[25] awfully tough lately
[Tuesday-Thursday]
[voice]
[The Doctor's voice comes over the line, weak and hoarse, and very much lacking in his usual pep.]
I hate milk.
Always hated milk. It's just disgusting white stuff that some idiot human thought it would just be ever so brilliant to drink. Cow milk is the worst of it all. Never drank the milk before, never planned too.
[A soft groan.]
Look, I don't have any brilliant words to give you all for once. Except, well, drink the bloody milk. No, no, no, don't tell me about how it's poisoned, believe me, I already know. But don't forget what the Milkman can do, has done to people. Better to die yourself than to die finding out you've gone completely off your rocker and can't even remember who your friends are.
Charles. Sarah-Jane. Taiwan. Japan, all you lot. I'm coming to check on you. In...
In just a bit.
Now pardon me while I go projectile vomit my tea.
[Action]
[Around town the Doctor can be seen trying to check on people and do his job as police officer.
Except he's doing neither and is puking violently into a storm drain. He clearly intended to try to hide his shame by doing it away from people but failed spectacularly at that.]
[At 951 Beulah St. the Doctor is curled up on the floor of his garage turned work shop next to a trash can, shivering and shaking. The door is open, but he's made no effort to close it or do anything to defend himself. He has no idea what kind of poison he's had or if he's going to die. But all this being sick is extremely miserable and he's stopped caring.]
[Friday and Saturday]
[The Doctor has closed the door to his garage. Crashing and stomping and the occasional yell can be heard but the door is locked tight and the Doctor isn't coming out.]
[Sunday]
[951 Beulah Street has gone silent and the Doctor is nowhere to be found. The milk on his doorstep is left unopened.]
[voice]
[The Doctor's voice comes over the line, weak and hoarse, and very much lacking in his usual pep.]
I hate milk.
Always hated milk. It's just disgusting white stuff that some idiot human thought it would just be ever so brilliant to drink. Cow milk is the worst of it all. Never drank the milk before, never planned too.
[A soft groan.]
Look, I don't have any brilliant words to give you all for once. Except, well, drink the bloody milk. No, no, no, don't tell me about how it's poisoned, believe me, I already know. But don't forget what the Milkman can do, has done to people. Better to die yourself than to die finding out you've gone completely off your rocker and can't even remember who your friends are.
Charles. Sarah-Jane. Taiwan. Japan, all you lot. I'm coming to check on you. In...
In just a bit.
Now pardon me while I go projectile vomit my tea.
[Action]
[Around town the Doctor can be seen trying to check on people and do his job as police officer.
Except he's doing neither and is puking violently into a storm drain. He clearly intended to try to hide his shame by doing it away from people but failed spectacularly at that.]
[At 951 Beulah St. the Doctor is curled up on the floor of his garage turned work shop next to a trash can, shivering and shaking. The door is open, but he's made no effort to close it or do anything to defend himself. He has no idea what kind of poison he's had or if he's going to die. But all this being sick is extremely miserable and he's stopped caring.]
[Friday and Saturday]
[The Doctor has closed the door to his garage. Crashing and stomping and the occasional yell can be heard but the door is locked tight and the Doctor isn't coming out.]
[Sunday]
[951 Beulah Street has gone silent and the Doctor is nowhere to be found. The milk on his doorstep is left unopened.]