shirt...' et cetera et cetera."
"That adds up to 115%!!"
*Regent bitch-slaps Lister.*
"Fine, I'll go with Marmoset."
"Is that your final...."
"YES!! For the love of Pete! YES!!!"
"You are.... WRONG! 115% WRONG!!! You are such an idiot! Marmoset isn't even a color! It's a small rodent! Your favorite color is red! Get out of here, you toffee nosed, maloderous pervert!"
*Lister leaves, rubbing his cheek and muttering as he goes.*
"Mr. Rimmer?"
*Rimmer cautiously slides up to the stool.*
"Because things are taking so long, and because I really really feel like it, we're going to skip right to the million dollar question. Are you nervous, Mr. Rimmer?"
"A little bit, yes..."
"Just a little? Are you sure that your stomache isn't jumping up and down, your palms aren't sweaty, you aren't shaking like a leaf in a hurricane force gale?"
"Well, now that you mention it..."
"I mean, here you are, mewling like a dispeptic kitten who's gone 6 days without its sweet mother's milk, ready to make an appalling jackass of yourself in front of millions of millions of people, knowing that even your mum is watching at this very moment with her brigde club, saying, 'There's my Arnie! He's such a bright boy, and I'm sure that he'll give the million dollarpounds to some worthy charity, because he's just that kind of boy.' You know all of this and you're not all that nervous?"
*Rimmer stares into the camera for a long time.*
"Mr. Rimmer?"
*Nothing.*
"Well then, here it is, the million dollarpound question. Who is the writer of the massively popular Harry Potter series? A) J.K. Rowling. B) Douglas Adams. C) Your mother. D) J.K. Rowling."
*No response.*
"Mr. Rimmer?"
*No response.*
"Mr. Rimmer? Are you going to answer the question?"
*No response.*
"Well, then. That's the end of the game, I suppose. That wraps up this edition of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire?' I'm your host, Regent Phillbin, and until next time, keep reaching for the sky!"
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Rimmer sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat and shouted, "J.K. ROWLING!!!!!!!"
Lister woke up and rolled over, coughing. "J.K. Rowling? Man, Rimmer, you have a really fucked up subconscious, you know that?"
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