Hello.

About a year ago, I started writing a Dr. Who novel called The Laughing Elders. It was to be a story in three parts; I completed the first part. Then, I tried to interest BBC Books, the publishers of Dr. Who, in publishing it, but they only accept submission from writers approved by the producers of the TV series. Makes sense. So, I contacted the agent of Russell T. Davies to see if I could interest him in it, but she politely informed me that he was too busy. Okey doke.

I've decided to put the complete first third of the novel on my Web site, Les Pages aux Folles (.ca), in September to celebrate its seventh anniversary. Until then, I've decided to give those interested on this site a taste of the story: I will publish a chapter every second week of July and August.

I started writing the other two parts of the novel, but moved on to other projects when I hit the BBC wall. If there is any interest, I may take them up again.

Enjoy,

Ira Nayman

Dr. Who:

The Laughing Elders

PART ONE: Harlequin's Toy

Chapter One

The Day Seemed To Go On Forever

Once upon a time, there lived a young man by the name of Gerrald Gregory Galaudet.

Gerrald Gregory Galaudet (Gah-low-debt, not the French pronunciation, if you please) looked out the window, as he did every morning. And he saw the same middle class buildings, streets and trees that made up his surroundings that he saw every morning. In the distance, he could make out the CN Tower, the world's tallest freestanding structure. At least, it had been for 25 years, until a taller one had been built in…Dubai? Well, somewhere like that. Everything changed.

Well, not everything. In a few moments – assuredly less than a minute – Gerrald Gregory Galaudet's mom would shout from the kitchen that his – what day was it? Tuesday? – his scrambled eggs were ready, and he should come down and eat them before they got cold, and he would, and then he would put on his galoshes and his fall coat (it being fall and all) and he would walk the 15 city blocks to his high school, where he would suffer through a math class that didn't teach him anything he didn't already know, then an English class that couldn't teach him anything that he cared about, and then he would have lunch – on Tuesdays it was broccoli quiche because his school was trying to get its students to eat better and what he wouldn't give for a burger and fries, not that the school board ever consulted him on the subject – or any other subject, for that matter – but no time to worry about that because Eric Haversham would make a remark about geeks and all of the girls around them would laugh and Neil Ackerman would follow this with a remark about black geeks and Gerrald Gregory Galaudet would get all red and recite math problems in his head to take his mind off of it until it was time to go to…gym, which occasioned more laughter and general embarrassment and he hated taking showers so he usually just hung around in the back of the locker room until it didn't look stupid for him to change into his clothes and then he had chemistry so at least nobody noticed the smell and he ran home as fast as he could (because, as much as he weighed, he could be fast when he wanted to be) and straight up to his room past his mother who always had questions about school that he just didn't feel up to answering even though he knew he couldn't avoid them at dinner and –

"Gerrald?" Gerrald Gregory Galaudet heard his mother call from the kitchen. "I've got your eggs ready for you. You really want to eat them before they get cold."

The worst thing was that she was, of course, right. He did want his scrambled eggs, and he did want them before they got cold. It wasn't just that the only thing that seemed to change was the CN Tower – although, really, Gerrald Gregory Galaudet thought, it hadn't changed at all, just the way we looked at it. Wait – what was he – oh, yes. The sad thing – the thing that really got him was that he wanted his scrambled eggs. He wasn't just comfortable with his scrambled eggs. He hadn't just accepted them. He really liked scrambled eggs.

That was the thing about life –

"Gerrald?" Gerrald Gregory Galaudet heard his mother call from the kitchen. "Your porridge is ready for you. Come and get it before it gets too cold to eat – you know how much you hate cold porridge!"

Gerrald Gregory Galaudet, much as he loved his mother, was annoyed that she interrupted him as he was pondering the deeper disappointments of his young life. He was about to shout an angry response when he stopped up short. Did she say porridge? This was Tuesday – porridge was the Friday morning breakfast. Uncertain, Gerrald Gregory Galaudet turned the screen of his computer and checked the date. No, it was definitely Tuesday. Maybe he mishear –

"Gerrald?" Gerrald Gregory Galaudet heard his mother call from the kitchen. "Pancakes are ready. We don't have a lot of syrup, but we'll make do. In any case, you really want to come down and get them before they get cold."

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. That was just wrong. His mother never made pancakes because Gerrald Gregory Galaudet couldn't stand them. Hated them. Gagged the last time he tried to eat them, which was when he was seven years old. What –

Gerrald Gregory Galaudet went to the kitchen to eat his scrambled eggs –

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet went to the kitchen to eat his porridge.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet went to the kitchen to eat his pancakes. He loved his pancakes and wished, not for the first time, that his mother would make them every day.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet, ignoring his mother's increasingly urgent calls to breakfast, stared out his window and let his mind wander to what his life would have been like if his father hadn't left them when he was eight months old. As usual, he didn't notice the tears until his cheeks were sodden with them.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet (Gah-low-day, not the English pronunciation, s'il vous plait) sighed and went to the kitchen to eat his scrambled eggs.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet, self-conscious that he needed to put weight on the skin and bones frame of his, went to the kitchen to eat his scrambled eggs.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet, confined, as he was, to a wheelchair because of his cerebral palsy, waited for his mother to bring the scrambled eggs to his room and feed him.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet, ignoring his mother's increasingly urgent calls to breakfast, stared out his window and let his mind wander to what his life would have been like if his father hadn't died in a bizarre shrimp boat accident when he was 12. As usual, he swelled with pride at the thought.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet went to the kitchen to eat his scrambled eggs, but found that his mother had burned them. That had never happened before. She was looking at them, her thin blue eyes not seeming to take in the smoking mess in the pan. Gerrald Gregory Galaudet quickly picked the pan off the burner and threw it into the sink. Then, he put his arm around her and tried to tell her that everything would be alright. Everything was going to be alright.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet walked past the kitchen, out the door of the apartment and, still in his socks, threw himself in front of the nearest bus. This would have been tragic if the bus hadn't been stopped at a traffic light.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet went down to the kitchen and gave his mother a big hug. "I'm not hungry this morning, mum," he told her. "Maybe I'll get something between classes…"

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet shouted from his room, "I'm not feeling well! I'm going back to bed – maybe I'll have something to eat later!"

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet started to move towards the door of his room. Then, he wondered why he bothered and stopped. But he knew he had to do something with his life, he couldn't very well stay in his room forever, so he might as well keep doing what he was doing until something better came along. But what if this was it? What if life didn't get better, just different kinds of…of this? He was about to counter this argument when his mother called to him again, and he went down to the kitchen to meet his fate.

- Gerrald Gregory Galaudet looked out the window one last time at the CN Tower in the distance. So distant. So inscrutable. So like his life. And he went to the kitchen to meet his scrambled eggs.

Five minutes later, Gerrald Gregory Galaudet's mother, wondering why he hadn't come for his breakfast, knocked politely on the door of his room. Getting no response, she tentatively opened the door. To her horror, she found Gerrald Gregory Galaudet on the floor, curled up in a fetal position. His chest gently moved up and down – he was still alive – but nothing she said or did seemed able to make him move.

NEXT: Chapter Two: A Very…Kind of…Vowelly Sort of Place