I have been summoned...

DAY 11

Everybody knows that everybody dies, but nobody knows it quite like dead people.
- The Ominous

The potatoes fell, clinging to each other. “Don't worry Freddy, we'll get through this! I hear sand is soft!”
“It's not me that's worrying, darling. We're potatoes! It's kind of hard to kill us!”
“You're one to talk, don't you remember the French Fry incident! And your poor little sister...”
“That's not my fault! She was the one who wanted to see the world! Adventure and glory, she said! Death by McDonalds, I said!”
“You can't blame McDonalds for every French Fry incident!”
“Sure I can!”
The potatoes continued to fall.

*  *  *

By a strange coincidence, the day that I crashed in the middle of a strange desert was also the one and only day that said desert ever had a rainstorm. It's possible that this was due to the fact that we had never gotten back to that giraffe on the subject of our hostage weather...

Drops of H2O hit my deck as I made a quick and uncontrolled descent towards the ground. In other words, I was falling and it was raining on me. And the CBers were still partying with no idea of what was happening. It must have been a pretty good party for them not to notice the increasingly sharp slant of my deck as my nose tilted towards the ground and I rolled slightly to the side.

However, two other people aboard me did notice...

Aldo ran to pack his suitcase.

Inspector Scotty ran after him. “What about the old saying, women and children first! Shouldn't we alert the Chatterboxers?”

“Who cares about the old saying, this is an emergency! I say every man for himself, so goodbye!”

Aldo ran up one of my numerous flights of stairs, lugging his suitcase behind him. The Inspector followed quickly. “I thought you were part of the ship's staff! Isn't the cook supposed to go down with the ship?”

“Nobody does that anymore, that would just be stupid! 'Run away to live another day', that's my motto! And stop following me!”

“We just happen to be going in the same direction! Anyways, you might be alive, but then you'll never get your paycheck!”

“Oh, fine! But what's the point of money if you're dead?”

“Oh. Well, I guess you have a point there...”

By this time they had gotten up to my slippery deck, and Aldo grabbed an inflatable lifeboat and started pumping it up. As soon as it was inflated, Aldo tossed his suitcase in and then lowered it over the side. The Inspector stared at Aldo as if he was crazy. “Er... What's the point in that? You'll just fall faster! It's not like that lifeboat can fly!”

Aldo grinned. “That's what you think!” He grabbed the rope attached to the front of the lifeboat, looped it around the railing, and jumped over the side into the boat. The Inspector looked at him dubiously, but he could see that the lifeboat would cushion their fall more than the RMS Tiny. Plus it was already floating. So he jumped in with Aldo, who snapped, “Oy! I said every man for himself!”

“Well, there's no point wasting another lifeboat!”

“The point would be that we would be in separate lifeboats!”

The Inspector stared hard at Aldo.

Aldo sighed. “Fine, but you're rowing.” He threw the oars at the Inspector.

*  *  *

The CBers were having a great time. Music was blaring, pies were being thrown, in fact, the only thing that seemed slightly amiss was that the door was on the floor. And I'm not saying that just because it happens to rhyme. Also, what was now the ceiling, but which had probably been a wall fairly recently, had a very large hole in it. But apart from that, it was adjusting well to its new job.

*  *  *

In a spray of wet sand and bits of potato skin, the potatoes landed. Freddy brushed himself off, picked his dented bowler hat up off the ground – nevermind that he had no arms – and put it on. “Jane? Jane, are you alright?” Freddy looked around frantically, and then spotted the other potato. “Oh, there you are!” He offered a nonexistent hand, and Jane pulled herself up and straightened her shawl – again with hands that definitely weren't there. Thunder boomed, and the rain came down faster.

The two potatoes, shaken and, bruised yet alive, looked around at the vast desert. It was quite a surprise, for up until a few minutes ago, all they had ever seen of the world was a potato plantation in New Orleans, until that fatal Friday when they'd been brutally kidnapped and stuffed into a sack filled with other potatoes. “I wonder where the others could have fallen?” Jane asked, trembling. She drew her shawl closer to keep out the rain.

A few moments later, Freddy spotted the others, sitting on top of a nearby dune, huddled around a smoking campfire, singing a melancholy tune with their nonexistent mouths. One of the potatoes was playing a banjo – nevermind  that he didn't have arms either.

Freddy and Jane began running towards them – don't worry about the fact that they had no legs – hollering and waving their nonexistent arms.

One of the potatoes on the dune spotted them, and yelled, “There you are! Come on, we've got a pot of coffee brewing!” The other potatoes turned to look, and they all started grinning and waving, their faces lit up with joy. That didn't last long.

A shadow, darker than the clouds above, fell over them, and they all looked upwards with apprehension. A dark shape from above had blotted out the faint sunlight, and it was getting larger. A few of the more nervous potatoes screamed. The potato with the banjo threw it away and yelled, “THE END IS NIGH!” The earth began to shake, and a whistling sound filled the air.

Freddy and Jane, still more than 20 feet away from the other potatoes, watched in horror as the giant, vaguely ship-shaped, object fell from the sky.

...

...

WHUMP!!!!

Wet sand flew through the air, burying Freddy and Jane up to their necks – nevermind that they had no necks. A small desert mouse squeaked and hid behind the nearest cactus.

Slowly, the sand cleared, revealing the gigantic hull of a ship. The only clue that the other potatoes had been sitting on that dune a few moments before was a banjo string, stuck to the side of the ship with a bit of mashed potato.

*  *  *

The CBers hit the floor, this time not in a breakdancing maneuver. At that moment, my emergency protocol finally decided to kick in:

“We are currently crashing. Please do not panic, your tickets will be refunded upon death. The inflatable lifeboats are located on the starboard side of the deck. If you wish to have a drink before you die, you will find a champagne bottle filled with mountain dew on the same side of the deck. If by any chance people have poked pins in the lifeboats, the drink will have to suffice. Thank you for your attention. Now you may panic.”

The CBers lay on the floor, dazed from the impact of the crash.

“Is everybody okay?” George ran into what used to be the ballroom, carrying a stretcher and a giant first aid kit overflowing with bandages. Glennis followed him closely, picking up the bits of gauze that fell to the floor.

“George, where have you been?” Curio asked, standing up, shaky but intact.

“Oh, uh... I was busy with stuff in other parts of the ship, but no time for explanations, look, I think Brookeira needs medical attention!” And it was true. By some strange chance of probability, Brookeira had fallen onto the very pie that her alter ego had thrown at the beginning of The Great Destruction, and it looked like she was unconscious. This, historians agree, is the exact moment when The Great Destruction ended, and the Year of the Well-Seasoned Panda began, according to the Globulous Bubblefish calendar.

George and Glennis rushed over to Brookeira. “Quick, turn her over! She may have inhaled some of the pie filling!” Curio, Everinne, Bookbug, Winter Firefly, and Madeline rolled Brookeira over.

Her face was a ghastly blue colour. Glennis shrieked, “She's been poisoned!” and then fainted to the floor.

George shook his head. “It's just blueberry pie on her face. The real problem is if she's inhaled it, then she might have piemonia! It's like pneumonia, when there's water in your lungs, but with pie instead of water.”

Suddenly, Brookeira began coughing, and then opened her eyes. “What... who turned out... the lights...?”

As if on cue, someone turned out the lights. Everyone looked around to see who had done it, but it was too dark, so that didn't work. While the other CBers looked for the lightswitch, Brookeira gazed unseeingly into the dark. Suddenly, a glowing black (haven't you ever heard of flourescent black? No? Well, you'll just have to take my word for it then...) anyways, a glowing, black apparition appeared in front of Brookeira. Cloaked in darkness, the figure was so thin it could almost have been called... skeletal... and it appeared to be holding a large agricultural instrument. It bent down over Brookeira and surveyed her disapprovingly.

“HMMM. HOW DO I PUT THIS? I SUPPOSE SAYING 'YOU'RE DEAD NOW' WOULD BE THE MOST DIRECT APPROACH.”

Brookeira panicked and did nothing, but luckily Masked Piester was not the sort to panic when face-to-face with something that must have been Death. Taking over control, MP grabbed the pie that she had apparently just drowned in, and threw it at the apparition. It was a perfect shot! And it didn't hurt that some flaming Brussels Sprouts had landed on top of the pie just a few minutes before she'd thrown it.

“Ha! Take that, Death!”

“GOOD SHOT. BUT THAT DOESN'T ALTER ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR CURRENT SITUATION. IF YOU PLEASE...” Death held out a hand that could very definitely be described as skeletal.

*  *  *
END OF DAY 11, PART 1

DAY 11, PART 2

*  *  *

A few minutes later, the CBers found the lightswitch. When they turned back to Brookeira/Masked Piester, she wasn't there. Neither was the apparition, although the CBers didn't care about that, because they hadn't know that it was there in the first place...

*  *  *

After a brief half-hour of mourning, the remaining CBers went up to the deck to see where I had crashed. The rainstorm had ended 20 minutes through the mourning period, so the CBers blinked in the sunlight. The CBers looked asquare – a welcome difference from always looking around. There was nothing but sand, and sand, and more sand, and a cactus, and some more sand, and just a bit more sand, and two potatoes, and a little bit more sand. Oh, and look! Off in the distance . . . sand!

Winter Firefly looked around, confused. “Hey guys, can anyone else hear that 'aaaaaaitsallyourfaaaaaaaaaultaaaaaaa' noise?”

Curio looked at Winter Firefly oddly. “No...”

Bookbug held her hand up to shade her eyes, and peered at the horizon. “Hey, there's something falling, off in the distance! It's yellow, and faintly boat-shaped!”

A faint whistling noise reached the CBers ears.

Madeline yelled, “Oh no, the sky is falling! THE SKY IS FALLING!”

A little red chicken, who just happened to be wandering around my deck, looked at Madeline with a perturbed expression. “That's my line, miss! My lawyer shall see you in court...” With a pop, the hen disappeared.

Madeline looked embarrassed. “Oh, okay... It just seemed the right thing to say...”

Bookbug yelled, “Hey look, it's landing!”

All the CBers looked over, just in time to see a spray of sand – like an atomic desert fountain mushroom cloud – erupt from the horizon.

*  *  *

Aldo and The Inspector dug themselves out of the hot sand, and peered at the still intact lifeboat. “Well this is a pretty kettle of fish! You said it would fly! I can't believe I believed you.”

“And it did fly!” Aldo said indignantly.

The Inspector snapped, “...until it hit the ground!”

Aldo looked as if he was trying to explain a complicated mathematical formula to a two-year-old. “No, that was just a very fast landing!” He brushed himself off and pulled the lifeboat upright. “And it does what it says on the label – it survived! Now any other lifeboat, it would have exploded like a flimsy balloon. But this darling, it can survive a good landing, it can!”

The Inspector ignored Aldo. “We were in free-fall! I could have died! And now we're stuck in the middle of a desert!”

Aldo climbed into the lifeboat and tossed an oar to Inspector Scotty. “But you didn't die, did you? Now be a good man and help with the rowing.”

The Inspector grumbled and climbed into the lifeboat. He looked at the oars dubiously. “Do you really think we can row through sand?”

*  *  *

The CBers stared as the two humanoid blobs attempted to manoeuvre the yellow blob. “Do you think we should help them?” Everinne asked.

“Maybe... but that's a lot of walking.” Winter Firefly said.

“I'm sure we can make it!” Curio said.

George came up from below decks and slapped Curio on the back. “I like your positive attitude! It's about time you CBers got off this ship for a bit – you've been cooped up here for too long. Why don't we make it an adventure – I'll get Glennis to pack some food, and I think I may have an old pair of seven-league boots somewhere!”

Bookbug grinned. “Alright, sounds like a good idea! Any objections?”

And so they set off, with their packs full of food, and Madeline running ahead with the seven-league boots, because they just so happened to fit her perfectly.

*  *  *

Inspector Scotty did his finest rowing stroke. He had learned it in Oxford, where all the finest rowers go. This particular stroke had helped him to win many a fine race! The Inspector felt scertain that it would move them at least another three yards.

The boat moved two inches forward.

Aldo grinned. “Keep going! I can see the end of the desert already!”

*  *  *

Madeline surveyed the desert around her, then turned to report back to the rest of the CBers. She liked the feel of the seven-league boots, they were very comfortable, and it was fun to walk so far so easily. She also liked the nifty cookie compartment. The cookies were magical, because the more of them you ate, the less there were. They were very exceptional magical cookies – the only magical cookies that actually have no magical effect!

Madeline munched on a cookie, and took one step. A cactus appeared before her. She frowned. It hadn't been there when she had passed by earlier – and where were the other CBers?

There was a flash of movement in the corner of her eye, but when she turn to look, there was nothing. She turned back to the cactus. There, sitting on the warm sand in front of the cactus, with its eyes wide, its ears long and floppy, and its nose twitching curiously, was a cute little rabbit. The only thing out of the ordinary about this rabbit was the mysterious way in which it had appeared, and the small matter of its hot-pink fur. The thought that it looked like it was from another universe fleetingly crossed Madeline's mind.

She bent down and held out a cookie. “Hello, cutie! You look hungry, wanna cookie?”

The bunny looked at the cookie. The bunny looked at her. Its nose twitched.

RAAAWWWRRR!

There was a flash of movement, and the rabbit jumped for her neck.

As the narrator, I believe this is an appropriate moment to apply my No-Gore Teleporters – usually they work on their own, but they've been a bit finickity lately...

As the bright light of my No-Gore Teleporters cleared, a cookie lay in the sand, undisturbed beside an empty pair of seven-league boots.

Two hands came down and picked up the boots. A voice muttered, “Why does this keep on happening?”

*  *  *

The remaining four CBers struggled on through the sand – one of them carried in her pack two pairs of strange-looking leather boots. Wind whipped sand in their faces, and it was almost dark. Madeline had not returned, and nobody was sure which way they were going anymore. Finally, Curio sat down. “I can't go any further. We should stop and set up camp for the night.”

Twenty minutes later, four girls sat huddled in their makeshift tent. The sand howled outside, and they nibbled on some cookies, which had inexplicably been in someone's pack. They all knew in their hearts that one of them was the murderer, and that Madeline, like Brookeira, Forrest, Amy L, and all the rest, probably wouldn't be coming back. But at that moment, they were just trying to survive. No one else would die that day.

Rest In Peace, Masked Piester/Brookeira and Madeline. Rest In Peace.

END OF DAY 11

*In a gothic chant * Top.....

* Gothic style chant * Top!!!

TOP

DAY 12

The earth is actually a golf ball whirling through outer space, and those earthquakes? That's the gods shouting “Fore!” In another few millenium, we'll reach the hole. Let's hope the gods are bad at golf.
- The Ominous

Early the next morning, Aldo and Inspector Scotty finally reached me. They pulled themselves on board, but it seemed like there was no one around, for George was in my engine room, trying to see what had gone wrong, and wondering where his second pair of seven-league boots had got to.

Inspector Scotty collapsed on my deck. “If it weren't for my Oxford rowing stroke, we wouldn't have gotten here at all! I hold you fully accountable for this entire ridiculous journey, and intend to take full legal action!”

Aldo hauled himself over the side of the lifeboat. “There's nothing at all to be upset about! We took a lifeboat off the ship – a reasonable precaution – had a perfect landing, took a brisk row through the desert, and happened upon the wreckage of the RMS Tiny. Clearly, everyone else died in the impact – you should thank me for getting you off when I did – and we can now take what we want and sell it as scrap metal! We'll be rich!” He grinned, and tried to pull off one of my railings before knocking himself out on it and collapsing. His face was completely red and sunburnt.

Inspector Scotty groaned and muttered, “Sunstroke. The man is obviously mad.” Before passing out himself.

*  *  *

Out in the desert, Everinne's eyes snapped open. She brushed cookie crumbs off of her shirt, and then crawled out of their makeshift tent. The sun was rising, and by its light she could see that their shelter had been nearly buried in sand. “Come on everyone, wake up! We should get an early start if we don't want to walk in the midday heat!”

Curio, her bag already packed, came blinking out into the sun. She yawned. “I don't think we'll be able to find those people. We should head back while we still can. After all, our priority is to keep everyone alive.”

Bookbug crawled out, book in hand. “Do we have to go? I was just getting to the best part!”

Winter Firefly stretched, and then grabbed her pack. It was oddly heavy, but she didn't notice. “Curio and Everinne are right. We should get going.”

Together, the CBers dismantled their tent, and began walking in what they hoped was the right direction.

They walked for a long time, and all the while the sun got higher and the air got hotter, until it was almost unbearable.

Everinne sat down in the shade of a sand dune. “We should rest. Does anyone have any water?”

Curio opened her pack and handed her waterbottle to Everinne.

Bookbug threw herself into the sand and continued reading her book. It was about an ocean adventure, with lots of swashbuckling and mythological creatures.

Winter Firefly scanned the horizon, looking for anything that could be me. Then she looked down. Right by her feet, there was a huge pawprint in the sand. She gulped. “Guys... come look at this...”

Bookbug heaved her pack up and went over to Winter Firefly. “What is it?”

Winter Firefly pointed at the pawprint.

Sand shifted in the dune behind Everinne and Curio, and they scrambled away from it. A low panting noise filled the air, and then the dune shook, spraying sand everywhere. From out of the dusty air, a huge dog grinned down at them. With all three heads.

Bookbug took a step back. “It's . . . it's Cerberus!”

Everinne gasped. “Shouldn't he be, you know, in the underworld?”

Winter Firefly shrugged. “Maybe he's on vacation?”

“Or maybe somebody let him out?” Curio suggested, her voice trembling.

“But who?” asked Bookbug.

Cerberus sniffed the air, tongues lolling. “WOOF.” All three heads turned to Winter Firefly, sniffing her all over. She stood still in terror. The others watched, helpless. Cerberus nudged Winter Firefly's backpack, and then lay down and rolled on his back. All six eyes looked up at her pleadingly. Winter Firefly frowned, confused. “Is there something in my pack that you want?”

“WOOF.”

She took off her pack and dumped out its contents. “What the-?” Kibble poured out onto the sand.

One of the other three CBers didn't look quite as surprised as the rest.

Cerberus jumped up and started munching the food, barking joyfully.

Curio raised an eyebrow. “For the guardian of the underworld, he doesn't seem so scary.”

Cerberus licked up the last of the dog food, and lifted his heads towards Winter Firefly. “WOOF?”

Bookbug suddenly started flipping through her book, “We should be careful... There's something in here, I don't remember what...”

Curio said, “It can't be that important if you don't remember it.”

A lightbulb appeared above Everinne's head. “Hey, maybe we can get him to lead us back to the ship! Does anyone have something that smells like RMS Tiny?”

Winter Firefly looked at Cerberus apologetically. “Sorry boy. I don't even know how that dog food got there.”

Cerberus shook his three heads, as if to say Oh well, that's alright. You're still my friend! And then he nuzzled Winter Firefly with his heads, almost pushing her over. She laughed, and said “I think he thinks he's a lapdog! Down, boy! You're too big for me.”

Bookbug stopped at a page.

Cerberus sat down, looking at her with huge eyes. Then he leaned towards Winter Firefly, panting happily. “WOOF!” And then...

SSSSSSLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP!

Slobber and drool covered Winter Firefly from head to toe. “Aaaw! You big cutie!”

Boookbug looked up. “Wait- NOOOOO!”

The slobber and drool began to hiss. Cerberus looked down at Winter Firefly, surprised, and whined. It was like he was saying, Oops...

Winter Firefly disintegrated, just as my No-Gore Teleporters reached her.

A lightbulb fell to the sand and shattered.

*  *  *

George looked at my starboard engine. It was a bulky, complex, finely-tuned multi-dimensional mechanical wonder. George brought out a hammer. Actually, it might be more correct to say that the hammer brought out George, it was so huge. George grasped the handle with both hands. “I hope this works...” he muttered. For those of you who have an interest in eccentric hammers, inscribed in gold on the handle of this particular hammer were the words, “Made by Brokkr and Sindri Ltd. Inc., Nidavellir. If found, please return to Thor, Thor's House, Asgard. Don't disturb the goats.”

George raised the hammer over his head, grunting from the effort, and then brought it down in a graceful arc of pure ox-crushing power. BAM! Dust flew, the force turning it into temporary hail. Smoke and steam gushed from the pipes. The needle on the improbability gauge spun crazily. The warp drive hummed angrily. The flux capacitor exploded.

Somewhere in England in 1653, Oliver Cromwell tripped on a small pile of sand.

On the estates of Liddell in 1859, a little girl named Alice was surprised by a pink rabbit in a blue pullover falling from the sky. It had a Rolex watch strapped to a forepaw.

In Notre Dame in 1499, a group of men dressed in red threw open the great doors and yelled into the empty church, “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

George coughed and blinked as the air cleared. There, sitting on a comfortable twist of pipe in the middle of the engines, was a lanky man dressed in a dapper suit of silvery grey, with a rust-coloured tie. He had a little curly moustache and a small goatee, and he looked rather old. He and George stared at each other, surprised. The man coughed, and a bit of steam came out. George found his voice, “Who? What? Who are you?”

“Me? I think...” The man spoke with a thick Italian accent. “...I am. How shall I put this? The force of that hammer blow was so strong, it jogged my sentience from its abode, and created a new body for me.” The man tugged at his sleeves, which were a tad short. “It's a bit odd, but at least I can now tell you everything you've been doing wrong!”

*  *  *

The CBers blinked as the bright white light of my teleporters dissipated. Cerberus whimpered, his six eyes, each the size of a DVD, filling with tears. The CBers backed away from him. Bookbug whispered, “I knew there was something we had to be careful of! It was such a small detail – if only I'd remembered in time...”

Everinne gulped. “What is it?”

“Cerberus has acidic slobber.” Bookbug sniffed.  “Poor Winter Firefly.”

Curio nodded. “And poor Cerberus! Look at him, it seems like he's sad – I don't think he meant to kill her...”

Cerberus turned to them, tail between his legs, and sniffed the air. Then he turned in a circle, sniffing all the while – and then jumped over the next sand dune. “WOOF.”

Bookbug stared. “I think he wants us to follow him.”

Everinne said, “But he just killed Winter Firefly! How can we trust him?”

Curio shrugged. “It's not like we know how to get back to the RMS Tiny – he might be our only hope. We don't want to stay out here and die!” She turned and walked in the direction that Cerberus had gone. Everinne and Bookbug looked at each other nervously, and then followed Curio and Cerberus.

*  *  *

The CBers walked for a long time, following Cerberus's footprints, the heat of the sun searing down on them. Every so often they would catch sight of him up ahead, but for the most part he stayed out of sight, as if he was ashamed of what he had done. They trod along, looking only at the footprints in front of them. Then, just as the sun was beginning to set, a shadow fell across the CBers. They looked up. There, not more than a hundred feet away, jutting up from the sand like a splinter in the thumb of some lenient desert god, was my stranded form.

“We're saved!” yelled Curio.

*  *  *

WOOoooOOOoooOOOoooSSShhh

Cool air wafted across the faces of the unconscious Aldo and Inspector Scotty. Inspector Scottyy opened his eyes and blinked. He looked up at a dark blue form that was fading in and out of focus. It seemed almost a like a mirage, except mirages don't usually emanate cold air, or suddenly become completely solid. With a thunk, it settled on my deck.

Inspector Scotty jumped up and shook Aldo awake. “Something more strange than usual is happening!” Aldo jumped up in surprise. “More strange than usual? Really? That's highly improbable!” Scotty pointed at the blue box. Aldo relaxed. “Oh, no, that's happened before. Random things materialize all the time. You are right that it's a bit odd, though. They've never been blue before.”

Scotty stared at the box in consternation. “What sort of things have materialized before?”

Aldo shrugged. “Oh you know, the usual. Lampposts, forests, pens that turn into swords, cans of soda, Italian diplomats, turtles with frisbees on their backs, that sort of thing.”

Inspector Scotty walked around the box. “I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. It looks like you have some sort Improbability Device onboard. You know those things are illegal, right? They can do serious damage to the fabric of the universe.”

Aldo raised his eyebrows and followed Scotty around the box. “What sort of fabric? Denim?”

“No, I've heard it's more sort of a velvet. Awfully hard to stitch though, even when one's trying to save nine.”

“Nine? What nine?”

“How should I know?” Scotty pointed at a sign on the side of the box. “Can you read what this says? I'm afraid I must have dropped my monocle in the desert.”

Aldo squinted at the sign. “P-O-L– Police T-E-L-E – telephone. A bunch of squiggles, and then P-U-L – pull T – to O-P-E open. Pull to open!”

As if on cue, the door swung open. Inspector Scotty jumped in surprise. Aldo found himself staring into the intense face of an old man with dangerous-looking eyebrows. “Clara?”

Aldo shook his head. “No, I'm afraid I don't know any Clara.”

The man stared at him. “Are you sure?” He pulled a glowing stick out of a pocket and stuck it in Aldo's face.

Aldo looked at it, his eyes crossing with the attempt. “Er, yes, I'm fairly sure.”

The man looked around. “When is this?”

Aldo looked around too. “Somewhere in the Sahara, I think.”

“No, what year!”

Scotty recovered his senses. “Sometime in October, in the Year of the Well-Seasoned Panda.”

The man frowned, his eyebrows jutting out like storm-clouds. Scotty suddenly felt like jumping overboard. From within the box, a bell rang. It sounded much further away than it should have been.

The man ducked back inside the box, leaving the door ajar. Clanging noises issued from within, and Aldo and Scotty peered inside. It was bigger on the inside, much like myself. There was a large pillar in the centre of the room, moving up and down jerkily, with control panels all around. Corridors led off to who knows where in all directions. A guitar leaned against a railing, with a frock coat hanging beside it. Aldo and Scotty hesitated, then stepped inside. The man appeared from behind the control panels, picked up his guitar, and strode over to the two men. He loomed over them. “What are you doing in my TARDIS?”

Aldo looked around. “Oh, is that what it's called? I like it!”

Scotty edged around the man, looking with interest at the controls. “I think we'll stay!”

“What? Hey! You can't do that, this is mine!”

Scotty shoved him out the door. The man landed flat on his face. “It's not your TARDIS anymore, mate!”

The man rose, his eyebrows Gandalf-esque. Aldo grabbed the guitar from his hands. “Nice guitar!” The man took out his glowing stick, but Aldo knocked him over the head with the guitar before he could do anything. Then he slammed the door and turned to Scotty, who was bent over the tray of knobs and levers, holding an instruction manual. “Have you figured out how it works?” Scotty straightened. “It's quite simple, really, all we have to do is pull this lever here.”

Aldo reached down and pulled the lever. “Kowabunga!” The lights flickered. The TARDIS rocked. A familiar whooshing noise filled the air. Aldo leaned over Scotty's shoulder and looked at the manual. “I think we need to turn off the brakes.” Scotty nodded, and pushed a button.

Outside, Glennis arrived on my deck, vacuum in hand. She took one glance at the unconscious man and the fading box, and decided it was about time she had some adventure. “Wait for me!” she shouted, and leaped towards the box. She caught it when it was still nearly solid, and clung desperately to it. As it disappeared, she disappeared too.

On my deck, the man groaned.

*  *  *

END OF DAY 12, PART 1

This top is turning into a dragonfly

and pulling this thread to the top of the sky.

to the tippity toppity top!