A Doctor Who Short story Written as my wife's mothers day card. Picture the 11th doctor (Matt Pond)
Dr. Who and the Orthodic
Alien Burrito
On a random Sunday at an
unspecified relatively unimportant moment in the history of the Universe, an
antique, blue, and extremely British Police Box Apperated (the official Harry
Potter word for disappearing from one location and appearing elsewhere as a
method of transportation) in front of a decidedly weird and busy pink doughnut
shop in what appeared to be a city of some sort. Despite a slight rain, a large line of people
were lined up outside.
“OOOO,
Shock, awe, well, this isn’t Andy Warhol’s Factory in the 1970s,” said the
Doctor quite loudly to no one in particular.
He confidently stepped out of the box in a bowtie and tattered
suit. “Excuse me, Flannel-Beard-Guy and
Pierced-Tattooed-High-Wasted-Bike-Short Woman, where and when am I?”
“Portland,
Mother’s Day, 2015,” said Beard Guy as the doughnut line continued to snake
around the newly present Police Box without stopping or moving at all in
response to the new arrival.
“No
response, no shock, no surprise. Come on
people, random man, British accent, appearing a Pacific Northwest Street,” said
the exasperated time-traveler with a hint of disappointment.
“The Time
Based art event is in a few months but that effect was pretty cool,” said
Pierced-Tattooed-High-Wasted-Bike-Short Woman.
“you should totally enter it.”
“Well, um
yes, that’s why I’m here. Art
installation on the impact of emergency medical communication with a British
accent. Carry on…or first…”
Fifteen Minutes later, the Doctor was riding down the
Portland streets in the rain on a fixed gear bicycle, loudly singing Oasis
songs for no apparent reason, eating a doughnut made of bacon and maple
syrup.
The Doctor
road around the town for a while getting soaked by the slow, constant downpour
but didn’t appear bothered, “the traffic’s better than London, but the
weather’s the same…” he said again to no one in particular.
It must’ve been around 5pm when the doctor
heard someone yell, “nice bow-tie” from the sidewalk. It was an overweight man with impressive
sideburns pushing a stroller near what could only be a delicious Mexican
Restaurant. Inside was a small and
loquacious human around 2- years-old or approximately 2/968ths of the Doctor’s age. The Doctor thought this was as good of a place
to stop as any. His travel companions
were visiting family and there was no Dalek invasion, so a burrito sounded
fantastic.
As the Doctor tried to stop, he
realized the bike he had found in a long lost Tardis closet had no functioning
breaks, so he frantically waved the sonic screwdriver at the wheel as he
slammed the curb toppled over. “Are you
ok” said the side-burned man as he reached down to help the doctor off of the
bike.
“Ok” parroted the small human,
followed by, “gah do wahh bah noon p.”
“Right as rain little one, Peri
right. Sir, your daughter here is a very
important person. I believe I just met
the greatest novelist of the 21st century and founder of the
Human/Alien Art Exchange. It’ll make
more sense in, oh 30 years or so. Sorry,
spoilers, must’ve hit my head. I speak
baby. Time to have burrito,” rambled the
doctor.
As he adjusted his suit and
straightend his wet bowtie, the sideburned man, waved down an approaching
well-dressed woman. “Honey,” he said,
“this man who just crashed his bike, says our daughter is going to be a
novelist and share art with aliens.”
“By the way, what is your name, I’m
Bob and this is my wife Morgan, and daughter who’s name your creepily know.”
“Sir, we will call the cops,” said
the wife. In this couple, thought the
Doctor, this woman is the one who means business.
“Sorry, I’m the Doctor, a
time-traveling alien. I think I’m here
to buy you dinner and give you some advice.
Bob, judging from you Star Wars shoes, this may be your perfect evening. Shall we.”
“Go ahead Bob,” said Morgan, “might
as well see where this leads, besides, Pablo at the bar will take care of him
if he tries anything fishy. Don’t forget
your daughter.”
Bob grabbed the toddler who was
nearly out of the stroller and pushed through the door behind the Doctor and
Morgan who were already at the bar ordering Margaritas and Burritos.
“Well, you aren’t surprised to be
talking to me. No one in this town seems
to care. So disappointing. I like making and entrance,” said the doctor
while he and Morgan waited for Bob to order.
Peri ran and gave her mother a giant hug. “Seriously, it’s like this is common place.”
“Doctor, Portland is weird. There’s a unicycling bagpiper and multiple
adult marching bands that can sell out concerts. I think at this point we all just take things
as they come,” explained Morgan.
They all sat down around a
table. Peri slid from her mother and
climbed on the Doctor’s lap. Bob seemed
anxious but Morgan seemed not to mind at all.
“Babies like me,” said the Doctor, “but I think this one pooped.” Bob grabbed the small one from the Doctor and
headed towards the bathroom.
“Morgan,” said the Doctor, “you’re
the one I’m actually here to see. In
about 20 years from now on a linear
timeline , I travel with your daughter.
She asked that I come back here and tell you that you’re amazing and you
do an amazing job. Peri told me to tell
you that you taught her how to be strong and sensitive and human and that it
might help for you to hear it from a well-dressed stranger.” As he said this a tear came to Morgan’s
eye. “Also, spoilers, enjoy the Cirque
de Solei.”
“Of course,
I’m also here to stop the alien monster living inside your foot from taking
over the world…the creature in the orthotic.
Kind of forgot about that fact when I grabbed my doughnut.”
Morgan’s
foot began to twitch. She fell on her
back but her leg was whipping around in the air. “Bartender, Pablo right, can you get me a Gin
and Tequila in a diet coke with a maraschino garnish, quickly please. Kind of wrestling a possessed leg here.” The patrons in the restaurant barely looked
up. Their food was good and they didn’t
want to disturb this dinner theater that they would blog cynically about
later.
Pablo
brought the doctor the drink as a double tall in a pint glass. The doctor quickly dumped it on the Morgan’s
shoe. Her leg stopped shaking as her
shoe slipped itself of her foot, wiggled its way to the corner and began
snoring. Pablo and the doctor helped
Morgan up and sat her down shaking.
“Morgan, I have to take this shoe back to it’s home planet, NIKEA but
don’t forget my message, and thanks for dinner.
Peri says happy Mother’s Day, from the future” The Doctor left just as Bob and Peri came out
of the bathroom. Peri was in new pants.
Morgan
walked over, picked up Peri and gave her a big hug. Bob was confused, but that was his normal
state of being. Peri knowingly looked
out the window and waved to the raggedy bow-tied man getting in a blue box
outside. The Doctor gave her a wink and
mouthed, “call me!” and disappeared.
