Post by Cushing4eva on Sept 25, 2016 6:17:28 GMT
“Oi, that’s my husband you’re calling stupid!” Amy shouted at Dr Who, giving him a good whack in the arm for emphasis.
“Yeah, I did,” Dr Who replied, “And I’ll call him stupid again. Rory, you’re thick. Stupid. Challenged in the common sense department. What did you think you were doing?”
Rory looked sheepish, squirming as if to try to cover as much of his body with his parka jacket as he could, “Well, how was I to know?”
Dr Who sighed dramatically and gestured at the blackboard above them, “Market priced… It says Market priced. Why didn’t you ask what the Market price would be?”
Rory sniffed loudly, “Well, I wanted to do something nice for Amy. It is our anniversary, you know.”
“Flowers are nice,” Dr Who exclaimed as he leapt out of his chair and began to pace backwards and forwards in frustration, “Box of chocolates and a movie... The last Aggedor steak in existence in a restaurant at the end of time on the other hand is hardly the two for ten at the Pig n’ Whistle, now is it?”
“I don’t see what the big fuss is,” Amy moaned, “You never have had problems paying the bill before.”
At this Dr Who held up the receipt, jabbing repeatedly at the total. Amy squinted to see what it said, then gasped in surprise.
“Exactly Pond. The price is a habitable world. Planetary real estate gets pretty competitive as the universe starts to collapse in on itself. The Felician Horde may be handy with a ladle and a whisk but they are without a home.”
Rory hung his head low, “I’m sorry, Dr Who. Perhaps I should have been a little less adventurous. Too much Anthony Bourdain, I suppose.”
Dr Who patted Rory’s shoulder reassuringly, “Eating out isn’t the only way to eat adventurously you know. A home cooked meal, lovingly prepared, can be every bit as delicious and challenging as the fanciest meal out. That way you’d get the best of both worlds.”
Rory nodded thoughtfully but looked dismayed as he thought about the implications of what he had done for the people of Earth.
“Never mind Rory,” Dr Who said comfortingly, “I have a plan. Just give me a moment,” and at that he ran out of the room. A few moments later he entered in through a completely different set of doors and held up the bill for Rory to take another look at. The figure was now a perfectly normal, if still hardly economical, amount that Dr Who could easily take care of.
“But how –“ Amy began, looking perplexed.
“Market forces, Pond,” Dr Who said, straightening his bow tie, “Supply and demand. The cost of the Aggedor steak was high because there weren’t any more Aggedors. I just hopped back in time, got a bunch of them together with some Bacardi Breezers, put on Mrs. Mills’ Non-Stop Honky Tonk Party and let them get to it. Next thing you know, we had dozens of new Aggedors making your steak that little bit less rare.”
“And,” Amy said, looking at Rory teasingly, “a little bit less special, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, I did,” Dr Who replied, “And I’ll call him stupid again. Rory, you’re thick. Stupid. Challenged in the common sense department. What did you think you were doing?”
Rory looked sheepish, squirming as if to try to cover as much of his body with his parka jacket as he could, “Well, how was I to know?”
Dr Who sighed dramatically and gestured at the blackboard above them, “Market priced… It says Market priced. Why didn’t you ask what the Market price would be?”
Rory sniffed loudly, “Well, I wanted to do something nice for Amy. It is our anniversary, you know.”
“Flowers are nice,” Dr Who exclaimed as he leapt out of his chair and began to pace backwards and forwards in frustration, “Box of chocolates and a movie... The last Aggedor steak in existence in a restaurant at the end of time on the other hand is hardly the two for ten at the Pig n’ Whistle, now is it?”
“I don’t see what the big fuss is,” Amy moaned, “You never have had problems paying the bill before.”
At this Dr Who held up the receipt, jabbing repeatedly at the total. Amy squinted to see what it said, then gasped in surprise.
“Exactly Pond. The price is a habitable world. Planetary real estate gets pretty competitive as the universe starts to collapse in on itself. The Felician Horde may be handy with a ladle and a whisk but they are without a home.”
Rory hung his head low, “I’m sorry, Dr Who. Perhaps I should have been a little less adventurous. Too much Anthony Bourdain, I suppose.”
Dr Who patted Rory’s shoulder reassuringly, “Eating out isn’t the only way to eat adventurously you know. A home cooked meal, lovingly prepared, can be every bit as delicious and challenging as the fanciest meal out. That way you’d get the best of both worlds.”
Rory nodded thoughtfully but looked dismayed as he thought about the implications of what he had done for the people of Earth.
“Never mind Rory,” Dr Who said comfortingly, “I have a plan. Just give me a moment,” and at that he ran out of the room. A few moments later he entered in through a completely different set of doors and held up the bill for Rory to take another look at. The figure was now a perfectly normal, if still hardly economical, amount that Dr Who could easily take care of.
“But how –“ Amy began, looking perplexed.
“Market forces, Pond,” Dr Who said, straightening his bow tie, “Supply and demand. The cost of the Aggedor steak was high because there weren’t any more Aggedors. I just hopped back in time, got a bunch of them together with some Bacardi Breezers, put on Mrs. Mills’ Non-Stop Honky Tonk Party and let them get to it. Next thing you know, we had dozens of new Aggedors making your steak that little bit less rare.”
“And,” Amy said, looking at Rory teasingly, “a little bit less special, wouldn’t you say?”