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One more time, we’re gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don’t stop the dancing, one more time… the alarm shrieked from across the room.
“No,” Lister groaned.
- gonna celebrate, oh yeah, all right, don’t stop the dancing -
A brief struggle, one fallen pillow, and several choice epithets later, Rimmer had successfully silenced the robotic rendition of the 21st-century classic and switched all the lights on, much to Lister’s dismay.
“Rimmer, it’s not nuclear smegging fusion.”
“Shh. I need to inspect the texture visually as well as - ”
“Oh my god.”
“ - visually as well as by touch,” Rimmer finished stubbornly. “The refrigeration time makes a significant difference in the result, Lister, as I’ve explained time and again.”
Lister pulled the covers over his head and promptly fell back asleep, only to be awakened a few minutes later by a repeat of the previous struggle. He rolled over and tried through bleary, uncooperative eyes to fix Rimmer with a stern look. “Well? Did it pass inspection?” he mumbled.
“It wasn’t exactly right,” Rimmer replied primly. “If I had to guess, the minute or so that I lost trying to get out of bed pushed it just past the ideal period.”
“Oh, come off it, man!”
“If you’d agreed to switch sides like I suggested, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Lister picked the fallen pillow up off the floor and swung it in the general direction of Rimmer’s face, or possibly his left shoulder. He was too tired to be certain.
-
“And here we have Mr Rimmer and Mr Lister’s entry: gingerbread Starbugs decorated with silver leaf.”
“It’s hardly Mr Lister’s entry,” Rimmer muttered under his breath. Lister stuck out his tongue at him.
“Very well. I shall now conduct the tasting,” Dispenser 91 said in her plummy old lady voice.
Using a pair of antique silver tongs, Kryten reverently placed a sliver of artificial-rosewater sponge on 91’s pink tray, then transferred one of the gingerbread Starbugs in the same fashion.
All present held their breaths as the tray retracted. Rimmer glanced over at Hogey, who looked unusually sombre, and felt a spark of hope. Had Hogey’s cake come out rubbish? Had he lost his chance at a New Year’s Eve duel across time and space? Rimmer hoped so. Now, if only 91 could be relied upon to render the correct judgement…
“Hey,” Lister whispered, lips brushing Rimmer’s cheek, “I believe in you.”
“So you admit you didn’t do any of the work,” Rimmer whispered back, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
Lister’s chuckle was cut short by a cheery tune emanating from 91’s speakers. Her façade lit up to match her now-empty tray. “I have made my decision.”
“Yes, 91?” Kryten prompted her.
Instead of further speech, 91 dispensed a printout. Kryten stepped forward to retrieve it.
“The winner of this cooking contest is…”
“Get on with it,” Rimmer hissed.
“Yeah, who’s the winner?” Hogey asked impatiently.
Kryten’s face broke into a rubbery grin. “Mr Lister! Congratulations, sir! Your gingerbread was deemed to have ‘a superior texture and striking flavour’.”
“I knew it!” Hogey exclaimed furiously before Rimmer could protest the egregious snub. “I get my hopes up, put my everything in the cake, I still lose.” He hung his head and stomped away down the corridor.
“Happy New Year, man,” Lister called uncertainly.
-
Rimmer carefully broke one of his Starbugs into two neat pieces, right down the middle of the midsection, and re-examined the subtle touches of silver leaf. The smug smile that spread across his face grew into something more wholesome as Lister took one of the pieces from him and crammed it into his own mouth.
“I guess the extra minute didn’t ruin them after all,” Lister teased when they’d finished eating.
“Fortunately.”
Lister’s next planned utterance had been So…do I get a kiss?. He found himself grinning in delight as Rimmer cradled his face in warm, ginger-scented hands and pre-empted him.