In honor of selenak, who'd want me to do it:
So, what was the TARDIS thinking during "The Eleventh Hour"?
New Diary, entry #1: Have finally "landed," in the loosest sense of the term, with my inner dimensions in complete disarray and baby-faced new Doctor much the same. Idiot! I could've told him holding onto all that regeneration energy as long as he did--not to mention the radiation--was going to cause spontaneous combustion all around, but does he ever listen to me? Noooo! Am completely out of countenance and on my back, and on top of that, I have about a million books to dry out now. Baby-face found a kid with a problem, so he's running off while my engines overload. Enjoy the 1990s, bub, because if you don't pay me some attention right now, that's where you're stuck.
Entry 2: Babycakes tried to do a 5-minute hop into the future. Now he's twelve years late for rendezvous with kid. Hope she's not too disappointed. I see regeneration hasn't improved driving skills. Also hope someone cracks him in head with cricket bat, the bum. I have major rebuilding to do, and he's running around in a shredded suit, all half-finished. Well, let's get cracking on the new look.
Entry 3: Oh, no, you don't, sweetcheeks! You are not coming in here with your latest bit of fluff while my console room is in this state. Oh, and by the way, if she's a police officer, I'm a public privy. What is it--hen party, or Kiss-o-Gram? Got quite the legs, that one. She and the toddler can fix own silly problems. I've got work to do.
Entry 4: Wish the idiot om-comming about incineration would shut up. Have bad enough headache as is. I fancy a new paint job. Like the blue of that front door over there--yeah, that'll do nicely.
Entry 5: Had to throw up perception filter thanks to latest invaders looking for non-Terran tech. What a bother! Splits my attention from swatches. Think a bit of a warmer tone for entryway lights--something like the sun looks now with that force field filtering it. Also, console needs complete redesign. How about steampunk? Steampunk is all the rage these days, isn't it? Will also make Junior a new sonic screwdriver, since he's barely old enough to tie own shoes. He'd better be grateful. I swear, what I put up with . . .
Entry 6: Okay, time to call back the newborn! Finally finished, and he'd better be impressed. Oh, there he is, toddling back from wherever he's been mucking about. Where'd he get those clothes? The senior center? Ah, well--whatever the incarnation, he's always so cute I'll forgive him anything. Except that coat he wore in his sixth incarnation. And he wonders why I burned it and subbed in the blue one.
Entry 7: Success! Infant loves new control room, says it's "sexy". You'd better bet your baby teeth, I'm sexy. Captain Jack would most definitely approve. Have gone back to fetch the not-policewoman, and, per usual, Doctor's driving sucks. Still, good sign he wants companion, and I think I'll like this one, who's currently giving him hell outside my doors. And is suitably awe-stricken at me. Ginger hair, cute, pushy--yeah, this one can stay. All aboard, and ready for space and time!
New Diary, entry #1: Have finally "landed," in the loosest sense of the term, with my inner dimensions in complete disarray and baby-faced new Doctor much the same. Idiot! I could've told him holding onto all that regeneration energy as long as he did--not to mention the radiation--was going to cause spontaneous combustion all around, but does he ever listen to me? Noooo! Am completely out of countenance and on my back, and on top of that, I have about a million books to dry out now. Baby-face found a kid with a problem, so he's running off while my engines overload. Enjoy the 1990s, bub, because if you don't pay me some attention right now, that's where you're stuck.
Entry 2: Babycakes tried to do a 5-minute hop into the future. Now he's twelve years late for rendezvous with kid. Hope she's not too disappointed. I see regeneration hasn't improved driving skills. Also hope someone cracks him in head with cricket bat, the bum. I have major rebuilding to do, and he's running around in a shredded suit, all half-finished. Well, let's get cracking on the new look.
Entry 3: Oh, no, you don't, sweetcheeks! You are not coming in here with your latest bit of fluff while my console room is in this state. Oh, and by the way, if she's a police officer, I'm a public privy. What is it--hen party, or Kiss-o-Gram? Got quite the legs, that one. She and the toddler can fix own silly problems. I've got work to do.
Entry 4: Wish the idiot om-comming about incineration would shut up. Have bad enough headache as is. I fancy a new paint job. Like the blue of that front door over there--yeah, that'll do nicely.
Entry 5: Had to throw up perception filter thanks to latest invaders looking for non-Terran tech. What a bother! Splits my attention from swatches. Think a bit of a warmer tone for entryway lights--something like the sun looks now with that force field filtering it. Also, console needs complete redesign. How about steampunk? Steampunk is all the rage these days, isn't it? Will also make Junior a new sonic screwdriver, since he's barely old enough to tie own shoes. He'd better be grateful. I swear, what I put up with . . .
Entry 6: Okay, time to call back the newborn! Finally finished, and he'd better be impressed. Oh, there he is, toddling back from wherever he's been mucking about. Where'd he get those clothes? The senior center? Ah, well--whatever the incarnation, he's always so cute I'll forgive him anything. Except that coat he wore in his sixth incarnation. And he wonders why I burned it and subbed in the blue one.
Entry 7: Success! Infant loves new control room, says it's "sexy". You'd better bet your baby teeth, I'm sexy. Captain Jack would most definitely approve. Have gone back to fetch the not-policewoman, and, per usual, Doctor's driving sucks. Still, good sign he wants companion, and I think I'll like this one, who's currently giving him hell outside my doors. And is suitably awe-stricken at me. Ginger hair, cute, pushy--yeah, this one can stay. All aboard, and ready for space and time!