Chapter Three, Part Three: Yellow Girl SubmarineMature

Zzzz-crackle-zzz. 

“Hello up there? Do you have any tea left? I’m out of black oolong… and the stupid chronon bombs, they just don’t understand the need for a proper service… When I get out of here, I’m going to have to do something about…”                                                             

The Master sighs and snaps his fingers, causing the fuzzy black pussy willow arm of an old style radio show boom to elongate from the ether and up through his grasp. He clicks the on button, then speaks into the microphone, coughing for effect. 

“Idiot. Shut up. As if you’d ever get out of there without me. The blonde chit who turned herself into a TARDIS says hello, something about a Bouncy Castle and trying the other radio.” 

A short pause from the comm, and then, a soft hitch before the mast, “… did she mean the Siesta, the Admiral or the Amberola?” 

<grumble.> 

“YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW? Oh my fucking god, I’m writing my will, right now. I am! I’m writing it. I’m fucking writing my god damn will, you are the biggest moron in the history of…” 

“Hrm… definitely the Siesta… or maybe the Amberola…” 

“Gaaah! For once in your life can’t you just bloody pick one? The cake may be a lie, but you are the Troll King under the god damn bridge! PICK ONE! We only have one minute left!” 

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so?” 

“…heavens to betsy we’re all going to die if you decide to change your cravat tomorrow!” 

"Wait, wait wait, I’m running to the engine room now! I just have to check something! …what’s wrong with my cravat?” 

“Must… kill… stupid… person… and stop drumming your fingers on the console to make the running sounds!”

The End

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