Vignette - Green. PG.
Another meme-vignette. Set between Seasons Four and Five.
Rimmer looked in the mirror at his green uniform, feeling twinges of dissatisfaction. It was very dashing, yes, and quite a manly color - but he couldn't help think that it was missing some kind of je ne sais quois. Whatever that was. It sounded good, like the kind of thing an erudite person would say, and so he liked it. But yes, the uniform - he couldn't help but feel that it was not quite fulfilling his full officerial potential. He stared hard at his reflection, frowning, trying to decide what would make it just that little bit more. He should probably consult his books on military strategy. Consulting the other denizen of the room - who was flopped on his bunk like a beached pufferfish, sipping beer out of a can and watching Rimmer with absentminded interest - was unlikely to yield any kind of helpful input. "Do you know what your problem is, Lister?" Rimmer sniffed, feeling Lister's eyes on him.
"I don't care what you think my problem is, Rimmer." Lister munched on a crisp.
He merely thought he didn't care, Rimmer was certain. He could not understand why a man with so little to support it would have such indefatigable self-esteem. It was wholly undeserved. On some level, Rimmer was certain, Lister knew that, and so Rimmer tossed him these scraps of potential self-improvement now and then. "Your problem is that you have no willpower. None! That's why you're such a gormless hippie. That's why you're so fat. You never exercise."
Lister giggled - a noise that sent shivers down Rimmer's holographic spine. "Rimmer, you can't run half a mile without gettin' winded. The only reason you weren't fat when you was alive is because the blokes on zed shift stole yer food all the time. And now yer bee keeps you lookin' however you want to look."
Ah, now that was a thought. Rimmer could look however he wanted to, couldn't he? He was a hologram! He stroked his chin and stared at his reflection thoughtfully. He would have to look into bee control. He could remake himself! Not that he wasn't a fine slab of man already, he hastened to reassure himself as self-hatred pricked at him - but even the Mona Lisa could use a little touchup here and there. He would make himself a little beefier. Maybe a little older. It would suit him well. He'd look more like Frank.
"Yeah, we all know how much willpower yeh have," Lister said, popping another crisp in his mouth and chewing with his mouth open. "We saw when yeh took my body. A lot of smeggin' willpower yeh had, then! No exercie, no fit eatin'. Fatty food and cigars and..." Lister made an exaggerated shiver, "I don't want ta know what else."
Rimmer spun on his heel. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
Lister flopped back on his bunk. "Nothing..."
"Don't try to pass that off as 'nothing'! You were accusing me of touching your penis when I was you!" Rimmer pointed at Lister. What an insinuation!
"Just forget it, Rimmer..." Lister sighed.
"I will certainly not forget it, miladdio. The very idea!" He shook his head and turned back to the mirror. He wondered how his uniform would look red - and it turned red. Smeg, was it this easy to change? He rather liked the look of that color on himself, he had to admit.
Behind him, Lister flopped onto his back with an aggravated sigh. Rimmer ignored him and concentrated on trying to alter his body in pleasing ways. That smeghead was so full of... something ridiculous to be full of. It was all his fault, after all. Brain chemistry was brain chemistry, after all, and so while Rimmer had been in Lister's body, he had been subjected to that twat's strange, heightened drives - for food, for smoking, for saunas, for everything. All the proof that Rimmer needed of how little willpower Lister had. Really, the number of times Rimmer had been tempted to touch himself when he was in Lister's body! It was shameful.
Rimmer made his shirt disappear so he could better see the alterations he was making to himself. By an effort of will. Yes, he had willpower, and Lister didn't. Stuff that in your cigarette and smoke it, he thought with suppressed glee.
Rimmer looked in the mirror at his green uniform, feeling twinges of dissatisfaction. It was very dashing, yes, and quite a manly color - but he couldn't help think that it was missing some kind of je ne sais quois. Whatever that was. It sounded good, like the kind of thing an erudite person would say, and so he liked it. But yes, the uniform - he couldn't help but feel that it was not quite fulfilling his full officerial potential. He stared hard at his reflection, frowning, trying to decide what would make it just that little bit more. He should probably consult his books on military strategy. Consulting the other denizen of the room - who was flopped on his bunk like a beached pufferfish, sipping beer out of a can and watching Rimmer with absentminded interest - was unlikely to yield any kind of helpful input. "Do you know what your problem is, Lister?" Rimmer sniffed, feeling Lister's eyes on him.
"I don't care what you think my problem is, Rimmer." Lister munched on a crisp.
He merely thought he didn't care, Rimmer was certain. He could not understand why a man with so little to support it would have such indefatigable self-esteem. It was wholly undeserved. On some level, Rimmer was certain, Lister knew that, and so Rimmer tossed him these scraps of potential self-improvement now and then. "Your problem is that you have no willpower. None! That's why you're such a gormless hippie. That's why you're so fat. You never exercise."
Lister giggled - a noise that sent shivers down Rimmer's holographic spine. "Rimmer, you can't run half a mile without gettin' winded. The only reason you weren't fat when you was alive is because the blokes on zed shift stole yer food all the time. And now yer bee keeps you lookin' however you want to look."
Ah, now that was a thought. Rimmer could look however he wanted to, couldn't he? He was a hologram! He stroked his chin and stared at his reflection thoughtfully. He would have to look into bee control. He could remake himself! Not that he wasn't a fine slab of man already, he hastened to reassure himself as self-hatred pricked at him - but even the Mona Lisa could use a little touchup here and there. He would make himself a little beefier. Maybe a little older. It would suit him well. He'd look more like Frank.
"Yeah, we all know how much willpower yeh have," Lister said, popping another crisp in his mouth and chewing with his mouth open. "We saw when yeh took my body. A lot of smeggin' willpower yeh had, then! No exercie, no fit eatin'. Fatty food and cigars and..." Lister made an exaggerated shiver, "I don't want ta know what else."
Rimmer spun on his heel. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
Lister flopped back on his bunk. "Nothing..."
"Don't try to pass that off as 'nothing'! You were accusing me of touching your penis when I was you!" Rimmer pointed at Lister. What an insinuation!
"Just forget it, Rimmer..." Lister sighed.
"I will certainly not forget it, miladdio. The very idea!" He shook his head and turned back to the mirror. He wondered how his uniform would look red - and it turned red. Smeg, was it this easy to change? He rather liked the look of that color on himself, he had to admit.
Behind him, Lister flopped onto his back with an aggravated sigh. Rimmer ignored him and concentrated on trying to alter his body in pleasing ways. That smeghead was so full of... something ridiculous to be full of. It was all his fault, after all. Brain chemistry was brain chemistry, after all, and so while Rimmer had been in Lister's body, he had been subjected to that twat's strange, heightened drives - for food, for smoking, for saunas, for everything. All the proof that Rimmer needed of how little willpower Lister had. Really, the number of times Rimmer had been tempted to touch himself when he was in Lister's body! It was shameful.
Rimmer made his shirt disappear so he could better see the alterations he was making to himself. By an effort of will. Yes, he had willpower, and Lister didn't. Stuff that in your cigarette and smoke it, he thought with suppressed glee.