Post by theretsam on Jan 18, 2017 16:38:50 GMT
Dr. Who in a Shitty Adventure with the Master
The 38th Segment of Time was a time of peace and prosperity. The Great and Benevolent Empire spanned vast swathes of the galaxy, and under its Pax !Tzl’doriaii policy, its inhabitants were certain that they would not see suffering or want within their lifetimes. Trade between galaxies was at an all-time high. Magnificent structures were constructed that would outlast even the Empire by eons.
Needless to say, it was a dreadfully boring place.
On the outskirts of the galaxy lay a number of what were called Unincorporated Territories. These were inhabited star systems over which the Empire claimed official jurisdiction, but their remote location and lack of resources meant that the residing Imperial Administration was scant, and very bribable.
Until fifty years ago, the only permanent residents of this area were the odd mining corp and maybe a faithless scientific expedition or two. Then, one enterprising gentleman by the name of Quasar took advantage of the lack of regulations and set up a casino, the famous Pasa Plaza Palaza. Business exploded: people were bored to tears with the lack of risks in the Imperial utopia, where even gambling was illegal. Quasar’s Palaza turned into a planet-sized entertainment empire within no time, nicknamed “the Little Empire”. The Imperial Administration reportedly “turned a blind eye”.
“Welcome to Quasar’s Little Empire! Thrills and chills for the whole family abound here! got casinos! rollercoasters! theatres! dance halls! pinball machines! pool tables! swimming pools! discos! restaurants! tropical bars! pubs! fun rides! parks! cruise ships! hotels and accommodations! paintball arenas! sports stadiums! and more! more! more! It’s so great, you’ll neeeeeeeever want to leave!”
It was one of those place that even if you could visit any place in the universe, you had to visit this at least twice. And so it seemed like a natural place for a TARDIS day out. The Fifth Doctor had invited the Second to come down as well, so they could discuss something about the Hand of Omega or something, I don’t know. Maybe he just felt the need to see an old face again. It happens.
They had agreed to meet in one of the tropical bars that spanned the planet’s equator. Since Tegan was from the 1980s, the Doctor reasoned, she would probably like seeing a tropical bar again. He was wrong, of course.
“Crikey boomerang, Doctor!” said Tegan, as they stepped out of the TARDIS. “It ain’t half hot in here! I’m sweating right out of the bejeebus in me stewardess outfit! It ain’t meant for no Caribbean island paradise, you know? It’s cotton!”
“Now, Janet,” said the Doctor, “I thought you’d like it here. I thought it’s rather nice. You know, I thought to myself: let’s wear something more casual for the holidays. So, what do you think of my bright orange-striped trousers?”
Tegan’s response: “Adric, what THE FUCK are you wearing, ya c*nt?” [ProBoards censors Australian slang, Azal fix plox]
Adric was, in fact, wearing only swimming trunks. “Thought I’d go snorkeling. Look, I even brought slippers. Don’t want to be caught dead walking barefoot over this studio floor.”
The Doctor loved it. “That’s great, Adric. Have fun snorkeling, don’t drown now. Come along.”
With Adric gone snorkeling, the Doctor and the two girls went to the Hamelikkilakkatikkitakkamo’ole’ole’ole tropical bar. It wasn’t really a tropical bar, like you see in the Pacific or in the Caribbean, but more like one of those plastic-and-neon knockoffs you see in swimming pools in rather subtropical areas, complete with plastic chairs and parasols advertising some shady type of orange juice. Here, the Second Doctor and his companions were already waiting for them.
This Doctor was wearing the baggiest boxer shorts in existence, and a light sleeveless shirt with a question mark motif. A shirtless young Scottish man, who later introduced himself as Jamie, was the only member of the party was was ripped. Instead of trunks, he was wearing a kilt, which further indicated that he was Scottish. The third member of the party, a girl name Victoria, was wearing a white lace dress, the principal part of an elaborate get-up that would take (p)ages to describe. It was very lacey, very elaborate, very white.
“Victoria, I cannae understand why ye’re wearin’ tha’ thick dress in this weatha’. Ye’re face is red as the blood o’ wee King George after I crack his neck; ye’re sweating bullets.”
“Well Jamie,” she began, “first of all, it’s ‘yer face’, not ‘ye’re face’. If you so desire to parlay in the common vernacular of the Scots tongue above the Queen’s English, pray employ the correct grammar. With all due respect, you sound like an uncivilized suid. Secondly, some of us wear fresh garments every day, and consequently do the laundry. As it so happens, all my other dresses happen to be in the laundry at this moment, so I was forced the ignominy of wearing my beautiful Sunday dress, on a Tuesday. I do hope it doesn’t inconvenience yourself too much, darling.”
“Ach, wha’ever ye want, lass.”
In the meantime, the Fifth Doctor had gone to the bar and was checking out the menu. “I say, that’s right. This is the birthplace of the famous korilitaniogaboi cocktail, extracted from the famous exotic korilitanio plant. Barman?”
“…yes?” was the distant answer.
“I’d like to order one, two, three, four, five, six. Six korilitaniogaboi cocktails, please.”
“Stablo or choi?” he smiled deviously in the back.
“Eh… choi, please. No wait, stablo. Stablo.”
“Are you… sure?”
“Yes. No… Yes. I’m sure.”
“Six korilitaniogaboi stablo, coming up!”
Drinks were served. “Ooh, drinks! I’m parched!” Everybody quickly grabbed their glasses and drank their first gulp. A steady round of appreciative moaning followed. The Fifth Doctor set his glass back on the table and raised his finger, beginning to speak before anyone could interrupt him.
“Did you know, that the secret to the famous korilitaniogaboi cocktail is an extraction of gblee root? The gblee plant only thrives the extraordinary climate of Szczum Basin here on this very planet. Most of the plants in that basin are poisonous, but the gblee is a rare and delightful exception.”
The Second Doctor stood up and raised his glass. “To the gblee!” he toasted.
“To the gblee!”
Suddenly, the glass falls out of the Doctor’s hands. His stomach rumbles loudly. The camera zooms in dramatically to capture his face, which contorts into a kind of O-shape, eyes lighting up bigly.
“Oh my giddy aunt!”