The Tenth Doctor and the Orange Conundrum
A sci-fi flight of fancy.
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How long had she been out?
Miriam tried to shake the cobwebs from her head as she surveyed her surroundings. Sitting on the grass, and surrounded by forest, a mere 10 feet away sat a large blue telephone box. “Come on,” she grinned. “A Tardis? Really? Fantastic!”
When she looked a little closer she saw a pair of bright red Cons attached to pinstripe pants sticking out from behind the alien time machine. “Hmmm these look like Doctor feet, but which one did I get?” she mused. “Chuck Taylor All-Stars? Holy Daleks, woo hoo we got the tenth one!”
But how did she get here in the first place?
She never considered the fact that the body attached to the shoes a few yards away had expired. Death for the good guys in Dr. Who stories was a rare occurrence.
“Uuuuuuuughhhh!!!” Miriam heard a moan from the opposite direction. “Ah, likely another sidekick, she thought.” She rose and dusted off her… overalls? What have they dressed her in?”
Miriam shook out her arms and legs, everything seemed in order so she walked over to the moaner. “You OK?”
“Gubernatorial!!!” he exclaimed.
OK, I knew this would get weird fast, she thought.
“Uh… you alright?” Miriam asked.
“Yabba dabba boon tackle!!!” It seemed this person spoke in the language of outraged exclamations.
She helped him up and steadied him on his tiny feet. That’s when she took him in entirely. Not only were his feet tiny but so were his hands. And his skin? Surely he must be alien, she could swear that his complexion was orange. Like the Doctor, he too wore a suit but his was perfectly tailored to hide the ugliness inside.
“Smack a doodle whatsit???” He shouted with multiple question marks, balling his hands into infantile fists. Clearly he was outraged about everything and she was getting nowhere.
Miriam spun around to wake up the Doctor incarnation she landed with. There was no time to waste, they had to return Mr. Ragebucket to his own planet.
