maskormenace | video;

[ The first thing you see....is pumpkins. So many pumpkins. This house is full of pumpkins in various stages of being carved. Those who know Hazel can easily recognize this scene of mass chaos as Residence #11. However, the chalk scribbles on the wall are decidedly not hers. To start with, some of them are in a different language that looks kind of circly.

The personless scene lasts only for a moment before the Doctor scurries into frame, looking a mixture of confused and frowny. He's looking kind of magician, wearing a black coat over a black hoodie. Finally, he's holding an owl by the scruff of it's neck (can you do that with an owl? Who knows, the Doctor's doing so). Said owl is Owlfonso, the skateboarding owl that really doesn't want to be here right now and is desperately trying to peck the Doctor's fingers. ]

I want to clarify first that for once, none of this is my fault. [ except the chalk writing, which is obviously his, but that either a: goes without commenting on or b: the Doctor's forgotten it by now. also wow, that sure is a Scottish accent ] That being said- [ WHAM the camera gets a face full of owl ]

Is this normal? I mean, normal for owls. Is this how I can tell this dimension apart from my dimension? No eyepatches, no goatees, just owls that can suddenly skateboard? [ He backs poor Owlfonso away from the camera, as the Doctor's still got an expression that's pure 'what the hell is this shit' ] Well, skateboarding owls and a postponed perestroika. Spoilers, you're twenty years out of date.

[ pause, frown. The Doctor looks over at poor Owlfonso with a sort of resigned expression. ] The alternate dimension of owls and Communism. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hitting a little too close to home, huh?

I smell like old Time Lords, thank you very much.

I don't think 'dying clocks in a retirement home' is much of an improvement.

How can someone smell like a clock? Has Earth made scented clocks or something?

What, you don't know what clocks smell like? With a stupid title like that?

They smell like clocks. [ said with a SHRUG. ] Of course, this all depends on the type of clock and when it's from.

Yeah, because if they're too old they start smelling like history instead.

Anything smells like history if you leave it along long enough.

[ the sad thing with the Doctor is it's really hard to tell if he's bullshitting just to bullshit or he actually believes what he's saying.... ]

[at least with Hazel the answer doesn't really matter.]

Organic stuff generally swings back over to rot, though.

Yes, but it's historical rot!

It's just garbage.

To you, maybe. But I'm sure that other people and other beings actually have use for the rotting produce. Have you considered fruit flies?

Unless they're trapped in amber they aren't going to be history either.

But they're a part of it. Everything is part of history just like everything has a history.

Were you watching the Lifetime channel before I got home? That's awful.

What's the Lifetime channel? That's an unhelpful name.

...man, you're in for some shit when we get home.

[ who's ready for two and a half hours of the Doctor yelling at the premise of Kidnapped Into A Sex Cult because that's what you're gonna get, Hazel. ]

Suddenly I'm a bit worried.

[THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE WANTS]

What's the matter, don't think you can handle it?

Oh no, I can handle it, but the fact that you're suddenly so gung-ho about this makes me worried.

What, just because I wear a lot of black I can't get fucking excited about bonding with my new housemate?

Can't we bond in a different way though? Some sort of party game, like 'two truths and a lie' or 'you tell me why there's not any proper food in the fridge.'

I was living here first, so I get to choose the first icebreaker. If you make it through that one then you can have a go.

In that case, I'll do my best to suffer through this Lifetime Channel, whatever it is.

There you go, that's the spirit! I'll be telling lies to you in fucking no time.

[it's two truths and a lie, Hazel, not...never mind.]

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