"TO GANYMEDE AND TITAN, YES SIR, I'VE BEEN AROUND!"
Less than an hour after Lister had crashed into the bunkroom with the start of a monstrous hangover, he awoke to the nightmarish sound of something laughing and belting out pub songs in the bathroom. What the smeg? Hadn't he told Kryten's spare heads, no more karaoke nights? Lister struggled to sit up, and tried to remember where he'd left his crowbar, but as he flailed, he realized that the caterwauling wasn't the spare heads trying to start the universe's first barbershop trio. In fact, wait a tic… No. No, no, no, there was no way that Arnold Judas Rimmer was singing in the shower. But just as Lister tried to come to grips with the unthinkable, both the yodeling and the water pipes suddenly silenced. Lister held his breath. Ten seconds later, Rimmer strode out of the steaming shower unit in his favorite blue bathrobe, with a bright smile of unbridled joy. That was never a good sign. Rimmer hadn't looked this satisfied or relaxed since the last time he'd found the puncture repair kit and gone 18 rounds with Rachel in a single afternoon. Now, as he began to towel off his hair, Rimmer glanced up, met Lister's bewildered stare, and broke into an even broader grin.
"Ah, Lister, you're awake! I thought you might be, on a morning as splendid as this!"
Lister was not amused in the slightest. "Rimmer, it's 5:30 in the smegging morning, and I've got a hangover brewing that could level Neptune. What the smeg have you been drinking; me marijuana gin? That's three whole dollarpounds a shot, you twonk!"
Rimmer rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly in amusement. "Relax, Lister, neither I nor any other halfway-civilized life form has any interest in your prized poison. Besides, who needs intoxicants on a day like today? It's a marvelous, magnificent morning, the beginning of a new day with new opportunities for a new and better life!"
Lister stared back at Rimmer in confusion and annoyance, and then shook his head. Rimmer always got like this before an exam, trying to convince Lister and therefore himself that he was capable of passing, though he had never seemed quite so cheerful and sincere about it before. Still, Lister was in no mood to handle Rimmer's ego. "Yeah, Rimmer, sure, whatever you say." He sank back into bed and pulled up the covers. "Can you do me a solid and go revise somewhere else, though? It's too early in the morning for your astronav crap."
"No revisions this morning, Lister, there's no need," Rimmer stated briskly as he carefully combed his hair. "I'll have to dasherooni in a moment, though; I just finished twelve laps around the cargo hold and I want to brush up on my Portuguese before the exam. Plus, I still need to download the new AI and personality program for the recyc system for this afternoon. Shouldn't take long to install, just need to pop down, wetsuit up, connect a few wires, flip a few switches, and Frank's your uncle!" He was speaking way too fast for Lister, who caught everything on a five second delay.
"Wait, wait, you're not revising? That's not like you. And hang on, we're three million years into deep space, Rimmer, what the smeg do you want to know Portuguese for? And you're planning to do what to the recyc system? Why? Who wants or needs to have a conversation with the water pipes while you're in the loo?" Lister sat back up, frowning. "Are you all right, man? Did you copy the book onto your body again with that supposedly non-toxic felt tip? I told ya, Rimmer, all bets are off when you put a gallon of it on every square inch of your skin! For smeg's sake, why don't you just get the notes tattooed on once and for all?"
Having gelled and perfectly parted his hair, Rimmer snapped the towel from around his neck and tossed it carelessly onto a nearby chair. "I'm better than all right, Lister! I feel spectacular." Almost with a swagger, he turned around, dropped his robe, and pulled out his exam uniform, a boiler suit custom-equipped with extra pockets for highlighters, pens, and protractors. Lister was surprised to see that Rimmer had no visible writing or diagramming on his body, but quickly turned his head in disgust when Rimmer bent over to pull up his pants. "No, I'm perfectly fine, Listy," Rimmer continued as he zipped up the jumpsuit and turned back around to face a grimacing Lister, "and what's more, I don't need any crackpot advice on tattoos from a man whose right buttock is permanently in love with, if not encrusted with, chicken vindaloo. 'You complete me,' indeed."
"Crackpot?" Lister was getting annoyed. "Getting a tattoo is not crackpot, Rimmer, it's brilliant with a capital brill! For one, it'd be cheaper than killing an eight-pack of felt tips four times a year. You could get it done with real ink, too, that kind that doesn't turn green after three days or give you hives under all the vowels. And it's not like the JMC could kick you out for cheating if you can't take it off, can they? They let Selby sit for exams, and he had that birthmark shaped like Einstein! And look, Rimmer, just face it – we both know that no matter how many times you copy that same book down, you're just going to need it again the next time. Save us the hassle, make it permanent."
Rimmer calmly fastened his sleeve buttons with aplomb. "No, Lister, not anymore. It would be of no value after today, because I'm going to pass this time. I don't need any outside assistance or additional notes, because everything I need to be successful is already within me."
"What, the slide rule and pre-sharpened pencils too? Can I have three guesses on where you've stored those?" Lister mocked. For some reason, it was really starting to get on his nerves that he couldn't get on Rimmer's nerves. But no, to the contrary, Rimmer laughed.
"Very funny, Lister! But as I said, today I know everything I need to know, and that's all that matters." He finished adjusting his uniform, and looked up at Lister with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Lister rolled his in return, but Rimmer didn't seem to care. He grabbed his briefcase off the table, snapped Lister a crisp salute, and marched towards the door with an unshakeable air of purpose and pride.
"That's right, Rimmer. All you've got to remember is F-I-S-H," Lister smirked after him.
"Fluids inclusive in spectral hydrography," Rimmer called back, as he closed the door behind him.