Disclaimer: Red Dwarf belongs to Grant Naylor Productions and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy belongs to the late and great Douglas Adams. I don't make a cent off of this.
Rimmer knew that he shouldn't have left Lister alone with a book. Not that Lister usually has much use for books, but when he actually reads one it no doubt results in something bad for Rimmer's mental health.
Right now the particular book Lister was engrossed in looked like some sort of cookbook. A particularly evil cookbook if the cup of boiling and steaming goop Lister was holding in his other hand was any indication. All over the table various odd looking ingredients had been spilled, squashed, and otherwise smegged up beyond recognition.
"I fear to ask, Lister," Rimmer said, his nose bunching up at the stench that met his nostrils. Being dead couldn't save him from that smell. "But what the smeg is that dreadful thing?"
"It's called a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster," Lister said as he set the bubbling glass down. He searched around the desk until he found looked suspiciously like a stick of gum. "Apparently back in the 21st century this was one of the most potent drinks you could make. See, read this."
Lister handed the book to the wary Rimmer. As Lister chopped the stick of gum Rimmer read the sentence beneath the title. "The effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon, wrapped 'round a large gold brick. Sounds lovely." Rimmer's eyes scanned down to the ingredients. "Uhh, Lister, we don't have any of these things."
"I know," Lister shrugged. He gathered up the chopped up gum onto a silver spoon and dropped it into the boiling concoction, which promptly turned to a sickly green. "But a good cook knows how to improvise."
"The key words being good and cook," Rimmer muttered. "So what are you using, exactly?"
"Well, I managed to find a bottle of whisky from underneath Peterson's bed. I figured that should work for the Ol' Janx Spirit. Then I mixed together a little water and some salt for the sea water."
"I feel like retching already," Rimmer said.
"Then," Lister kept going, oblivious to Rimmer's growing disgust. "I tried to find some Arcturan Mega-gin to freeze, but apparently Mega-gins of any kind were discontinued when a brewery exploded and destroyed a good chunk of Paraguay. But I did some reading and apparently the main thing you need from that is the benzene. So I found some old gin in someone's locker, mixed in a few splashes of gasoline, and put that in a deep freeze for a couple hours and bingo, instant Mega-gin. Came out more like slush than ice, but you get the idea."
Rimmer blinked. "I don't know if I should be impressed or disturbed with how much thought you put into that. What next?"
"Well, next I needed some swamp gas. Since we're currently lacking in swamps I got Kryten to vent some of the gases from the engine room into this cup. After we put out the fire I found this stick of mint gum for the Qalactin Hypermint extract."
"And have you stopped to think about how that is the least disgusting ingredient so far?"
"Eyes on the prize, Rimmer. Next I need a tooth from an Algolian Suntiger. Luckily for me," Lister patted around on the desk for a minute before finding his quarry, "Cat lost a tooth the other day when Kryten tried to vacuum in the room he was sleeping in. Who woulda thought Cat was that afraid of vacuums?"
Lister dropped the shining white tooth into the glass. Rimmer watched in morbid fascination as the tooth floated, shook, jumped, then finally dissolved into the now sickly-yellow mess.
"And you're going to ingest this slop?" Rimmer asked.
"I'd be stupid not to. I have a reputation to keep, you know?" Lister scanned the ingredients like. "Now, as for the Zamphuor, I asked the food dispenser for some and got this."
Lister picked up a small dish of pink powder. Rimmer got a whiff of the scent.
"Isn't that the stuff a janitor sprinkles on someone's vomit?"
Lister shrugged. "That's what I thought too. But I couldn't find any information on the stuff so I thought 'what the hell, let's take a chance' and decided to trust me gut on this."
"There's some famous last words," Rimmer muttered as Lister sprinkled some of the sick-powder on top of the mixture. The drink hissed angrily.
"And now, for the piece duh resistance," Rimmer cringed at the bad French as Lister plopped the final ingredient, an innocent looking olive, into the mess. Surprisingly there was no violent reaction to the addition.
"Listy," Rimmer said as Lister raised the glass in triumph, "have you stopped to think about how this thing will invariably shred your innards into a goopy mess?"
"Oh ye of little faith," Lister said. Rimmer waited for the inventible as Lister carefully raised the glass to his lips and took the initial sip.
"Well?" Rimmer asked expectantly.
Lister nodded approvingly. "It's nice!" he said and promptly fell out of his chair.
"Uh, Holly?" Rimmer asked as he knelt over Lister. The smegger was still breathing, albeit with a stupid smile on his face. "Is he going to be alright?"
"I expect so," the computer said. "Most of the alcohol had become vinegar anyway. Apparently 3 million years in an opened bottle isn't good for most alcohols."
"But if it was mostly vinegar then why did it look so strange?"
Holly shrugged as much as a bodiless head could shrug. "Apparently 3 million years in an opened bottle isn't good for vinegar either. But don't worry; Lister has ingested so many toxins over the years that he's practically immune to the worst effects. The human race has come a long way in three million years, huh?"
Rimmer's nose scrunched up as Lister rolled on the floor and giggled stupidly. "Depends on which way you mean."