Medical quarters. Lister is lying sedated on a table, and he is bound to it tightly with leather straps for good measure. Kryten is looking into a microscope, but he keeps shooting guilty glances at Lister.
Rimmer: Oh, Kryten, stop your fidgeting. It's not your fault he went crazy.
Kryten: But to tie him up like that... it feels so wrong!
Rimmer: It's for his own good. He won't be able to harm us if he's properly secured.
Kryten: I agree sir, but was it really necessary for me to whack him over the head with that steel pylon?
Rimmer: He was waking up! He could have leaped up from the stretcher and strangled you!
Kryten: He wasn't waking up, that was only his leg twitching!
Rimmer: It could have been a diversion.
Kryten: (guiltily) But you kept insisting I hit him even though he's practically comatose!
Rimmer: Alright, let's just forget it shall we? Shouldn't you be concentrating on that anti-virus?
Kryten: (reproachfully) Yes, sir.
Cat is in the cockpit, manning the ship. He is looking out the window inattentively and humming to himself.
Cat: (grinning self-importantly) Oh yeah. I'm in charge of the ship. I'm the dude at the helm. Nothing gets past me! 'Cos if it tried, it'd be one sorry sucker!
Behind him, in the background, Mr Flibble is 'crawling' across the floor towards Cat.
Cat: I'm sharp. I'm on the case. Ain't NO-ONE gonna sneak up on me!
Mr Flibble: (in a high-pitched version of Lister's voice) Mr Flibble says... game over, punk!
Cat spins around and ducks just in time as a red beam of light shoots at his head. He scrambles out of his chair.
Cat: Wh-who said that?
He looks down and sees Mr Flibble, a small furry glove puppet, sitting on the floor.
Cat: (bewildered) Oh. That explains everything.
Mr Flibble: It's time for you to die.
Cat: Uh... sorry, bud. I have a pressing engagement somewhere else. (he scampers past the glove puppet, narrowly dodging another burst of hex-vision aimed at the region of his face.)
Mr Flibble: HAHA! Mr Flibble will destroy you!! Death to all the infidels and toothbrushes!
Medical quarters. Kryten is pouring some orange liquid into a test tube and holds it over a Bunsen burner with metal tongs. Rimmer is watching nervously.
Rimmer: Nearly done, Kryten?
Kryten: (distracted) Sir, this is a very complex process. It is going to take a while.
Rimmer: Well could you, you know, speed it up a little? (He glances fearfully at the drugged Lister)
Kryten: Not really, sir.
Rimmer: Right.
Lister's leg twitches and Rimmer jumps. He edges nervously towards Kryten, away from the bed, trying not to look scared.
Rimmer: It's just... I know what it feels like. It's horrible. Completely horrible. I don't want to turn into a raving lunatic again.
Kryten: I understand sir, I am doing my best.
At that moment Cat comes pelting into the room.
Cat: (gasping) There's a cute little furry penguin trying to kill me!
Rimmer: (panicked, pointing at Cat) He's got the virus too! He's gone insane! Tranquilize him!
Kryten: Calm down, Mr Rimmer sir. Cat, what exactly happened?
Cat: I told you, I was in the cockpit and some psycho penguin snuck up behind me and fired red laser beams at my head!
Rimmer: Well, forgive me if that sounds the tiniest bit insane.
Kryten: It's that glove puppet that Mr Lister was wearing!
Rimmer: You mean it has a life of its own now?
Kryten: I believe Mr Lister is controlling it by telekinesis. It can also use his hex vision and seems to be able to communicate through him.
Rimmer: Right. Well there seems to be only one way to solve this.
Cat: What?
Rimmer: Kill Lister.
This does not meet with a rousing show of approval, predictably enough. The other two just stare at him.
Rimmer: Alright, call it extreme if you will, but I don't see any other options, do you?
Kryten: Sir, we are NOT killing Mr Lister.
Rimmer: Well it was worth a shot.
Cat: Hey, hate to break up the discussion buds, but while we're standing around here talking, that penguin could be sneaking up on us! It could be anywhere on the ship!
Rimmer: Wonderful.
Kryten: Alright, sirs, I have another plan.
Rimmer: Just tell me it doesn't involve vindaloo.
Kryten: It doesn't. It involves Mr Cat and me searching the ship armed with bazookoids, and firing at anything that moves.
Rimmer: Ah. An excellent plan.
Cat: Wait a minute. Bazookoids? In this outfit? Explosions with imitation leopard skin? You gotta be kidding me!
Kryten: (heading for the door) I'm sorry sir, but we don't really have time for you to change into co-ordinated evening wear. Mr Lister still has the virus and I don't know how much time he has left.
Cat: Alright, alright. I'll do it. (he points at the sleeping Lister as he follows Kryten) But don't forget I sacrificed my self-respect for you, buddy!
Cat and Kryten are creeping along one of he corridors in Starbug, each holding a bazookoid. Rimmer is creeping along behind them, probably because he didn't want to stay in the medical bay alone with Lister.
Cat: Anyone see it?
Rimmer: No. No sign.
Kryten: Stay alert. It could be anywhere.
They walk around a corner, into a storage area filled with crates. Suddenly Cat gives out a scream as the glove puppet launches itself from the top of one of the crates and attaches itself to his face. He stumbles backwards, clawing at the penguin, but it won't let go.
Rimmer: (shouting) Shoot it, Kryten, shoot it, SHOOT IT NOW!
Kryten: (shouting back, over the top of Cat's screams) I can't! I'll hit the Cat! I think that's what it wants!
Cat: (muffled) Help! It's trying to choke me!
Rimmer: You have to do something!
Kryten: I... I... (he thinks very hard) The anti-virus... it's the only way!
He turns around and runs of down the corridor.
Rimmer: Kryten!!
He is left alone with the screaming Cat. Feebly, he puts his hands in a 'karate chop' gesture and shouts gibberish, trying to distract the penguin.
Kryten runs into the medical quarters and grabs the vial of anti-virus he was working on.
Kryten: It's not finished... but it's the only way to save them... it may just work...
He puts the liquid into a syringe and sticks the syringe into Lister's arm. His face contorts with worry as he stands back to wait.
Rimmer is dancing around the Cat, still with penguin attached to his face, and making vague swiping motions at it. His arms pass right through the Cat's body.
Rimmer: (to himself) This is HOPELESS! Kryten, what the smeg are you doing?!
On the medical table, Lister's eyes open and he tries to sit up with a jerk, but is held in place by the leather straps.
Lister: (groggily) Kryt? Whash goiinn onn? Why amm I tiied down?
Kryten: Mr Lister! Are you alright? How do you feel?
Lister: Like I jusst ate a really bad curry.
Kryten: The curry. It must have been infected with the virus. Oh Mr Lister, welcome back! The anti-virus must've worked!
Cat stops struggling as the puppet falls harmlessly to the ground. He stomps on it with his foot for good measure.
Rimmer and Cat run into the medical bay, where Lister is being released from his bonds. He sits up.
Rimmer: Kryten, you did it!
Cat: Hey, that was cool, buddy! He just dropped dead!
Lister: Who are you talking about? And why... (he looks down at himself)... the smeg am I wearing a dress?
Rimmer: You don't remember? You don't remember anything since breakfast this morning?
Kryten: We'll explain it later, sir. Perhaps after a nice hot chicken vindaloo, washed down with lager.
Lister: Are you mad?
Kryten: (realising) Oh. I'm sorry sir, forgive me. I must've realised the LAST thing you could possibly want right now is a vindaloo...
Lister: No, not that. I mean this smeggin' DRESS. Get me out of it. I feel stupid!
Later, Lister and Cat are sitting in the mid-section enjoying a meal. Lister has a curry in front of him and is tucking into it with relish.
Cat: I can't believe you can eat that stuff after what happened today!
Lister: It was only the one box of curry that was contaminated. Kryten found it and threw it out. Nothing to worry about.
Cat: Yeah, but still...
Lister: (Looking around) Where is Kryten anyway?
Cat: Him and Goalpost Head were headed off to the waste disposal unit last time I saw.
Lister: (dropping his spoon) What?!
Cat: Yeah, come to think of it, they had your guitar as well!
Lister: (jumping up from the table) Oh, SMEG!
THE END