3—Shoestring Budget
The TARDIS had landed on the edge of the carnival among some trees. It was late morning and the carnival had just opened for the day. The Doctor and Adora headed for the ticket booth, but just before they got there the Doctor muttered, "Bother. They'll want money."
Adora sent him a withering glare. "You still don't carry money!? How many times do you come to this planet knowing their economic structure and still forget the money? It's insane!"
"I didn't know we'd be coming," the Doctor replied defensively, pulling them over to a more private location. "I can handle the situation, don't fret . . ."
"You come to this planet several times a year, at least!" Adora hissed. "You should always have an emergency pack that includes funding sources—"
"That takes all the fun out of it!" the Doctor retorted. "Where's the adventure if all you have to do is pay your way? Improvising is a lot harder and—"
"Here's your ticket, Father," Thalmidor broke in. "And yours, Mother."
"We've got plenty of cash to see us through for food and other attractions," Kenarn grinned.
"What!?" Adora and the Doctor gasped in unison.
Kenarn led the way while Thalmidor said low, "You might not want to know, Mother; I mean, what do you expect when we have our own sonic screwdrivers . . ."
The Doctor was shocked. "You bought sonic screwdrivers for them? Brilliant! I never would have thought it of you, Adora . . ."
"Bought, nothing—we made them ourselves," Kenarn boasted. "Mother told us about yours and we got two from a catalog, then disassembled them and made our own improvements. Mine has sixty-two settings."
"Not bad, not a bad start at all," the Doctor encouraged. "You'll probably want to do some upgrading when we get back to the TARDIS; I'm sure you could add another hundred and fifty or so with the right equipment . . ."
The four walked through the carnival and studied the offerings. There were rides and food stands, carnival games, exhibits and entertainments. The first place they stopped was a food vendor selling cotton candy. "What flavor would you like, folks?" the vendor asked.
Adora shook her head. "No sweets, please," she said.
"Bubble gum is classic, isn't it?" Thalmidor asked.
The Doctor shrugged. "I'm not sure, actually."
"Here, Thalmidor—I'll get the bubble gum, and you can get the lime." Kenarn held out some money for the vendor. "Father?"
"I'll have to have the banana. Absolutely love bananas . . ."
"And sir," Thalmidor wheedled, "could you show us how the machine works?"
The vendor thought about it, and said finally, "I suppose it won't hurt; no one's here at the moment . . . now you put the flavored, colored sugar in here, it gets heated down there . . . and it spins into strands out here, where you collect it like this . . ."
The twins were fascinated by the process; they asked questions and debated the merits of using a fine grade sugar over larger crystals. At last they left, taking with them a sample of each flavor in a tiny bag. "Enjoy the carnival!" the vendor called after them.
"No sweets?" the Doctor asked Adora. "What about your coffee toffee bars?"
Adora shuddered. "Can't stand either, actually. This regeneration's all about fresh berries and seafood, potatoes and earl grey with a hint of lemon. A much more refined palate, I say . . ."
"Really? I should take you all wine-tasting; there's a lot of wineries in the area producing good products."
Adora considered, then replied, "Now that you mention it, I don't think I've ever had wine. I know the process . . ."
"I found something for you, Mother!" Thalmidor called. "Ribbon fries, they're called. They take a whole potato, cut it thin and curling, and turn it into this."
Adora could smell the fries cooking, a delicious odor. She looked at the display and said, "I don't think I can eat all of that . . ."
"Mother, it's one potato!" Kenarn protested. "It just looks like a lot."
"And on top?" she asked, interested.
Thalmidor told her, "You can get plain with ketchup, vinegar and salt, or go all out and get the melted cheese, sour cream, bacon, and chive special like Father and Kenarn did."
Adora's eyes bulged. "That looks . . . I don't want to think about . . . is there even a potato down there?"
Kenarn and the Doctor were already digging in, making appreciative noises. "I think it'll be vinegar and salt for me, Thalmidor, if I can finish it," Adora said in a small voice.
Thalmidor took his mother's hand. "We can share," he said diplomatically.
They went through all the food vendors, sampling most of the items there. After that they went through the carnival games center and looked at all the prizes and challenges. "Ridiculous," Kenarn muttered. "I can make better stuffed animals than these."
"Remember, Kenarn, it's about the challenge as much as it is the prize, for humans, anyway," the Doctor pronounced.
"Aren't most of the games rigged, Father?" Thalmidor wanted to know.
"I'm not sure if that's still allowed or not; it was true of the old-fashioned ones . . ." the Doctor mused.
They passed by a stall where the barker called out, "Guess your weight, age, month of birth, only two dollars, if I'm not right within two years you win a prize. You, little lady, guess your age?"
"Don't even, Adora," the Doctor warned. "It's cheating by any sense of the word."
Adora had already turned around and was smiling sweetly at the barker, who said, "Two dollars please, miss. And now, let me see . . . turn 'round please, miss . . . I'll say, fourteen?"
"These are my sons," Adora said proudly.
The barker's face fell. "Any prize you want, ma'am."
Triumphant, Adora searched through the various prizes until she found a set of pink fuzzy dice and gave them to the Doctor. "For your TARDIS," she told him.
The Doctor wouldn't look at her, but he took the dice.