Hey guys! Sorry this one is short. Kind of ran out of ideas. Please feel free to review! Sorry I haven't been posting much but I will post more soon.
See ya,
DaFartingUnicorn49
Clara Oswald was making a soufflé. Every single soufflé she made came out wrong. It came out flat or burned. Angie and Artie always groaned when she announced she was making a soufflé. But this time, this time she would make the perfect soufflé! She did the chocolate and flour and the eggs and the other stuff, then chucked it in the oven. She sat at the table and hummed that catchy Coles song while she read Melody Malone: The Angels Kiss. She was only on the second page when the TARDIS suddenly lurched, knocking Clara over in the process. She pulled herself up and opened the oven. Her soufflé had gone everywhere, all over the it. Sometimes she thought the TARDIS purposely destroyed her soufflés, just to annoy her. She sighed and took a cloth from the scrubbed until she wondered why she was even cleaning the oven at the TARDIS' expense. She eventually threw the cloth down and she ran back to the main control room. "Doctor," she called as she burst into the room. "The Snogbox hates me." He was reading her copy of Summer Falls by Amelia Williams.
"Well maybe if you stopped calling her that, she would be nicer." He turned around and jumped back at the sight of her frizzy hair and dirty face. "Clara, what on Earth happened to you?!" He said, flinching slightly. She sighed again. "The Snogbox ruined my soufflé."
"Did she really? Why did you do that old girl..." She left him alone with the Snogbox. It was best to when he started talking to her. If he had a wife she was sure it wouldn't out that well if he continued to talk like that to the TARDIS. She hurried to the dressing room and chose a nice blue dress and a black jacket. She threw the ruined clothes in the bin, combed her hair until it was reasonably neat and cleaned off bits of soufflé. Then came the bang that threw her off the feet. She raced back through the TARDIS corridors to the Doctor to find out what happened. When she finally burst back into the control room there was a living skeleton pointing a gun at him. The Doctor, being the Doctor of course, had his screwdriver out and was probing the skeleton here and there, curiosity taking him over. Clara sighed again. That was the third time today. She really had to stop doing it. But what else can you do when your best friend is probing a living skeleton in the head at gunpoint?