The Evil Plan

It began.

Well, it would have begun, if he could get the parts.

They were out of stock as usual.

‘Not much call for that sort of thing, these days, squire.’ The assistant shrugged.

The Docktor had thought he could get what he needed on the internet. After all, he thought, you can get everything you want on the internet these days.

‘You must be joking… use the internet?’ The man before him, or what the Docktor assumed was the same man, had said over the phone when the Docktor had first made his tentative enquiry. ‘The internet is crawling with… well, with the other side, squire. More than my job’s worth, if you know what I mean?’

The Docktor didn’t really know what the assistant meant, but maybe that was why he was doing what he was doing, or – at least – trying to do what he was doing. The Docktor had never really got the hang of the rest of humanity.

He was not a people person.

Just as well in a way. Minions were a bit easy come, easy go – almost by definition. It was best not to become too attached to them. It would make the inevitable disappointment at their failure and eventual trip to the piranha tank too emotional.

The Docktor had no real faith in emotion, far too messy.

Except anger of course. Anger was always good.

He could feel his anger rising now as he stared across the counter at the minio… shop assistant.

‘So, have you got one?’ The Doctor was drumming his fingers on the counter-top.

‘I’ll have to check.’ The assistant made no effort to do so. He sighed and then turned towards the door to a back room. He turned back. ‘Although, you know volcanic islands can be a bit….’ He made a rising and falling motion with his hand. ‘Not really a long-term viable habitat.’

‘Well,’ the Docktor tried to keep calm. ‘I wasn’t thinking of long term. Once the world is mine… er… once my plans have come to fruition, then the world will be….’ He laughed, trying out his interpersonal skills, such as they were. ‘The world will be my oyster.’ His hand closed into a fist as though he was crushing the world itself in his hand.

‘Yes, well, right.’ The assistant came back to the counter.  He leant on the counter, towards the Docktor. ‘Between you and me, the bottom’s dropped out of the old world-domination game. These days we usually sell our islands to reclusive billionaires and the weirder rock stars. As for volcanic islands… well, like I said… there’s no call for them. Sorry.’

The Doctor stared.

‘Although,’ the assistant said. ‘I could get you a seat in the European Parliament, if you want?’

‘That’s not world domination, though, is it?’ The Doctor drummed his fingers on the countertop again.

‘Next best thing.’


The assistant nodded. ‘Just think of the expenses alone. That, and the almost complete lack of democratic accountability.’

‘Right,’ the Doctor beamed his cold smile. ‘I’ll take it.’

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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