fandomhigh | Seven Secrets to Success - Wednesday, 5/13

Rimmer was waiting in the Danger Shop, back stiff and smile smug. The room was set up like the average classroom, with desks and two #2 pencils on each. A copy of the syllabus lay in the exact center of each one, printed out crisp and fresh this morning. If there was a typo (or a complete nervous breakdown) on the sheet, he hadn't noticed as he'd been busy making sure that everything was perfect for his first class.

As soon as he saw his students, he knew that wasn't going to happen. Regardless, he was determined to soldier on, to shape these miscreants into proper Space Corps recruits even if they weren't in the Space Corps.

"Welcome," he said with overblown magnanimity, marching across the room in front of the students, "to Seven Secrets of Success. All of you are here because you want to succeed. You're not willing to settle for... for what life hands you, no" and he turned sharply on his heel to stare at them, "you're looking for more. Up up up the ziggurat, as I always say. You're looking to make the world look up to you. You're looking to make people say 'there's the kind of man I want running my ship; there's a son that I can be proud of; there's a man I'd sleep with sans head injury!'."

He realized he might have gone just a bit far afield and thus took the opportunity to spin again and continue towards the other side of the room.

"So! We will be doing introductions, obviously, but to show you just how accomplished your instructor is, you'll be getting not one secret, but two:

"Getting Straight To Work, one of the most important things to remember if you'd like to succeed. And the other, well," he smirked with hidden knowledge, "you'll just have to see when we get there."

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"My name is Second Technician Arnold J. Rimmer, B.s.c, S.s.c," he said crisply, "and I am the commanding officer of the Jupiter Mining Corporation vessel Red Dwarf. I will be your instructor for this class and as such, consider myself your superior and expect to be treated accordingly."

...go on. Ask about the H. You know you want to.

"Blair Waldorf," Blair said. "I just finished my junior year. I'm from New York, the Upper East Side. After I graduate I will be going on to Yale."

Of course she hadn't applied yet, let alone be accepted, but those were mere details.

"Waldorf. Very good."

He didn't particularly care about the rest of it. They were here to listen to him after all.

"T.R. Wexler," Turtle offered, "also called Turtle. I'll be a senior in the fall, and I'm the co-owner of Turtle & Canary here in town, which just went franchise, opening up branches soon in London and some desert place where they'll have a solar-powered Squishy machine. I just went associate at the newly established Cabot and Associates here in town, and I'm going to Harvard."

No, she hadn't exactly applied yet, either.

"Wexler," he said with some appreciation for her gumption (and also a fair jot of jealousy), "it sounds as if you've already started. Very good, very good."

"Thank you, sir," Turtle beamed at the praise. "I like to think so, too. But it never hurts to strive to maintain and improve on success that might already have been gained."

"Success is a slipper slope," he cautioned with an extended nod.

"Striving ever upward is one's only chance."

He smiled smugly.

"You're definitely looking to be TA material at this rate, Wexler."

Turtle wanted to make a joke here about how TAship was probably a slide down that slope, but, still...

"I'd definitely be up to the occasion if you think I'd be good for the job, sir."

"If you're interested, see me after class."

And he gave her a sharp nod before moving on.

Agnes mimicked Rimmer's crisp tone. "Agnes Nitt, witch."

Well, at least she had good tone.

"Witch?"

Agnes saluted smartly. "Yes, sir. I'm still learning, though."

Ah, a salute. Like mana from Heaven. It almost made this whole mad experience worth it all.

"Add a few twirls to that salute. Effort always makes a good impression."

He gave her a sharp nod of approval.

"And what's involved with this 'witch' business? What kind of skills do you have?"

Twirls? Weren't twirls the exact opposite of what a salute was supposed to be? "Twirls -- yes, sir."

When next Agnes spoke, her voice seemed to come from directly behind Rimmer. "I can do magic," she explained.

Cue completely lacking dignity (even more than usual).

While 'spazzed' is a terrible word to use, there was no better one for the movement he made which seemed as if he was both trying to duck and jump at the same time while also appearing to desperately require a men's room.

Oh yes. Courageous, this one.

He spun around and looked for the source before eyeing Agnes warily.

"I would appreciate if you kept such parlour tricks to yourself while in class," he said stiffly. "But point made."

He considered assigning her some sort of demerit but decided the probability of getting cursed or something was too high and thus, it wasn't worth it.

"That wasn't a parlour trick, it was a demonstration," Agnes explained. "I don't DO parlour tricks."

She'd already mentally assigned Rimmer into the "very easy to curse" category: She'd just have to TELL him he was cursed, and he'd do the rest himself.

If she did, he'd tell her to get in line. Or that she shouldn't waste the effort.

"Yes," ahem, "well" brrr "all the same."

He tapped around his head to make sure it was still all there and straightened his back.

"Uhhh, I'm Hurley, no fancy letters. I just finished my junior year, and work at Covent Garden and Groovy Tunes," he said. "Uhhhh, I don't expect any special treatment. Yeah."

Rimmer walked right up to him, leaned down to peer into his face.

"Is Hurley your first name or last?"

"Neither," Hurley said. "Kinda a nickname, dude."

That earned him a glare.

"I asked for you name, not whatever imbeciles you spend time with call you. Name, sailor."

"Hey, I don't know any imbeciles," Hurley said. "Hugo Reyes, H-dude."

Wrong move.

The nostrils... oh the nostrils.

"It stands for hologram, smeg-for-brains," he told him, "and the name is Rimmer. Not 'Nostrils McGee' or... 'Goalpost Head' or anything else. Rimmer. Mister Rimmer, if you please, or if that's too hard, Professor Rimmer."

"...Goalpost head?" Hurley restrained a laugh. "Sorry, uhhh, Mister Rimmer."

Rimmer leaned back, still eyeing Hurley suspiciously as he stepped away.

"See that it stays that way, Rrrrrrreyes" he said, rolling the 'r' rather dramatically. One last look and he moved on.

Seven Secrets to Success - Wednesday, 5/13 - Period Five

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