The Real Dalek
It had been yet another touch, strenuous day at work and Bob the Dalek had a stabbing urge to sit down and fall into his Darlektic lapse of consciousness. He headed towards his tattered, but comfortable recliner and fell promptly onto it, which caused a clamorous sound to be resonated across the entire unit.
"Tea's ready, darling!" shouted Katie the Dalek- his wife- from the adjacent kitchen.
"Coming!" replied Bob as he awkwardly got up from his chair and staggered towards the dining table.
He sat down on his chair slowly, as any fast movements caused by his tired, hefty body would naturally cause a broken chair and an injured bottom. Katie came in with a bowl of gloopy petrol.
"Ah, my favourite," he beamed and gorged on the delectable meal in front of him.
"So, how was work today?" asked Katie.
"The usual," Bob said. "It's really getting tedious."
"How so?" Katie queried.
"The Doctor always contrives some genius plan to defeat us. I'm sick of it."
"Well he is rather good at it." Katie reminded.
"I know, but sometimes I wish someone else would attempt to put a stop to our futile existence. He's been doing this for almost 50 years. I think it's about time a new hero steps in and takes his place."
"Well, why don't you go and rant about this to Davros, then?" suggested Katie.
"No one likes a ranter, darling, but I could try and find a way to get my point across discreetly."
So he finished his dinner and prepared for the uncertain day that lay ahead.