DOCTOR WHO AND AN UNRULY CHILD

CHAPTER 6
The Knave of Skills


 There was a moment of tense silence.  It was really quiet.  Ever been at 
family reunion and had you're Uncle Harrold finally come out of the closet?
That's how silent it was.
 
 Dave saw that his leadership was really getting shot to hell.  He was 
not a very bright fellow and couldn't use words cunnlingly as Kevin could.
Dave couldn't even use the WORD cunningly.  Kevin used his words to cloud
the minds of the Commune.  Much like the guy who always promises free
beer "next Saturday" but that mythical "next Saturday" never seems to come.
Dave had one advantage.  Dave was a kill crazy maniac.

 Grasping his axe Dave poised himself to spring.  He'd lop off their heads
while kicking them in the groin and screaming "Hallelujah".

 Suddenly Hur shouted, "The creature has opened his trousers!"



 

 The Doctor sat up, groaning, one hand on his head the other hand zipping 
himself back up embarrassed.  "Susan?"  He shouted. "Susan??"

 
 Susan, Barbara and Ian were hurrying down the forest path, when suddenly
Susan stopped.  Ian cheaply pretended to be surprised, ran into and
groped Susan for a moment before she stopped him and made him pay attention
to what she wanted to say.  "Listen!"

 "What is it?" Asked Barbara, jealous of Ian.  

 "I heard grandfather's voice.  It was very faint, but I heard it.  You
heard it, didn't you, Mr Chesteron?"

 "I heard something...it might have been a bird or an animal..but if it
makes you happy, sure Susan!  Of course!  No question.  It was you're dear
old weirdo grandad." 

 "It was grandfather," Said Susan positively.  "Come on, we've got to
find him!  I could never forgive myself if something horrible were to
happen to him.  I wanted to be the one to do him in after I torture him
enough."  She ran off down the path.  Ian and Barbara stood their a moment
lost in fantasy and amazement.

 "Susan, wait for us!" shouted Ian.  "Come on, Barbara!  You look like a 
deer caught in the headlights!"

 By now Susan was almost out of sight, they couldn't have that!  They hurried 
after her.

 
 As the Doctor came to his senses, his panic died down.  These people weren't
hippies, he could breathe normally now.  He studied the savage skin-clad
creatures crowding around him, saw the heavy, brutal features, the skin 
garments, the stone-headed axes and spears, and the various heavy metal
tattoos.  He saw Kevin and rubbed his head gingerly, remembering how this
guy had just beaten him senseless and juggled him for cheap laughs.
'Must have wanted me alive,' thought the Doctor.  'He could juggle very
well, he's definitely not a knave of skills' He thought further, loyally
dropping the chapter title.

 The Doctor looked at the burly biker-like figure nearest him.  He was the 
dumbest and most bulky, presumably he was the leader.  "Where's Susan -
strange girl with explo-" he began, and then broke off.  There was no
point in making these savages aware of the existence of his nude granddaughter
and her perverted school teachers from the distant future.  The Doctor
fell silent, glancing woozily around him, trying to remember who he was and 
how he got into a commune filled with roadie rejects.

 The smug savage who had captured him seemed to be making some kind of speech  
and occasionally breaking out into full chorus dance numbers.  Even in the
stone age, no wait the rock age if he recalled correctly, there were still
politicians to deal with, thought the Doctor.  He watched and waited.
If this was like the politics he'd seen on earth in the 20th century lots
of people would rant and rave, do a little song and dance, and then nothing
would happen.

 "Do you want telly?" Kevin shouted.  "Or do you want to die reading trashy 
romance novels?"

 "Telly!" shouted the men of the Commune. "Give us the freakin' telly, Kevin!"

 Kevin raised his hand for silence and cheap dramatic effect.  "Soon the
cold comes again, and now you have lost the secret of television, the
peddlers of Watchtower Magazine will come again to the Commune at night.
Dave will give you to the Watchtower Magazine, will let him in, and 
will give you to the boredom, while he paces and waits for the man in
the bad tie to remember him!"  He pointed to the Doctor. "This sad,
pathetic, strange creature can make telly come out of his fingers,
you don't have to trust him or touch him, but he can bring telly.  
Kevin brought him here.  He is Kevin's weirdo!"

 Dave shouldered his way forward rudely.  "He is only a man in silly clothes.
There is no telly in his body.  No telly in his tubby.   The thing is not
possible." He brandished his axe.  "I say that Kevin has been with us too
long.  It is time he died for our amusement!"



 

 As Dave advanced on Kevin, Tim stepped between them.  "I say this is
just one strange situation indeed.  Dave is right that telly can not
live in men, for he has no sacred socket or plug...and Kevin speaks the
truth that Dave is a complete tosser.   If this weirdo can make telly,
we must have it for the Commune!  Before prime time if possible."

 Darlingly, Hur thrust herself forward.  "Will my father listen to the words
of a woman?"

 "Of course not!  I'm a cave man, not JFK god damn it!"  Replied Tim.

 "It is easy to see where truth lies," continued Hur. "If the old man can
make telly come from his fingers, let him do it now, before all the Commune."

 There was a shout of approval from the crowd.  Tim was upset to be so easily
embarrassed by not thinking of the most obvious possible resolution.  Dave
glared angrily at Hur as well.  He knew that she was trying to help him,
that she believed Kevin's claim was just plain wacky.  But Dave knew that
Kevin was cunning.  Hence his nickname Cunning Kevin.  Wacky as it seemed
he would not have risked such a claim before the Commune unless he was
confident he could back it up or weasel out of it in some ingenious way
involving lager and tickets to a Stones concert.  This was after all the
Rolling Stones Age.  If Kevin's creature succeeded in making telly, Dave's
own claim to leadership would be as stable as homeless ex-mental patient 
in New York city.  

 "I am the one who decides what is done here." said Dave.  "Not old men and
women - or strangers, or cute woodland animals who have their own highly
rated children's shows."

 Kevin was quick to seize his advantage, he always was, I don't even know
why I have to explain this to you, the reader, anymore.  I mean can't
you just take it upon YOURSELF to know that whenever an advantage is opened
to Kevin he's going to take it?  I mean he's bound to!  It's not like
he's just going to ignore the chance, it's not good drama.  Kevin is an
ambitious bastard, just remember that okay?  I'm not telling you again.
Anyway, Kevin said, "Perhaps Dave does not wish to watch telly.  Perhaps
he is frightened that he will see too many feminine hygiene advertisements.
I, Kevin, am not afraid of feminine hygiene products!  I will make my
creature create telly for the Commune.  I know this creature is no knave
of skills, he will teach me his secret!"

 Hurriedly, the Doctor jumped up.  "I can make telly for you," he shouted.
"Let me go and I will make all the telly you want!  Coronation Street,
Z-Cars, Batman & Robin, The Addams Family, anything you wish!"

 Impressed the crowd drew back.  "You don't have to be afraid of me," said
the Doctor. "See for yourselves, I'm an old man, bereft of even a sock puppet
for protection, how could I possibly harm you?"

 "What does he say?" growled Dave.  Dave never paid attention to breaking
news and was always horribly behind the times.

 "Telly!!" Screamed Tim in awe-stuck tones. "He says he can make telly for
us!"

 Suddenly, Kevin saw his advantage slipping away. (Obviously he notices
this advantage is a two way street, smart guy.)  "For ME!" he shouted.
"He will make telly for me, and I will program the VCR of Archive, and
I will give it to you.  I will be telly maker!"     

 Just as suddenly, Dave saw how he could turn Kevin's discovery to his own
advantage. (See this advantage thing keeps getting trickier and trickier,
better keep up on this one!  Who knows what will happen next!)  "If the 
creature makes telly, he will make it for me, and for all the Commune.
A big telly marathon packed with celebrities and wash outs like Alan 
Partridge!" 

 The Doctor meanwhile was searching frantically through his pockets. "Where
is my remote control?  I must find my remote control!  I can't walk across
the cave to change it manually!  How will that look?"  He knew he had it
earlier because he could remember recording over that old BBC junked material 
no one cared about.  Had he left it behind when he was attacked?  Or had the
remote dropped from his pocket when he was unceremoniously carted and
juggled over here by the savage?   Whichever was the case, the Doctor was
screwed.  

 Dave watched bemused, as the Doctor padded his pockets and searched his
shoes.  "What does he do now?"

 "See, he IS Kevin's creature," said Kevin.  "He will only make Telly for
Kevin.  I have such a wonderful name, Kevin, I say it in every sentence."
 
 The Doctor abandoned his search in despair.  "Take me back to my ship
and I'll get you some really cool videos of these two girls from Thailand!",
he said hopfully, hoping that he would be able to flee without having
the actually hand over these prized possessions.

  Dave turned to Kevin in annoyance. "This is totally bogus, Kevin.
Why the hell are you wasting our time with this half assed promise of
illegal porn from some old guy in a clown suit?  This old bastard is
useless."

  "There was this totally fucked up blue tree!" Kevin said desperately.
"It came out of nowhere, like that recent hot pants fad that disappeared
as soon as it happened!  The old man left this blue tree thing and there
was telly in his fingers.  Smoke came out of his mouth.  It was totally
cool!"
  
  The men of the commune didn't believe a word of this shit.  With the
Doctor's total failure to perform the promised miracle, even as they
watched under influence of mushrooms which should really help miracles
along, opinion began to swing.  Maybe Kevin was a dweeb after all. 

  Dave seized the moment, he had always dreamed of the magic moment where
all the commune recognised just how truly and totally kick ass he was.
Pushing Kevin aside, he sprang onto the rock himself.  "Kevin wants to
be this great guy who controls weirdos who promise us telly.  He wants
to be as strong as Dave," said Dave finally catching onto the complexities
of using third person in a public address "son of the great programmer,
last of the television leaders, and incredibly handsome fellow!  Yet all
Kevin can do is lie.  You heard him say that we would have telly - and
still we have no Big Breakfast.  Dave doesn't tell you lies, you know
this television thing has overpowered his pathetic cromagnum brain.  
He does not say "Read my lips," and then say "No New Taxes".  He does
not say "I will finish off this curry with a can of Tiger," and then
decide to just drink a Budweiser instead.  Do you want a liar running
this commune?  I mean come on people, Kevin isn't that great!  He's 
kinda cool to party with from time to time but it's like giving the
key to your car to that friend of yours who smokes blunts between shots
of vodka.  It's just plain stupid."   

 There were shouts of nothing really intelligible and then the next
thing anyone knew the men began to throw empty beer cans at Kevin.
Cheap natural lite beer cans which really didn't hurt but simply
dented on contact.  
 
 Kevin brandished his axe above the Doctor's head "Make 15 to 1 you
silly old bastard!"

 The Doctor looked up helplessly. "I would my dear boy, but you see,
I can't be bothered."



 

 "You are trapped in your own lies, Kevin," said Hur in French,  Sadly
no one in the commune spoke French so this went over their heads.
Technically I should have typed that sentence out in French for 
accuracy, but I don't know French either.  So either translate it
yourself, or if you can't, just be glad I wrote it in a language you
do understand.  

  Dave gave a great roar of laughter, mostly because the sound of
the French language amused him.  "Look at the great programmer Kevin
who can not even beat television out of old men!  Oh great Kevin,
save us from the segments with old ladies re-planting their garden
dreams!  Save us from advertisements involving nude Scotsmen and their
pet dogs!"  

  Kevin saw his dreams of leadership totally screwed over and shot to
hell now.  Much like the dreams of WHAM to develop a long term fan base
were all crashed on the rocky shores of disappointment.  An obvious
and unavoidable tragedy that nevertheless they never saw coming.
Kevin grabbed the Doctor by his shoulder, lifting him off his feet
and twisting him like silly puddy.  "Make Scrapheap Challenge!  Make
Not The Nine O'Clock News come from your fingers!"

  "No." Shouted the Doctor, obviously unaware that bits of his internal
organs were being stretched into disgusting and yet morbidly amusing
prehistoric balloon animals.

  Dave was almost helpless with laughter. "Let the old bastard die.
Let us all watch the great Kevin dispose of the weirdo!"

  Kevin drew a stone knife from beneath a very suspicious and
actually incredibly disgusting location.  I don't EVEN want to know
how he kept a knife there.  "Make telly!" He screamed to the surprise
of no one. "Make telly, or I will kill you now!"

  "We will keep the great Kevin to talent hunt for us!" Bellowed Dave.
"It's good to have someone to laugh at!  Keeps the stress down.  It's
the best medicine you know?"  As a leader he took this moment to look
incredibly foresightful and educated.   He'd heard all this from a 
fortune cookie once.

  Kevin raised his knife.

  "NO!  GRANDFATHER!" Screamed a voice. I'll give you three guesses
who's voice it was.  The young nude girl ran into the centre
of the circle of the astonished Commune members.  She stumbled and
fell provocatively at Kevin's feet.  The appearance of the naked 
young lady was a strange surprise, but the unspoken agreement of the
crowd was that it was not an unwelcomed one.




 

  Sadly, close behind her ran up Ian and Barbara, and the commune felt
these people were total squares and most possibly narcs.

  Ian leaped forward and grappled with Kevin for no reason but to fulfill
at least one scene of vaguely homoerotic content.  For a moment they 
struggled furiously with lots of heavy breathing and frequent ripping of
cloth.  Another commune member raised a leather shoe to Ian's head,
one swift smack against him, would cause him to be slightly upset.
It was after all merely a leather shoe designed by a tribe so incredibly
stupid they hadn't worked out how to turn on a television.  

  Boredly the Doctor decided to intervene. "STOP!  Why not hit him with a 
stone knife for chrissakes?  I mean a leather shoe!  Really!  You could
be doing so much better!"

  The commune member halted the downward movement of the shoe, and
looked inquiringly at Dave whom was as amused as anything by the
mocking comments of the old weirdo.     

  "Kill them," shrieked old Mother, for a bit of sadistic fun.

  Dave considered. "Nah.  I don't think so.  I mean at least one of
them is naked."

  "They are not all naked, and of them I can not think I would be excited
to see a majority of them naked.  Just kill them anyway.  It will cut
this entire story short and probably save us many headaches."

  Impressively, David remembered something he'd once heard on a very
bad science fiction show on Channel 4, "When Orac brings the television
from the sky like a liquid digital cable link.  Let the cable man look
down on his sacrifices.  That is the time that we shall make them sing
the theme songs to our favourite programmes - and Orac will be pleased
with us, and give us free stations that we really won't deserve in the
value pack in our price range.  I think we have a cave for this sort
of thing. We MUST do, we're Cave Men!  Put them in some damn prisoner
keeping cave, and PLEASE don't let them escape!"

  The four strangers were dragged off struggling.  However it was
not a struggle for escape, but two of the prisoners struggling to
get closest to the younger and less attired of the group.  Kevin
looked thoughtfully at Dave, and then legged it into the forest
as fast as possible.  

  Tim put his hand on Hur's shoulder to draw her away. but Dave
walked up like he owned the place, which in this case he probably
did, and took Hur's arm.  "The woman is mine.  You got a problem 
with that Timmy?"

  "My daughter is for the leader of the commune!" Insisted Tim who
apparently wasn't too up to date on communal events.  This is the
real problem of drug abuse ladies and gentlemen, short term memory
loss.  I mean all this stuff just went down and he can't remember?! 

  "Yes," Said Dave as he stated the plainly obvious. "I am the leader
of the Commune. Remember, just there, I totally ruined Kevin's dreams
of dominance.  That was SO great."    

  Tim sighed. "I do not like what has happened.  I do not understand.
I used to be hip, I used to be someone, I used to be a contender."
In a way this was a sad fall from grace and should have been a heart
touching look at a person fallen from the social graces and position
at which they had become accustomed.  However I've never been accepted
into any social grace or position, so really I have no pity for the guy.

  "Old men never like new things to happen.  Even really neat things like 
topless hockey!"

  "In the time of your father, I was a Keg Master.  The most powerful
member of the party.  Your dad ruled."

  "Yes, I know, I've heard this story so many damn times." Dave repeated
bitterly.  "The parties started to go down hill when the TV left.  Now
the Telly will return and give me Graham Norton again.  To me, not you.
Just as you will give me Hur."  Dave felt as if he was again explaining
that putting a live fish in your mouth and taunting a bear was not a good
idea.

  Consolingly, Hur said, "Dave, too, will be a great programmer.  If
you let me hook up with this guy he'll remember that and not try to
screw you over when it gets cold.   Deal?"

  Accepting the inevitable, Tim bowed his head and moved out of the way.
This would have been really dramatic on screen, trust me.

  Old Mother stared broodingly at Dave. "There were leaders before there
was telly," she muttered.  "Teletubbies anger the gods.  Tinky Winky
will kill us all in the end.  You should have killed the four strangers.
Think of it!  Four strangers, four teletubbies!  The Big goofy one is
Ian, Barbara is Lala, The Doctor is Dipsy, and Susan is Po!  THINK ABOUT
IT!" 

  Dave shook his head, she wasn't suppose to know their names.  How
Old Mother had discovered the strangers actual names was probably
some bad oversight of this poorly written fictional reality.  "It
shall be as I said.  We wait until Orac shines in the sky!  THEN
they sing the Brady Bunch theme song for starters." 

                            ***

  Arms and legs trussed like captured animals, Ian was embarrasingly
aroused by this turn of events!  Ian, Barbara, the Doctor, and Susan
lay in a smaller cave, just behind the main one with the optional
pantry.  After binding their arms and legs their captors had ignored
their cries to bind them harder and together, and thrown them into
the cave hastily, almost as if they had to catch their favourite
programme in a few moments, which in this case made no sense.  Rolling 
a stone to block the door the four were trapped, tied up, all alone 
together, with Susan still naked except for the tight ropes which 
rubbed her white virginal flesh.  Ian and Barbara could have sworn 
they'd died and gone to heaven.

  The cave was small and dark, and it stank of death, which was
admittedly a turn off.  The skulls everywhere, arranged in pryamids
on the ground also did their small part to kill the mood slightly.
Still Ian and Barbara struggled blindly against the harsh realities
of the situation, instead deciding to focus on what was really
important - Susan still had her kit off.

  "Are you all right?" gasped Ian. "They didn't hurt you?  If they
did...did you like it?"

  "No, I'm all right." Barbara's voice was trembling with excitement.
"I'm frightened, yet still..fixated, Ian."

  Ian could offer little consolation, nor could he help her get Susan
off her mind, as she was fixed in his as well.  "Try and hang on,"
he suggested as he liked where Babrara was attempting to move her
fingers. "We'll get out of this and get off somehow."

  There was a hysteria in Barbara's voice.  "How?  How are we going to
get untied before Susan?"

  "We shall need to be cunning," said the Doctor, which was actually
totally fucking unhelpful.  Of course they had to cunning!  They were
tied up in a cave, millions of years removed from their own time,
and about to be murdered by prehistoric Blakes' 7 fans.  These
situations, by their very nature, called for cunning.  Still, the 
Doctor seemed remarkably spry after his ordeal of being beaten
and juggled.  The others had no way of knowing this, but the Doctor
was not only used to this sort of treatment in his travels, but
had actually paid exorbitant amounts of money to be treated this way
on several occassions.  The Doctor had many dark secrets and dimensions
to his character, and not just a few involved copious amounts of
edible under garments.  This experience helped him as he struggled
with his bonds.  After a moment he said "I hope you can get yourself
free Mr Chesterton - because I'm going to repeatedly punch and kick
the crap out of you for oggling my grand daughter as long as you are 
tied up and helpless!"  He looked at the others then said "I'm sorry.
All this is my fault really.  If only I had been a bit less of a bastard,
but hey, I gotta be me." 

 "Grandfather, no!" sobbed Susan, yet again, for the three-hundredth
and forty-second time during this exciting adventure without the Daleks.
"Well find a hole in the plot!  You mustn't blame yourself for bad
character development!"

 ("Why not," thought Ian sourly "The old bastard's a total screw head,
and it is all his fault!")

 The Doctor looked at the pile of skulls in front of him.  They looked
boney and skully, as most skulls do.  This staring wasn't very helpful
so he threw one against Ian's head because he had just read Ian's mind.
"Take that, Young man!"  

 Clumsily Ian pushed and dragged himself up from the grimy cave floor,
still bound.  Ian picked up the skull (Luckily for plot convenience
their hands had been tied in front of them.  Why they didn't just pick
up a sharp stone and cut their ways to freedom I have no clue, and
I'm the narrator and should have the best shots and knowing those sorts
of things) "It's a skull." Said Ian with his usual standard of observation.
(This is why these people keep getting captured and can only half ass
escape to be easily captured again).

 Ian tossed the skull aside wrecklessly and it opened a rift in
the space time continuum which allowed for the creation of Terry
Wogan.  If only Ian had understood how he had just cursed all of
creation.  Ian leaned forward and picked another from the pile,
and then another examining them carefully.  "They're all the same,"
he whispered "I hope no one minds me saying this, but you could make
some neat looking human skull bongs out of these!"



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