A/N: I found this in my notebook (I don't actually remember writing it, though). I liked it so much I decided to clean it up and post it.
"Hello? Anybody out there? Hellooooooooooooooooooo? No, guess not, didn't think there'd be anybody around here. Right. So here I am. Back on earth. Stuck. In a hole. At least I'm not in bloody space anymore. Small steps and all.
"Oh, wait, someone's coming. Brilliant. Hello? Would you mind giving me a little help here? I can't move. So it would be very much appreciated if you picked me up out of this hole.
"Oh! You did! Brilliant. But what is that thing? Not a portal device, definitely not. Wait a second, is it a magnet? Because they told me that if I ever got near one of those things, I'd die. Fry my hard drive, and I've very much like to avoid that fate. I mean having my hard drive fried. Like a fried potato. That was a metaphor there. Not a moron, I know metaphors.
"Okay, you're shaking your head. Where were we again? Oh, right. So this is not a magnet. Neither is it a portal device. Right. So... um, hello. Name's Wheatley. 'W-H-E-E-E -' No, wait, let me start again. 'W-E-H-A -'
"Actually, never mind how it's spelled. It's Wheatley. As in wheat. Not that I've ever seen wheat, mind you, but like wheat. Lovely name really; classic, with a touch of postmodernism. Like Machiavelli. Very postmodern, him.
"So, anyways, hmm ... you're awful quiet, aren't you? Not sure if that signifies brain damage, but ... ah, not that there's anything wrong with being brain-damaged and silent. In certain circumstances it's probably ideal, not that I'm aware of any of these circumstances, but I'm absolutely sure there are times when being silent is an asset. Actually, I once had a friend who was silent. Matter of fact, I'm looking for her ... say, have you seen her? Good jumper, ponytail, perhaps a minor case of serious brain damage...
"Okay, you're shaking your head again. So that's a no. Right. Um. So, if you see her, would you let me know? I ... sort of have to tell her some things. Mainly that I'm terribly sorry for being all bossy and monstrous and punching her down a pit and ... oh. Are we going somewhere?
"Right, so, um, where are we going? Wait, almost forgot, the not-speaking, possible-brain-damage part. Not to imply there's anything wrong with the not-speaking; not at all. In fact in your case, it's ... ah, flattering. And the glasses and beard ... very stylish. Fashionable. Accessorizing. The suit, as well. All that orange? It just flatters your ... um, physique. Very well, in fact.
"Right, so let's go! To ... wherever we're going. Anywhere is better than space, let me tell you -"
The man in the HEV suit stared at the core blankly, pushing his glasses up his nose, and shifting his grip on the gravity gun. This was going to be a long walk.