I seriously wanted to die. Not only had I ruined time and let my wife get turned into some deformed mutant freak killing machine, but I now had a son, and he took after his mother.

The Dalek in front of me wished to shoot me dead. Do it, I thought.

Unfortunately, when I spread my arms in surrender, the boy interpreted this as, `Come here, son, I want to give you a hug.'

My stomach flip-flopped as his small arms wrapped around me. I choked down a sob. I have a son, and he loves me!

Blocked by this tiny human, er, humanoid shield, the Dalek refused to fire. "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, UNIT 54651!"

Unit 54651. Also known as my son.

Still pressing his face to my chest, the boy pointed his palm at the Dalek, and the machine unzipped.

My wife nonchalantly plucked the creature from inside the machine, throwing it on the carpet behind my bed. I shuddered to think about what tidying up the apartment would be like after this.

I couldn't stop staring. My eyes...watered. "You're really my son."

He nodded. "I remember your picture from my pod!"

I frowned. "My kind aren't born in pods."

He pointed to Eve. "That's why she's my mom!"

Okay, I thought. That makes sense.

Still, I kinda got the idea. Eve did say we had a fertilized egg, and they had a cloning factory on that planet.

The boy let go of me.

I sighed. "We got to come up with a better name for you. I'm not going to call you a number."

"We'll call him Tharg," Eve said. "In honor of my father."

I nodded. "Suitably caveman-y."

I furrowed my brow as I stared at the TARDIS. Its presence, with the accompanying Daleks, made no logical sense. "Wait, how is that thing doing here?" I locked eyes with my wife. "I thought Jenny and Madame Vastra stopped the Daleks before they could get to the president!"

"I...don't know. Perhaps some Daleks hid inside the TARDIS and killed them when their backs were turned."

I shivered. "Riversong too?"

"It's only a guess. My other speculation is that this is where the machine went to before going to where it went later."

"So this is like the past of the machine we're about to be taken home in, in our past?"

"How should I know? I'm not the Doctor."

Two more Daleks rolled out onto my carpet. Tharg faced them. "Stay where you are. Dalek 7016123 has been relieved of command."

The Daleks obeyed.

I shook my head in disbelief. "How do you have the TARDIS? There were...people in it! Tough people!"

"They went to stop the Dalek invasion in Boston. When they arrived, I hid behind a bush until they stepped out." Tharg shrugged. "They should have left someone behind to guard it."

"They...left the door open?"

"No...but..." He pointed to me, then to his chest. "It seems the machine likes your genetics."

"Shit. I thought those guys were going to wrap everything up with a tidy bow."

I grabbed for my checkbook again. Considering the circumstances, I didn't blame Eve for staring at me.

"What are you doing, Robert?"

"We have to pay for those clothes you stole."

"I don't think this is an appropriate time."

"And when is!" I yelled. "Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want cops chasing after me?"

"I can have my Daleks destroy them for you, father," Tharg said.

"Um, no thanks. I'm actually fond of my civilization and constabulary. What upsets me is that your mother stole clothing from someone. I want to give the merchant money in exchange for his wonderful goods, okay?"

"If we use the blue box, we won't need to worry about that. We can go somewhere else."

I frowned, remembering how there were dinosaur burger restaurants. "Humor me."

With a sigh, Eve walked to the door. Or more accurately, she sashayed. It was the heels.

I gave the boy a suspicious stare. "We're going to get stranded again. They'll take off, and we'll be stuck here again."

Eve turned around. "Perhaps."

I groaned in frustration. "Son, do you actually know how to pilot that thing?"

He nodded his head. "I grew up in it. I even studied it in my pod."

Immediately, I scooped the boy in my arms and hugged him. It was the hug of a smelly drunk after you hand him a twenty, not a father's hug. "You've got to help me make things right!"

Tharg swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"

I narrowed my eyes at Eve. She was right, to a degree. If we could fix other problems in history, maybe it wouldn't matter that she stole her clothing. Maybe it wouldn't matter anyway, because the present would change. Maybe she'd suddenly become naked or something.

I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to go back and stop Eve from getting butchered, or knock myself out before I set foot in the TARDIS, so I don't make the same stupid mistakes. But my track record wasn't looking so good. I decided it best to look up this mysterious person that wrote to me.

"You know how to take this thing to London?"

The boy shrugged. "Sure. There are a number of preprogrammed directions in the computer."

"Did they say what they're for?"

"Some."

"Can you look for one labeled S.J.S?"

He looked at me funny. "We were just there. Dalek 7016123 exterminated a middle aged woman named Sarah and Daleks 7016124 and 7016125 vaporized most the children who were with her. Only one escaped."

"Good Lord!" I cried. "Let's go there anyway."

And so he set a course.

Later I would hear rumors that the whole street had been hidden from the Doctor, or time lords, or whatever it was, by some sort of memory nullifying field, but I guess my time traveling had screwed that up, too, because I found it. Maybe it was a butterfly effect thing caused by the dinosaur burgers.

We landed in a British suburb. To me it looked a lot like an American one, except for the fact that they had smaller properties, heavily framed in brownstone and shrubs, and the cars all reminded me of Yugos.

Across the street stood a burned out brick building. It looked like a tank had fired at it. A giant hole in the wall allowed me a view into a smoking wreck that appeared to have once resembled a model dining room from an architecture magazine. A crumbling brick wall surrounded the house, the remains of a charred green European compact smoking in the drive approach.

"So where is this S.J.S.?" I asked my son. I paused. "I mean, was."

He pointed to the shattered windows.

"Great," I moaned.

I crossed the street, approaching the car-b-que.

As I came closer, a tall figure in a black robe stepped out of the gateway. Since a cowl obscured the top half of his face, I could only see a mouth filled with pointy shark teeth.

"Excuse me, sir," I said to the stranger. "Can you direct me to S.J.S.?"

The stranger chuckled.

"Are you S.J.S.?"

He laughed. "I believe you refer to Sarah Jane Smith, the previous occupant of this house, who unfortunately is no more."

Sarah, I thought. I wondered if they had any connection to the recording I heard when I first entered the TARDIS, but didn't ask.

"Robert Wilson, I presume?"

I stared. "Maybe? Who are you?"

"Me? I'm the Trickster. But that's unimportant. Wow..." He had the posture of a groupie looking for an autograph. "I just came to congratulate you on creating such an amazing amount of chaos. The way you ruined time. It's really quite delicious. May I shake your hand?"

I don't know about you, but if you screw up time, and some nut in a robe comes up to you telling you how great you are because you ruined everything, you can hardly take it as a compliment.

I glared. "How the hell do you know who I am?"

The stranger stepped back, raising his hands innocently. "Doesn't everyone? I mean, not everyone can bring back the $1.99 dinosaur special. It's too bad those goons rescued George Washington. I was really starting to enjoy the death and destruction."

When the stranger moved his head, I could see under the cowl. No facial features except for the shark mouth.

"What the hell happened to your eyes?"

The Trickster shrugged. "It's the way I was born."

"I still don't get it. Nobody should know that thing about George Washington. I barely remember it myself."

"Well I do. And I think you're the most wonderful creature in the universe." The thing patted me on the back. "Keep doing what you're doing. It's exceptional!"

"Does that include punching you in your Jabber Jaw?"

"Rude," the Trickster muttered. "Well, I suppose we can't have everything."

"Stick around. Maybe we can find you some chum!"

The creature hissed at me like an angry vampire, disappearing in a puff of smoke. His final parting words: "I still admire your work!"

I walked around the scorched green car, frowning at the ruin.

A set of shrubs surrounded the doorway of the tall brick building, but now they resembled overcooked broccoli.

The doorway itself could barely be called such, basically a gaping hole, the stoop and the shattered remains of a frame the only indication that a door had ever been there.

The living room, or sitting area, was a complete mess. Glass everywhere, a giant charred lump that could barely be described as a couch, topped with a melted crochet throw.

This SJS person apparently hadn't gone without a fight. I found the exploded remains of a Dalek next to a demolished China cabinet, another next to the molten slag that used to be an LG Flat Panel, another at the base of a staircase.

Hearing a click, I turned just in time to see a basement door closing. I ran to it, tried the knob, but someone had locked it.

Without a word, Ms. Stolen Party Dress held up a glowing hand, and the door clicked open.

"Mom?" a voice cried. "Doctor?"

The opening widened, and a young man with brown hair and an elfin face peeked out.

The door slammed shut again.

"We're looking for SJS!" I shouted.

"She's dead! Go away!" I could hear a sob creeping into the boy's voice.

For a moment, I was at a loss for what to say. "Kid, I need your help. I need to get in contact with someone, anyone, who knows SJS."

He didn't reply.

Fearing he had gone downstairs and out of hearing range, I raised my voice. "Hey, kid! I know you must know something. Look, I found something called a TARDIS and screwed up time. This SJS person, she knew about it somehow. She knew a lot of things I'm embarrassed about. Please, kid. Do you—"

"She's my mom, okay?" the boy sobbed.

"Please, kid. Come out. We're not going to hurt you."

"What about those human Daleks with you?"

"That's my wife and son. They won't hurt you."

"Are the Daleks gone?"

I looked around, but didn't see any live ones. "Yeah." I figured if I told him about the ones in the TARDIS, he'd never come out. "Did...your mother have a sonic screwdriver?"

"Sonic lipstick."

The door cracked open. "Your son...Was he born naturally, or in a lab?"

"It's kind of a combo," I stammered. "I didn't even know he existed until he brought the TARDIS to my apartment." Noting a confused look, I added, "My flat."

The kid turned his attention to me. "So you're responsible for the dinosaur sandwiches."

I nodded. "That's kind of why I came here."

"Sorry. We don't have anything that can help you. Mom never liked the stuff."

I groaned. "No, I mean, I came here for some advice on how to fix it."

"Recipes?"

I smacked my head. "No! I have a TARDIS! I want to undo my mistake!"

He frowned. "You're nailed."

"Excuse me?"

"Um...screwed? Yes?"

It seemed he didn't have a mastery of colloquialisms for some reason, and not merely due to being a Brit. I mean, I never heard him say things like "Mental," "Bloomin'" or "Guvnah."

"Yes, wait, no! What do you mean, `I'm screwed'?"

"The phrase implies sexually assaulted? To indicate how hopeless your condition is?" He shook his head. "I wish Clyde were here. He was always better at these expressions." Tears rolling down the kid's cheek. "No one understands me anymore!"

I sighed. "Cool it, kid." Realizing he had some language problem, I added, "Relax. You're an alien. I get it. My wife and son are alien cave people. I can teach you English."

"No. You don't get it. I was born in a lab."

"Me too!" my son said to him. "Let's play!"

The other boy started. "No. Wait. I recognize you!" He pointed at my son. "You were the one standing behind the Daleks that killed my mom!"

He ran up a staircase, screaming, "Mister Smith, I need you!"

I hurried after him, hoping I could get there before he could tell some lie to his friend.

I rushed up a narrow and scorched staircase, passing a huge hole overlooking the surrounding neighborhood. I crossed a landing, stepped over a crater, climbed another stair to an attic full of weird trinkets.

It had the look of a living room, with furniture and everything. Well, it would have, had part of the ceiling not collapsed and there hadn't been a row of dead Daleks and a gaping hole in the wall.

I was about to examine the myriad of trinkets scattered all over the floor, but at that precise moment, I noticed sort of a giant computer cum entertainment center attached to a broken chimney was pointing a cannon at me.

Since I was used to machines pointing cannons at me by now, I ducked just as a barrage of shrapnel came flying out of the thing in a seemingly endless fiery spray.

"I didn't kill your mom!" I screamed. "It wasn't my fault!"

"Stay away from me!" the boy shouted.

A rain of bullets tore through the woodwork above my head.

He was right. I was screwed.