Womble has managed to get himself in trouble, again. As much as the phrase makes me want to punch myself, I’m seriously starting to think I can’t take him anywhere.
I was even following the little hoarder and we’re still on the business end of an attack. Thirty minutes I gave him. All he took was five.
The fact that he’s royally pissed off archaeologists is a laugh though. Considering Lanipus, I’ve begun wondering if he has an irrational hatred of those that dig. Possibly something to do with those planetary scars he zoned out about. Still, I’m not too concerned this time. No insanity masks, no flapping long coat sprint. Just some home brand negotiation.
I managed to drag Womble away from a five-man group of claustrophobic Martian archaeologists – oh my life – and give him a TARDIS key of his own. Should’ve been a bigger ceremony; bit difficult with a five-strong pack of historians who have just switched their spade and pickaxe stances from ‘passive’ to ‘threatening’. I tell him it’s got enough psychic energies to lead him back to the box. “Oh, and put the kettle on.”
He moves off, throwing and catching the key one-handed. I turn back to the disgruntled diggers. “Gentlemen. What’s all this about? Threatening a foreign traveller? How very disappointing”(that times haven’t changed much). Their leader – an aged man who caused me great surprise that he was able to wield a spade in such a way – argued that Womble had disproved their field of research.
“He’s got a point,” I argue. “You see guys, we’re time travellers. Where you try to read an incomplete history book, I’m already set with the full printed works, highlighted pages and three web pages of crib notes. You, my good sirs, are as obsolete as a flightless Dalek.” I didn’t aim for the Smug Look, but I think I got there anyway.
Shovels aren’t the most visually stunning of objects from any angle, least of all when you’re watching one come at your head…now everything looks red. Tastes red too. Not a great flavour. Always preferred blue.
All sense, instincts and reflexes have taken a holiday. “Help” doesn’t sound as effective out loud. More like “herrrrrrllll.” I’ll try thinking it. Maybe Womble will pick up on it. Because that pickaxe is looking mighty close right now…