We're Friends… Right?
Rimmer noticed fairly quickly that Lister was incredibly flustered, almost feverish. He had lost all five rounds of 'Shit-head' that they had played on Rimmer's bunk. He normally beat Rimmer 9-1. And Lister's agitation increased tenfold when Parker came in for bedtime. "Lights out soon," said Rimmer glancing at his alarm clock. "One more game?"
"Mm." Lister dealt the cards as slowly as possible. Rimmer picked up his cards and sorted them into order. "Are you feeling alright, Lister?"
"Yeah... Rimmer, um...you don't still hate me, do you?"
Rimmer had never heard such an absurd question and snapped at Lister, "Of course not! If I hated you, we wouldn't be playing cards on my bed, now would we?"
"We're friends then, right?"
"Yes. I suppose so."
Lister looked over at Parker's smarmy face. "Suppose what?" he probed.
"That we are."
"Are what?"
"What?"
"What are we?" Lister groaned, his face contorted in frustration. He was beginning to feel really ill.
"Lister, are you okay? I told you not to eat vindaloo at breakfast, lunch AND dinner." Lister sighed and couldn't help admiring Rimmer's concern. If he only knew what a smeg his new friend really was. He gathered the cards up and gave them to Rimmer. "No more tonight. I have to go brush my teeth." He subtly nodded at Parker to join him outside the room. Rimmer watched them go with growing uncertainty. It didn't take a genius to work out that something was up. Lister hadn't brushed his teeth all week.
"You do realise he's being your friend for a bet." Rimmer looked up at Spotty Cohen with wide eyes. "What?" he whispered. Spotty leant against Rimmer and Lister's bunks. He had always enjoyed being the bearer of bad news. "I heard them in the loo earlier. Parker made a bet with Lister that he couldn't get you to say that you two were friends. I can't believe you actually thought Lister liked you. You really are a bonehead. Come on – we're all going to watch Ricky's sister change for bed. We need to stand on your shoulders." Rimmer quietly shuffled the cards. Of course, he reflected. What an idiot you are, Arnold Judas Rimmer. How could you not have seen it? He put the cards away in his drawer before meekly following Spotty out to the stairs.