Reposting - Bad Ideas
“Idia.” His voice was muffled, but still too loud.
“Oy, if you have an idea, let’s hear it.” My mouth felt like a wooly mammoth crawled into it and died. I tried to use my tongue to wet the roof of my mouth, but that just made me taste my own disgusting, filmy, bile covered breath.
“No, Donna. Her name was Idia. She was the mother to Esigie, who was the sixteenth Oba of Benin back in…1504? 1503? No, I think it was four. Right. Definitely four. Her husband was Oba Ozolua. Funny chap, though he had a terrible gas problem. Almost thought he was a Slytheen, for a while.” The Doctor was fiddling around with something on the TARDIS console, and looked bloody ridiculous, what with his hair sticking up, a tie knotted through it and that bronze mask stuck to his face.
“WHY are you telling me this when my head is about to fall off?” I groaned and clutched the cuppa that he had very kindly brought me in both hands. “And where did this Small World mug come from?”
“Oh, that…long story. Anyway, Idia had two sons. When her husband died, she had to choose one to back for Oba…”
“Oboe? What were they doing playing the oboe in bloody Africa?” My head was actually going to split open. Truly. My brains would scatter across the floor of the TARDIS, just like one of those lava lamps and the big blobs in them. I wonder if those were really alien ships…
“Donna, really, the oboe didn’t come along until the seventeen hundreds, and that whole thing really wasn’t MY fault. I just wanted to play the…”
“WOULD YOU BLOODY WELL GET OFF THE OBOE AND BACK TO THE IDEA?” That hurt my head, but the man could ramble worse than my poor great gran after the drink started killing her brain cells.
“There’s no need for shouting.” His face was hidden, but I could hear the childish pout in his voice.
“You are the one who wanted to introduce the banana daiquiri to Henry the bloody Eighth last night. I cannot believe you taught him to sing Herman’s Hermits.” The warmth of the mug in my hands is comforting, but only a little.
“Old Nan didn’t seem to like that.”
“You sang it twenty three times.”
“You counted?”
“No, Jane Seymour did. You know, I thought she would look more like she did in the movie she did with that poor Reeves bloke.” I lifted on hand off the mug to my head. Oy.
“Well, that one took the other one’s name. But, anyway, back to Idia.” The Doctor sat in his chair, leaning back and getting as comfortable as he could in a banana stained suit and a bronze African mask stuck to his face. “Idia was a great warrior, and she fought right beside the men to keep her husband and son on their throne.”
“I like her already.”
“Yes, well, Idia had two sons. Esigie was her favorite, because he was tough and a fighter. Arhuaran was a bit of a cad. He liked the ladies more than the spear.”
“So she told the playboy to sod off, and Esigie became king…or the oboe?”
“Oba. Yes, but first there was a war and they killed the younger brother, and then Esigie was so grateful to his mum for her political savvy and her mystical powers that he built her a palace and proclaimed her the Iyoba, which is like your Queen Mum.” He scratched under the edge of the mask, around his neck.
“He should be grateful! I should say so.” I rolled my head on my stiff neck and immediately regretted that move. “Nothing worse than an ungrateful child, even if they can play the oboe.”
“Donna…”
“What?”
“Never mind. So, anyway, Esigie stumbled across this piece of alien metal, and he has his artesian craft a mask for his mum, to honor her at her birthday. That’s this mask, the Benin Mask of Idia.” He sounded as though he had finished telling her everything she needed to know, and leaned even farther back, crossing his arms and legs.
“Doctor, that doesn’t tell me why you can’t get the bloody mask off your face.” He was making her head hurt, more than usual.
“Weeeelll…last night Hank was wanting to joust…”
“Hank? Did you just call the Tudor Lion of England…”
“Hank. Right. So, he wanted to joust, and I just wanted to dance and drink more of those fantastic banana daiquiris. It’s just like I told you, Donna, always bring a banana to a party. People love bananas.”
“Doctor…mask. Mask. Face. Idia.” My eyebrow hurt as I lifted it.
“Oh, right. I put it on to play the fool for the King, to take his mind off jousting, because he was far too drunk to drive…ride.” He always made the most ridiculous things sound completely logical.
“I’m not touching that. Go on.”
“Well, I forgot about the alien metal. Venusians, you know, very naughty bunch. Can’t get it off until I have a…well…” He tipped his head to the side, in a gesture that clearly was supposed to indicate I knew what he meant.
“A what?”
“Esigie didn’t think his mum was getting enough pleasure, so he had the mask made for her to be able to get more men who would want to…”
“Oh. My. GOD!” My mouth fell open. “Her son had a mask made so that his mum could get bloody sex? They didn’t have paper bags?”
“Of course not.”
“So he made a mask to cover her face so men would bed her?” I almost forgot my headache.
“Right. And the Venusian metal absorbed the intended purpose of the mask. So it won’t come off until I…”
“Forget it.”
“Donna. Really. No. I don’t have to actually have…”
“I don’t want to know this. Just do whatever you have to do. Alone. Or with someone else. Off the TARDIS, if possible.”
“It’s my TARDIS!” He would have looked indignant, she bet. Well, as indignant as a man could with bits of mashed banana in his hair and a necktie for a headband.
“Don’t you have any friends with benefits?”
“WHAT?”
“You know…what do they call them? Booty calls?” I sip the tea, and sigh.
“WHAT? WHAT?”
“You know! A friend who you can call up and go get…frisky…with. No strings. Just fun and no worries.”
“Do you?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“YOU asked ME!”
“You’re the one with the obi-wan mask stuck to your face.” Now both eyebrows were up. “Just because you were drunk, trying to play the fool for Henry the Eighth.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“I’m Henry the Eighth, I am, Henry the Eighth, I am, I am…”
“Stop it.”
“Oh, so you can ask me personal questions about booty calls…”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“So no booty calls, eh?”
“Donna…”
“What?”
“Stop it.”
“Fine. But next time you decide to play the fool, Doctor, try to remember if you have to have booty to get the mask off.”
“Always a valuable bit of wisdom.”
“I’m going to lie down. Alone. Don’ t get any funny ideas.”
“Idia.”
“Don’t bloody start that again.” I walked out, to my room, leaving him sitting there singing about the widow next door, who’s been married seven times before.
I’m never drinking banana daiquiris again.
Ever.
Look at the mess it creates.
“Oy, if you have an idea, let’s hear it.” My mouth felt like a wooly mammoth crawled into it and died. I tried to use my tongue to wet the roof of my mouth, but that just made me taste my own disgusting, filmy, bile covered breath.
“No, Donna. Her name was Idia. She was the mother to Esigie, who was the sixteenth Oba of Benin back in…1504? 1503? No, I think it was four. Right. Definitely four. Her husband was Oba Ozolua. Funny chap, though he had a terrible gas problem. Almost thought he was a Slytheen, for a while.” The Doctor was fiddling around with something on the TARDIS console, and looked bloody ridiculous, what with his hair sticking up, a tie knotted through it and that bronze mask stuck to his face.
“WHY are you telling me this when my head is about to fall off?” I groaned and clutched the cuppa that he had very kindly brought me in both hands. “And where did this Small World mug come from?”
“Oh, that…long story. Anyway, Idia had two sons. When her husband died, she had to choose one to back for Oba…”
“Oboe? What were they doing playing the oboe in bloody Africa?” My head was actually going to split open. Truly. My brains would scatter across the floor of the TARDIS, just like one of those lava lamps and the big blobs in them. I wonder if those were really alien ships…
“Donna, really, the oboe didn’t come along until the seventeen hundreds, and that whole thing really wasn’t MY fault. I just wanted to play the…”
“WOULD YOU BLOODY WELL GET OFF THE OBOE AND BACK TO THE IDEA?” That hurt my head, but the man could ramble worse than my poor great gran after the drink started killing her brain cells.
“There’s no need for shouting.” His face was hidden, but I could hear the childish pout in his voice.
“You are the one who wanted to introduce the banana daiquiri to Henry the bloody Eighth last night. I cannot believe you taught him to sing Herman’s Hermits.” The warmth of the mug in my hands is comforting, but only a little.
“Old Nan didn’t seem to like that.”
“You sang it twenty three times.”
“You counted?”
“No, Jane Seymour did. You know, I thought she would look more like she did in the movie she did with that poor Reeves bloke.” I lifted on hand off the mug to my head. Oy.
“Well, that one took the other one’s name. But, anyway, back to Idia.” The Doctor sat in his chair, leaning back and getting as comfortable as he could in a banana stained suit and a bronze African mask stuck to his face. “Idia was a great warrior, and she fought right beside the men to keep her husband and son on their throne.”
“I like her already.”
“Yes, well, Idia had two sons. Esigie was her favorite, because he was tough and a fighter. Arhuaran was a bit of a cad. He liked the ladies more than the spear.”
“So she told the playboy to sod off, and Esigie became king…or the oboe?”
“Oba. Yes, but first there was a war and they killed the younger brother, and then Esigie was so grateful to his mum for her political savvy and her mystical powers that he built her a palace and proclaimed her the Iyoba, which is like your Queen Mum.” He scratched under the edge of the mask, around his neck.
“He should be grateful! I should say so.” I rolled my head on my stiff neck and immediately regretted that move. “Nothing worse than an ungrateful child, even if they can play the oboe.”
“Donna…”
“What?”
“Never mind. So, anyway, Esigie stumbled across this piece of alien metal, and he has his artesian craft a mask for his mum, to honor her at her birthday. That’s this mask, the Benin Mask of Idia.” He sounded as though he had finished telling her everything she needed to know, and leaned even farther back, crossing his arms and legs.
“Doctor, that doesn’t tell me why you can’t get the bloody mask off your face.” He was making her head hurt, more than usual.
“Weeeelll…last night Hank was wanting to joust…”
“Hank? Did you just call the Tudor Lion of England…”
“Hank. Right. So, he wanted to joust, and I just wanted to dance and drink more of those fantastic banana daiquiris. It’s just like I told you, Donna, always bring a banana to a party. People love bananas.”
“Doctor…mask. Mask. Face. Idia.” My eyebrow hurt as I lifted it.
“Oh, right. I put it on to play the fool for the King, to take his mind off jousting, because he was far too drunk to drive…ride.” He always made the most ridiculous things sound completely logical.
“I’m not touching that. Go on.”
“Well, I forgot about the alien metal. Venusians, you know, very naughty bunch. Can’t get it off until I have a…well…” He tipped his head to the side, in a gesture that clearly was supposed to indicate I knew what he meant.
“A what?”
“Esigie didn’t think his mum was getting enough pleasure, so he had the mask made for her to be able to get more men who would want to…”
“Oh. My. GOD!” My mouth fell open. “Her son had a mask made so that his mum could get bloody sex? They didn’t have paper bags?”
“Of course not.”
“So he made a mask to cover her face so men would bed her?” I almost forgot my headache.
“Right. And the Venusian metal absorbed the intended purpose of the mask. So it won’t come off until I…”
“Forget it.”
“Donna. Really. No. I don’t have to actually have…”
“I don’t want to know this. Just do whatever you have to do. Alone. Or with someone else. Off the TARDIS, if possible.”
“It’s my TARDIS!” He would have looked indignant, she bet. Well, as indignant as a man could with bits of mashed banana in his hair and a necktie for a headband.
“Don’t you have any friends with benefits?”
“WHAT?”
“You know…what do they call them? Booty calls?” I sip the tea, and sigh.
“WHAT? WHAT?”
“You know! A friend who you can call up and go get…frisky…with. No strings. Just fun and no worries.”
“Do you?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“YOU asked ME!”
“You’re the one with the obi-wan mask stuck to your face.” Now both eyebrows were up. “Just because you were drunk, trying to play the fool for Henry the Eighth.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“I’m Henry the Eighth, I am, Henry the Eighth, I am, I am…”
“Stop it.”
“Oh, so you can ask me personal questions about booty calls…”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“So no booty calls, eh?”
“Donna…”
“What?”
“Stop it.”
“Fine. But next time you decide to play the fool, Doctor, try to remember if you have to have booty to get the mask off.”
“Always a valuable bit of wisdom.”
“I’m going to lie down. Alone. Don’ t get any funny ideas.”
“Idia.”
“Don’t bloody start that again.” I walked out, to my room, leaving him sitting there singing about the widow next door, who’s been married seven times before.
I’m never drinking banana daiquiris again.
Ever.
Look at the mess it creates.