Harry the Hamster, PG-13
Harry was a clumsy hamster, he tripped over books, shoes, even people but his owner, the Doctor, loved him and would take him everywhere, to the shops, to the library and even in the bath. Harry was so named after one of the Masters many personae, Harold Saxon and despite it being customary to be flattered… the Master was everything but.
One day, Harry fell into the blender and the Master blended him.
Harry was instantly killed.
Given the Time Lords history, it was hard to distinguish whether or not the event was an honest accident or if the hamster had been an outlet for the Masters murderous inclinations (of which he had not been able to act on, since being imprisoned in the TARDIS with his dimwitted counterpart).
But nonetheless, the Doctor was very, very sad.
The Master wasn’t as bothered, he resented the fact that he had to pay five pound a week on food and that the TARDIS smelt of hamster. Quite frankly, he was glad to be rid of him, it was better for them both if he didn’t have to compete for attention with a small, warm-blooded rodent with a less an adequate mental capacity.
“Can we bury him?” the Doctor asked miserably, having no suspicions that perhaps Harry's death wasn’t quite the accident the Master made it out to be, “…in a tiny coffin?”
A flicker of anger bubbled up in the Time Lords chest and just a bit of jealousy. When had he ever gotten a coffin? When had he been taken the shops or to the library? When was the last time the Doctor had let him into the bath with him? Furthermore, when had he ever gotten kisses and cuddles for being clumsy? He may not have tripped over people, but there had certainly been a clumsy murder or two.
“No point” the Master said abruptly, “…he’s virtually liquid, it would probably be easier to give him another couple of minutes in the blender and pour him down the sink” he observed, peering down the kitchen sink before looking back over at the Doctor nonchalantly.
The Doctor wept.
Rolling his eyes and sighing as another bout of hysterics met his ears, the Master felt he had no choice but to calm him down (and reclaim his rightful place over Harry the Hamster). “Just think,” he began, “Harry will be in Heaven now, having fun with all the other hamsters, being clumsy…” he didn’t mean a word of this and of course his insatiable appetite for the Doctor’s misery got the better of him.
“That is of course, if heaven exists - which it almost certainly doesn’t…” he watched as the last light in the Doctors eyes dissolved and let the delightful depression of his Tenth and by the far the most entertaining incarnation, take over.
“…And even if it did, there would be no reason letting in a pointless, unintelligent hamster in there that has no means of discerning right from wrong.” The Master shrugged. The hamster was truly a primitive and worthless creature and how the Doctor had managed to create such a bond with it was beyond him (and sort of disgusting, to be honest).
Yet as he seethed quietly and watched as the Doctor mourn the loss of yet another companion he was struck by how similar all his companions seemed to be these days, he couldn’t tell the hamsters from the humans. Maybe it wasn’t so far fetched that the Doctor could care for such a low life creature, he made a habit of it.
Unfortunately, the revelation bred everything but understanding, and he glared.
“So, get over it.” The Master snapped.