Two Quests and a Concert

Question: What do you get when you let not one but two temporarily displaced (and slightly bored) Time Lords loose in a very large, very well-stocked kitchen?

Answer: The Beatles.

As so many adventures do, it started on a whim, and a craving. The whim was Mike's, and it was innocent enough: a quest for the perfect mug of hot cocoa. Of course, when you're a Time Lord, nothing is quite as simple as it might seem at first blush.

Dutch cocoa, German cocoa, Swiss, American, Mexican. Supermarket brands and gourmet mail-order. Bars and chunks and powders and liquors. Milk and cream and water. Six different kinds of sugar. Whipped cream and marshmallows and Irish whiskey and coffee liqueurs. Thick pots and double boilers and microwaves, whisks and spoons and ladles. The only thing that remained constant were the big ceramic mugs to hold the results of each experiment.

After many a dirty pot and many a chocolatey mustache, the perfect mug was indeed achieved. And I'm sorry to inform you that I've been sworn to secrecy regarding its recipe – for which I traded the location of the very last banana grove on Paxiflorian. Sorry.

Be that as it may, very late one night, after having spent the evening before sipping on a mug of said perfect hot cocoa, the craving struck. And struck hard. It struck not a Time Lord, nor a half-Time Lord, but one very pregnant redhead.

The following morning, John and Rose meandered into the kitchen to find Mike sitting beside the table, head in hands. He looked up, blearily, and said, "Just kill me now. Please."

"What's wrong?"

"She's craving. And it's all my fault."

"Um, pardon?"

"I shouldn't have cut off her memories when I did. I should have cut them off two days before that. Just one. A couple of hours would have done!"

The couple looked at each other, mystified, and sat down on either side of the expectant father. "What in the world are you blathering about?"

"I cut off her memories just before the incident with the fortune-teller on Tsing-bok-dao. When she created the alternate timeline."

"Seems appropriate. But why...?"

"Because I cut them off just after we had that foamy drink. What was it called? I can't even remember. But now she's craving it. Badly. And I have absolutely no idea how to make it." A thought struck him, and he glared at John. "Actually, it's your fault. Why did you take her there, anyway? You can't blame me for that one!"

"Uh, Mike? I'm not the reason she's got cravings."

"Oh. Right." He sighed again, pathetically. "Please help?"

John grinned. "The two words I never refuse."

Thus began the second quest: to replicate that... what was it called? They never did remember the name, and took to calling it Foamy Stuff.

About an hour into the conversation regarding possible ingredients that very first morning, Donna wandered in. She looked a bit confused about the whole thing, then suddenly brightened and joined in enthusiastically. Rose snorted, and a short time later got her off to one side. "You're not actually craving it, are you?"

Donna grinned wickedly. "I wasn't before. But it was good."

A week or so later, Mike dipped the results of the latest experiment into a pair of mugs, giving one to John. "It's not there yet – but I think we're getting closer."

John agreed. "This is actually pretty good!" They grinned at each other, then Mike handed his mug off to Donna, just coming into the kitchen with Rose. "Try this, love."

She took a sip, then choked slightly. "Blech! Are you trying to poison me? That's terrible!"

"Whaaat?" Mike wilted, dejected. "Oh, Donna." Suddenly, he got a sly look on his face, grabbed the catsup bottle off the table, and began to sing, using the bottle as a microphone.

Oh, Donna, please believe me!

Doo-dee-doo-doo intoned John, playing air guitar beside Mike.

I'll never do you no harm!
Believe me when I tell you-OO!
I'll never do you no wrong!

He leaned over to John, sharing the catsup "mike", as they both swung into the chorus, John providing the falsetto cry.

When you told me - OOO! - you didn't need me anymore
Well you know I nearly broke down and cri-i-ied!
When you told me you didn't need me anymore
Well you know I nearly fell down and di-i-i-i-ied!

John went back to verbal air guitar while Mike continued on, bellowing out the high notes.

Oh! Darling, if you leave me
I'll never make it alone!
Believe me when I tell you
I'll never do you no harm!

John slowed down for the final licks, and they both twanged out the last two chords, then gazed expectantly at their audience.

Who were literally rolling on the floor, howling, tears streaming down their faces, holding their sides.

"I don't think they like our singing!" Mike commented, wounded.

"Well, we did lose out on the fourth spot to Ringo," reminded his twin.

"True." He picked up the mugs again and handed one to John. "Drink?"

"Cheers!"