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.

As Lister strolled down the road, wishing with all his might that he had a curry, or at least a can of lager, he came to a fork in the road.

"Oh 'ay!" he moaned. "Which way now?"

"You could go that way, you jumped-up gimboid!"

Lister jumped at the sound of this new voice. "Who's that, then?"

"Or that way, you pregnant-baboon-bellied space bum!"

Lister loaded his bazookoid, ready for anything that might leap out at him. As he looked around suspiciously, he spied a thin, weaselly-faced man with an 'H' on his forehead trapped inside a shimmering force-field.

"Or of course, you could always go to hell, you stupid git!" the trapped man sneered.

"What's yer beef, man?" Lister asked. "All I'm tryin' to do is get to this Crimson City, so I can get the smeg outta here. Who're you, anyway?"

"Captain Arnold J. Rimmer, space adventurer," the trapped man replied. "I was attacked by an emotion-sucking polymorph, which sucked out all my decency. I was left like this – a petty-minded, selfish piece of sputum in the toilet bowl of humanity. I was imprisoned by my crewmates when I got too insufferable, and left here for all eternity."

"What, you're not going to die?"

Rimmer pointed to his 'H'. "I'm a hologram, aren't I?" he droned in a passable imitation of Lister's accent. "God, you're thick!"

Lister thought for a moment. "I'm goin' to see this Wizard of Hol fellow. He might be able to help you, y'know, get yer decency back and all."

Rimmer shrugged. "Worth a shot, I suppose. Just get me out of this holo-cage."

Lister pressed a few buttons on the control panel beside the holo-cage, and the shimmering energy field disappeared.
"Ah. Free at last!" Rimmer crowed.

"I should warn you, though," Lister said, "I've got a simulant after me, and he's crankier than a dinosaur who's just eaten a really hot vindaloo."

Rimmer flared his nostrils nervously. "Simulant?"

Lister nodded. "Yeh. See, I've got 'is golden guitar, an' 'e wants it back."

"Well, that's a teensy bit of a problem."

"Why?" Lister wanted to know.

"When the polymorph sucked out my decency, it took my bravery with it," Rimmer admitted. "I'm an abject coward."

"I'm sure the Wizard of Hol will be able to give you yer bravery back, too," Lister reassured him wearily.

"You think so?"

"Why not?"

Rimmer snapped to attention. "Then let's be off."

As the pair set off down the road, Rimmer began to sing.

"If I had my bravery back…I could while away the hours, beating up the flowers, fighting all the nuts. And my fists I'd be swinging while my mouth insults be flinging, if I only had the guts. I would battle any villain, for men – especially women! – in trouble or in pain."

Lister joined in. "With the foes you'd be fightin', yer fists'd have to be like lightnin', if you only had the guts."
Rimmer looked about to continue, then stopped abruptly. "What the hell are we doing?"

Lister shrugged. "Dunno, man. C'mon, let's go."

As they walked off, Lister again began singing. "I didn't come here lookin' for trouble, I just came to do the Red Brick Road shuffle…"

* * *

They travelled along the Red Brick Road for a bit until they came to a forest. On the ground, there sat a small red toaster.

"Good morning, sirs. Would you like some toast?" the toaster asked chirpily.

Lister had to consider that. He was getting hungry, but he'd sort of set his hopes on finding a grove of curry trees somewhere in this bizarre world.

"No thanks," he replied kindly but firmly.

"How about a muffin?"

"Nope," said Lister, rapidly getting tired of this talkative toaster.

"What about a waffle?"

It took a full ten minutes to convince the toaster that neither Lister nor Rimmer wanted any toast, muffins, waffles, teacakes, buns, baps, baguettes or bagels, croissants, crumpets, pancakes, potato cakes and hot-cross buns…and DEFINITELY no smegging flapjacks!

The toaster thought for a moment. "Would anyone like any toast?"

"Didn't you hear what he just said, you glorified heater?" Rimmer sneered.

"I thought you might have changed your mind in the meantime."

Lister lost it. "NO SMEGGING TOAST!"
If the toaster had possessed a face, he would have had a mournful expression on it. "But I am a toaster. It is my raison d'etre. I toast, therefore I am. If you don't want any toast, why did he repair me?"

"'He'? 'He' who?" Lister asked, completely ignoring good grammar.

Rimmer pointed off beyond the toaster. "I think it means him."

It was a rather odd-shaped individual who looked like he'd taken his car to the crusher's and forgotten to get out. The individual wore a plastic tuxedo, and a blank expression on its cubed face.

"A mechanoid!" Lister exclaimed.

"Now hold on," Rimmer cautioned, "this mechanoid might not be of the friendliest sort."

"Shows how much you know," Lister scoffed. "Mechanoids're programmed to serve humans. He's not gonna hurt us."

Feeling around the mechanoid's back, Lister located the start-up switch and flicked it. The mechanoid's eyelids fluttered, and he sprang to life.

"Oh. Oh my. Goodness gracious me, I must have gone offline for some reason," the mechanoid chattered. "I am in your debt, Mister…er…Mister…"

"Lister. Dave Lister. And this is Rimmer."

The mechanoid bowed deeply. "How do you do? I am Kryten 2X4B 523P…though I don't much like the 2X4B. I think it's a jerky middle name. Still, it could be worse. I once knew an android whose middle name was 2Q4B." Kryten gave a breathy, forced laugh. "Poor sucker!"

Lister shrugged. "Oh well. You're alright now."

"All right?" Kryten chuckled again. "Look at me, sir. Beside the fact that I have a head shaped like a freak formation of mashed potato, I've still got the mental settings I did when I was assembled. To be blunt, sir: I want to break my programming, be more like a human."

"Alright, let's try something," Lister suggested. He pointed to Rimmer. "Call this man a smeghead."

Despite Rimmer's protestations, Kryten screwed up his courage and tried it. "Sir, you're a smeeeee...a smeeeee heeeeeee…a smerrrrg heeeeeaaa…! It's no good, sir, I just can't do it!"

The mechanoid's eyelids fluttered again, and his head vibrated rapidly. "Switch to 'song mode'."

With that as a warning, Kryten burst into song.

"When a mechanoid's a vassal, he should not have these hassles. And yet I'm torn inside. Just because I'm presumin' that I could be kinda human, if only I could lie. I'd be vicious, I'd be rotten, and awfully misbegotten, giving the shoulder cold. I would diss all the sparrows, and the boy who shoots the arrows, if I could only break the mould. Picture me...a balcony...above a voice sings low…"

From nowhere, a voice that sounded like a female version of Kryten's said, "Make love to me, you horny dude!"

"I hear a beat! How sweet!" Kryten swooned. "Just to play with people's emotions: jealousy, devotion – and really feel the part. I could copy just what he said, and I'd mock and laugh at the dead, if I could only be a smeeeee…smeeerrrg heeeeaaa!" Kryten broke out of song and cursed. "Oh, damn my programming!"

"Well, maybe the Wizard of Hol can help you break yer programming," Lister suggested. "We're goin' to see him now."

"Do you think so, sir?" Kryten's face had the look of a starving dog being offered a choice piece of sirloin steak.

"Damn straight!" Lister replied cheerily. "Well, he's got to, hasn't he? I mean, we've come all this way already…"

"Long?" a deep metallic voice asked incredulously. It was the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector.

"You call that long, eh? You've only just begun!" He laughed a hissing sort of a laugh. "Bet youse've forgotten about me, eh? Well, I 'aven't forgotten you!"

The Simulant cast his beady little eyes around at the trio. "Got a little 'elp now, do ya? I'd stay away from 'im if I were you."

He pointed a rusty finger at Rimmer. "Or I'll use you as a hologrammatic punchin' bag!"

The finger moved to Kryten. "And you – I'll turn you into spare parts!"

The Simulant slung a bazookoid from behind his back and aimed it squarely at Rimmer. "'Ow about a li'l target practice, hologram?"

Rimmer gulped, and quickly checked his pants. Still dry, thank goodness. "You can't hurt me with that – I'm intangible."

The Simulant cocked the bazookoid. "It's loaded wiv a hologrammatic charge."

He fired, and Rimmer had to dance about to avoid getting hit by the hologrammatic energy bolts.

The Simulant laughed heartily at Rimmer's antics, then speared Lister with his gaze.

"As for you, 'uman, I 'ope you 'ave a safe journey to the Wizard of 'Ol!" he jeered, then disappeared in a puff of sulphuric smoke.

Rimmer somehow recovered most of his courage, and waved a fist at the disappearing Simulant. "Yeah, run, you coward, run! Make me into a hologrammatic punching bag, eh? We'll soon see about that, me-laddo!"

Kryten nodded firmly. "Indeed. I shall do my best to ensure you get to the Wizard, Mister Lister sir, whether I can break my programming or not."

The mechanoid made a dismissive noise that sounded a lot like a sneeze. "Spare parts? Just let him try to make spare parts out of me!" he huffed bravely.

"Cheers, guys. I really appreciate it, y'know?" Lister said gratefully. "It's weird…I feel as if I've known you for ages!"

Rimmer sneered. "I don't see how, modo. You weren't around when I died and was brought back as a hologram, now, were you?" he droned derisively.

"And you weren't there when I was being assembled at DivaDroid Incorporated, were you, sir?" Kryten chipped in.

"Not exactly, no," Lister admitted. "Doesn't matter, though, eh? We're here, and on our way to the Crimson City."

"To coin a phrase, 'damn straight', sir!" Kryten agreed heartily.

"Quite," was all Rimmer had to say.

As they started off down the Red Brick Road, Lister started singing again.

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

"That's getting really irritating, you know that…" Rimmer chided him.