Doctor Who: Drabbles

by Mark Phippen

Metal Guru

'You will obey!'

'My dear chap, that's very kind of you,' said the Doctor, shaking the elder's hand with vigour.

Susan was gazing in awe at the centrepiece of the temple.

'It's a Dalek!' she exclaimed.

'Yes, yes my child, the very culture of these people seems to revolve around it, even their speech.'

'But we must tell them the truth, tell them how evil the Daleks are!'

'But think what it would do to these peaceful people? Do we have that right? That would make us no better than the Daleks themselves.'

'Exterminate!' said the elder, offering them soup.

I Remember…

Sorry? Oh, we've started have we?

Right well, where to begin...

I first met the Doctor when Barbara and I...

Sorry? Yes, Barbara, my wife. Though she wasn't then, of course. We were both teachers at Coal Hill School in the early Sixties. Yes, Coal Hill. It wasn't the drugs den that it is now in those days, let me assure you.

Anyway, we first met the Doctor when we followed one of our pupils, Suzy... no Susan, sorry, Susan. Anyway, we followed her home one night and found she lived in a police box in a junk yard... no wait, that's wrong, it wasn't a junkyard... Barnes Common - that was it, the police box was on Barnes Common. There had been this car crash you see. Barbara and I...

Is that right? No, come to think of it, I don't think it is. Chocolates. I had chocolates for Barbara. We were going on a date you see, and I had called at Doctor Who's house to meet her. The police box was his invention, and he kept it in his back yard...

What? Introduce myself? Yes, that might be a good idea.

My name is Ian Chesterton.

Isn't it?

He Was Not Who He Claimed To Be

The Doctor was growing anxious.

'But I have reason to believe there's a Rutan in there!'

'There ain't nothing in the woodshed. Except maybe some wood.' replied the farmer.

'Well, we'll see about that won't we?' said the Doctor, opening the door of the shed.

As the Doctor's eyes adjusted to the dark he could make out a shape lying on the floor. A shape with a face - a body. The body of the farmer! The Doctor whirled around to see an amorphous green blob advancing on him.

'Oh dear, I've been a bit of a silly billy, haven't I?'

Please Refrain From Discussing…

Benton and Yates were in the communications room, monitoring emissions from space.

'...So after that we went for a very nice meal at...' Benton was interrupted by a shove from Yates, who was nodding towards the door, where the Brigadier stood, scowling.

'There have been no further transmissions?'

Yates shook his head.

'Then as you seem to have nothing to do, get yourselves down to the Hilltown Research Facility. There's been another sighting of the Master.'

The next day, the troops were surprised to find a notice on the messroom wall:

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM DISCUSSING UNIT DATING WHILE ON DUTY.

Negative

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no, Sam

Written In The Stars

'Who are you?'

Ace watched as the cloud began to coalesce, forming a shape - a human shape. A wispy, grey, gaseous but definitely human shape. God, it even had a face, a mouth!

'We are the Strill. We lay claim to this planet. Colonists will be culled or processed for fuel.'

'Not if we can help it! Tell them Professor!' Ace glanced at the little man, standing, watching from across the room.

'You cannot stop us. It is written so.'

'Tell them!'

'He cannot,' said the Strill, 'he knows it to be true.'

'I...' Began the Professor, before turning away.

What's In A Name?

'Just who are you, Professor?'

The little man smiled at Ace. 'Sometimes even I wonder that.'

'But I don't even know your name.'

'Just a label. For instance, you call me 'Professor'. In other times and places I am known as the Doctor, the Dentist, the Magician, Merlin, Ka Faraq Gatri, the Oncoming Storm, the Butcher, the Baker, and the Candlestick Maker.'

'But never your real name?'

'What's in a name, as long as I am true to my beliefs? It's what's inside that counts.'

'And just what is inside?'

'All in good time, Dorothy.' He said, tweaking her nose.

All drabbles on this page © 1998 Mark Phippen