Ficathon Fic
My little contribution, very small I'm afraid, but this was the bunny that got there first!:)
Title: Companion Consultation Evening.
Author: Reaper/karataratakus
Characters: Ben, Barbara, others
Rating: PG
Summary: Seeing as some of these children were obviously the spawn of Satan, Barbara supposed she shouldn’t have be surprised when she was able to meet Satan in all his various forms on parent consultation evening.
Notes: Okay, I’m Reaper, and today I’ll be attempting to write for wwhyte’s fourth prompt “some time later, Ben or Polly runs into Ian or Barbara” This is just a little ficlet really, and I’m afraid it doesn’t actually have the Doctor in it though he is mentioned. I have started another fic though, which does have the Doctor in it which I’ll be glad to post in a week or so or whenever it’s done. Now, to see if I can figure out posting the silly thing…
Coal Hill school, March 07, 1979…
“So you see Mrs Thompson, while I’m happy your daughter shows an avid interest in history, I would prefer if she didn’t illustrate her workbook with depictions of the fate of the Oxford martyrs quite so vividly.” Barbara said in her most conciliatory voice.
The woman opposite her, a stressed-out creature with a white fur scarf which covered almost her entire face, obscuring all but her enormous eyes from Barbara’s view nodded faintly. “Yes…erm, I’m SO sorry…Mrs Chesterton, erm, I’m sure Kathryn won’t do it again will you Katy dear?”
“Nhh,” said Kathryn Thompson, staring vacantly out into space.
“Well, young lady, speak when you’re spoken to!” Snapped the girl’s mother.
“I said yes!”
“That’s not what I heard,”
“Yeah, well you’re going deaf, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know how you think you can talk to me like that with the appalling progress you’ve been making-”
“Goodbye! Nice talking to you!” Barbara cried as the student and her mother argued their way out of the door.
“-When your father hears about this-”
Bam. The door shut. Barbara hated parent consultation evening.
The history teacher sighed and checked her list. Enough time for a tea before the next student? Probably not come to think of it, although most of her colleagues would be running late it was possible that her next student would arrive early. Barbara never saw what took other teachers so long with the parents. If there are no problems, they should be out the door in less than two minutes. If there was a problem, address it, explain it, suggest possible solutions (“A little more time spent on homework, Sally,” “Less talking in class, Tom,” “Run away and join a circus Margaret, you’ll never pass your O-levels”) then get rid of them.
Of course, Ian could spend hours extolling the praises of the most delinquent of his students before mentioning tiny little problems like a tendency to set fire to the classrooms-but that was Ian. The only thing worse than spending hourse at a time with certain members of her class (to be fair-most of them were nice enough) was spending the endless minutes with their idiotic parents. Then again, seeing as some of these children were obviously the spawn of Satan, Barbara supposed she shouldn’t have be surprised when she was able to meet Satan in all his various forms on parent consultation evening.
The next name on her list was James Jackson. Oh bloody hell; here was one to look forward to. Jamie Jackson-12 year-old class comedian and god’s gift to the world of rebellious hooligans. True, the boy was in no way malicious or intentionally disrespectful to her, but he would make the most dreadful puns or sarcastic comments either at what she said or at what the textbook said. It didn’t help that he was a blond-haired blue-eyed cockney angel of a boy who could make some of the strictest teachers melt. Not her though.
“An’ this is ‘istory then?” The door opened suddenly and medium-sized man about mid to late thirties entered the room followed by his grinning son.
“Yeah dad, that’s Mrs Chesterton, she’s the teacher.”
“Good evening.” Barbara smiled with some difficulty.
“Another bird eh? Blimey, mate-‘s no wonder yer muvver made me come to this thing-female conspiracy, this is.”
“Everything’s one of Mum’s female conspiracies with you, dad.”
“Oy, watch it. Sit down, you plonker.”
The father and son plonked themselves down in to their chairs in perfect unison, the former looking confused and uncomfortable while the latter was obviously enjoying himself beyond words. Barbara glanced down at Jamie’s grades.
“Well Mr. Jackson-”
“Lieutenant.” Piped up Jamie.
“Lieutenant Jackson, why don’t I start off by asking what your son has told you about his history lessons?”
“’istory? That’s the one what that stupid essay they said was all wrong was about. This one.” He brandished a messy slightly creased piece of paper marked with a large red ‘E’ at the top and adorned with question marks at points in the text, also inked in red. “Yeah, what’s all this about? Looks like a perfectly nancy piece of history to me. What’s with the ‘E’?”
Barbara glanced over the paper. Ah yes, a simple description piece on the aftermath of Culloden and Jackson had gone on about secret slave trading deals and the adventures of a piper who happened to have the same name as he did. “Lieutenant, I’m not sure you’re aware of the history behind the subject of the paper-”
“I am. I did go to school, mistress,”
Mistress? Yeah, thought Barbara, he wishes. “I’m sure of that Lieutenant, but you must know that it’s a well documented fact that the duke of Cumberland was adamant about the disposal of prisoners. There is no evidence that could possibly point to your son’s…theory about the slave trade-that, and I don’t appreciate the fictional characters, amusing though they were.”
“Fictional!” The cockney looked offended, his eyes narrowing. “I’ll have you know, mistress, every last one of ‘em bloomin’ characters was real. I mean-who do you think I named the little blighter after? James the cat?”
“I see.” Said Barbara gravely. She’d seen some nutcase parents in her time, one prepared to swear blind that her daughter had tied a younger girl to a tree in self-defence, but this guy had got to be the biggest lunatic of them all. What next? Jamie rescuing soldiers in WWI? Perhaps he’d be hanging around the American civil war? Or spending some time in Rome with a little holiday now and then to the industrial revolution. Maybe Jamie could also be hailed as an Aztec god, that would be something nearer her own expertise!
“An’ anyway what d’ya mean no evidence? ‘em lawyers was trading the poor blokes an’ that’s a fact. You mean there’s no papers or anything that proves it? You academics and your evidence! Bird in yer science department was trying t’ tell me there was no such thing as time travel just now-and I’ve seen that!”
Yes Lieutenant Jackson, I’m sure you watch a lot of science fiction. Now, to agree with him in the hopes that he goes away, or to continue exposing the flaws in his argument? “And with no known evidence, how did you come to your startling conclusion?” She asked mildly.
He stared at her with some amount of disgust. “Well I was THERE wasn’ I? How d’ya think, mistress?”
“You were there?” Well. There wasn’t much she could say to that…unless she were to point out to him the blindingly obvious. Seeing as he seemed to have missed it, Barbara decided to try and educate him. “Two hundred years ago, you were there?”
“Well…” The sailor stopped and went somewhat red. His eyes slid in the direction of the doorway. “I mean, I wasn’t at the battle, but I went to the field and I spoke to some o’ the locals…”
“Some locals who were at the battle?” Prompted Barbara.
“Yes-I mean, no, of course not.”
“Yes I see Mr Jackson,”
“Lieutenant,”
“Of course Mr Loony, well I certainly shan’t be giving anymore ‘E’s to your son,” Once the men in white coats take you away, he’ll probably be doing better in his schoolwork.
“Now look here, mistress,” Jackson pointed a finger at her, blinking nervously, “don’t think that I’ve gone round the bend or nothing-it’s the bloody truth!” He said somewhat frantically.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Jamie,” She rose from her seat and began to usher the still-protesting man and his still-grinning son (perhaps insanity was hereditary in the Jackson family) out the door to greet her next tormentors for the evening.
The elder Jackson let out a huff of defeat and slung his arm around his son’s shoulder. “This is what y’ get when y’ travel ‘round time an’ space with a demented ol’ codger.”
Right well, Barbara made a mental note never to travel around time and space with a demented-oh, too late. “Wait!” She cried.
The two turned back to face her and she smiled, knowingly this time, and spoke: “I didn’t realise you had travelled with The Doctor.” She said softly.
Jamie’s eyes widened and he stared in disbelief from his father to his teacher and back again. Lieutenant Jackson looked momentarily shocked, then smiled warmly and gave a short laugh. After a while he spoke; “’s all right, mistress, no worries.”
Barbara folded her arms and her smile grew. A sense of almost instantaneous companionship simmered between the two. “Now,” she said, “tell me about what really happened at Culloden-the closest we ever got was revolutionary France!”
That night at dinner…
Ian’s fork clattered to the floor. “Half an hour? Half an hour before you left-and in the TARDIS at that? I don’t believe it! How on earth could he manage that and yet never get within ten years of 1963 without shrinking us to the size of ants? We had to use a DALEK time machine in the end and he convinced us there was half a chance it would blow up in our faces!”
Polly shivered and Ben gulped down some more wine, “Don’t get started with the Daleks, mate! We didn’t have the easiest of times with them either don’t ya know!”
As the conversation turned inevitably to the various adventures involving daleks each couple had experienced, Jamie Jackson turned to Suzie Chesterton and shook his head with embarrassment. “They’re bloody loonies, the lot of them. Dalek time machines? Bloody loonies.”
THE END
WORD COUNT: 1615
Title: Companion Consultation Evening.
Author: Reaper/karataratakus
Characters: Ben, Barbara, others
Rating: PG
Summary: Seeing as some of these children were obviously the spawn of Satan, Barbara supposed she shouldn’t have be surprised when she was able to meet Satan in all his various forms on parent consultation evening.
Notes: Okay, I’m Reaper, and today I’ll be attempting to write for wwhyte’s fourth prompt “some time later, Ben or Polly runs into Ian or Barbara” This is just a little ficlet really, and I’m afraid it doesn’t actually have the Doctor in it though he is mentioned. I have started another fic though, which does have the Doctor in it which I’ll be glad to post in a week or so or whenever it’s done. Now, to see if I can figure out posting the silly thing…
Coal Hill school, March 07, 1979…
“So you see Mrs Thompson, while I’m happy your daughter shows an avid interest in history, I would prefer if she didn’t illustrate her workbook with depictions of the fate of the Oxford martyrs quite so vividly.” Barbara said in her most conciliatory voice.
The woman opposite her, a stressed-out creature with a white fur scarf which covered almost her entire face, obscuring all but her enormous eyes from Barbara’s view nodded faintly. “Yes…erm, I’m SO sorry…Mrs Chesterton, erm, I’m sure Kathryn won’t do it again will you Katy dear?”
“Nhh,” said Kathryn Thompson, staring vacantly out into space.
“Well, young lady, speak when you’re spoken to!” Snapped the girl’s mother.
“I said yes!”
“That’s not what I heard,”
“Yeah, well you’re going deaf, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know how you think you can talk to me like that with the appalling progress you’ve been making-”
“Goodbye! Nice talking to you!” Barbara cried as the student and her mother argued their way out of the door.
“-When your father hears about this-”
Bam. The door shut. Barbara hated parent consultation evening.
The history teacher sighed and checked her list. Enough time for a tea before the next student? Probably not come to think of it, although most of her colleagues would be running late it was possible that her next student would arrive early. Barbara never saw what took other teachers so long with the parents. If there are no problems, they should be out the door in less than two minutes. If there was a problem, address it, explain it, suggest possible solutions (“A little more time spent on homework, Sally,” “Less talking in class, Tom,” “Run away and join a circus Margaret, you’ll never pass your O-levels”) then get rid of them.
Of course, Ian could spend hours extolling the praises of the most delinquent of his students before mentioning tiny little problems like a tendency to set fire to the classrooms-but that was Ian. The only thing worse than spending hourse at a time with certain members of her class (to be fair-most of them were nice enough) was spending the endless minutes with their idiotic parents. Then again, seeing as some of these children were obviously the spawn of Satan, Barbara supposed she shouldn’t have be surprised when she was able to meet Satan in all his various forms on parent consultation evening.
The next name on her list was James Jackson. Oh bloody hell; here was one to look forward to. Jamie Jackson-12 year-old class comedian and god’s gift to the world of rebellious hooligans. True, the boy was in no way malicious or intentionally disrespectful to her, but he would make the most dreadful puns or sarcastic comments either at what she said or at what the textbook said. It didn’t help that he was a blond-haired blue-eyed cockney angel of a boy who could make some of the strictest teachers melt. Not her though.
“An’ this is ‘istory then?” The door opened suddenly and medium-sized man about mid to late thirties entered the room followed by his grinning son.
“Yeah dad, that’s Mrs Chesterton, she’s the teacher.”
“Good evening.” Barbara smiled with some difficulty.
“Another bird eh? Blimey, mate-‘s no wonder yer muvver made me come to this thing-female conspiracy, this is.”
“Everything’s one of Mum’s female conspiracies with you, dad.”
“Oy, watch it. Sit down, you plonker.”
The father and son plonked themselves down in to their chairs in perfect unison, the former looking confused and uncomfortable while the latter was obviously enjoying himself beyond words. Barbara glanced down at Jamie’s grades.
“Well Mr. Jackson-”
“Lieutenant.” Piped up Jamie.
“Lieutenant Jackson, why don’t I start off by asking what your son has told you about his history lessons?”
“’istory? That’s the one what that stupid essay they said was all wrong was about. This one.” He brandished a messy slightly creased piece of paper marked with a large red ‘E’ at the top and adorned with question marks at points in the text, also inked in red. “Yeah, what’s all this about? Looks like a perfectly nancy piece of history to me. What’s with the ‘E’?”
Barbara glanced over the paper. Ah yes, a simple description piece on the aftermath of Culloden and Jackson had gone on about secret slave trading deals and the adventures of a piper who happened to have the same name as he did. “Lieutenant, I’m not sure you’re aware of the history behind the subject of the paper-”
“I am. I did go to school, mistress,”
Mistress? Yeah, thought Barbara, he wishes. “I’m sure of that Lieutenant, but you must know that it’s a well documented fact that the duke of Cumberland was adamant about the disposal of prisoners. There is no evidence that could possibly point to your son’s…theory about the slave trade-that, and I don’t appreciate the fictional characters, amusing though they were.”
“Fictional!” The cockney looked offended, his eyes narrowing. “I’ll have you know, mistress, every last one of ‘em bloomin’ characters was real. I mean-who do you think I named the little blighter after? James the cat?”
“I see.” Said Barbara gravely. She’d seen some nutcase parents in her time, one prepared to swear blind that her daughter had tied a younger girl to a tree in self-defence, but this guy had got to be the biggest lunatic of them all. What next? Jamie rescuing soldiers in WWI? Perhaps he’d be hanging around the American civil war? Or spending some time in Rome with a little holiday now and then to the industrial revolution. Maybe Jamie could also be hailed as an Aztec god, that would be something nearer her own expertise!
“An’ anyway what d’ya mean no evidence? ‘em lawyers was trading the poor blokes an’ that’s a fact. You mean there’s no papers or anything that proves it? You academics and your evidence! Bird in yer science department was trying t’ tell me there was no such thing as time travel just now-and I’ve seen that!”
Yes Lieutenant Jackson, I’m sure you watch a lot of science fiction. Now, to agree with him in the hopes that he goes away, or to continue exposing the flaws in his argument? “And with no known evidence, how did you come to your startling conclusion?” She asked mildly.
He stared at her with some amount of disgust. “Well I was THERE wasn’ I? How d’ya think, mistress?”
“You were there?” Well. There wasn’t much she could say to that…unless she were to point out to him the blindingly obvious. Seeing as he seemed to have missed it, Barbara decided to try and educate him. “Two hundred years ago, you were there?”
“Well…” The sailor stopped and went somewhat red. His eyes slid in the direction of the doorway. “I mean, I wasn’t at the battle, but I went to the field and I spoke to some o’ the locals…”
“Some locals who were at the battle?” Prompted Barbara.
“Yes-I mean, no, of course not.”
“Yes I see Mr Jackson,”
“Lieutenant,”
“Of course Mr Loony, well I certainly shan’t be giving anymore ‘E’s to your son,” Once the men in white coats take you away, he’ll probably be doing better in his schoolwork.
“Now look here, mistress,” Jackson pointed a finger at her, blinking nervously, “don’t think that I’ve gone round the bend or nothing-it’s the bloody truth!” He said somewhat frantically.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Jamie,” She rose from her seat and began to usher the still-protesting man and his still-grinning son (perhaps insanity was hereditary in the Jackson family) out the door to greet her next tormentors for the evening.
The elder Jackson let out a huff of defeat and slung his arm around his son’s shoulder. “This is what y’ get when y’ travel ‘round time an’ space with a demented ol’ codger.”
Right well, Barbara made a mental note never to travel around time and space with a demented-oh, too late. “Wait!” She cried.
The two turned back to face her and she smiled, knowingly this time, and spoke: “I didn’t realise you had travelled with The Doctor.” She said softly.
Jamie’s eyes widened and he stared in disbelief from his father to his teacher and back again. Lieutenant Jackson looked momentarily shocked, then smiled warmly and gave a short laugh. After a while he spoke; “’s all right, mistress, no worries.”
Barbara folded her arms and her smile grew. A sense of almost instantaneous companionship simmered between the two. “Now,” she said, “tell me about what really happened at Culloden-the closest we ever got was revolutionary France!”
That night at dinner…
Ian’s fork clattered to the floor. “Half an hour? Half an hour before you left-and in the TARDIS at that? I don’t believe it! How on earth could he manage that and yet never get within ten years of 1963 without shrinking us to the size of ants? We had to use a DALEK time machine in the end and he convinced us there was half a chance it would blow up in our faces!”
Polly shivered and Ben gulped down some more wine, “Don’t get started with the Daleks, mate! We didn’t have the easiest of times with them either don’t ya know!”
As the conversation turned inevitably to the various adventures involving daleks each couple had experienced, Jamie Jackson turned to Suzie Chesterton and shook his head with embarrassment. “They’re bloody loonies, the lot of them. Dalek time machines? Bloody loonies.”
THE END
WORD COUNT: 1615