I am so excited right now
May. 10th, 2011 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charamei(With apologies to Ovid and Peter Green.)
Looms, Torchwood, Gallifrey – I was winding up to produce a
Regular epic, with plot points to match –
Timey-wimey, naturally. But Theta (they say) with a snicker
Lopped off a foot from each character's height.
"Nasty young brat," I told him, "who made you hero of this story?
The Doctor should be an adult, you're not close in age.
What if Martha played Operation with young Hath on Messaline,
While blonde Romana had tea with a stuffed K-9?
Who'd stand for Sarah-Jane of Ealing fighting evil in a pram?
Who'd trust the Toddling Huntress with a sharp knife?
Think of the tousled Brigadier parading with a broom-handle,
While small Daleks exterminated Princess Barbie.
Look, boy, you're just not old enough, and a sight too precocious
As it is. Don't get big-headed, quit playing for more.
Or were you always like this? Were you born running? Can't even
Your childhood be safe from fanon these days?
I'd got off to a flying start, clean paper, two magnificent
Opening scenes. Number three brought me down
With a bump. I haven't the plot to suit your frivolous story:
No villain, no girl with a plucky attitude –"
When I'd got so far, voila, he opened his pocket, selected
A setting to lay me low,
Then waved the screwdriver in an arc above his head, and
Cocked a snook. "Hey, ficcer!" he called, "You want a plot? Take that!"
His sonic – worse luck for me – never fails to work:
I'm on fire now, Snail owns the freehold of my brain.
So let my tale shrink to match people with small stature and big problems –
Goodbye to plotty epic, and timey-wimey too!
Come on, then, my Muse, take my hand with a sticky-
Fingered paw, and lead me off in the First Steps groove!
Looms, Torchwood, Gallifrey – I was winding up to produce a
Regular epic, with plot points to match –
Timey-wimey, naturally. But Theta (they say) with a snicker
Lopped off a foot from each character's height.
"Nasty young brat," I told him, "who made you hero of this story?
The Doctor should be an adult, you're not close in age.
What if Martha played Operation with young Hath on Messaline,
While blonde Romana had tea with a stuffed K-9?
Who'd stand for Sarah-Jane of Ealing fighting evil in a pram?
Who'd trust the Toddling Huntress with a sharp knife?
Think of the tousled Brigadier parading with a broom-handle,
While small Daleks exterminated Princess Barbie.
Look, boy, you're just not old enough, and a sight too precocious
As it is. Don't get big-headed, quit playing for more.
Or were you always like this? Were you born running? Can't even
Your childhood be safe from fanon these days?
I'd got off to a flying start, clean paper, two magnificent
Opening scenes. Number three brought me down
With a bump. I haven't the plot to suit your frivolous story:
No villain, no girl with a plucky attitude –"
When I'd got so far, voila, he opened his pocket, selected
A setting to lay me low,
Then waved the screwdriver in an arc above his head, and
Cocked a snook. "Hey, ficcer!" he called, "You want a plot? Take that!"
His sonic – worse luck for me – never fails to work:
I'm on fire now, Snail owns the freehold of my brain.
So let my tale shrink to match people with small stature and big problems –
Goodbye to plotty epic, and timey-wimey too!
Come on, then, my Muse, take my hand with a sticky-
Fingered paw, and lead me off in the First Steps groove!