Crashed Time

The Doctor was starting to get too old for this sort of thing.

“Oh, come off it, Peter. This is a pretty good set, though,” said the man. He was poking at the TARDIS console like he expected it to fall apart.

“I'm the Doctor, not Peter. And please stop touching my TARDIS. She's rather sensitive,” said the Doctor.

The man looked at him, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I'm sure she is. Okay, so this is like, Russell having a laugh, right? Oh, wait. No, this was Barrowman's idea. Yeah. Is he going to come in waving his penis anytime soon? I do like it when he does that,” said the man.

The Doctor considered the situation. A strange man had just appeared on his TARDIS, and seemed to be confusing him for someone else. Clearly, all the Doctor had to do was stay calm, and everything would become clear.

The man ran up to him, and snatched the celery off his shirt. He sniffed it.

“So, it's real celery. Huh. Moffat swore to me the show used a prop.,” said the man.

“What show? Wait, never mind that. What's your name?” said the Doctor.

“David McDonald,” said the man.

“Alright, David. Where are you from? Oh, and please don't open those doors. The TARDIS regulators are acting oddly. So we might be in the vacuum of space,” said the Doctor.

“How...how did you get so young-looking all of a sudden?” said David.

“I fell off a tower. And I said to stay away from those doors!” said the Doctor. David was ignoring him, of course.

“Oh, please, Petey. Admit it, Georgia's right outside, right?” said David. He swung open the doors, and the air gusted out of the ship. The Time vortex was right outside, and David was suddenly sucked out beforte the Doctor could respond. All the Doctor could was watch David's terrified expression, as he was sent to who knows where.

1582 Engalnd

Anne Boleyn eyed the stranger with trepidation. He was handsome, no doubt. But he was certainly a strange fellow. David MacDonald seemed like a man out of time, constantly flummoxed by living in France, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

And why did he keep on mentioning a Natalie Dormer?

“I'm supposed to be playing the Doctor on a show. I'm not an actual Doctor. Oh god...I'm actually in Doctor Who. I mean, that's cool...but what if I spread smallpox to everyone? What if I cause a plague? Oh god. Oh god. OH GOD!”

David had been like this for ages. Once, in his delirium, he mentioned that Queen Boleyn would die within a few years in an exceution. For such treason, he was nearly arrested in the prisons.

Nevertheless, the Queen took a liking to him. So David was allowed to live, and he decided to ply his trade as a jester, entertaining the queen.

Until a blonde man walked into the palace, and screamed at him.

“Do you know how many alterations you've made to the time line?” said the man, who claimed to be a Doctor.

“Is the universe going to end?” said David.

“NO! But it could have! You're not that bright, are you David?” asked the Doctor, who dragged him out of France.

Now, in another universe

“So hang on, in your universe, you're really a Time Lord,” Steven Moffat said. He was down at the pub, sitting across from a man who appeared like a TV actor, but wasn't acting like one. Indeed, the man's eyes contained an almost ethereal intelligence, and an effortless charm.

Of course, that could be just the beer talking.

“Oh yes. Escaping the Time Vortex was extremely difficult. But when you made that Time Crash vid, apparently it was so...how do you say it?,” said the Master. He scratched his blonde hair, wrinkling his nose. He looked disturbingly like John Simm.

“Fanwanky?” offered Steve.

The Master smiled widely, and nodded “Yes, fanwanky. It was so fanwanky, that it tore open a hole in space-time, allowing the Land of Fiction to leak. I've gotten out, and it seems your David has fallen in.”

“Oh. Um, not to be too mean, but you're the Master. So, um, why aren't you..”

“Killing you, and taking over the planet? First off, how do you know I didn't poison your drink?” said the Master, leaning over and grinning like a shark.

Steven Moffat quietly placed his drink down, and tried not to freak out. Not that he believed this man, or anything.

“First off, you're important to the timeline off the Doctor Who show, and thus my timeline. I kill you, and I destroy any Doctor Who post-that Russell fellow. And if Doctor Who dies, I die. Can't have that,” said the Master.

“You're not concerned that you're not real,” said Steven. The Master rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“What makes you think I didn't already know? And I'm fictional. That's different from 'not real',” huffed the Master.

That sounded like splitting hairs, but Moffat didn't argue. The Master finished his drink, then suddenly grabbed Steven.

“See, I need to leave this stupid boring place. You gibbons haven't even created time travel yet. But I need something from you first. I need a promise kept,” said the Master. A switch had flipped, and he had gone from calm and composed, to the throes of a violent craze.

“Uh, what?” asked Steven.

“Bring me back. I don't care when you do it. But bring me back to life,” said the Master.

“How will I get the ability to even do that? I'm just a script writer!” said Steven.

“You're a creative little doggie. Figure it out,” the Master said. He paused, and added “Oh, and I want to wear a dress somewhere along the way.”

The Master still had he same serious expression on his face. Moffat nodded, and the Master gave two thumbs up. Instantly, the alien's expression went from crazed to a simple smile.

“Pleasure doing business with you. Have a good day. I'll fetch David for you,” said the Master. He quickly strolled out the bar, whistling a Whitney Houston song.

“What would you have done if I had said no?” asked Steven.

The Master looked back, and chuckled

“Oh, probably killed your family or something. Now, go and finish your drink, Stevey,” said the Master.

A few days later

“I had the weirdest last few days. I had a dream that I met the Fifth Doctor, and then I met the Master, and then I accidentally got in the wrong TARDIS and traveled with a bowtied Doctor for like three years, and then ended up here--” said David. He paused, and said “I sound stupid, right.”

“Yep. Sounds like trash,” said Steven.

“Hey, David. Are you still doing the whole Doctor role-play thing?” asked Georgia.

“What?” asked David.

In the TARDIS, years later.

“Seriously, what would you do if you found that you were like, in the Truman Show? Like, everyone was watching you?” asked Bill.

“That reminds me of something that happenned years ago. But I wouldn't really think about it too much. As far as reality is concerned, we wouldn't notice it,” said the Doctor. His face scrunched up, and shrugged. “And that's not the question.”

“What's the question?” asked Bill. She was getting used to the Doctor's odd remarks.

“The question is, am I saying this because I want to, or because  Gallifrey Immigrant is writing it for me to say?” asked the Doctor.

“A what immigrant?” asked Bill.

The Doctor only grinned, and looked at you.