The Doctor stepped out of his old blue box and onto the sidewalk on a cool September day, bow tie on as always. "Ah, well I got the right planet, wouldn't want to go to Tralfamadore again. Definitely not London though," he said with a slight frown. "Oy, you," he shouted to the boy sitting at the other end of the sidewalk, "where am I? And when? And I guess why while I'm at it?" The little boy, who couldn't be older than 7, stared at the funny man with more than a little apprehensiveness as he walked towards him. "Where did you come from? You weren't here just a second ago?" "Well, I came out of that big blue phone booth over there, ya see," said the Doctor, "now could you answer my questions?" "Okaaaaaay," said the boy with a raised eyebrow, "you're in Ohio, in 2014." "Yes, nailed it! Or the time at least, a bit off on location, but who's complaining? Are you complaining?" "No", replied the boy with a sheepish smile and a giggle, "I think you're kinda funny!"
"Well, splendid! Now, while I'm here I might as well see if there's anything that needs fixing. So, is there?" The boy looked at the Doctor sheepishly for a few moments. "Welllll . . ." "Well what," asked the Doctor, "is it a well? I could probably fix a well, ooh, I haven't fixed a well in a while!" "No, it's my bike. I crashed it on the sidewalk and now it won't work." The boy was frowning now, and looking at the ground. "Well, say no more," exclaimed the Doctor with a childish grin, "I'll fix it in a jiffy! Or maybe a minute. Not important! Now, where is it?" As he said this, the Doctor pulled a pack of Jammy Dodgers from one pocket of his coat and his trusty sonic screwdriver from the other, and the boy pointed to the other end. The Doctor tossed the screwdriver to the boy and ran off toward the bike. "What am I supposed to do with this thing?" said the boy as he presses a button, which made the screwdriver extend its claws and emit a lime green light and a high pitched buzzing squeal. "Whoops, why don't we trade?" The Doctor ran back and switched the Jammy Dodgers for his trusty screwdriver. "Right, now you munch on those while I fix your bike, sound good to you?" "Does it ever;" cried the boy, with a look of abject glee; "I haven't had anything to eat for days!" This last statement confused the Doctor, and he felt uneasy. "Well then, in that case why don't we get something to eat in town once I'm done fixing your bike?" The Doctor was now pointing his screwdriver at all gears of the bike. The boy's face was now overjoyed. "Would you really do that Mister . . . hey, what is your name?" "I'm the Doctor. Just the Doctor, no more. And who would you be my little friend?" "Oh uh, my names James, James Phillips, but my mom calls me Jamie, at least when she's happy. So, will you really take me to eat?" The Doctor pulled a stick from one of the bike's gears. "Of course I will, and I'm sure you'll be happy to know that your bike is as good as new, or as good as just-crashed-into-a-sidewalk-and-fixed again anyway. You know, I had a friend named Jamie once; he would run around in a kilt with a sword and shout Scottish. You don't do that, do you?" "No sir," said the boy as he giggled. "Oh don't call me sir," said the Doctor, "to you I am simply Doctor." "Okay si - I mean Doctor." "Now you're getting it!" The boy's grin faltered a second, as he wondered aloud, "Doctor, you don't have a car to take me anywhere in." The Doctor, grinning as wide as he could, said "We don't need a car when we've got a TARDIS," he exclaimed as he pointed to the big blue phone booth with 'Police Box' written over the doors; "now come on, let's get you something to eat!"