Dalek Caan was entering one of the many rooms of the Dalek Mothership when he had noticed a small flickering light on a strange machine. Being a member of the Cult of Skaro, the bronze hued Dalek examined closer.
"THIS MACHINE IS NOT OF DALEK SCIENCE! IT MUST BE DESTROYED!" the Dalek boomed.
As the mechanical monstrosity lowered his arm cannon, an automated voice rang from the strange contraption.
Hello: Doctor. You have: 18 unread messages.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"
*Beep*
The Cybermen need assistance in the 12th Cyber-Legion. There is this wierd Roman going around, blowing up shit. Assistance is needed. Oh wait. This is the Doctor's phone? Wazzup my homie. We still gonna pick up that Drahvin this Saturday?
*Beep*
'Ello, Doctor? Is me! Barty Crouch Junior! Remember? From the conference in San Diego? We had to share a room with Arthur Eddington 'cuz apparenty some people don't like Death Eaters. Oh well. Jus' droppin' by to say thanks! See ya' next ComicCon!
*Beep*
I'm telling you, Doctor! You don't need me! I'm fat! I'm old! I'm blue!
*Beep*
Greetings, Miss Aran. I see that you're in the...Dalek Starsystem? Is this even right?
*Beep*
AMA FIRIN' MAH LA-.
Harold? Are you on the phone again?
No, mom.
*Beep*
This is General Stromboli of the Thirteenth Sontaran Battle Fleet! I suggest you put your shields down so that we may blow the shit out of you. That is all.
*Beep*
Hello, Sweetie. I got your favourite! It's chocolate cake from the Queen herself on her Coronation Day...or we didn't go there yet...
*Beep*
Greetings, Hero. I see that you've come for your precious little...Fob Watch? Is this the Doctor? Because if it is, feel the power of my big purple orbs! AMA COMIN' FOR YA BUDDY!
*Beep*
Hello: Doctor. You owe the Galactic Federation Accounting Sales Market 3.14 trillion credits. Press one for Visa. Press two for Mastercard. Press three to decline this scam. At least we tried, right? I mean you killed most of our family members, damnit! At least Clom got taken away.
*Beep*
Seriously! Where the hell is Samus when you need her to actually get rid of a parasite! Where in Palutena's well endowed chest are you, Aran!
*Beep*
I am the Great Mighty Poo
And I'm going to throw my shit at you!
A large amount of tish comes from my chocolate starfish
How about some scat you little twat?
*Beep*
Remember when we used to run across the fields of Mount Peridion? Good times, yes? Oh, and I'm better than you by three cases:
One: I'm reborn as a frickin' Timelord!
Two: I got so much S.W.A.G. that even Ghandi had troubles trying to catch up to my S.W.A.G-iness!
Three: I got a frickin' wife!
*Beep*
Hello, Doctor. This is Davros, creator of the Daleks! I was just dropping in from my teachings at Cordon Bleu: Skaro to remind you of our Iron Chef competition against the Cyberleader and Bobby Flay. Let us saute our way to victory, and puree those who stand in our way of culinary stardom! Though the question as to who shall be our sous chefs will be? Ood or Silurian? The main ingredient is Adipose Fat, just to tell you. Oh, and your Sexy needs to be re-fuled at the Rift, just to let you know.
*Beep*
Where the hell is she! The X is closing in on me!
*Beep*
Hello, Doctor! This is Arthur Eddington. I'm just calling to ask about our afternoon tea with Einstein. What shall we discuss about? His new relativity theorem, or call Stephen Hawking for another Epic Rap Battle?
*Beep*
AUGH! IT'S GOING INSIDE MY THROAT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!
*Beep*
In Soviet Mondas, Cybermen convert you! Ahahahaha! Oh wait. That IS what we do.
*Beep*
You've got to be kidding me, Moffat! Interspecies lesbians? Gay soldiers? NO DALEKS? Are you trying to ram Doctor Who into the ground? Seriously. You can't just put in random shit and call it an episode. Things have to stay in place, and story lines, as well as recurring themes have to either be ended at the season finale, or done right, by making an entire Dalek fleet blow up, followed by a memory wipe, and an abrupt ending. All I'm saying is that you have another series to finish Series 6, or you're toast, Moffat! You hear me?
With regards: The Ninth and Tenth Doctors
End of Messages
Once the messages were all read out, Dalek Caan's mind went numb. His headpiece began rotating around and about, while his torso did the same. His insane screams filled the room as he levitates, and zooms out into space, while screaming out unrelated subjects. Below him, the Dalek Fleet prepared for its first attack on Gallifrey, with Davros leading the charge.
"Braise their Timelord behinds and flambe their insignificant bodies with our lasers! Aerate their lungs with our Special Weapons and purge their cities with aioli! Sift their decaying remains with our spatulas and chop off their Andouille Sausages with our Flambe torches! Boil them in our special Au Jus and Au Sec them until they have no luquid in them whatsoever! Top them with the Au Gratin in which is the baked Gallifreyan soil on which we now hover upon as we conquer their lands! Put them in a Bain Marie of acid, and Emerse them in a Circulation of laser beams! In other culinary terms, KILL THEM ALL!" Davros culinarily ranted.
Author's note: This is clearly based off of LadyMidnightSage's fanfic: Link's Answering Machine. It was one of the fics that actually got me interested in joining this site. Others...well, you can figure that out for yourself. Kudos to you LadyMidnightSage! (P.S. Yaoi fics make me barf! I actually thought LadyMidnightSage's profile had more of this Answering Machine kind of thing, but NOOOOOOOOO. All I find is godforsaken Yaoi!)