Turning Japanese AKA Epilogue

"Arnold!" Mrs Rimmer wound the phone cable around her finger and redialled the public phone number. Alas, she was restricted by the analog's feeble capabilities. Call her old-fashioned, but she just couldn't be dealing with those newfangled video contraptions. The amount of times she'd leapt out of the bath to answer one with nothing to cover her modesty except a shower puff. She barely managed a "Hello?" before the phone cut her off for a third time. "How am I supposed to scold him, when I can't get through?" she demanded. The thin air offered no solution, so she tried again. "Arnold? Good, good, I hear you. Slightly crackly but that can't be helped. Now where did you say you were?"

"Fiji, mother."

"And why are you in Fiji, when you're supposed to be on the Red Dwarf? What will your crew think?"

"Not much, I should think. I, er, don't have a crew."

"What!"

"Hold on, this line is very bad." Rimmer dropped the receiver into the water that was lapping at his feet. Some fish began to nibble at it. He kicked it against a rock a few times, rubbed it against a palm tree and shouted, "It's Chris Tarrant the Third here on 'Who wants to be a millionaire'! Moshi-moshi, watashi wa sugoi neko desu. Squeeeee," into it. Satisfied that his mother would think she had channelled into a line in Kansai, he hung up and waded back to his inflatable dinghy. He nestled back against the rubber lining and opened up his book, 'Fiji and You', and prepared for an afternoon of relaxation, which would no doubt be shortly ruined by Lister, if he knew him as well as he thought he did. "You told them?" Rimmer closed his book and looked at his watch. "Five seconds. Not bad, Dave."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I told her I wasn't a Rear Admiral Lieutenant General. Stop bobbing up and down like that - you're making me nauseous."

"I'm swimming in the sea, dingbat. Of course I'm going to bob. So you really told her?"

"Sort of."

"What did she say?" Lister queried urgently.

"What."

"I said, what did she say?"

"No, what. That's what she said."

"Oh. Then what happened?"

"I pretended to be Chris Tarrant, said something in Japanese and then went 'Squeeeee'." Rimmer buried his face into his book. Lister raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "Squee?"

"No, squeeeee. Don't look at me like that. I know I'm as spineless as that jellyfish by your leg."

"WHAT?" Lister scrambled into the boat, almost pulling Rimmer and 'Fiji and You' into the water.

"You utter nancy. I was lying. C'mon, let's row back home, if the rickety old shack hasn't been swept away by the tide."

"Home?" Lister grinned. "We've only been here a week and you're already calling our place 'home'."

Rimmer threw an oar at him and said, "Anywhere with you is home. And if you tell anyone I said something so soppy..." Lister nodded in mock compliance and decided to wait until Rimmer was in a better mood before mentioning the stray cat he'd picked up outside of Ferera's Cocktail Bar.

Mrs Rimmer stared at the phone as it poured out its dead tone. Disconnected again? She might have to do the unthinkable - go to Earth herself and drag her son's lover over a field of razors and lemon juice until he apologised for leading her baby astray. "What happened, Eliza?" Mr Rimmer wheeled himself in, still drowsy from his afternoon nap.

"My name isn't Eliza, dear. I'm afraid that the telephone has gone to the big red phone box in the sky. All I caught was Chris Tarrant, some Japanese man telling someone that they had an amazing pussy and then a guinea pig or something went 'squeeeee'."

"Squee?"

"No, squeeeee. I'm totally baffled by that boy sometimes. He leaves his job and goes to live on some remote little island on Earth, of all places, and from what that Todhunter fellow told me, he's become a... a fisherman. Fishing isn't a job! It's a hobby for men who can't do real sports. I blame that David. Persuading him to move to Fiji. Oh, if Arnold wasn't my blood type, I'd disown him completely. But you never know when you might need an organ."

"Well, we've still got the other three to be proud of: Jim, Ferguson and Merlin the Happy Pig. "

"Yes. My golden, blue-eyed boys. Practically perfect in everyway."

"Just like that English nanny, Louise Woodward."

"Mary Poppins. I wonder how the boys are doing. Frank's gone off on another honeymoon with Janine to make up for their little spat and he hasn't called."

"Would you ring your mother while honeymooning?"

Mrs Rimmer carried on in her maudlin idiom, "At least Howard had the decency to stay with us for a few days longer. Though I don't much like that new friend he's picked up - Eduardo. What on Io do they do in his room all day? It's beyond me!"

"Jeff is back at work isn't he?"

"Yes. They're all leaving me now. I almost hoped that Arnold would stay a back-alley squit forever. But now he actually has a life, I have nothing to do. I'm an ex-mother."

"Maybe," Mr Rimmer chuckled, "but you're still a wife, with wifely duties, if you know what I mean." A large wink. Mrs Rimmer shook her head wearily and explained slowly, "Darling, you've been impotent since 2150. I'm more likely to get a night of passion from a cup of hot cocoa."

"Mmm, cocoa. I'll have one if you're making it." Mr Rimmer rolled away into the living room for a bit of television and left Mrs Rimmer alone in the echoing hallway. She stood, looking outrageously small against the fine Matisse painting hanging on the wall and the double-door entrance and the sound of Mr Rimmer's wheels squeaking against the varnished wood floor reverberated around. It was just her and him for the rest of their lives. No more young lads tugging at her dress for attention, begging for sweets, asking to be taken out to fun places, wanting to play. Mrs Rimmer came to a conclusion.

"That's it. I'm getting a dog."

Well, I would like to say that I was drunk when I wrote this, but sadly this all comes from my un-intoxicated normal mind. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this fanfiction. May my ego be stroked forever more.

Also, I recommend re-reading this fanfic and playing Hunt the Hint. I didn't want to throw the 'Howard thing' in from out of nowhere so I left a few clues to the revelation. Gotta spot 'em all!™

Interesting facts;
I was reading a lot of Spike Milligan when I wrote this. I think a lot of him filtered onto the keyboard
Mr. Rimmer was based on the characters of King Richard IV from 'The Black Adder' and Captain Redbeard Rum from 'Blackadder 2'
Mrs Rimmer was based on my own mother. I am convinced that deep down she'd love to be a whore, but feels that she must keep up appearances. Aunt June is also my mother. If anyone is ill she will describe in horrific detail to everyone and anyone the symptoms and pains
I tried to make all the titles songs that are to do with homosexuality (either gay bands, songs about gays or from fan music videos featuring gay couples) but I quickly ran out of ideas
Rimmer's bedroom was based on my own. I was always squished into the smallest room of the house. I once had a room so small that a bed wouldn't fit into it, so my father had to build one. I still sleep with my legs tucked against my body
The hat universe idea was stolen, I confess, from 'Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life', and I completely believe their theory that people are too easily distrac- ooh a blinking cursor!
Weird Al Yankovich IS a lyrical genius
Eduardo is based on Mr. Weed from 'Family Guy'
A shrimp's heart is in its head
I buy underpants from Tesco. Yay, I'm working-class!
'The Twist' was originally titled 'Lady in Red', based on the idea that Rimmer played Sandy in 'Grease', but only the shoes were red, so sadly not red enough
Everyone loves Magical Trevor. If you do not love Magical Trevor I suggest you go see him now at http/ and start loving him
I love the original 'He-man'. 'She-ra' was crap. The only girly thing I watched as a kid was 'Jem and the Holograms'. Misfits rule!
What Rimmer actually says in Japanese is "Hello, I am great cat." But it's not like anyone would know!
Merlin the Happy Pig is stolen from Blackadder 2 as well. I'm a bit of a fan if you can't tell - Chris Barrie with a French accent and tight trousers dribble
I am so going to hell for the Louise Woodward remark
For those of you who actually read all these; wow, were you bored.