Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2009-05-01 04:49 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2009-05-01 04:49 pm
Fake News/Doctor Who: Bigger On The Underside
Title: Bigger On The Underside
Series: TDS/TCR, Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jon, "Stephen", Stephen's Jews, reference to Romana
Rating: G
Disclaimer: See the index.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
espreite, who wanted Jon as a Time Lord. Takes place shortly after this clip.
Bigger On The Underside
Jon Stewart strode into the studio, flanked by three men with curly hair, full beards, and long, patterned robes that swished behind them.
"Ah, Jon!" exclaimed Stephen brightly. "You found my Jews!" (He had been planning to send some of his other Jews — a.k.a. "his writers" — out looking for them, but kept forgetting.)
Ignoring him (how dare he? Nobody ignores Sir Dr. Stephen T. Colbert, D.F.A.!), Jon marched straight up to the C-shaped desk and began running his hands over it in an altogether too possessive manner.
"All this time," he said breathlessly. "I never realized it was right under my nose..."
"Understandable," remarked Stephen. "There's a lot of space under there."
"Is she Vortex-ready?" asked Jon, ignoring Stephen again and turning to his companion with the long silver locks.
"Uh, we don't actually know," said the other man a bit sheepishly. "We've been lost in the wardrobe for the past forty years."
"Well, I guess we'll find out." Circling around behind the desk, Jon swung himself under it and disappeared.
Crouching down in the crook of the C, Stephen leaned forward and yelled after him: "What do you think you're doing in my desk?"
"It's not your desk, Stephen!" came the echoing reply. "It's my TARDIS!"
"It's not your anything!" Stephen shouted. "Is it shaped like a giant J? I don't think so!"
"The shape is just camouflage," Jon called back. "It was trying to blend itself in to an environment full of your name. I'll just turn off the chameleon circuit — here, you'll see—"
Stephen jumped back with a yelp as the desk flickered out of being, replaced by a large block of pink coral roughly the size of a telephone booth.
A door in the side of the coral opened, and Jon stepped out. "Stephen, I have a confession to make."
"What did you do to my desk?" yelped Stephen.
"I'm getting to that. First — my name isn't actually Jon Stewart."
"Yeah, I know. It's something incredibly Jewy. It's okay, Jon, you don't have to hide your heathenness with me."
"No, no, it's not that either. My full name is Jonastisdellashowithastein."
"Gesundheit."
"I'm a Time Lord. An alien. From the planet Gallifrey."
"Is stealing legal on your planet?"
Jon blinked. "What? No!"
"Then give me my desk back!"
"Stephen, it was never a desk at all. It's a very sophisticated ship that travels through time, space, and dimensions. Didn't you ever notice that it was bigger on the underside?"
"Of course I did! How do you think I managed to install two Starbucks in there?"
Jon frowned at him for a second, then leaned back into the big hunk of coral. "Huh. So you did."
"We really should get going, Jonastisdellashowithastein," said one of the other Jews. "President Romanadvoratrelundar will not be pleased with us for having been MIA for so long."
Jon grimaced. "Oh, yeah. She's going to blow a gasket. Come on, guys."
The men in long robes started filing into the coral. Stephen marched promptly after them.
"Stephen," stammered Jon, "you can't come to Gallifrey."
Stephen aimed a pen at him. "Try and stop me, Stewart!"
"I told you, it's not Jon Stewart, it's—"
"Whatever. Look, whoever you are: where my desk goes, I go."
The four Jews (or Time Lords, or whatever) exchanged thoughtful looks. Then one of them asked a question in some kind of alien-sounding gibberish, though it could have been Hindi or Javanese or Mexican for all Stephen knew. Jon answered in the same language.
"Hey!" yelled Stephen. "You're on Earth. Speak English!"
"Sorry about that," said Jon, before turning back to the others and continuing in America's language: "Besides, he's harmless. Mostly."
"If you're sure," said the third Time Jew, the fair-haired one in the yellow. "You're the boss."
"Right," said Jon firmly. "We'll take him." He grabbed Stephen's arm and pulled him across the threshold, then shut the door. "Go tell the baristas to lock everything down. Takeoff is in five minutes. Next stop: Gallifrey!"
Series: TDS/TCR, Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jon, "Stephen", Stephen's Jews, reference to Romana
Rating: G
Disclaimer: See the index.
For
espreite, who wanted Jon as a Time Lord. Takes place shortly after this clip.Bigger On The Underside
Jon Stewart strode into the studio, flanked by three men with curly hair, full beards, and long, patterned robes that swished behind them.
"Ah, Jon!" exclaimed Stephen brightly. "You found my Jews!" (He had been planning to send some of his other Jews — a.k.a. "his writers" — out looking for them, but kept forgetting.)
Ignoring him (how dare he? Nobody ignores Sir Dr. Stephen T. Colbert, D.F.A.!), Jon marched straight up to the C-shaped desk and began running his hands over it in an altogether too possessive manner.
"All this time," he said breathlessly. "I never realized it was right under my nose..."
"Understandable," remarked Stephen. "There's a lot of space under there."
"Is she Vortex-ready?" asked Jon, ignoring Stephen again and turning to his companion with the long silver locks.
"Uh, we don't actually know," said the other man a bit sheepishly. "We've been lost in the wardrobe for the past forty years."
"Well, I guess we'll find out." Circling around behind the desk, Jon swung himself under it and disappeared.
Crouching down in the crook of the C, Stephen leaned forward and yelled after him: "What do you think you're doing in my desk?"
"It's not your desk, Stephen!" came the echoing reply. "It's my TARDIS!"
"It's not your anything!" Stephen shouted. "Is it shaped like a giant J? I don't think so!"
"The shape is just camouflage," Jon called back. "It was trying to blend itself in to an environment full of your name. I'll just turn off the chameleon circuit — here, you'll see—"
Stephen jumped back with a yelp as the desk flickered out of being, replaced by a large block of pink coral roughly the size of a telephone booth.
A door in the side of the coral opened, and Jon stepped out. "Stephen, I have a confession to make."
"What did you do to my desk?" yelped Stephen.
"I'm getting to that. First — my name isn't actually Jon Stewart."
"Yeah, I know. It's something incredibly Jewy. It's okay, Jon, you don't have to hide your heathenness with me."
"No, no, it's not that either. My full name is Jonastisdellashowithastein."
"Gesundheit."
"I'm a Time Lord. An alien. From the planet Gallifrey."
"Is stealing legal on your planet?"
Jon blinked. "What? No!"
"Then give me my desk back!"
"Stephen, it was never a desk at all. It's a very sophisticated ship that travels through time, space, and dimensions. Didn't you ever notice that it was bigger on the underside?"
"Of course I did! How do you think I managed to install two Starbucks in there?"
Jon frowned at him for a second, then leaned back into the big hunk of coral. "Huh. So you did."
"We really should get going, Jonastisdellashowithastein," said one of the other Jews. "President Romanadvoratrelundar will not be pleased with us for having been MIA for so long."
Jon grimaced. "Oh, yeah. She's going to blow a gasket. Come on, guys."
The men in long robes started filing into the coral. Stephen marched promptly after them.
"Stephen," stammered Jon, "you can't come to Gallifrey."
Stephen aimed a pen at him. "Try and stop me, Stewart!"
"I told you, it's not Jon Stewart, it's—"
"Whatever. Look, whoever you are: where my desk goes, I go."
The four Jews (or Time Lords, or whatever) exchanged thoughtful looks. Then one of them asked a question in some kind of alien-sounding gibberish, though it could have been Hindi or Javanese or Mexican for all Stephen knew. Jon answered in the same language.
"Hey!" yelled Stephen. "You're on Earth. Speak English!"
"Sorry about that," said Jon, before turning back to the others and continuing in America's language: "Besides, he's harmless. Mostly."
"If you're sure," said the third Time Jew, the fair-haired one in the yellow. "You're the boss."
"Right," said Jon firmly. "We'll take him." He grabbed Stephen's arm and pulled him across the threshold, then shut the door. "Go tell the baristas to lock everything down. Takeoff is in five minutes. Next stop: Gallifrey!"