Again, sorry for taking a while. My computer is still being a LOLtard.
Heartburn, swelling, indigestion, back and leg aches, haemorrhoids, and fatigue. Lister felt like a million dollar-pounds. He and Rimmer were still not speaking after their little spat, which was a shame because Lister needed Rimmer now more than ever. He needed to take the piss out of him to relieve his misery. There was just no way he could get comfortable. He rolled this way, he rolled that way. In the bunk, on a chair, on the floor, in the shower. Everywhere was uncomfortable. Now if he could just make Rimmer feel as horrible as he did, he might get through this alive. Rimmer was never in the room long enough for Lister to talk to him. And there was no chance in hell that Lister could chase him. He huffed and puffed his way out of their room towards the medibay. "Allo Dave," Holly said when he arrived. Holly seemed to spend more and more time away from them. The truth was, Holly was more than a little concerned about her IQ. She was sure last week that she understood quantum physics, and yet today she was bamboozled by why toast always fell butter-side down. "It's very simple," Talkie Toaster had sighed impatiently at her. It's heavy so its gravitational force towards the floor is greater than the non-buttery side. He was met with a blank stare. "Look, I'm not going to waste any more of my beautiful toast. You'll just have to use your imagination.
"Just chuck a few more. Visual explanations work better for me."
"I'VE ALREADY THROWN SIX SLICES," Talkie Toaster had shrieked and jumped up and down in superfluous anger. At that point, Lister had walked in and Talkie had fervently tried to persuade him to eat the floor-toast, to save waste. Eventually Lister solved the matter by beating Talkie Toaster to death and hiding his remains. He ate the toast anyway. But Holly was pleased. She was once again the most intelligent machine on the ship, with the exception of the calculators and the Captain's toilet, which automatically informed the occupant if they had left a floater by playing "We shall not be moved" until it was re-flushed. But her intelligence wasn't enough to navigate Red Dwarf to Earth. She hadn't a clue where she was going and was earlier distraught to find that her male self had deleted the travel log to make room for the 3D version of Mah Jong. She'd soothed her anger by playing a few rounds. "So where've you bin, Hol? I hardly see yer."
"Oh well, you know. Flying in space takes a lot out of one. It's a superlatively difficult task."
Lister raised an eyebrow, "One? Superlatively? What's with the brainy mumbo-jumbo?"
"Well I do have an IQ of 6000, David," said Holly and tried to laugh at the outrageousness of it all, but made a noise rather like a dying turtle. Once Lister was out of earshot she mumbled, "I only hope he doesn't discover my word-a-day dictionary," to herself. Lister sat at one of the computers and stretched his arms over his stomach to type in a search for 'Dr. Watson-Smyth's Guide to a First Pregnancy: Platinum Edition'.
The Cat flicked through the television channels until he found what he was looking for. A pleasant and smiley woman came on screen and began to describe in horrific detail about birth as a graphic birthing scene played out behind her on a blue screen. The Cat watched, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed for a few moments before switching it off. "N-no way..." he spluttered. "Nooooo way, buddy - you're on your OWN!"
Rimmer was in a foul mood, which grew even fouler when he saw Lister in the drive room. "Look at him," he scoffed to himself. "Reading 'Dr. Watson-Smyth's Guide to a First Pregnancy: Platinum Edition' on the computer like he's being mature. He's about as mature as Edam cheese. And he smells worse."
"Hi, Rimmer," Lister grinned. Rimmer started, having not realised how loudly he was insulting Lister. Lister shook his head and took something long, small and white from his ear and placed it between his lips.
"DAVID LISTER THAT HAD BETTER NOT BE A CIGARETTE!!!" barked Rimmer. Lister waved his hands in a calming fashion before showing Rimmer the offending object. "It's just one of those cigarette-shaped sweets. It helps me cravin'. And you get collector's cards in the boxes." Rimmer sniffed and peeked over Lister's shoulder at the page he was researching. Premature births. "Ah, good. I told you the chances were superlatively higher with multiple births."
"Superlatively? Do you and Holly have the same word-a-day dictionary or something?" Rimmer said he had no idea what Lister was going on about, though he was clearly flustered by his query. In the background, Holly had slunk away in embarrassment. "Anyway," Rimmer changed the subject; "I just came in to remind you to increase your protein, calcium and folic acid intake next week."
"And iron, I know, I know."
"Ah, well. Good. Yes. Glad to see you're... ahem. Keep up the good work." Rimmer marched back out of the drive room. Lister blinked. Was that... were those words of support? From Rimmer? Lister smiled to himself. A compliment from Rimmer was like a talking dog. Superlatively rare.
Author notes;
Captain's toilet - I really want one :D
Mah Jong - best damn game ever
Cigarette sweets / candy - best damn sweet ever