Author's Note:

Alright, so this is my Doctor Who story! Yay! So anyone out there reading this who's British, I love your accents, but I'm not too sure about how you all say things. This is just to say "Sorry if I get it wrong!" So...

Sorry if I get it wrong!

On another note, Doctor Who is an ingenious show made by great writers. This story uses some of the stuff in the series, yet I own none of the stuff from the Doctor Who series. Just wanted to put that out there.

Now read on, gentle reader.

-neyney176, major Whoovian

Chapter One

I heard the alarm blaring. I opened my eyes groggily and reached my hand over to the glowing alarm clock, and hit the snooze button.

I can sleep for a few more minutes, I thought, what's it going to hurt?

I closed my eyes and rolled over, wrapping the covers tighter around myself. I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke up again, I had thought that I had only slept for twenty more minutes. No harm done, right? I turned over, looked at the clock, then jumped up ou of my bed, fully awake.

Two hours!

I had been asleep for two hours!

I grabbed some clothes, not even looking, and threw them on, running to the bathroom and brushing my teeth while running my fingers through my knotted hair.

I'm late for work! My mind screamed at me, sending me in to overdrive. I grabbed my keys and ran out the door, grabbing a cereal bar.

Mum and dad are going to kill me if I don't get to work! I said, sticking the keys in the ignition. I pulled out of the parking lot of our apartment building and sped off to Ricky's Diner.

Maybe if I had gone a little slower, I would have noticed the strange blue box sitting on the side of the road about two houses down. I would have probably asked myself why there would be an old fashion blue police public call box, just sitting alone on the side of the road.

But I didn't, and I soon arrived at the Diner.

"Ricky, I'm in!" I said, tying an apron around my waist and grabbing a plate of biscuits.

"Table seven, Wendy." A kind male voice answered from behind the counter. I took the biscuits to table seven, set down in front of a small girl, who was currently in the middle of a tantrum. She stopped the instant the food hit the table. I smiled.

A strange man walked in and sat down. I went to his table.

"Can I take your order, sir?" I asked him, taking out my pad and pen.

"Hmm, I'll just take a cup of tea, please Miss."

I nodded, writing down one cup tea. I took the slip of paper up to Ricky. "Ricky, we got an order."

Ricky nodded, holding the piece of paper up. "Only some tea?"

I nodded as Ricky grabbed a mug and filled it with some hot water and a teabag. He let it sit for a while.

After a few minutes I took the teabag out and took the warm mug to table three, where the strangely dressed man sat, reading the morning paper.

"Did you know that a girl a few blocks away sprained her ankle in the race last week?"

"No, I don't believe I was informed, sir. Here's your tea."

"Thank you, miss." He said, taking the steaming mug in his hands, which were also weirdly clothed.

"Sir, are you aware that you are wearing a white frilled glove and a black leather glove?"

"Yes, actually, I think it shows two sides to me. There are two sides to everything, you know."

I nodded. "Yes, I know." I now noticed how peculiar the man's clothes were. He was wearing a black leather jacket, over top of a burgundy shirt. He was wearing a dark blue bowtie. His green eyes adorned black glasses, and a few curly locks of black hair stuck out from under a green top hat, tilted slightly to the side. "Please don't mind me asking, sir, but do you always dress that peculiar?"

"Peculiar, you say?" The man asked. "Hardly."

"How so?" I asked.

"Well, to you, my ensemble might be strange and peculiar. But to me, this is the best outfit in the world. It all comes down to your opinion, and almost no one's opinion is exactly the same as the next."

"That's an interesting poi-"

"Wendy!" Ricky interrupted. "These eggs won't just get up and walk themselves to table six!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted back. I turned to the man. "What is your name, anyway?" I asked him, hoping i might meet him again soon. I didn't know what it was, but something about him amazed me.

"Me? Well, Miss... Wendy, was it? I am the Doctor."

"What kind of name is that, the Doctor?"

"My kind of name."

"Well, sorry if I offended you, but it's odd to just have a name as th-"

"Wendy!" Ricky shouted again. I ran to the counter, grabbed a plate of eggs, a plate of sausage, and a plate of chips and carried them to tables five, eleven, and six.

The Doctor... I thought to myself while cleaning off table eleven after the Dine closed. What a strange man.

As I drove home to the apartment after my shift, I passed the blue box again, and again I hardly noticed it. I parked the car, turned it off, walked inside and up the stairs, all the while still thinking about the strangely dressed man. The Doctor.