Special Gorengal Inspired Drabble
A little longer than a real drabble (a mega-drabble), totally inspired by your last post. Hope that's OK! (Hope it's as funny as your story was...)
“Cake?”
“Not one word,” Donna warned, waggling the fork at the Doctor like a mini-trident. “After what I went through today, I deserve a reward. Besides, I’m sure all that running burnt up more than enough calories.”
The Doctor wobbled the green globes of the console. “I thought you liked running.”
“Not all bleedin’ day! And not with great big shark-headed people chasing me.”
The Doctor shrugged, went back to navigational computations, or playing alien Wii, or whatever it was that he did when he fiddled with all the things on the panels. Donna sat in the chair, savoring her richly iced cake in delicate nibbles. It was the last leftover from her birthday; she wanted to make it last.
But the more she thought about it, the more she felt guilty for snapping at the Doctor. It hadn’t really been the Doctor’s fault the Brucians decided they were enemy invaders. She’d been the one who punched the guy who patted her bottom with his big fin. Of course, how was she to know that was a declaration of war in their culture? Maybe she did need to learn to control her temper. Or maybe the Doctor should do a better job of debriefing her on local customs, give her a little book of ‘dos and don’ts’ like a travel agency would.
Perhaps she just needed to forget about the whole thing. She glanced up. The Doctor looked like a kicked puppy. Even his hair looked dejected.
“Doctor.”
“Hmmmm?”
“Here.” Food was always the best peace offering, and it didn’t get any better than her slice of cake. “Have some.”
“I’m not much on vanilla.”
“Oh, come on,” she coaxed. “Just a bite.” She rose, offering him the plate and the fork. “Friends?”
A little smile bubbled up as he took it. “Friends,” he repeated, accepting the dish and utensil. At just that moment, something on the panel beeped. Still carrying the cake, he scooted around behind the glowing cylinder to check on it.
“Trouble?” Donna asked, thinking (not for the first time) that the Doctor really should install seat belts on his flight chair. She still had bruises from their last unexpected turbulence.
“Nmmmm.” It sounded like he had a mouthful of cake. “Just…hhmmmm…little reconfiguration needed. There. Back on course.”
“So where are we headed?”
“Mmmmmmm.” That was definitely more cake savoring sound. He must like vanilla more than he thinks he does, Donna decided. “I’m thinking we can pop in and witness Queen Elizabeth’s coronation.”
“The 1950s? Doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“No, no, the first Queen Elizabeth’s. Been there, done that for the other one.” Donna heard a mischievous chuckle. “Bound to be something interesting in the 16th century.”
“Sounds like fun,” Donna said, determined to show that she was game for anything. And what real harm could come out of watching a 1500s parade? “I’ve always wanted to wear one of those ruffs.”
“Brilliant! I’ll plug in the dates---and thank you, that was delicious.”
He swung around the console, tossed the plate back to her. She was relieved to note that there was still some cake left. Most of it in fact.
Then she saw was what missing.
“You ate the rose! And all the icing!”
He turned, still sucking a finger. “Yes, it was very good, thank you.”
“All the...that’s the best part.”
“Of course it is. Donna…...why are you looking at me like…....now Donna, watch your temper. Not good for your blood pressure to...…Donna...…Donna…..OWWWW!”
**
An hour later, when he was still pulling cake and smeared remains of icing out of his hair, the Doctor decided that even after 900 years, he still didn’t understand women and he probably never would.
“Cake?”
“Not one word,” Donna warned, waggling the fork at the Doctor like a mini-trident. “After what I went through today, I deserve a reward. Besides, I’m sure all that running burnt up more than enough calories.”
The Doctor wobbled the green globes of the console. “I thought you liked running.”
“Not all bleedin’ day! And not with great big shark-headed people chasing me.”
The Doctor shrugged, went back to navigational computations, or playing alien Wii, or whatever it was that he did when he fiddled with all the things on the panels. Donna sat in the chair, savoring her richly iced cake in delicate nibbles. It was the last leftover from her birthday; she wanted to make it last.
But the more she thought about it, the more she felt guilty for snapping at the Doctor. It hadn’t really been the Doctor’s fault the Brucians decided they were enemy invaders. She’d been the one who punched the guy who patted her bottom with his big fin. Of course, how was she to know that was a declaration of war in their culture? Maybe she did need to learn to control her temper. Or maybe the Doctor should do a better job of debriefing her on local customs, give her a little book of ‘dos and don’ts’ like a travel agency would.
Perhaps she just needed to forget about the whole thing. She glanced up. The Doctor looked like a kicked puppy. Even his hair looked dejected.
“Doctor.”
“Hmmmm?”
“Here.” Food was always the best peace offering, and it didn’t get any better than her slice of cake. “Have some.”
“I’m not much on vanilla.”
“Oh, come on,” she coaxed. “Just a bite.” She rose, offering him the plate and the fork. “Friends?”
A little smile bubbled up as he took it. “Friends,” he repeated, accepting the dish and utensil. At just that moment, something on the panel beeped. Still carrying the cake, he scooted around behind the glowing cylinder to check on it.
“Trouble?” Donna asked, thinking (not for the first time) that the Doctor really should install seat belts on his flight chair. She still had bruises from their last unexpected turbulence.
“Nmmmm.” It sounded like he had a mouthful of cake. “Just…hhmmmm…little reconfiguration needed. There. Back on course.”
“So where are we headed?”
“Mmmmmmm.” That was definitely more cake savoring sound. He must like vanilla more than he thinks he does, Donna decided. “I’m thinking we can pop in and witness Queen Elizabeth’s coronation.”
“The 1950s? Doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“No, no, the first Queen Elizabeth’s. Been there, done that for the other one.” Donna heard a mischievous chuckle. “Bound to be something interesting in the 16th century.”
“Sounds like fun,” Donna said, determined to show that she was game for anything. And what real harm could come out of watching a 1500s parade? “I’ve always wanted to wear one of those ruffs.”
“Brilliant! I’ll plug in the dates---and thank you, that was delicious.”
He swung around the console, tossed the plate back to her. She was relieved to note that there was still some cake left. Most of it in fact.
Then she saw was what missing.
“You ate the rose! And all the icing!”
He turned, still sucking a finger. “Yes, it was very good, thank you.”
“All the...that’s the best part.”
“Of course it is. Donna…...why are you looking at me like…....now Donna, watch your temper. Not good for your blood pressure to...…Donna...…Donna…..OWWWW!”
**
An hour later, when he was still pulling cake and smeared remains of icing out of his hair, the Doctor decided that even after 900 years, he still didn’t understand women and he probably never would.