So, I have this habit of getting rid of old things on my birthday. It's an obsessive tradition, really: every birthday of mine, I throw away old stuff, mentally preparing myself for the new. Yes, I'm crazy just like that. In my defence, I can say I have been diagnosed with OCD. So, yeah, seeing as my birthday is on the 25th, that is, in less than a week, I decided to run through some old drafts that'd been lying round and about on my laptop for a while. (Since today has been the only day off for me...) Aaaand look at what I've found! This is actually a part of a potential fic about Doctor Whooves; a fic I won't write, of course. But it's still kinda funny to look at what I've written, given that it dates as far as October.

Cornflakes.

It all started with cornflakes. While most good fellas will assure you that there is nothing wrong with this delicious and by no means fattening treat, I beg to differ. Cornflakes are evil. They are the sinister abomination that Time Lords stumble upon, crushed into misery and nothingness.

Now that we have this cleared up, I may as well begin.

***

"There is no way I'm doing it. Not in this Universe, Twilight."

"Oh, but you are."

Now, don't get me wrong. This Twilight gal? She's a diamond. A true diamond: shining, beautiful and enigmatic, a mare that even a stallion of my calibre would cast an eye upon - but at the same time a little sharp along the edges, if you get what I mean. Sure, there is a favour or two such a prepossessing Time Lord as I am would do for a mare, being a gentlestallion and all. But sorting out all her books - and there were gazillions of them, believe me: I've counted - surely wasn't on the list of things I would do out of a fair sense of courtesy.

"You're doing this, Doctor, or else you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

"But I am sleeping on the couch already! You're not a very generous host, you know?"

"If it is generosity you are longing for, Rarity is always present at the Boutique. My virtue is Magic." A smile played upon Twilight's lips, the kind of cocky grin mares are so eager to throw round and about, not unlike flowers at the wedding ceremony. "Besides, it's not like you have another place to stay in Ponyville."

Ouch. Low blows like that are one of the main reasons as to why I usually try to avoid messing with mares at all costs, the primary, though, still being the fact that they would easily drag a good-natured fella to the good old wedding altar, shall he be taken by humble naïveté. Not that I hold a lifelong grugde against couples - by no means! Nothing wrong with stallions walking along the streets hoof-to-hoof with their wives, goofy smiles plastered upon their faces, each singing, Oh, look! I'm in an official relationship! and what-not. I'm just not the type of fella to fall for a single girl and tie myself to her by eternal binds of marriage. Besides, it would hinder my time-space travelling a lot.

After swallowing a cupful or two of the old liquid our Prench friends would call thé, I felt invigorated for the rest  of the day. This old body of a Time Lord started to make its way to the bookshelves - if that chaotic shrine of paperwork that Twilight had could be qualified as "a few bookshelves in need of sorting".

"I'll make breakfast!" Twilihgt shouted towards my back, sending an arching shiver down my spine. "Cornflakes?"

"Exquisite," I replied, not changing the unwavering course.

And this, ladies and gentlecolts, is where I made a grave mistake, much more grave than that one time when I somehow got obssessed by the idea that suggesting a ménage à trois with Luna to Celestia would be the right course of action. No, ladies and gentlecolts. This misstep was the last drop in the ocean of eternal hatred that the Universe kept sending in my direction. I underestimated cornflakes. If only I had had enough wits to avoid the tempting offer, everything would have been all right, straight-forward and what-not. Still, lacking in those priceless wheels that stir one's brain, I humbly agreed.

"Doctor?" I heard Twilight's voice from across the library, shining with concern. "Can I ask you something?"

"If you want sex, I'm free on Saturday," I replied, not diverting my attention from the difficult and energy-consuming task at hoof.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't stab you with a kitchen knife."

"Aww, you're so cute when you're angry like that!"

With that being sad, I turned the old lump of clay round and directed my legs towards the kitchen table, where an infuriated (and slightly embarrassed, to my pleasure) unicorn was thoroughly observing a packet of cornflakes. Now, that certainly made the rusty wheels in the old coconut turned round quite vigorously. I mean, sure, one can find some curious information on the packet of something-or-the-other, like nutricious value and what-not, but studying it with such dedication? What could the possible reason behind that be?

I turned my gaze towards the aforementioned packet of the cheap breakfast in curiosity and, ladies and gentlecolts, it struck the old mind pretty hard, if hard is the word I'm thinking of. Apart from the usual nonsense, like A packet of cornflakes a day keeps the nutrition away and Eat healthy - choose other products, a very peculiar image crowned the very middle of the front side.

My photograph.

Yes, ladies and gentlecolts, as ridiculous as it may seem, the picture of yours faithfully, with the trusty sonic screwdriver and TARDIS and everything that usually goes in the full complectation of a Time Lord, was smiling at me from the packet of those Celestia-damned cornflakes, eyelids half-closed in mockery. The old visage was screaming at the potential customer something along the lines of "I'm so happy because I eat cornflakes all day long!" or "One of one Time Lords choose cornflakes!" - or probably both. Still, this particular fact made me seriously reconsider my luck.

You see, that day, Lady Luck was angry at me, for some reason - or, what is more to be believed - for no particular reason at all.

Hehe, that's nice, actually. I like that little excerpt. Now, back to work. My hopes of going home by Saturday? Popped like a toy balloon. Oh well, seems I'll be spending my birthday here. -_-

Cheers.

~Josh