'Dr. Watson -Smyth's Guide to Your First Baby: Extended Version' was set aside briefly whilst Rimmer cautiously eyed Lister re-entering the room. He sunk into Rimmer's bunk and gazed sullenly at the wall. Barren, grey, boring... he felt how that wall looked. Rimmer sat for a few minutes, sighing deliberately loudly and sadly in the faint hope of grabbing Lister's attention. Not a flicker of interest. Not even the slightest dance of intrigue. Rimmer stood between Lister and the wall, blocking his vision. Lister stared past Rimmer, past the wall, past the universe itself. Rimmer was slightly worried now. He leant down and brought his face nearer to Lister's. His eyes focused on him slightly, but remained glazed. Rimmer moved closer. And closer. Lister vomited. Rimmer moved back. "Urgh! You're lucky I'm a hologram you piece of..."
"Urgh..." Lister fell onto the floor: Thankfully, he landed belly-up. "Lister? Listy?" Rimmer stood over the groaning wreck. And it dawned on him. "YOU'RE DRUNK YOU IRRESPONSIBLE, PEA-BRAINED, USELESS EXCUSE FOR A MAN!!! WHAT ARE YOU? SOME KIND OF COUNCIL-HOUSE WHORE??? ARE YOU 12? IS THE FATHER YOUR GEOGRAPHY TEACHER??? DO YOU HAVE A 30-YEAR-OLD CONSTRUCTION WORKER FOR A BOYFRIEND WHO PROMISES TO SUPPORT YOU???" Rimmer took a deep breath. He felt he had ranted enough and Lister obviously was too comatose to listen. A few skutters and a stretcher later, Lister was recuperating in the medibay, Rimmer frantically watching the twins on the screen. Lefty seemed happy-as-Larry despite the beer flowing about Mummy's system. Righty was sleepy but nonetheless fine. "Hn?" Lister stirred from his sleep and looked around groggily. "Where am I?"
"You sir, are in trouble. That's where you are," Rimmer's leg jiggled in anger. Lister blinked. "I'm in the medibay."
"My God, you're right, chuck. Tell him what he's won, our Graham," Rimmer scoffed in a Liverpudlian accent. Lister clutched his stomach and watched the twins float around regardless of everything around them. "I'm sorry, lads. I jumped off the wagon again. Or on... I can't remember which it is. Anyway, sorry." He brushed away the skutters and rubbed off the conductive gel.
"And? What about me?"
"What about you?"
"My apology."
"For...?
"For?!" Rimmer squeaked. "For making me run around like a headless chicken with worry. For ignoring my diet calendar which said NO ALCOHOL. For taking every opportunity to argue against what you well know is the proper care and treatment for you and the babies. For not trusting me and Dr. Watson-Smyth."
Lister waved his arms, "Alright, alright, calm down, calm down, eh?" Rimmer sat down, exhausted from ranting and running and fretting. He just wanted to rest in a hot bath with a book on war tactics. Something like Go Rin No Sho. But no, life wasn't that simple for Arnold J. Rimmer. He was dead, he was stuck in space, and he was midwife for a man who made Barbary Macaques seem civilised. All in all, 'shit' was a good description of his life. Lister sat beside him with great difficulty. "You're right," he mumbled, ignoring the bitter taste of humble pie. Or was it bile? "I've not been fair on yer. You were only helping in your own, weird, annoying, meddling way. But you've got to believe me. I was only going to have a tipple to relax."
"Relax? What did you need to relax for?" Lister grew quiet and muttered something into his arm, coughing animatedly. "Didn't quite catch that."
"I was trying to erm..." he made a jerking motion with his hand.
"Ah. Why couldn't you?"
Lister shrugged and tried to hide the teenager-like highness of his embarrassed voice, "I just... y'know... it's weird. With Jim n' Bexley."
"My presence has never bothered you." Lister blushed even more. "Yeah... um..."
"Lister, I know you. You go at it like a 'Monkey World' chimpanzee when a 3rd Year school class is brought past its enclosure. I should think they'd be relived to have your hormones kicked down a notch. Just act like it's a normal girl-less Friday night and grab some porn and salute the general."
He chuckled and said, "Thanks Rimmer. You're a smeg but no-one knows more about this sort of thing than you."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Rimmer said, stomping after a giddy, tipsy and far jollier Lister.
Author Notes;
Rimmer's rant – sorry, mostly my own views. Anyone having sex underage deserves the pregnancy, sexually transmitted disease etc. they get. I'm a snob and I shan't apologise for it.
Our Graham – it's a British thing. A drawn-out dating show hosted by a scouser who's voice-over man was called 'Our Graham'
Calm down, calm down – Harry Enfield fans, can I hear a whoop-whoop! :D
Go Rin No Sho (Book of Five Rings) – Complicated strategy book written by a samurai called Miyamoto Musashi, of whom I'm a big fan
Barbary Macaques – I recommend going to see them in the wild. They're heavy when they leap on your shoulders but damned cute