Typically narcissistic blogging.

Doctor Who Am I Kidding?

Like every complete nerd, I watch Doctor Who. Like many American nerds, I first experienced DW when Tom Baker (that would be the Fourth Doctor, for those of you playing at home with an incomplete deck of cards) and his scarf, which ought to have gotten its own billing, were fighting Cybermen, Hornet infestations, and the Master. I was a kid, and I thought that it was pretty much the best thing I had ever seen. And I think I wished for a K-9 of my own at least once a day for a year. My mom eventually got me a dog, but the little fucker didn’t have even the slightest of British accents. Lame.

Clearly, I am not alone in this.

And like every fan of the Doctor, I wish that fantastic crazy bastard would show up, yank me into the TARDIS, and proceed to put my life and sanity in nigh perpetual danger of being lost or permanently damaged. Well, I mean, if Hollywood won’t send me a magical negro, I might as well be abducted in a space police phone box that’s bigger on the inside by a crazy 900-something-year-old nerdy and vaguely sociopathic white alien guy. Right? I mean, I’m too old for Hogwarts, and Narnia is just impossible to find without a magic wardrobe and it’s run by a judgey undead Jesus lion, anyway.

And while I’m pretending that such a thing might happen, I like to imagine how this might go. Some scenarios I have come up with:

What I imagine happening:
Cybermen attack the club while I am working. The Doctor appears and I help him defeat the incursion. I’m so fucking awesome, he invites me along for more battles against the Cybermen. I go, but I take a bunch of floor towels with me in case of spills. And a bottle of Jameson. Together, we fight future interstellar crime.

What would actually happen:
I am Whiskeypants point two. DELETE.

What I imagine happening:
Running from the Daleks, the Doctor shows up at my door and asks for a place to hide. I bring him and my cat down to the basement, where my cat proceeds to meow loudly, giving away our position. We make a dash through the back door to the TARDIS, where the Doctor and I proceed to argue about whether we can stop for a litter box. When we finally stop for one, it’s on a planet where the litter boxes are sentient. Hijinks ensue.

What would actually happen:
The Doctor appears at my door. I squee and faint. He sighs, apologizes, steps over me, grabs my cat, and finds the basement without me. I am exterrrrrrminated. My cat and the Doctor proceed to the TARDIS. 

What I imagine happening
I blink.

Seriously, how many of you wouldn’t blink? Fuck that. You know you would all fucking blink. Don’t even tell me you wouldn’t. Fucking blinkers, the lot of you.


One response

  1. The episodes “The Ark in Space” (with the wasp-like Wirrn) and “Seeds of Doom” (with the Krynoi, a sentient parasitic plant) — which, when I was watching the show as a wee lad, aired consecutively — were two of the most pants-s***tingly terrifying things I’d seen. That was some serious body horror. Parasites… Blech. *shivers*

    So, yes, that show rocked. 🙂

    July 21, 2012 at 1:51 pm

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