Author's Note (TraditionalGaily, again): I'm quite happy this Advent Callendar is over soon. Writing Officer Crabtree's jokes is affecting my brain. Yesterday I thought a package of instant noodles was labelled 'dick flavoured'...
"Doctor!"
Someone was tugging at his coat.
"Doctor!"
Being greeted by the Master's smiling face was not an experience the Doctor was ever going to get used to.
"Get off me," he pushed him aside, dusting himself off.
"You passed out after going through a door that was still closed," the Master stated unnecessarily cheerful," And you were talking in your sleep…"
"Yes, yes alright," the Doctor stated a little embarrassed.
He had almost forgotten about his tutor and his…unexpected advantages…
He gave a little nervous cough.
It had taken him at least five regenerations until the round 'love bite' one of his sucker had left on his neck had faded a bit.
No wonder there was a time when he wouldn't dare to walk around without his scarf…
"It all sounded rather interesting," the Master pressed on.
"Shut up, alright?"
"Wasn't Pyrominos one of your former tutors?"
The Doctor was about to protest when it happened.
What had happened he was trying to recollect afterwards.
All his brain detected was him, standing on two legs snarling at the Master and in the next second, him lying flat on the floor with most passengers and parts of the Paradox Train rearranged.
He coughed as he dusted himself off and got up.
They must have run into something, he deducted.
"Master?"
A grumble underneath some chunks and plates was all the Doctor needed.
He looked around.
A murmur was running through the assemblage of passengers, though none of them seemed hurt.
Until he spotted the trickling red stream.
"There is an awful lot of blood on the floor…" he stated a bit paler.
"Probably a Mary Sue," Tiny Tim encouraged him, "they are expected to sacrifice themselves during emergencies…"
The Doctor stepped through a door that had been blown away during the impact.
Flickering lights, the nose piercing smell of cables and electronical junk.
Groans and distant footsteps.
"Please don't tell me we've plunged into the horror genre," he turned to the Master who had followed him.
"I don't think so."
An unfamiliar voice replied.
The Doctor spotted a grotesque looking clown accompanied by a non-chalantly looking blue haired young man in a long white coat.
The clownish figure walked up to him.
And slipped on a banana peel.
"Hello there," the Clown waved and beckoned them to draw nearer.
The Master had it worse.
Moving closer he stepped on a rake and got hit in the face.
"You seem a bit puzzled, about recent events, hence your vehicle crushing into our train," the Clown explained once they had gotten into ear-shot range, "My name is Dollardumb. I'm the engine driver and this is my assistant, AbridgedZane."
AbridgedZane gave a disinterested grunt.
"And this," Dollardumb continued, "is the wreckage of the train you just obliterated."
"Impissible," the appearing Conductor Crabtree shouted, and continued once he had made his humorours journey through the banana peel mine field, "it is quite Claire that you smished into our troon rinning bickwarts."
Dollardumb had produced some balls and started juggling while he explained.
"I must object, it was definitely your train going in the wrong direction. We could totally see your headlights."
"Hold on," the Doctor interrupted them inspecting the crash scene thoroughly, "There seems to be an awful lot of slap-stick elements here. I can't feel the disquieting sensation of a flashback heading our way, but mainly why is there a second train running on the Paradox tracks?
"Because we're not on the Paradox track, love," Dollardumb explained further, "this is the Parody track."
"The Parody Train?"
The Doctor stared wide-eyed.
"Sure," Dollardumb continued as he oversaw the repair of the two trains, "mockeries, abridged series, parody songs…we even got some satirical plays. Take me for an instance…Oi!"
He was addressing some of the Mary Sues they had, reluctantly on the Doctors behalf, retrieved from their kennels to do the repair work.
After all, who to ask about engineering but a Mary Sue?
"You must admit they are marvellous creatures."
The Doctor jumped.
"Stop sneaking up on me," he nudged the Master in the ribs, "and besides, no don't even think about it, that's weird and probably illegal too."
"Come on, it's been a while now…"
The Doctor shot him a stern gaze.
"And besides," the Master continued unimpressed, "it's spring. I can feel it."
"The Paradox Train knows no seasons," the Doctor replied matter-of-factly.
"But the Cheetah does!"
"No!"
"Fine!"
The Master crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Is that a black eye?"
The Doctor looked down only now becoming aware of his torn sleeves.
"Perhaps…" the Master added with a smug smile.
"When…"
"Funny story really," the Master began, "I was defending my honour against a hamster, sneezed, triggered the cheetavirus' effects…that's when things get a bit hazy…turns out I'm now the Archduke of Westgloucester…"
The Doctor turned pale.
"You didn't…"
"Told you it was a funny story," the Master grinned, "by the way, do you have anything against the taste of fur in my mouth…"
"I said no exchanging of tragic background stories, is that understood?"
Dollardumb pointed at another one who was now patting the hand of the officer who held her leash.
"And no more healing and comforting, you hear that?"
"Great workers, those Mary Sues," Dollardumb continued once he had gotten back, "terrible plot devices but great workers…Where were we…ah the Parody Train…Yes, take me for instance."
They eyed him up closely.
"What are you supposed to be?" the Master asked unperturbed.
"A wise-crack."
"Ah, tried that once, never got the hang of it."
"Not that kind," Dollardumb continued, "turns out someone thought it was kind of funny to take a horror character and juggle and temper with his name. That's what you get. Wise-crack. Only with little wise and too much crack."
"How come you got thrown off the track?" Dollardumb wanted to know.
"Well, there was the tini-weency problem of a plot hole trying to suck us in."
"Ah, right," Dollardumb agreed, "terrible thing those plot holes, though we've developed a system to cope."
"Which is?"
The Doctor hadn't even finished his sentence as a custard pie landed on Dollardumbs face, showering his surroundings in custard.
"I wish you hadn't asked," Dollardumb continued brushing off bits of pastry.
"I see the anti-plot hole device is still working properly, thank you AbridgedZane"
"Well, sucks to be you."
"So this Parody Train thing," the Doctor picked up the conversation again, a bit perplexed by Dollardumb's assistant's strange behaviour, "it's somewhat like the Paradox Train…"
"Only with much more laughter and slap-stick."
"Ilbatroos! Ilbatroos!"
Their heads turned in the direction of conductor Crabtree who was strangely enough wearing a maid's uniform and carried an albatross on his vendor's tray.
"The Albatross sketch," Dollardumb remarked matter-of-factly, "It's quite popular around here."
"Oi," he shouted at Crabtree, "what flavour is it?"
"It's a beard, so what floover do you expect it to be. I imigine, it's dick flavoured."
"Strange," Dollardumb was perplexed, "I've never heard that one before."
"Well sucks to be you!" AbridgedZane remarked.
"What's it with those pee and dick jokes anyway?" the Master asked.
"He's from the eighties, you know," the Doctor explained.
"I hot that!" Crabtree shouted.
"Can we keep him?" Dollardumb's eyes lit up.
"I'm afraid that would be tempering with reality," the Doctor explained, "he belongs in the Paradox Train after all."
"Shame really," Dollardumb continued, "oh well…Yes, that's about it. Wherever there is a vicious satirical voice on the back of someone's mind. That's the Parody Train.
Poking fun at all the silly things happening around us…"
"Well sucks to be you."
"…While we're forced to continue our endless journey through the galaxies…"
"Well, sucks to be me."
They watched the Mary Sues as they walked graciously, covered in soot and rust but still graciously, among the plates until the last screw had been magically wrenched into place again and the beautiful girls stood there with their perfect hair and intact nails.
Dollardumb had arranged for the Mary Sues to be transferred to the Parody Train.
"Well, here we are," he declared, "the Paradox Train is on the right track again and all the Mary Sues are stored and secured in the luggage department."
"And you're sure they can't escape…" the Doctor continued doubtfully.
A person appeared in a cloud of smoke.
"Bastura," Dollardumb whispered, "representing the cliché of the negligible British friend."
"Pretty much," Bastura explained, "first of all, they need a chauvinistic macho male individual to gain their true powers. You know, to save his life and such, so he will learn to respect women. And secondly we put them in some old potato sacks and you know with most of them being blonde…"
"They go 'potatoes, potatoes' if nudged, right?" the Doctor deducted.
"Precisely," Bastura remarked, "and now if you'll excuse me, my stiff upper lip is needed elsewhere." He disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
"Thanks again, you lot," Dollardumb continued and pointed in the direction of the luggage, "They will keep us going for a while."
"What fuels the Parody Train?" the Doctor enquired.
"Cheap shots, old jokes and repetition. and repetition. and repetition. and repetition. and…"
At this point AbridgedZane hit him over the head with an enormous red mallet with small wings attached, initiating roaring laughter as the engine of the Parody Train whirled back to life.
"And slapstick obviously," Dollardumb continued, "but the thing is the satirical self-sacrificial poor excuses of a twelve year's old fantasy will be good for a laugh or two."
"And I thought you were coming with us," the Master turned to the Doctor, who nudged him in the ribs.
"Wait, didn't daystarsearcher write something similar about Mary Sues in 'The Good Ship (Name of Ship)'? And wasn't the thing with the Albatross taken from Monty Python's flying circus?"
"So? What's wrong with a reference or two?" Dollardumb wanted to know.
"That's stealing."
Dollardumb shrugged.
"Stealing, referencing. Same thing to me. All that matters are the laughs. What is a man? A miserable pile of secrets, but enough of this…"
"Castlevania: Symphony of the night," the Master interrupted him.
"As referenced by Littlekuriboh. Hah."
"I still think this is wrong," the Doctor wouldn't just back down.
"Well, sucks to be you."
"Shut up AbridgedZane," Dollardumb continued and beckoned the Doctor to come closer as he spoke above the crescendo of laughter and giggles, "But Doctor dear before you go, there's one thing more you ought to know…"
"Musical reference," the Master harrumphed.
"Shut up," Dollardumb snarled, "Jokes may grow beards, Abridging might be dead and Parody songs will fade. But laughter will remain. And sometimes. Sometimes the Parody will be more memorable than the thing it was poking fun at. For what is laughter, but an original creation of the human heart."
The speech was prematurely terminated due to a custard pie hitting his face.
"How appropriate," Dollardumb wiped the custard off,"thank you AbridgedZane."
"Well sucks to be you."
The Master and the Doctor stepped out of the locomotive, the latter touched and slightly befuddled by Dollardumb's speech.
The Doctor wiped away a tear before his mood changed.
"Hey, you stole my part," he added angrily, "I'm usually the one to make heart wrenching speeches."
"Well, sucks to be you."
"Shut up, AbridgedZane," Dollardumb continued waving at the Doctor, "It's time to say goodbye…"
Well, it was what he wanted to say, since everything after 'its' was drowned out by the sound of a falling foot the Parody Train smashed through instantly, maniacal laughter and enraged giggles, the Parody's equivalent of a cloud of smoke, trailing after them.
Back in the Paradox Train the Doctor was brooding over Dollardumbs words as he watched the stars passing them by.
"You know," he turned to the Master, "I think there might be a grain of truth in his words after all."
"Great, "the Master groaned, "We're back on the existential crisis track again."