oncoming_storms Prompt 47.1: Julian Clary quote
[OOC WARNING: Crack, crack, crack and more crack. Has no logic, no plot, just gratuitous references to various interests and inside jokes. I blame clever_wanderer. I'll show you who "requires more asparagus and ABBA".]
The English like eccentrics. They just don't like them living next door - Julian Clary
"Doctor, what is that awful music coming from the TARDIS?" was Charley's first question when she entered a console room that was practically vibrating with sound.
The Doctor looked up distractedly from where he was working at the controls. "What did you say, Charley?"
"What the hell is this music?"
"Oh!" He seemed to brighten at the mention of it. "It's ABBA! Dancing Queen, to be more specific. Do you like it?"
"I might like it more if I it wasn't quite so loud."
"Mmm, yes, I agree. It is a bit noisy isn't it? I was trying to get the TARDIS to play Mozart's 25th Symphony in G minor. They used that one particularly well in Amadeus. Or Mozart's Requiem! That piece really bothers me, because I could have sworn I heard in the Lion King somewhere, but I'm sure I've got that wrong. And if I've got that wrong, it must be another movie and I can't remember which one that is." The Doctor tapped his fingers irritably on the console for a moment as he tried to remember. "In any case," he continued, "It's rather obviously not playing Mozart. Or anything close to, really."
"Can you please just turn it off?"
He didn't, instead tapping his head as though getting the most fantastic idea as he dashed around the console and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I know where we're going for our next trip!" he gushed excitedly as he just as abruptly let her go and returned to fiddling with the dials.
"Oh?" she asked, curiously. "And where's that?"
"1999, the West End! The day when Mamma Mia opens its doors to a very enthusiastic audience."
***
No matter how they tried, the audience just wasn't as enthusiastic as the very unhappy vegetables that were trying take over the world.
"Stop!" shrieked a man, who looked so terribly ordinary that people were tempted to fall asleep just looking at him. "I," he said in a loud, grand voice that utterly failed to cooperate with the rest of his profile, "Am King Asparagus from the planet of Aspari." He strode onto the stage, eliciting a murmur of confused whispers in the audience as several people followed behind him. "And we demand that you reveal to us who the father is before we proceed with our invasion plans and take over your puny little planet."
"Oh, they're not serious," muttered Charley from under her breath.
They were. Somewhere in the mob of incredibly ordinary looking people, there came a click and a whirr, and suddenly, it wasn't a mob of incredibly ordinary people on the stage, it was a rather overgrown bushel of ridiculously large asparaguses. With arms, legs... and swords. Their eyes looked as though God had been in kindergarten, glueing little googly ones into where a child would approximate the head.
Charley choked in a very undignified manner on her drink as the Doctor bounded up onto the stage, drawing the sword of a particularly green asparagus as he passed.
"Who is this to dare stand up against me?" demanded the King. "Your death shall be quick, sir, so give me your name."
"I'm the Doctor. And I'm afraid you can't take over this planet, it's doing perfectly fine on its own." He paused. "Ah, well, no, that's not particularly true, but they don't need a bunch of animated vegetables to go around making it worse."
Half of the audience seemed desperately confused, the other half seemed to think that this was part of the show, and everyone was wondering where the exits had gone.
"I challenge you, sir!" declared the Doctor. "One sword fight and to the victor go the spoils."
"Doctor, you're being over dramatic."
"I can't help it, it's a sword fight. I feel I need to be somewhat dramatic. And I'm on stage. What a coincidence is that! A sword fight, right on stage. I've never done this before!"
The girl from 1930 rolled her eyes.
"I accept your challenge!" the King cried, lunging forward unexpectedly and swiping a blade through the Doctor's cravat as the Time Lord dodged at the last moment.
Swords clashed quickly and skillfully, metal sliding against metal as they pushed each other's blades out of the way.
"Parry, parry, thrust, thrust, good!" The Doctor was clearly enjoying this, happy to put the sword fighting lessons he'd taken after the whole incident with Grayle to test. "Hee-yah!" he shouted, lunging forward.
And the King's left arm fell off.
"I win!"
"'Tis but a scratch!" the King retorted, brandishing his sword in his right hand once more anyway.
The Doctor was indignant. "A scratch!? Your arm's off!"
"He's had worse!" called an anonymous person from the audience.
"Hah! He sees. I am fine. Come again, sir!"
The Doctor did, albeit with a weary sigh. Swords flashed again.
Swish, swish, clink, clink, swish, swish, swish. Clink, clink, swish, swish, clink, clink, clink.
This time the King did manage to strike the Doctor across the middle. "A hit! What say you?"
"A touch, a touch, I do confess."
"Doctor! Time and place!"
"Sorry, habit."
Vegetable and Time Lord sprang forward once more. This time the King's right arm fell off.
"Victory is mine!"
The King kicked him in the knee.
There eventually came a point where all of the monarch's extremely nutritious limbs were disposed of ("I'll bite your legs off!") and was eventually coerced off the stage when the plant's followers agreed that yes, it was clear the fight had been won, the King was just a stubborn, tenacious little bastard.
Everyone moved back into the audience to watch the rest of the play and later piled out when it ended, giggling and dancing and singing off-key to 'Waterloo' as they all made their way to their transports. The asparaguses left on their hood blimp back to their planet, and everyone lived happily ever after. The King grew back his limbs because, well, he was a plant, for heaven's sake.
"Doctor, you're never taking me to the West End again," was all Charley had to say on the matter when they finally got back to the TARDIS.
They went to see Phantom of the Opera the very next day as the Doctor tried to convince his pessimistic companion that it wasn't always like this, and was greeted with a man who the Doctor idly commented looked like Mel Gibson and was constantly and inexplicably bursting into flame at the most inopportune moments as he tried to kill the actor playing Raoul for being such a bloody fop. He also tried to take over the world with a spork, failed, and resorted to committing original sins like poking badgers with spoons.
The Doctor decided that he should avoid theatrical plays for a while, especially musicals.
The Eighth Doctor
Doctor Who
1089 words
The English like eccentrics. They just don't like them living next door - Julian Clary
"Doctor, what is that awful music coming from the TARDIS?" was Charley's first question when she entered a console room that was practically vibrating with sound.
The Doctor looked up distractedly from where he was working at the controls. "What did you say, Charley?"
"What the hell is this music?"
"Oh!" He seemed to brighten at the mention of it. "It's ABBA! Dancing Queen, to be more specific. Do you like it?"
"I might like it more if I it wasn't quite so loud."
"Mmm, yes, I agree. It is a bit noisy isn't it? I was trying to get the TARDIS to play Mozart's 25th Symphony in G minor. They used that one particularly well in Amadeus. Or Mozart's Requiem! That piece really bothers me, because I could have sworn I heard in the Lion King somewhere, but I'm sure I've got that wrong. And if I've got that wrong, it must be another movie and I can't remember which one that is." The Doctor tapped his fingers irritably on the console for a moment as he tried to remember. "In any case," he continued, "It's rather obviously not playing Mozart. Or anything close to, really."
"Can you please just turn it off?"
He didn't, instead tapping his head as though getting the most fantastic idea as he dashed around the console and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I know where we're going for our next trip!" he gushed excitedly as he just as abruptly let her go and returned to fiddling with the dials.
"Oh?" she asked, curiously. "And where's that?"
"1999, the West End! The day when Mamma Mia opens its doors to a very enthusiastic audience."
***
No matter how they tried, the audience just wasn't as enthusiastic as the very unhappy vegetables that were trying take over the world.
"Stop!" shrieked a man, who looked so terribly ordinary that people were tempted to fall asleep just looking at him. "I," he said in a loud, grand voice that utterly failed to cooperate with the rest of his profile, "Am King Asparagus from the planet of Aspari." He strode onto the stage, eliciting a murmur of confused whispers in the audience as several people followed behind him. "And we demand that you reveal to us who the father is before we proceed with our invasion plans and take over your puny little planet."
"Oh, they're not serious," muttered Charley from under her breath.
They were. Somewhere in the mob of incredibly ordinary looking people, there came a click and a whirr, and suddenly, it wasn't a mob of incredibly ordinary people on the stage, it was a rather overgrown bushel of ridiculously large asparaguses. With arms, legs... and swords. Their eyes looked as though God had been in kindergarten, glueing little googly ones into where a child would approximate the head.
Charley choked in a very undignified manner on her drink as the Doctor bounded up onto the stage, drawing the sword of a particularly green asparagus as he passed.
"Who is this to dare stand up against me?" demanded the King. "Your death shall be quick, sir, so give me your name."
"I'm the Doctor. And I'm afraid you can't take over this planet, it's doing perfectly fine on its own." He paused. "Ah, well, no, that's not particularly true, but they don't need a bunch of animated vegetables to go around making it worse."
Half of the audience seemed desperately confused, the other half seemed to think that this was part of the show, and everyone was wondering where the exits had gone.
"I challenge you, sir!" declared the Doctor. "One sword fight and to the victor go the spoils."
"Doctor, you're being over dramatic."
"I can't help it, it's a sword fight. I feel I need to be somewhat dramatic. And I'm on stage. What a coincidence is that! A sword fight, right on stage. I've never done this before!"
The girl from 1930 rolled her eyes.
"I accept your challenge!" the King cried, lunging forward unexpectedly and swiping a blade through the Doctor's cravat as the Time Lord dodged at the last moment.
Swords clashed quickly and skillfully, metal sliding against metal as they pushed each other's blades out of the way.
"Parry, parry, thrust, thrust, good!" The Doctor was clearly enjoying this, happy to put the sword fighting lessons he'd taken after the whole incident with Grayle to test. "Hee-yah!" he shouted, lunging forward.
And the King's left arm fell off.
"I win!"
"'Tis but a scratch!" the King retorted, brandishing his sword in his right hand once more anyway.
The Doctor was indignant. "A scratch!? Your arm's off!"
"He's had worse!" called an anonymous person from the audience.
"Hah! He sees. I am fine. Come again, sir!"
The Doctor did, albeit with a weary sigh. Swords flashed again.
Swish, swish, clink, clink, swish, swish, swish. Clink, clink, swish, swish, clink, clink, clink.
This time the King did manage to strike the Doctor across the middle. "A hit! What say you?"
"A touch, a touch, I do confess."
"Doctor! Time and place!"
"Sorry, habit."
Vegetable and Time Lord sprang forward once more. This time the King's right arm fell off.
"Victory is mine!"
The King kicked him in the knee.
There eventually came a point where all of the monarch's extremely nutritious limbs were disposed of ("I'll bite your legs off!") and was eventually coerced off the stage when the plant's followers agreed that yes, it was clear the fight had been won, the King was just a stubborn, tenacious little bastard.
Everyone moved back into the audience to watch the rest of the play and later piled out when it ended, giggling and dancing and singing off-key to 'Waterloo' as they all made their way to their transports. The asparaguses left on their hood blimp back to their planet, and everyone lived happily ever after. The King grew back his limbs because, well, he was a plant, for heaven's sake.
"Doctor, you're never taking me to the West End again," was all Charley had to say on the matter when they finally got back to the TARDIS.
They went to see Phantom of the Opera the very next day as the Doctor tried to convince his pessimistic companion that it wasn't always like this, and was greeted with a man who the Doctor idly commented looked like Mel Gibson and was constantly and inexplicably bursting into flame at the most inopportune moments as he tried to kill the actor playing Raoul for being such a bloody fop. He also tried to take over the world with a spork, failed, and resorted to committing original sins like poking badgers with spoons.
The Doctor decided that he should avoid theatrical plays for a while, especially musicals.
The Eighth Doctor
Doctor Who
1089 words