CHAPTER EIGHT

FEEDING FRENZY

The Eleventh Dr. didn’t know how comfortable he felt laying a hand on such a
gigantic animal. Apparently, swatting the beast vigorously was the point of the task, and
the only way to gain points, but these were one of the most dangerous animals on planet
Earth – fact!
The mechanics of the popular children’s game were all well and good when the
creatures were made out of plastic and could only do you any kind of harm if you were
stupid enough to get your fingers stuck in the mechanisms.
But the animals in Raljex’s game were very real, very dangerous and, from the
looks of it, they wouldn’t take kindly to being beaten repeatedly in a bid to spur them on.
‘They won’t attack you,’ Elmo insisted, looking the animal over. ‘They look friendly!’
‘Elmo,’ Jimzac said, scratching his head. ‘You said the same thing when The Mercury
Rooms were invaded by those virus beasts last month.’
‘But they did look friendly!’ Elmo persisted. ‘Elmo thinks that all they wanted was a great
big fuzzy hug!’
‘Would that be before or after they were through eatin’ people?’ Craic Pipe asked, raising
an eyebrow.
‘Before, after, there’s never a bad time for a great big hug!’ said Elmo, extending his arms
out to anybody that would take the offer. There were none.
Under normal circumstances, The Eleventh Dr. would have gladly given the furry
little monster a massive hug and then shared a pint with him, and everybody else around
– a left-over personality defect from his alcoholic Tenth incarnation – but these were not
normal circumstances. Far from it.
Flies buzzed in the evening air as the sun hung low in the sky on the far horizon.
‘We’re not going to be finding any … avian adversaries here, are we?’ Jeebus asked
cautiously, cocking his massive assault cannon and hoisting his dead dog Waldo up onto
his shoulder. The heat was doing Waldo no good at all, he was already well past the point
of being freshly deceased and was covered in numerous novelty air fresheners by
demand of the entire forum. Jeebus didn’t see what they were all so uptight about, dogs
were dogs, they were supposed to get dirty, it was their nature. But then, Jeebus hadn’t
yet realized that his faithful companion had moved on from this world. He was far too
preoccupied on his mission to rid the world of the airborne menace.’
‘I doubt there’s any pigeons around here, Jeebus,’ The Dr. said, shrugging inside his
over-sized, loud Hawaiian shirt as he surveyed the savannah around them. Another
questionable and rather stretched link to anything Aztec. So far, they’d had Caribbean,
Cowboys and now African motifs. Not even the slightest inkling of a Aztec culture. The
Aztecs had some immensely interesting games of their own, The Dr. couldn’t comprehend
why Raljex was shunning them in preference to real-life children’s games. But then, The
Eleventh Dr. had always been a fan of randomness, so he let it slide.
‘How long ‘til we start?’ Craic asked as he tightened the knots on his Irish-flag cape. ‘Do
we get a gong or a clock or do we just go for it?’ He looked up at the Eleventh Dr.
expectantly, who was, at this point, at the top of a tree, surveying the watering hole
ahead of them. Resplendent in his fedora, bright yellow Hawaiian shirt, purple shorts,
knee-high cowboy boots and a giant blue foam finger on his left hand.
‘Fucked if I know,’ The Dr. shrugged. ‘I think both me and Nigel have to pick one of them
first and then try to herd it over to that arena we passed.’
‘Well, go ahead and pick one then,’ Jeebus said, nervously eyeing the tree tops. There
were far too many birds for his liking, a pigeon could easily be disguised as a Hoopoe, an
African Thrush or, one of the larger ones could be affecting a rather cunning Flamingo
ensemble in the massive gathering on the other side of the giant watering hole. He didn’t
trust any of them.
‘I’m trying to be smart about my choice,’ The Dr. said, scanning the creatures from which
he was supposed to make a selection. The fact that there were only four, and that they
were all different colours made it much easier, but none of them seemed to be displaying
any advantage or disadvantage over the others. Maybe if they’d actually move rather than
standing stationary at the edge of the pool, but no, that would make things too easy.
He could see The Manager giving the beasts a similar scrutinizing eye. The Third
Manager looked rather uncomfortable in the African heat in his stiff Victorian suit. His
four assistants looked similarly uncomfortable in their ill-fitting metal armour. Though,
for the Cidermen who were blundering about the landscape, completely oblivious to
everything, their problem was in the fact that there was no alcohol around, anywhere.
Instead of helping The Manager – who was, to be honest, better off without them –
The Cidermen had wandered off into the scrubland to search for any plants that might
have alcohol in their berries and fruit. One of them had already been mauled by a pack
of hyenas. The others were being stalked by several lionesses. Vultures were circling
already.
‘I’ve decided,’ The Dr. said, jumping down from his tree. ‘I’m going for the yellow one.’
‘Really?’ Jimzac frowned. ‘I’d say the green one looks fatter.’
‘Well, if it’s fatter, it’ll move slower,’ Craic interjected.
‘But if it’s already fatter, it proves that I can eat more than the others,’ Jimzac offered.
‘Nope, I’m going for yellow,’ The Dr. said, tapping his lip. The Manager had chosen the
blue animal.
‘Why yellow though?’ Jimzac queried. ‘It looks half-dead.’
‘It looks like its in need of a good meal,’ The Dr. said simply. ‘Plus, it matches my shirt.’
‘Oh good,’ Craic grunted. ‘Our lives are being decided on colour-coordination.’
‘You’ve no idea how many times fashion has saved my life!’ The Dr. said seriously.
‘How many?’ Jeebus asked stiffly, cocking his gun.
The Dr. tapped his lip with his giant foam finger and shrugged. ‘I can’t keep track
of something like that! I’m far too busy painting things purple and throwing acorns at
badgers in my daily life!’
‘If it were anybody else,’ Jimzac whispered to Craic. ‘I would think they were joking.’

The Dr. half-walked, half combat-rolled – all the while humming the theme to
Mission Impossible – to the yellow animal and gave it a reassuring pat. ‘C’mon mate,’ He
whispered to the beast. ‘You’re with me.’
As The Dr. made his selection, the remaining Orange and Green animals
wandered off into the bush to watch without interfering.
‘I still think this is really stupid,’ Jeebus protested. ‘I don’t see how we’re supposed to
help you at all.’
‘We’re here for moral support!’ Elmo declared. ‘Let’s sing a song and be happy!’
‘How about we don’t?’ Craic humphed.
‘I can see what Jeebus is saying though,’ The Dr. mulled. ‘So far, the assistants Raljex
has given us haven’t really been able to help at all. It’s a little bit pointless you all being
here.’
‘Really pointless if you count The Manager’s crew,’ Craic said, looking on as the now
singular remaining Ciderman began fighting with an Antelope whom he was convinced
was “looking at him funny”.

The group, along with the Dr.’s yellow animal approached the large muddy circle
that had been bored into the desert flats by means best left to Raljex’s explanation.
Inside were hundreds of melons, all of them rolling aimlessly around as the pit’s design
meant that it allowed for constant movement within it.
‘You animal looks half-dead Dr.,’ The Manager sneered as they approached.
‘Your assistant look to be dead,’ Jeebus snorted in reprieve as the Antelope finally
decided it had had enough and butted the Ciderman violently.
‘As if I require their help to beat you,’ The Manager shrugged with a tut at the yellow
creature. ‘I doubt your beast even has the energy to chew, Dr.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ The Dr. smiled, patting his animal. ‘I’d say my Hippo looks
really hungry.’
‘We shall see,’ The Manager sneered and looked up into the trees.
 A single branch stood out in the canopy where a line of birds sat watching them.
There were four red and one green bird on the end. One of the red birds flew away.
‘Here we go,’ Craic said, rubbing his hands together. Another red bird flew away.
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ Jeebus huffed. Another red bird took to the skies.
‘You’re not the only one,’ Jimzac shuddered, despite the blazing heat.
‘Don’t let me down buddy,’ The Dr. whispered to his Hungry, Hungry Hippo as the last
Red bird flew off.
‘Look at the birdies!’ Elmo said in wonderment as the green bird took to the air and both
Hippos charged forwards and began to greedily devour the melons before them.