"Can I help you sir?" The salesman beamed brightly at his customer.
"I certainly hope so. I need to find something that's vital to the survival of the universe." The strange little man looked at the salesman with a seriousness that belied his comic appearance.
The salesman cleared his throat. "Indeed, sir. But this is an umbrella shop."
"I know. I need to see everything that you have. This is, as I mentioned earlier, absolutely vital."
The salesman shook his head as the customer turned to look at the selection. It's going to be one of THOSE days, he decided.
"Does this one suit you at all sir?"
"No, it isn't the right color."
"How about this one?" He held it up to get the light better.
"No, it's too short. I need one that's about this long." The strange little man reached his hands out to their fullest span.
"As long as that? And what would be the purpose of one so long, if I might inquire?" The salesperson was growing tired. He'd been working with this particular gentleman for two hours straight and was beginning to tire of his constant changing requirements.
"I'm sorry. I can't tell you that." The strange little man was an enigma for the most part. He wore the oddest clothes - light tan jacket, wool sweater vest with question marks on the front, yellow check trousers, and brown and white wing tips. The salesperson had noticed a few of the customers giggling at the man's costume, but the man had taken no notice.
"But of course. Well, I'm afraid you've reached the end of our selection. There isn't anything else here." The salesperson actually had a few more in the back that he could show the gentleman, but he was tired and needed a cigarette to calm his nerves. Never mind that he had never smoked one before. He just knew that it would help him. That or murdering the little man on the spot.
"The sign outside says '1001 Varieties' and I've counted only 918. We still have 83 more to go." The little man was waving the umbrella in his hand about, getting a feel for it, but it wasn't right. "How can one expect to save the universe with substandard equipment?" The man read the label on the device: Made on Earth. "Ah, well, that explains it. They don't know how to make anything in this century. Do you have anything made by Cutilibris 9? They know a thing or two about craftsmanship."
"Um, well, Mister, eh…"
"Doctor." The salesman could hear the capital letter when the Doctor spoke his, for want of a better word, name.
"Well, Doctor, we need to be closing shop soon. Perhaps if you might stop by again tomorrow." The salesman intended to take the day off tomorrow. Let Lydia handle this oddball.
The Doctor looked at him again with an intensity that shook his soul. "I'm sure I can take care of any overtime you might encounter." He looked back at the umbrella in his hand. "Do you have the same but in green?"
The salesman sighed. "I'm sure we have something like it in the back."
Three hours later, the Doctor had narrowed the selection down to 32. He seemed most partial to a turquoise one that had Mickey Mouse emblazoned on it and a replica of a 1938 British Weather-bee. He'd broken about 15 of them testing out their strength (which he'd tested by hanging from the light fixture whilst swinging back and forth counting the number of swings.) The salesman was sitting in the corner, almost in tears. He knew he should have called in sick today.
The Doctor juggled three of the umbrellas for awhile. "Hmmmm, I think these three have the best balance. What do you think?"
The salesman looked up. "I agree sir, most heartily. Should I wrap up all three?"
The Doctor turned and smiled. "Oh no, I only need one. I think I've almost gotten it sorted out, too." He threw the three umbrellas down on the ground and then picked up a nondescript black umbrella with a bright yellow handle. The salesman recognized it as one of the first umbrellas that he'd shown the little man. "I think I like this one best. The yellow is such a comforting color. Much like Winnie the Pooh."
The salesman didn't know who Winnie the Pooh was, not coming from an Earth background, but he nodded vigorously. "Oh yes sir, I quite agree."
"Well then, that just leaves the issue of the bill, doesn't it? So that's 15 broken umbrellas and 3 hours of overtime at one and a half times standard pay. What's your salary?" The Doctor had taken out a small nub of a pencil and a pad of wrinkled paper and started jotting down the prices of the broken umbrellas.
"Ah, don't worry about that sir. We have insurance. And never mind about the overtime. I was going to stay after a bit anyway." The salesman wanted this Doctor out of his life immediately. Why couldn't he just go away now?
"Well, that's awfully generous of you. Let me see where I've got my money stashed." The Doctor started searching through all his copious pockets for change. He'd gotten about ten credits worth of motley change and was still looking.
"Oh, I forgot to mention!" The salesman was thinking quickly, "You're our one-millionth customer! You get your selection free. Please, accept it with our compliments." He ushered the bemused Doctor out towards the door.
"My! This is a friendly place." The Doctor smiled. "But I feel bad since I've kept you so long. Why don't you take these credits here - I know I have some more." He stopped in the doorway and searched some more.
"No, a happy customer is all that I require. I hope that you have a nice evening, sir." The salesman finally ushered the Doctor out of the door. Just as he was about to lock the door, the strange little man forced his way in again.
"So sorry, I forgot the umbrella on the counter. Won't be a second getting it." The Doctor strode over to the counter and picked up the umbrella. He stared at the floor and thought that, perhaps, that umbrella over there might be… The salesman was tapping his foot in a rather psychotic manner, so the Doctor smiled again, raised his hat off his head, and skittered out of the store with his new brolly.
"Have fun saving the universe," he heard the salesman say as he left. There might have been a twinge of sarcasm there, but the Doctor didn't notice it.
The TARDIS materialized out of nowhere onto a suburban street. The Doctor poked his head out. It didn't look quite right, so he was a bit worried that he wasn't here at the right time. Then he noticed the little boy walking down the street. Ah, just in time, he thought. He left the safety of his ship and made his way cautiously towards the little boy.
"Hallo there, little boy," said the Doctor. He'd tried to think of several different ways to start this conversation, but this was the only one that came out of his mouth at the time.
"Hiya gramps," said the kid with a bit of a sneer.
The Doctor nearly turned tail and headed back in the TARDIS, but he pressed on. "I have something for you," he said, feeling like some dirty old man on the prowl. I must work on my dialog more before I do these little excursions, he said to himself.
"Gimme," said the kid, holding out his hands.
What? No "thank you"? No inquiry into what the item was? The Doctor sighed as he handed the umbrella over to the kid.
"What's this? What do I need some poxy umbrella for?"
Good question, thought the Doctor. He looked into the beautiful blue sky, once again wondering if he arrived in the right place at the right time. He suddenly jumped in pain as the kid hit him in the shin with the umbrella. The kid ran off with the umbrella and the Doctor instinctively ran after him.
After 15 minutes of running, the kid finally stopped. He was surprised that the man had been able to keep up - he didn't even look out of breath.
"So, why'd'ja give this to me anyway?" the kid said between breaths.
A sudden crack of thunder rumbled over the area and then it began to pour down rain. The kid quickly opened his new umbrella and was able to shelter himself.
"Hey, thanks," he said, as he wandered off through the streets of the suburb.
The Doctor stood there in the rain, getting soaked to the bones. As he walked back to his TARDIS (if he could only remember where it was) he thought about the scientist who'd built the weather machine that eventually became intelligent and nearly destroyed the universe. And that it had all started because the scientist, as a boy, had gotten wet during a freak rainstorm in his home town.
The Doctor stepped ankle deep into a mud puddle. "The things I do to save the flippin' universe," he said to no one in particular.