Back by overwhelming (or was that underwhelming?) demand, here comes the second installment of the Answers Trilogy that no one knew existed until a second installment was written! There will be a third part where all questions are answered, marginally at best, coming in the near (far) future! Until then!
So, there you are sitting, once again, in the plush seats of the Wyoming Theater of Flux. Hands around your knees you sit waiting, staring at the red velvet curtain as people file into their seats.
It doesn't make any sense really. Why would you come back here? The last time you were here your significant other was tragically torn from your side and lost to the cold void of space! Alright, maybe it wasn't that tragic. You had been planning on breaking up with that rock-brained twit before the vacuum of space did its thing. In a way you're thankful to space since it spared you the tears, the whining, and the late night drunk dials by your ex begging you for one more chance at a relationship.
But – and this is a big one, not unlike what your ex-significant other had – but you had been trapped after the show by an Emo!Dalek who'd strummed his acoustic guitar and held the rescue team at bay for 72 hours. 72 HOURS! The first 48, when the Emo!Dalek had been content to sing bad song parodies had been bad enough, but then he ran out of ideas and had just started talking! By the fifth hour of the Emo!Dalek rambling about how kittens made him feel sad, you fell into madness and were forced to gnaw a leg off to survive. Granted, it was your neighbor's leg, but he was a Cyberman! The dentist says your teeth are never going to be the same.
So what, what in this enormous and strange and sometimes very beautiful universe, would possess you to come back here, hmmm?
….
…..
Hey.
Are you paying any attention to me?
You're not, are you! All you're doing is staring at those freaking curtains and-
Oh.
Oh no.
You wouldn't!
You are.
You came back for the curtains, didn't you?
Ah, now you're paying attention! Well don't give me that sheepish grin! You're the idiot who came back over a bad reoccurring joke from the first bit! Why would you-
You brought a ring.
You're going to ask the curtains to marry you?
That's it. I quit! I'm not being paid enough to be an omniscient narrator for this load of garbage! I mean, coming back to certain death for a set of curtains! What sort of character motivation is that! And you haven't even given a name to the person I'm following at all! It's all you, you, you, you, you! That's not a narrative style, that's just an author who can't write for crap trying to be edgy! You'll hear from my agent about this!
Beep.
Beep.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.
As the world comes back into focus you realize that Doctor WTF has already taken the stage. The curtains have been pulled aside and there Doctor WTF is, sitting in that same purple plaid chair smiling that same crocodile smile. You feel a shiver of fear run down your back as you wonder why you didn't take your chance and run when the previous narrator was leaving. Why did you stay? Don't you know what sort of danger you're in? You need to ru-
"Ahem," Doctor WTF coughs loudly. "Sorry about that everyone. Don't you just hate it when narrators go and quit on you like that? Makes you just want to," the smile widens, "scream, doesn't it? Lucky for us, I found a quick replacement in the Wyoming Theater of Flux's own Sofie Summers! Isn't that wonderful?"
It isn't the same name as before. Did you notice? My name isn't the same as it was-
"Sofie dear, there's no need to add your own commentary," Doctor WTF says, reaching for a fish bowl full of paper slips. "Just keep to the original plan and simply narrate things as they happen, alright? Now there's a dear."
After fishing about for a moment, Doctor WTF removes a paper slip from the bowl and slowly unfolds it. Adjusting the thin wire glasses perched on Doctor WTF's nose-
"I said quit it with the commentary," Doctor WTF snaps, glancing sharply up at something behind the audience. "Time for our first question!"
Who is the better executive producer, Russell T Davies or Steven Moffat?
"Who?" Doctor WTF asks, face blank. "Now Davies, I've heard of him, but who is this Moffat guy supposed to be? I've never heard of him and he's supposed to be an executive producer? When did that ever happen?"
Doctor WTF looks down, pensively chewing a bottom lip. "Moffat. Moffat. Moffat Moffat Moffat. - MUPPET!
"I see now! A simple misspelling was the problem. Really now, whoever wrote this should have known better. It's not Steven Moffat, it is Stefin Muppet!"
You look around you at the equally confused audience members that surround you. "Who?" the Slitheen next to you asks in stage whisper.
"Stefin Muppet!" Doctor WTF bellows, glaring at the Slitheen who cowers in his seat. "You know, Kermit the Frog's long-lost brother! You see, our dear friend Stefin left the swamps of Mississippi at an early age to pursue fame and fortune in Hollywood much like Kermit did. However, unlike Kermit, Stefin is terrible at directions and so hitched a ride on the wrong plane and ended up in merry old England rather than the glittering streets of California. As he didn't have enough money to return to the states, this resourceful frog began writing television scripts to sell to the BBC.
"Trading scripts for flies is a tough living, but eventually Stefin prevailed and eventually worked his way up the ranks until he reached the position he claims today. At a salary of 70,000 pounds (of flies a year) he finds himself set for life and quite happy to continue working for the BBC on Doctor Who until they finally cancel the show. Which, if you remember our first segment, shall not be for some time."
What would the Doctor do for a Klondike bar?
"He would swim all the vast oceans, travel from the beginning to the end of time, kiss a frog, dance a jig, smoke a hookah, marry a Dalek, run for president, kick a puppy, do laundry, find that library that keeps going missing in the Tardis, climb Everest (again), defeat Cthulhu, enter the Mountains of Madness, make out with the Master, moon the Queen, and end an intergalactic war resulting in the death of billions and the extermination of the rest of the Time Lord race. Which is the true explanation behind the end of the Time War, FYI. Some joker offered the Doctor a Klondike bar and he went a little overboard to get it. Destroyed the Klondike Bar along with Gallifrey too. The moron."
Which Doctor had the best sonic screwdriver?
Sighing heavily, Doctor WTF sinks back into the purple plaid chair looking bored. "Not this again. Comparison questions, really? I mean, who else here has seen all 52 Doctors?"
A few audience members raise their hands. With a glare, Doctor WTF presses a red button on the armrest of the purple plaid chair and they are ejected, screaming, from the building.
"No one else? Thought so. Well, to answer this sort of question there are many different considerations to weigh. What did the Doctor in question use their sonic screwdriver for? How often was it used? Did it make a satisfying whirring sound when in use? Was it capable of actually screwing in screws? Did – Oh forget it!" Pouting deeply, Doctor WTF sinks deeper into the purple plaid chair. Drumming away on the armrest with busy fingers Doctor WTF, lips pursed, glances quickly about looking very annoyed.
"The Mark II screwdriver used by Three is the best because the prop department put a marble on a stick and deemed it awesome enough. Now on to more pressing questions. Why isn't this working? Sofie! Check to see why it isn't working!"
Reaching into the fishbowl, Doctor WTF plucks another strip of paper from the fishbowl and quickly opens it.
"What!" Doctor WTF yelps, looking surprised at the slip of paper. "But I didn't… I wasn't going to.. Sofie!"
Boxers, briefs, or something else?
"Oh, so that's how it's going to be? Well fine!" Leaping up, Doctor WTF stands wavering for a moment before sitting down with a content look to answer the question.
"Content? I am certainly not content at all! Stop it Sofie! You just wait until we get out of here and then I'm going to kick your sorry butt from here to Hong Kong!"
As Doctor WTF's socked feet hit the stage once more, the trap door opens and Doctor WTF falls, cursing, into the abyss below.
You hold your breath, halfway torn between awe and mind numbing terror at the battle raging before you. With Doctor WTF plummeting towards certain doom, you realize that now would be a good time to escape. But those curtains! You simply can't leave them here, you resolve. From somewhere high up and far away a girl name Sofie says a very bad word that would get her in a lot of trouble with her mother if she had heard.
A grapple comes flying up. Muttering and swearing, Doctor WTF reappears looking very grumpy. "Not funny Sofie! Not funny at all!"
What Doctor WTF doesn't know is that if only questions were being answered instead of fits being thrown, there would be no need for trap doors to open and certain hosts of one person variety shows plummeted into them.
Doctor WTF sighs heavily and finishes climbing out of the trap door. "Fine. I'll answer the stupid questions. The best answer to this question would be something else. The Doctor, like many fine Gallifrians that came before him, wears the traditional underwear of the Time Lords. That is, a G-string thong. Picture the Doctor incarnation one in a G-string thong now. You'll never get that image out of your head now will you? You're welcome for that."
Cat! *wink* I'm a kitty cat!
Doctor WTF stamps a foot and groans loudly. "And there goes the time. I hope you're happy Sofie! Another evening unproductively wasted when we could have made real progress this time! Let's get out of-"
What sort of toothpaste does the Doctor use?
A great force drags Doctor WTF to the purple plaid chair, the paper slip with the offending question leaping into Doctor WTF's hand.
"He doesn't need toothpaste," Doctor WTF responds automatically, looking confused. "He's a Time Lord. No need to brush your teeth if you're just going to regenerate them before you can get cavities. Wait, why am I still answering questions? I said we're out of time!"
If the sum of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the square on the other two sides, why is a mouse when it spins?
A panicked look is settling in on Doctor WTF's face as the purple plaid armchair's armrests are being gripped by white knuckles. "That's a rubbish question!" Doctor WTF sputters. "It's gibberish! And we're out of time. We have to go, Sofie!"
If the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is 42, than what is the question?
"That's not even from Doctor Who! Sofi-"
Who is the woman in white?
"-e! Stop it! Stop it So-"
Who blew up the Tardis?
"-fie! I don't know the answers to these questions! You can't make me answer what I don't k-"
Who wants "Silence to Fall?" What is the Silence?
"-now! Sofie please!"
Will you marry me!
For a moment everything seems to freeze. Doctor WTF blinks rapidly, confusion replacing panic.
You clap your hands over your mouth, horrified that you said that out loud at a moment like this. You had expected to pop the question over a romantic dinner and candlelight! The curtains waver slightly in the stage light, obviously taken aback by the sudden proposal. You two haven't even been formally introduced yet! What were you thinking? Even the narrative power of Sofie seems taken aback as she stops tormenting Doctor WTF with questions and suddenly falls silent, filled with indecision on what to do next.
"Who said that?" Doctor WTF demands, eyes scanning the audience. "It's impossible for any of you to speak outside of comedic moments meant to announce your own destruction."
You shrink down in your seat, palms sweaty as Doctor WTF's eyes skip over you. If Doctor WTF hasn't noticed you yet, you don't want Doctor WTF to start noticing.
Eyes still searching the crowd, Doctor WTF frowns deeply and grips the armrests of the purple plaid chair tighter. "And why would you ask me to marry you?" Doctor WTF suddenly blurts out, looking upset.
"No!" you shout leaping to your feet. "I wasn't asking you, I was asking the curtains! Sorry, but no. Never no. Never would ask you to marry me in a hundred, maybe even a billion years."
You instantly regret it. Doctor WTF's eyes latch onto you with a gaze that seems to pierce right through you into your very being. Blue eyes, cold and calculating, seem to pierce you as Doctor WTF points at you. "Who are you supposed to be?"
As if released from some sort of spell the audience suddenly screams to life. Cyberman and Daleks march through the crowd. Other species, too numerous to mention begin to shout and scream and squack and growl and slobber and moan. The Ood begin to sing. In the madness of the theater you stand, meeting Doctor WTF's eyes.
"Who are you?"
"What a beautiful day!" a new voice thunders through the theater, drowning out the panic of the theater.
Doctor WTF glances up, horrified. "NO!" she manages to shout and then collapses, screaming as she clutches her head.
Reality shatters like glass. The fragments twirl past you, suspended in the air, each one containing a portion of the theater as it was. Here is the eyestalk of a Dalek. There is the face of a human, contorted with panic. Screaming for the curtains which somehow still cling to the undamaged stage you throw yourself through the void of the theater that once was and reach out for red velvet.
The curtains reach back and you catch hold, two shapes in the nothing as the stage shatters and explodes.
"I'm sorry!" you blubber, dripping tears onto red velvet. "I just wanted to ask you to marry me. But I didn't want things to end up like this, I really didn't!"
The curtains understand. Enfolding you in red velvet, you hold each other as the shards of reality in turn shatter into smaller and smaller fragments. And then-
Vegas.
New Vegas to be exact.
25th century New Vegas to be really exact.
Still clutching each other, you and the curtains stare about you at the long line of casinos that border the busy street you've been deposited on. With a shout of glee you hug the curtains tightly and get to your feet. "We made it!" you shout. "I don't know how, but we made it out!"
As the sun begins to set you and the curtains begin to walk down the busy street, simply glad to be alive. "So," you say slowly. "I know that this may not be the time to bring it up, but… You never did say if you would marry me or not."
