Chapter Eleven, Part Three: Bonito FlakesMature

“I heard about that. Something involving an alternate micro-universe created because of that irritating crack in space-time? She and her boys got stranded, wanted to play happy families by setting up illegal terraforming equipment in Venice. Mummy hit on you. What did you say?”                                             

“I said, ‘It’ll never work. I’m a Time Lord. You’re a… big fish.’ How did you know, by the way?” 

“Charming. I take it she died soon after? My my my but you have such bad luck with anyone under five hundred. And I’m not answering that.” 

“Fair enough. Of course, that timeline never happens now. The cracks are gone, along with every adverse change they affected.” 

“… do you really think that? You still remember though. That’s as adverse an effect as any. Curse of the Time Lords, blah di blah di blah. You shouldn’t brood so much. Idiot. Some of the more annoying people could have still stayed dead! You never know!” 

“Don’t be an arse. I’m saying that I’ve played the fool so long, the mask is all they see. Maybe it’s all that’s left me now. To play the fool.” 

“… don’t be an arse. Theta, you need a vacation. Shall we go annoy someone?”

The End

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