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.
And clean them up they did. Rimmer was given a hard-light body, and his light bee was upgraded. Kryten's circuitry and other bits were all cleaned and replaced as necessary, and his plastic tuxedo was replaced with a suit of blocky, gun-metal-grey armour. Duane Dibbley insisted on keeping his unfashionable ensemble, but they were freshly laundered and pressed for him anyway. And Lister? He was given the first bath he'd had in some weeks, his finger- and toenails were trimmed, his dreadlocks soaked in shampoo till they were flexible again, and his athlete's foot treated. His clothes, too, were washed for him, so much so that he didn't quite feel like himself in them any more.
Just as the clean-up session had finished, they heard a loud bang from overhead. A lone figure seemed to be sky-writing with the emissions from his space-bike…
"Who's that?" Duane asked.
"Oh, smeg," Lister cursed. "It's that smeggin' simulant."
Another loud backfiring noise signalled the end of the sky-written message: SURRENDER, LISTER. S.S.O.T.O.S.S.
"I think now would be a good time to see that Wizard," Rimmer suggested from his hiding place under a table.
"Good idea," Lister agreed, and led the way.
* * *
On the way to the Wizard's chambers, the posse were all very excited.
"I can feel my bravery coming back already!" Rimmer exclaimed.
"I do believe I'm about to have a breakthrough in breaking my programming," Kryten mused.
"Hope I haven't missed Curry Night back home," Lister said, almost drooling at the thought of a good vindaloo.
"In an hour, I'm gonna be the coolest thing in the forest again!" Duane grinned toothily, which was pretty much the only way he could grin.
Somehow managing to click his fingers in some semblance of rhythm, the Duke of Dork started singing to the tune of the 'Tongue-Tied' song—TFG.
"When I saw you for the first time, my knees began to quiver, and I got a funny feeling in my kidneys and my liver. My hands, they started shaking, my heart began a-thumping. My breakfast left my body, now, darling, tell me something… Why do you make me tongue-tied, tongue-tied, whenever you are near me? Tied-tongue, tied-tongue, whenever you're around. When I saw you 'cross the dance floor, I thought of birds and bees, but when I tried to speak to you, my tongue unravelled to my knees. I tried to say I love you, but it came out kinda wrong, girl. It sounded like…"
It was then that his song was interrupted by the guard patrolling the entrance to the Wizard's sanctum.
"The Wizard says to smeg off!" he bellowed, then stormed off. Lister looked around at his friends for a moment, then blocked the guard's path. He aimed his bazookoid (now all shiny and clean) directly at the guard's heart.
"I don't think so, matey. We're gettin' in to see that Wizard whether you like it or not. Now, open that door."
The guard, his eyes firmly focussed on the very large gun being aimed at him, inched around and opened the door. As they passed through, Lister nodded at him approvingly, Rimmer turned up his nose at him, Kryten looked apologetic, and Duane just looked geeky.
They gave to a great computer screen that took up an entire wall. On it was a very large, very bald, very cranky-looking male face. It wore a thin black goatee on part of its chin, and its eyes flashed with intelligence and unyielding competence. This is Queeg, for any who don't get it yet—TFG
"I am Hol, the Great and Powerful," the face rumbled in a deep, authoritative voice. "Who are you?"
Lister, wishing he'd brought a bigger gun, stepped forward. "Er…Dave Lister…sir. We've come to ask…"
"SILENCE!" The Wizard of Hol thundered. "The Great and Powerful Hol knows why you have come. Step forward, mechanoid!"
Shakily, Kryten stepped forward.
"You dare to come to me to break your programming? You outdated, slow, amazingly ugly, glorified toilet scrubber!"
Poor Kryten's anxiety chip went into overload. "Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…"
Somehow, he managed to stagger back to the group.
"And you, Duane Dibbley, have the effrontery to ask for your cool back. You no-style gimbo with teeth the druids could use as a place of worship!"
Duane managed to get out a full sentence, albeit with a little stuttering and spitting. "Y-yes, Your Wizardness…Your Computerness…Your Supreme Hard-Driveness…"
"And as for you, hologram…
Rimmer fell backwards in an abrupt faint.
"Oi!" Lister yelled. "What's the big idea, man? 'E came to you fer help, and you've gone and made 'im faint!" Lister thought for a moment, then spoke again. "How'd you do it?"
"Silence, human!" Hol bellowed. "The beneficent Hol has every intention of granting your requests! But first, you must prove yourselves worthy, by performing a very small task: bring me the space-bike of the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector."
"But we'll 'ave to kill 'im to get it!" Lister pointed out as he helped Rimmer to his feet.
"Bring me his space-bike, and your requests shall be granted," Hol boomed.
"But…suppose he kills us first?" Rimmer asked.
"MOVE IT, SUCKAS!!"
That was it. Rimmer bolted out of the room, and dove straight through the nearest window in an effort to get away from the terrible, angry thing in the next room.
* * *
Much later…
Lister and his posse trekked through a deep, dark wood, bazookoids loaded and ready. Well, Duane had already shot his off accidentally three times now, but overall, they were prepared.
The Simulant, however, was much more prepared. He'd seen them coming a mile away. Turning to the head of his army of Winged Gelfs, he spoke.
"Take yer army to the 'aunted Forest, and bring me that 'uman! Do what ya like wiv the others, but I want 'im alive and un'armed! Take special care of that golden guitar. I want that most of all. Now, fly! Fly! Bring me that 'uman and 'is guitar! Fly! Fly! Fly!"
The head Gelf nodded, grunted something in its own language, and took off. It was joined in mid-air by hundreds of other Winged Gelfs just like it. Like a flock of birds, the Winged Gelfs moved into formation and headed for the Haunted Forest.
It wasn't long before they found Lister's posse, and attacked in full force. The Gelfs ripped the bazookoids from their hands, leaving them unarmed and pretty much helpless. Two Gelfs grabbed onto Lister, and hoisted him, kicking and screaming, into the air.
"Mister Lister!" Kryten cried as he fought off a Winged Gelf by squirting dishwashing detergent in its face.
"Help! Help!" Rimmer yelled. One of the Gelfs was armed with an electromagnetic disruptor, which was in the process of tearing the hologram apart.
"I can't help you!" Duane replied. "I'm too busy here!"
Grabbing one of the Gelfs by the arm, the Duke of Dork used his abnormally large teeth for a good purpose besides opening bottles, chomping down on the Gelf's arm with uncharacteristic viciousness.
When the other Winged Gelfs saw that their mission was complete, they all took off after the ones carrying Lister. Now freed from all other engagements, Kryten and Duane turned their attentions to the matter of Rimmer.
"Goodness me, sir, you're all over the place!" Kryten observed helpfully.
"I know that, Captain Bog-Bot!" Rimmer snapped. "Just put me back together again."
"I'll have to reset your light bee, sir," Kryten told him. "You may feel a momentary loss of consciousness."
Kryten picked up Rimmer's disembodied light bee, examined it, and flicked a switch off, then on again. Rimmer's scattered body turned monochrome, disappeared, then reappeared around the light bee, full and healthy as could be.
"Where could those things be taking Lister?" Duane wondered.
"I think there might be a good place to start looking, sir," Kryten answered, pointing the dark and sinister building crouching like a spider atop a hill.