Culture ClashIan and Barbara find it harder to adapt to interstellar culture than they'd thought. Even trying to be polite could get you into trouble.
"Chesterfield, if you cannot behave like a civilized person, then please keep your mouth shut!" The gray haired old man glared at him over a beaky nose.
Chesterton's mouth fell open. "I merely asked it how its day had been!" He waved his hands in exasperation at that unfair accusation.
"It was entirely none of your business how his day had gone. It was inarguably nosy of you to inquire." The Doctor stuck his thumbs behind his lapel and frowned disapprovingly, like an old schoolmaster.
Ian turned and stared in disbelief at Barbara. She shrugged her shoulders, as confused as he was. He turned to look at Susan, only to find her biting her lips together and giving him a pitying look.
"What?" He stared around the console room as if the whole universe was against him. He threw up his hands again. "It was a purple octopus with a parrot beak, wearing
ClambakeThe Second Doctor, Jamie and Victoria are digging for clams on an alien beach, but things aren't always what you expect with the Doctor around.
Jamie was bare-chested, wearing a pair of baggy, drawstring, 20th Century swim trunks that came down to his knees. Victoria was wearing a light Victorian summer dress, complete with wide brimmed hat. She was scooping a hole in the sand with a large bowl.
Jamie looked over at the Doctor, who was sprawled on a weathered Adirondack chair up the beach, his ratty black coat spread open to reveal his much washed white shirt, a dusty bowler hat over his face, "getting some sun."
"Are ye sure about this, Doctor?" Jamie called worryingly, gesturing down at Victoria who was digging at his feet. "This doesna seem to be a way to get a good meal."
The Doctor waved a lazy hand. "Keep digging. I assure you, it will be worth it, Jamie."
Victoria looked up and wiped a forearm over her sweaty brow. "Have you never had clams, Jamie? They're very good."
Puff The 3rd Doctor's always getting chased by monsters, one way or another.
"Jo, get in!"
The Doctor blazed by in Bessie. Jo stepped aboard. Thanks to the inertial dampeners it didn't rip her leg off. She climbed over the footboard into her seat.
She twisted around and stared behind them. "What is that thing?"
"Nervalan Puff Monster," the Doctor answered.
It didn't look puffy. It looked like some sort of alien greyhound, eight feet tall at the shoulder and smooth as a lizard. Narrow head full of jaggle teeth, lean hips, long tail, and a narrow ribcage that expanded and contracted to an alarming degree, stretching like the skin of a frog with every breath.
Bessie was going 80 miles and hour. "It's gaining!"
"I know," the Doctor said with exasperation, "I'm not trying to outrun it."
Jo turned back around and grabbed the side of the windscreen. "Where are we going?"
The Doctor's hair and ruffles snapped in the breeze, Jo tilted her hair out of her eyes, keeping one eye o
ClothesThe 10th Doctor finds Donna in the wardrobe trying to find something to wear.
Donna was digging through the heaps of clothes in the costume room.
"Not that one, not that one, seriously?" she tossed aside a sparkly acid green shirt.
The Doctor poked his head in the door, "So this is where you got to!" He sauntered in, hands in his pockets and watched as Donna stood knee deep in a pile of clothing from all ages.
She stood up and glared at him, hands on her hips. "Why in the world do you have so many clothes? You wear the same thing all the time!"
"No I don't," he protested. "I change my tie." He adjusted his tie and she rolled her eyes at him.
"Brown and blue are not wardrobe choices, they're colorblindness," she said, running her eyes up and down him derisively. He stood up taller, tilting his nose in the air.
"Fine, you're the height of haute couture," she sniped. "Somewhere," she added.
His nose came down and he glared at her.
"Since you're here, you can help me find a s
The Drawing of a Weeping Angel A young girl was sitting at her desk, drawing the image of a stone angel. She remembered it being from a TV show called Doctor Who, a TV show that she adored.
The girl was so concentrated on her task that she did not notice her older brother enter her room to check if she was alright.
“What are you drawing?” he asked, startling her.
Picking up the pencil she accidentally dropped, the girl smiled at her brother.
“A weeping angel from Doctor Who”, she answered casually. “They’re my favourite villains and I thought I could try to draw them. I’m not disappointed with the result so far.”
The boy chuckled and left the room, leaving his sister to continue her drawing in peace.
It was almost bedtime when the younger finally finished her artwork. She put away her art supplies with a sigh before turning back towards the picture. After thinking for a moment, she took it