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Seven Secrets to Success - Wednesday, 5/27 - Period Five

The professor seemed to be missing for the moment and the classroom was certainly different from usual. There were no desks, no little chairs; instead, there was a single table covered in yarn and a couple of books on crochet projects. The right hand wall said that the place was QUARANTINE SUITE 152, but not much more than that. Immediately in front of them, across from the now-closing door, was a great black empty window.

[ocd up!][link is a video][oh god don't kill me please?]

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Confused?

T.R. Wexler

Blair Waldorf

Hurley Reyes

Agnes Nitt

...what's up with the weird room? And where's Rimmer?

Hurley looked around, befuddled.

"Man, our teacher is weird."

"Nothing's amiss."

A light appeared in the great black empty window, revealing their professor. Or what should have been their professor. He was dressed in a red and white checked gingham dress, with a little hat and blonde pigtails peeking out the sides.

And army boots.

"I've been given a mission," he said then, his voice flat. "The King of the Potato people wants to keep you here. Keep you here for ten years. I failed the last time and that made him angry. So very angry.

"But perhaps you can speak to him. Plead your case."

A door opened on the side of the chamber.

"You'll have to find your way. And Uncle Arnie will be watching you. To make sure you're good little boys and girls."

At which point the window went dark again.

Through the doorway were a series of twisting, interlocking hallways all in slate gray. It was almost eerily quiet, except for the occasional clop of army boots...

[feel free to travel in a group or seperately and watch out for Rimmer!]

Blair, who had so not signed up for this, tried to get her bearings.

The hallways went to the left, to the right, and forward. The clomping seemed to be coming from the left.

Not wanting to deal with the clomping, Blair went forward.

Rimmer stepped from around the corner, behind her.

"I think she's being a bad girl. What do you think, Mr. Flibble?"

Anyone wondering who Mr. Flibble was had to look no farther than the little penguin handpuppet slipped over Rimmer's right hand. The little beak opened and closed and Rimmer looked aghast.

"Really, Mr. Flibble? Well... we can't have that. Telephone repairman."

He started marching forward.

Blair? Kinda staring.

"What the Eff?"

"What did she say, Mr. Flibble?"

The puppet moved it's mouth a few times and Rimmer shook his head saaaaadly.

"Such language. Uncle Arnie will have to fry her with his hex vision then."

At which point, the eyes of both Rimmer and the puppet lit with an unholy red light.

That couldn't possibly be good.

"I'll sue," Blair said, just in case that might help.

Red bolts of energy shot out from his eyes and sparked on the wall three feet from her head.

...hey, just because he's insane doesn't mean he's any more competent.

Okay, that was enough of that. Blair tried to run in the other direction, away from the red bolts of energy (and also the crazy people)

He looked to the penguin toy.

"...too fast, Mr. Flibble. Naughty and fast."

Clomp clomp clomp.

[feel free to mod the corridors]

Hurley hadn't wanted to be on his own. But somehow, he'd ended up that way.

"Oh, crap," he said.

The clomping headed for him...

"...That sounds bad," Hurley said, looking around.

The noise stopped not far behind him.

"What do you think, Mr. Flibble? Has he been a good boy? Or a naughty boy?

"Teabiscuit."

Hurley put up his arms.

"Please don't kill me," he said.

"Oh noooo," Rimmer insisted with a shake of his head.

"Why would I do that? No. No, I'd never kill you."

A short pause.

"Uncle Arnie just wants to fry you into a small crispy bacon substitute with his hex vision. Mr. Flibble loves bacon."

The puppet moved, the little felt beak flapping up and down.

"He likes crunchy bacon."

Hurley winced.

"I'd probably taste terrible," he said.

There was a buzzing sound and both the eyes of the professor and his handpuppet started to glow a hellish red.

Hurley wasn't much of a runner.

He was still going to try running.

"Run, my little zorilla. Yes, yes, run..."

Turtle sighed a little, wondering exactly what this all had to do with success, anyway, and listened for the clop of army boots, trying to direct herself their way.

If Rimmer was asked normally, she would be told to Always Prepare for the Unexpected or that a Successful Person Thinks On Their Feet.

Right now, however, she'd probably be told a parable about a chicken and a tuba that caused the Industrial Revolution.

Also that he was right around the corner because holograms don't actually have to obey the laws of physics.

And the wonderful thing was that, thanks to Jeff, Turtle might actually be able to make some logical sense out of the chicken and a tuba story.

It had an awful lot to do with a chicken not having lips to play a tuba, and an industrious mind who thought to make fake chicken lips, and inadvertently started Industry.

And that last part probably meant Turtle could have all but ran into him as she turned the corner.

Either Rimmer would cheer the industriousness. And possibly realize that in his current position in the timeline, he could get the jump on that little bugger from Io House and invent the Tension Sheet first.

But probably not.

"Good morning."

Rimmer turned his head to the side and made a sound akin to a keening baboon. Then he continued.

"Do you have any ketchup?"

Turtle considered.

Not if she had any ketchup, because obviously she didn't, but how she could use the ketchup to her advantage here. Having no real clue what was going on, she figured it wouldn't hurt to just...work on being successful at whatever it was.

"There actually might be some ketchup in it for you if you help me figure out exactly where to go.

She hesitated for obvious reasons before this last part: "Sir."

He nodded slowly, obviously pleased.

"You are wise, Wexler. Wise indeed. But the ketchup is not for me. The ketchup is for Mr. Flibble."

The little handpuppet flapped something very interesting.

"I don't know, Mr. Flibble. You really think she's keeping it there?"

"Oh, God," Turtle was properly scandalized, thank you. "I don't know if you can legally say that in a classroom setting! Even when it looks like some weird spaceship corridor."

At the end of the maze of corridors is a single cart, made up much like something you might see in an amusement park. A sign reads "TO THE KING OF THE POTATO PEOPLE".

It's certainly going to be an interesting ride. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lV17GxTh3Mo)

[think 'It's a Small World' but with tiny singing miniature multicolored Rimmer's singing about how wonderful he is, for reference; be disgusted, be amazed, be terrified... and oh god, warning for earworms]

At the end of the ride is an opulent throneroom and on the throne:

The King of the Potato People (http://www.box.net/shared/static/s90xyz86je.jpg).

Time to plead.

Poor poor Turtle...

Yeah, Turtle was around. And going back through the course of events in her life that lead her to this, because it seemed the sort of thing to try to avoid in the future.

By the time they'd convinced the King of the Potato people to let them go, Rimmer's holoimmune system had kicked in to fight the virus. He looked a little shakey, but he was here after class for questions.

Or shouting at.

Or WTFing.

...oh he's going to be living this down for a while, I think.

SO!

The, er, stress of the class from last week on top of his discussion with his roommate left poor Rimmer just a touch weak in the immune system. And everyone knows that sometimes, when you're stressed, old sicknesses can flare up and cause trouble.

This particular virus (http://www.reddwarf.co.uk/database/index.cfm?section=medical&entry=holovirus) is just about the only thing Rimmer's had since he died so... ^_^

...sorry. I just HAD to. The gingham, man. the gingham.

MISTER FLIBBLE IS VERY CROSS WITH YOU.

I KNOW I KNOW.

If you're in trouble he will save the day
He's brave and he's fearless come what may
Without him the mission would go astray
He's Arnold, Arnold, Arnold Rimmer

Without him life would be much grimmer
He's handsome, trim, and no-one slimmer
He will never need a zimmer
He's Arnold, Arnold, Arnold Rimmer

More reliable than a garden trimmer
He's never been mistaken for Yul Brynner
He's not bald, and his head doesn't glimmer

Master of the wit and the repartee
His command of space directives is uncanny
How come he's such a genius? Don't ask me!
Ask Arnold, Arnold, Arnold Rimmer

He's also a fantastic swimmer
And if you play your cards right
Then he just might come round for dinner
He's Arnold, Arnold, Arnold Rimmer

No rhymes left now apart from quimmer
He'd better fade us out before we get to schlimmer
Fade out you stupid plimmer

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Seven Secrets to Success - Wednesday, 5/27 - Period Five

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Wander Through the Halls

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The Way To the King

The King of the Potato People

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Rimmer

OOC

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Lyrics to the Rimmer Song (for those interested)