Chapter 3

Paul walked into the main room, dropped his cigarette and stood on it. He looked up and smiled slowly. In front of him was a master piece, worthy of his own genius: Rimmer with black eye and obese lip, all in all a right mess.

"But not messy enough," murmured Paul to himself as he approached the gibbering wreck.

"Lister hit me! Twice! I can't believe it!"

"Yeah. How awful."

"Hey, you're the guy who insulted me! I'll have you know I'm the captain of this vessel!"

"Huh? Captain? I don't think so mate."

"What? But-"

Paul put his hands in his pockets deliberately.

"This is my sub. Well, 'our' sub."

"Sub, but you're in space-"

"Not important."

"Oh shut up you ignoramus, how do you know I'm not aware of your story?"

"Somethin' bout 'three million years'."

"Well you stupid, short monkey, how do you know that wasn't a clever ruse?"

Paul was by this time, a little pissed off. No, he was VERY, very angry. It was the 'short' thing that clinched it

"Want to play Mr Potato?" asked Paul, in the style of Bob.

"What- no- wait-"

For the second time that day Rimmer was chased by someone shorter than him and this time it wasn't just a black eye. It was a black face.

Tim came out of his bedroom, just in time to see Paul ready to hit Rimmer again, and grabbed Paul.

"Tim," panted Paul, "This guy... locked... us... up."

"True, PAul, go ahead." Tim slapped Rimmer and just before Paul could break Rimmer's nose Richard came down off the roof with the CAt and Lister.

"Oh ay, leave off him!"

"Guys! What about a little tolerance!"

"I'm going for the monkey man and the bean pole."

Lister and Richard ran up and dragged the three men (?) apart. By this time Rimmer's make up was gone and he had apparently done away with the hair totally and had taken one of Tim's uniform. As soon as Paul and Tim were out of range he began insulting them and retreated under the table.

"Pain... oh pain..." was the constant moan from Rimmer as Lister passed him a thing that could in the right light be called a towel and water.

"hey, that was rough, you really beat him!"

"So? Wanna make something of it? Eh?" Paul was totally enraged and eventually Tim and Rich locked him in his room.

"Well you certainly ruined his face. Glad I wasn't on the end of that or you'd be lynched," said the Cat.

"What do you mean?" asked Tim suspiciously.

"Well, if you destroyed this face you'd be in serious trouble, buddy. I mean look at it!"

"Sorry? No. I'm the beautiful one on this ship. Tim: tall and incredibly m-attractive."

"With that uniform? No way."

"With this face, yes way!"

"That face?" scoffed the Cat, "Are you serious."

"Yeah!"

"Not a chance."

"You're not so beautiful yourself!"

"I am. My suits are."

"Yeah? Wait, suits? More than one? Can I see?" asked Tim eagerly.

"Sure buddy, learn from the master," the Cat started to strut off.

"Wait, Cat, aren't your suits on Red Dwarf?"

"Nah, I got a few on Starbug."

"Wha'?"

"Only 10 racks!"

"Mad," said Lister shaking his head. He turned to Richard and asked:

"Where's the short one's room?"

"Over there," replied Richard, pointing.

"Ta."

Rich smiled vacantly and looked around, then realised everyone had left.

"... pain... "

Except for Rimmer, under the table. Rich crouched down to talk to him.

"How are you?"

"How do you think I am you brainless goit I've just had the smeg beaten out of me my two other gormless maggots!"

Rich ignored the insult (or didn't hear it)

"Poor thing they were really mean. They do that to me... the other day we played Mr Toaster seven times," Rich frowned, "and I didn't win once."

"Shut up. I don't like you and i don't want your sympathy, you snivelling wimp. Go away."

Richard looked crestfallen and on the verge of tears.

"... only Smuffy ever loved me..." he ran off to his room sobbing.

Meanwhile, Lister was sidling into Paul's room.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?"

"... everybody hates me, they hate me," Paul caught sight of Lister, "You hate me too! You hate me and I know why its because I'm a poor starving foundling! a poor, starving, foundling raised by emus, peck, peck, funny man, funny man!" Paul followed this extraordinary speech by standing up with that expression and doing emu actions.

"Wait, man, I don't hate yeh!"

"You do you do! And you, you, you're happy! Because you know my dark secret, the poor starving foundling's secret, I have syphilis! And you know you know because because I'm BALD!" Paul ripped out his small Tin-Tinesque clump of hair.

"Oh ay, wait-"

Paul started wringing his hands and moaning, "Oh you hate me! You hate me because I'm a poor, starving, emu-raised foundling with syphilis who is- who is pregnant!" Paul stuck a pillow down his shirt and started lumbering around.

"WHAT? That's impossible, man, you're a man!"

"YOU HATE ME you hate me because I wasn't married and you hate me because I gave you syphilis! Oh! Funny man!"

"No Paul, you gave me syphilis, remember?" said Tim as he walked in with Cat following. Tim was dressed in a ruffled pink and gold suit, one of the Cat's more flamboyant and tasteless suits, with an enormous dangling cross earring.

Tim smirked, "The Cat leant me some clothes."

"Yeah," Cat walked up to Lister and whispered, "I had to do it he wouldn't hut up. I gave him one of the out suits, you know, the over the top ones. I hate that earring," Cat grinned at Tim, "Of course, he don't look as good as me."

Tim ignored him and continued looking in a small hand mirror.

"I am too beautiful for this company!"

Paul had been shocked out of his mad rambling by the sight of Tim's suit.

"You look like a dickhead, dickhead! You look like fuckin' gay icon!"

"Jealous, eh, Paul?" Tim raised an eyebrow, "Anyway, must go... mirrors to see. Where's Richard, he'll appreciate me." Tim swept out of the room.

Lister and Cat stayed an crossed their arms simultaneously.

"Where's Kryten?" asked Lister.

"Yeah, you smelly monkey, where's the mechanical man?"

"Fuck. Off." Paul walked put after giving them the ups and frowning thunderously. Lister and Cat began searching the room.

"Oh, man this place is gross! It's like your dirty socks after a month in the basket!"

"I like it."

"Exactly."

"Found the chain saw," said Lister hoisting it onto his shoulder, "But where the smeg is Kryten?"

"Sirs?" came a small voice. Lister dropped the chain saw. "Sirs, I believe one of you is standing on me."

Lister jumped to the left. Cat didn't move.

"Cat! What if you're standing on him?"

"I would move," said the Cat, grimacing, "But I am stuck to the floor."

A pile of unidentified, soiled cloth stirred, just where Lister had been standing.

"Kryten!"

After they had dug, pulled, pushed, unstuck, sawn and melted (involving acid and various virulent alcohol products) Kryten out of Paul's top layer of filth and mess, they found his legs and carried him out into the main room.