Early that morning, there was a knock at the door, and Arthur went to answer it.
In front of him stood what appeared to be a fairly naked Arnold Schwarzenegger with a towel wrapped around his lower half, a pair of sunglasses on, and a rolled up poster in one hand. “Sarah Connor?” he asked.
Arthur blinked. “Nooooo…” he said carefully. “Have you tried number 47?”
Behind the sunglasses, writing flowed, information processed, conclusions were reached.
ERROR. OLD PROGRAMMING ACTIVATED.
RUN TICK2008 V2
“I beg your pardon,” said the Terminator, “Are you the Tick?”
“No,” said Arthur, as the Tick danced merrily across the hallways behind him, clutching a grapefruit in one hand. “He’s a little… busy right now.”
“Arthur!” came the call from behind him, “Evil is afoot! The cutlery drawer has been raided! Fiends!”
The Terminator would have blinked himself if his program allowed him. This was the hope of mankind? This was his mission? Piece of cake. He unrolled the poster, and showed it to Arthur.
It was a simple poster, slightly ripped at the sides and displayed a picture of the Tick beaming at the camera, and the slogan “Tick for President 2008”. His programming suggested that he did not mention exactly how he’d bought the poster back from the future.
“I am from the future,” he said in his metallic monotone still, “I must persuade the Tick to not enter politics. Otherwise, untold damage will occur to the timeline.”
Arthur gazed up at the Terminator, “Are you a Republican?”
The Tick bounded over to them, grapefruit still held tightly. “Arthur! We must away! Save the city! Enjoy this grapefruit! Eat! Breakfast!” He looked up at the Terminator. “Greetings, concerned citizen! What peril may I save you from today?”
SMILE “I may be able to assist you with your problem, if you swear never to run for political office,” said the Terminator, previously unused facial gears straining to produce the desired effect.
The Tick’s jaw dropped – and there was a lot of it to drop. “Great Scott! Such an astounding offer – of course I accept immediately, man!” Beside him, the long-suffering Arthur sighed heavily, and wandered off to get his own breakfast.
The Terminator produced an eating utensil from under his towel. The Tick took one look at it and shouted ”SPOOOOOONNN!!!!” at the top of his voice. Grabbing it from the Terminator, he hugged him with all his might. “Thank you, concerned citizen!”
PRESSURE INCREASING! PRESSURE INCREA---
And the Terminator collapsed into a fused together pile of metal and flesh parts.
The Tick stared at the remains. “Ooops,” he said quietly, and placed what was left into a dumpster. “Your noble sacrifice will not go unforgotten, nameless citizen! For I, the Tick, will fight on for Truth, Justice, and easier to open grapefruits! I will be President of this great and glorious land for you!”
He paused. “But first! Breakfast! SPOOOOOONNN!!!!"
And not forgetting that Dalek icon from southerndave...
Experiments in introducing the Human Factor into Daleks were not proceeding logically.
The three test Daleks just stood there in the testing facility, each with a number painted into it. The first Dalek was stood in front of a computer screen, frantically calculating and recalculating equations.
Davros’s brow furrowed more than normal. “What is this?” he screamed in his electronic monotone, “What has happened to my glorious creations?”
The Robo-man beside Davros examined his clipboard slowly and deliberately. “It appears that the original personality of the humans used in the study are emerging. This one was a scientist.”
Dalek number 2 was attempting to take all the weapons, ammunition and just about anything loose in the testing room. “EXPROPRIATE! EXPROPRIATE!” it uttered repeatedly, darting around the room.
“Number two was originally a human businessman who specialised in takeovers. We had hoped for an insight into human tactics, but not so far.”
The last Dalek was fairly still, and the Robo-man turned up the sound circuit at Davros’s nodded command.
“SO, THESE TWO DALEKS WALK INTO A BAR. THE FIRST DALEK SAYS “OUCH” AND THE SECOND DALEK EXTERMINATES IT.”
“What? What?!?!” screamed Davros.
“THIS ZYGON WALKS INTO A BANK AND SAYS TO THE CYBERMAN AT THE DESK, ‘I WANT TO INCREASE MY OVERDRAFT AND GET MORE CREWMEN FOR MY SPACESHIP’. THE CYBERMAN POINTS TO THE SONTARAN AT THE NEXT DESK. ‘TALK TO HIM – HE’S THE CLONE ARRANGER.’”
Davros spun around in his chair. “This is unacceptable!”
The Robo-man checked his list again. “The control subject was something known as a stand-up comedian. Though, apparently not a very good one.”
“DOCTOR, DOCTOR –“ began the third Dalek, but was interrupted by the other two Daleks instantly swinging their guns around. Cries of “EXTERMINATE!” filled the air, along with the blazing of gunfire.
When the smoke cleared, all three Dalek’s casings were destroyed, along with most of the testing facility. “Hmmm,” said Davros consideringly, “Maybe they are showing some progress after all….”