The Martians stole my peaches! (or how Donna saved the world, completely unintentionally.)


It all began with a recipe for peach cobbler, found on page whatever in the completely ordinary contents of a random woman's magazine sitting innocently at the tills one Saturday afternoon in January.

Make the perfect peach cobbler in thirty minutes, Donna mused, eying the baked goods radiating the image of warmth and comfort from the page. She stole a glance up out of the front window; the sky was gray and overcast, threatening to pour buckets any minute. A little warmth and comfort wouldn't go amiss. Frowning, she tossed the magazine into her shopping basket and maneuvered backwards out of the line, ignoring the irritated grumbles of the customers who had been behind her.

Ten minutes later she left the store with her shopping plus a can of peaches, and smirked defiantly at the sky.

It was like nectar to the karma hummingbirds.

"Get out of the way! Out of the way!" a pair of voices chorused loudly. Donna barely had a second to dodge before a couple sprinted past – one a young girl in a black bomber jacket and very 80's clothing, the other a very familiar bloke in a blue suit and red chucks.

"Oi! Watch where you're-" she shouted after them, but the words died in her throat as something large, furry, and covered in fish scales lumbered past the shop, growling in a rather menacing manner.

A few seconds later, a short little man in a dark sports blazer sprinted past, one hand clamped firmly on his hat while the other carried a black umbrella, obviously in hot pursuit of the thing and the pair being chased by the thing.
"No, Ace! Not into the underground!" he yelped, nearly out of earshot as he rounded the corner.

Donna was still gawping silently after them when a fourth member of the party, a young black woman with a rucksack slung over her shoulder, slowed to a halt and doubled over to catch her breath.

"Did you see a-" she managed between pants, waving a hand obscurely.

"That way," Donna replied instantly, pointing the direction of the subway system. The girl nodded her gratitude, started to take off, but she got a step away before turning back around, snatching the can of peaches out of Donna's bag, and sprinting off.

"Sorry! We'll pay you back! Save the world sort of stuff!" she hollered over her shoulder.

Donna was silent, for a moment, completely lost for words.

"Bloody Martian stole my peaches," she finally muttered, dumbly. "What're the odds?"

As if in agreement, thunder growled overhead and she shut her eyes resignedly as it began to pour.