TIME LORDS DON'T CRY

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Doctor seemed bored. Scratching the side of his nose, he leaned against the kitchen table and then proceeded to casually examine his fingernails.

“Yeah, yeah yeah. I’ve heard it all before, you know. From worse creatures than you lot. Cybermen. Daleks, Zygons, Nazi’s. What makes you think you’re so special, eh?” He asked, stifling a yawn.

The Doctor looked up at the armored being inside the suit, and heaved a disgusted sigh.

“I suppose you’re expecting me to be all scared or something, and run away screaming?”

Suddenly, the Doctor’s demeanor changed without warning. His face became clouded with Time Lord Thunder. He leaned forward, and got right in Uncle Tobias’ face.

“Only, I won’t, you know. The problem is, you see, is that I know all about your so-called race. You’re nothing. In a galaxy full of beauty and intelligence and wonder,” he looked down his nose at Uncle Tobias, “you’re rubbish, you lot. Nothing more than leeches on the bottom of the universe. Common everyday pests, and nothing more.”

He stepped back as Uncle Tobias threw back his head and let out mighty roar.

“Oh, dear. Did I hurt your feelings? Tsk-tsk, what a shame.” The Doctor said, his eyes dark with anger. “I didn’t think mere insects had any feelings. You just mindlessly do your damage and then move on to the next meal, not a single thought or feeling for the lives you destroy. Isn’t that how it works?”

Behind him was an old fashioned Hoosier cupboard, containing various cooking supplies. During the last couple of minutes of conversation, the Doctor had been surreptitiously been reaching behind him for some things in the cupboard. He’d grabbed a large container of vegetable oil and a small sack of flour.

Now, stepping back quickly, the Doctor threw the flour at Uncle Tobias. Then, he threw the oil over the flour. The armored creature yowled with anger, but the Doctor ignored it. He snatched up the glass kerosene lamp on the kitchen table, and threw it as hard as he could at the armor plating, shattering the globe with it’s burning wick inside. With a terrible scream, Uncle Tobias burst into flame.

The oil stuck to bits of the flour and continued to burn. The creature, screaming, retreated back into the parlor. The Doctor wasted no time. He whirled around and turned up all the knobs on the old-fashioned gas stove, then he flung open the trap door and scooted down the ladder.

“Come on Marie,” he shouted, we’ve got to get out of here. Where’s this tunnel of yours?”

Marie pointed to a large wooden shelf that took up most of a wall.

“It’s there. But the lever’s stuck. I can’t get it to move, Doctor.”

The Doctor saw a six-inch long thin piece of cast iron with a curved end stuck into the side of the shelving. It had been made to look like a hook for holding a bucket or something similar.

“You have to pull down on it, to make the cupboard swing open.” Marie panted with fear.

The Doctor pulled down with all his might, but the latch refused to budge. It was rusted closed. Upstairs, through the cracks in the trapdoor, they could smell the first tentative tendrils of smoke, as Uncle Tobias’ burning suit set the farmhouse ablaze.

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