Loving the Alien: Part One

A departure from my usual ramblings. Here is a story I wrote a few years ago.


It's a Doctor Who story, written when Peter Capaldi was new in the role. I wanted to let a few more people see it, before his time is done.


It is a few 'episodes' long, so I'll be posting it in instalments. Here's part one. Hope you like it.



 Loving the Alien: A Christmas Story.






CHAPTER ONE


Christmas was ruined.


Jerome Temberley looked sadly across the exhibition hall, tears in his eyes. All around him was… debris. Broken furniture. Splattered food. Spilled wine and broken bottles. A Christmas buffet for a hundred people, devoured as if by locusts. But that wasn’t the worst part.


The exhibits had been destroyed too.


Tapestries torn in half. Statues smashed. Priceless antiques hurled at walls. Someone had drawn all over the paintings, adding their own creative ideas, many of which were obscene.


Jerome walked up to look at one particular painting. It was from Earth – from the old days. A man in a bowler hat, with an apple for a face. Except now the hat had horns and there was a felt-pen dinosaur in the background. And the apple had a little smiley face.


“Who would do such a thing?” said Jerome. And what would the guests think? They were due any minute now.



CHAPTER TWO


“Any minute now!” said the Doctor, snapping on a thin black glove. He stood, alone, by the TARDIS console, a look of feverish excitement on his face. Around him the twinkling lights of the futuristic machine pulsed and glistened.


He picked up a second glove from the console, regarding it with glee. “Any minute now you will be among the most privileged gloves in the universe. You will touch art works that no gloves have touched before.”


He snapped on the second glove and flexed his long fingers. He paused for a second, staring into space, breathing in the moment.

“And the buffet is to die for.”








CHAPTER THREE


The little monster was scared.


There were people everywhere. Many people. Certainly more than two. How many more was hard to say. Counting was never his strong point. But there were many, many legs and an awful lot of voices. They sounded like angry voices.


Then there was another noise. A strange grinding sound, like the wind but more beautiful. Some of the legs moved out of the way and cleared a space. Then, standing alone, was a new pair of legs. A long, spindly pair of legs in black trousers.


The little monster moved closer, hiding behind an overturned table to see that the New Legs were doing. Talking. Not a cross voice this time. An asking voice. Probably wondering why everyone was so cross.


New Legs walked over to the wall where all the pictures were. The little monster followed, through the sea of Other Legs, around the broken bottles and smashed statues. He nearly stepped in a puddle of trifle. For a moment, he thought about eating the trifle, but decided it was more important to see what the New Legs were doing.


The little monster ran right up to the wall and looked up, as high as he could. Towering above him, the New Legs turned into an Old Man with a crooked, exciting face. He was peering at one of the pictures, jabbing at it with Long Fingers in Big Gloves.


That was the picture the little monster had drawn on! He had stood on a chair, before everyone else had come, and used a pen and drawn a dinosaur and a brilliant face. The Crooked Man was looking at his picture!




  


CHAPTER FOUR


The tall, dark suited man continued to examine the vandalised picture, with its dinosaur and its smiling apple. Jerome Temberley hovered nervously at his shoulder.


“I’ve no idea how this happened,” stammered Jerome. “I set everything up this morning and popped out for lunch. Every alarm system was on when I got back – no-one could possibly have got in.”


The tall man turned his head, slowly, like an owl, to face him. “Someone did get in, Mr. Temberley. Someone got into one of the finest art exhibitions in the entire galaxy, destroyed every single piece of art, ate every single sandwich and then left. All without setting off a single alarm.”


“How could this have happened?” sniffed Jerome. The tall man surveyed the crowd of angry art-lovers, all milling about the hall and complaining to each other.


“The question is not how,” said the tall man. “The question is… why? Why sneak into an exhibition full of priceless art but take nothing? Why stop to eat all the food?”


“It’s a very good buffet,” suggested Jerome. “Some of the finest food and wine available to humanity.”


The tall man stared, wide eyed at the debris around him. “The best art and the best food. All… consumed,” he said. “Thank you, Mr Temberley. You’ve been very helpful.”

And with that the tall man was off, stalking through the crowd of disgruntled art lovers, disappearing into the mass of pretentious suits and hats.





CHAPTER FIVE



The Doctor slammed the TARDIS door behind him and strode up to the control console. He tore off the black gloves and hurled them onto the controls. With the dextrous fingers of one hand he tapped out a sequence of numbers onto the keys.


“Someone who likes the best art in the universe but only wants to destroy it. Someone who appreciates fine food and wine, but eats so much they must surely be sick as a result...”


The Doctor stalked around the console, flicking switches without looking, his eyes staring into space.


“If I was that person… where would I go next?”






 “MEEP.”


The Doctor stopped. Looked round. He was alone among the girders and bookcases of the control room. He looked down at the console.


“Did you do that? Do you go meep now?”


Silence.


The Doctor stared at the console for a second, shrugged and continued to pace.


“Who hates beauty? Who wants to destroy wonderful things..?”


His eyes lit up. He punches in a combination of commands on the console. “Of course…”


“MEEP.”


He stopped. Narrowed his eyes and peered into the darkness at the edges of the room. Was there something in the shadows..?


“Hello,” he said gently, crouching down and reaching for his sonic screwdriver. “It’s alright, you can come out.”


Something moved in the darkness. Something small. Something white. The Doctor moved forwards, very slowly.


“Are you trying to talk to me?”


“MEEP!”


“Yes, yes you are. Try again. This machine,” he gestured around him to indicate the TARDIS, “…will help me understand you.”


The little white shape in the darkness came a little closer. It was small – not much bigger than the apple in the painting. And like the apple, it had a little, smiling face. Its mouth opened.


“HELLO!” it squeaked.


A cracked smile broke across The Doctor’s face. “That’s it! Yes, hello. Hello. I’m the Doctor. Who are you?”


“HELLO!” squeaked the shape, waddling forward out of the darkness. It was a small, white blob of fat, with tiny legs and tiny arms sprouting from its sides. Its face was in the centre of its body – just two big black eyes and a wonky little mouth.


“An Adipose!” exclaimed the Doctor. “An Adipose on my TARDIS!”


“HELLO!” said the Adipose, hopping up to the Doctor and staring into his eyes. “I AM FLIMBLEBY!”


 


 END OF EPISODE ONE






Click here for Episode Two