by Clive May (clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk)

Dr Who is copyright BBC

      This is possibly in bad taste , but I have always thought the reactions
of the characters to fear and terror was a little suspect.  So I wrote the
following.

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The tall form with the unatural, elongated head moved purposefully down the
line of shops.  Every now and then it tried a door, rattling it to see that it
was secure.  A sudden noise drew it's attention to the dark maw of an alley.
It flashed a torch beam into the shadowy darkness.  Huge grey rats scurried
out of sight.

The policeman settled his helmet more comfortably.  He flicked off the torch
and unclipped his radio.

'Foxtrot One to Base?'

'Go ahead Foxtrot One"

'Nothing to report - just rats!'

'Received, Foxtrot One.  Your message timed at 02.30.'

The policeman clipped the radio back onto his lapel.    He peered into the dim
interior of the next shop, and moved off.

A moment later a groaning wheezing sound came from inside the shop.  Far back
in the shop a tall blue box materialised.  The door opened and the Doctor
stuck his head out. He peered around.  Satisfied, he stepped out and moved to
the street door peering out into the quiet street.

Nyssa emerged from the TARDIS and also looked around.  Along one wall was a
row of washing machines.  Along the opposite wall was a row of dryers and some
powder dispensers.  She moved over to one of the dispensers and examined it
curiously.  She began to fiddle with the handle.

'Doctor - what's this?'

'Soap powder dispenser, leave it alone, Nyssa.'

Tegan emerged warily looking all around.  Assured that she was not in any
danger, she emerged dragging a bulging bin liner behind her.

The Doctor turned to watch her.  'Do hurry Tegan!  There's a Policeman
checking doors - I wouldn't want to get caught.'

Tegan moved to one of the machines.  She dumped the sack and glared at him.
'It's all your fault,' she snapped.  'On both counts.'

The Doctor looked hurt.  'I told you Tegan, the TARDIS laundry service is not
up to doing so much work.  Just the odd handkerchief now and then. And I've
not had a moment to fix it.'

'Tell me about it?'

Tegan began stuffing clothes into the machine.  'Well - the size of the wash
is your fault.'

'You can hardly hold me responsible for every evil maniac and monster we
meet,' the Doctor said reproachfully.

Tegan glared at him.  'You're the driver!'

Nyssa, who had been fiddling with the soap dispensers, suddenly screamed and
leapt back as the machine began spitting boxes of soap powder at her.

 Tegan gave a little squeak of fright and spun around to glare at Nyssa.  A
pained expression came over her face.  Her fists clenched.  She glanced
 significantly at the Doctor.  Walking stiffly, she went into the shadows
behind the TARDIS.

A discrete rustling of clothing came from the dark.

Nyssa looked at the Doctor with mute reproach.  The Doctor favoured her with
an expression of injured innocence.

Tegan emerged from the darkness.  She held out at arms length, clenched
between finger and thumb, a pair of decidedly damp tights and knickers.  She
moved with injured dignity to the machine and threw them in.  She slammed the
door and set the machine in motion.  She folded her arms resolutely.

A torch beam suddenly swept the laundrette.  'That's done it, quick, into the
TARDIS!' cried the Doctor.

"What about my washing -' Tegan started to protest but the Doctor bundled her
inside.

"Later, Tegan, we'll come back for it, I promise.'

Tegan's reply was cut off as the door slammed and the familiar noise of
dematerialisation began.

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The End

Comments or criticisms welcome