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Dalek Zonk and the Letter of Doom

Dalek Zonk and the Letter of Doom

Chapter One: The Letter of Doom

the dalek who moved to hacketstown

It was a Thursday morning in Ballykillduff when Dalek Zonk received the letter that would change his metallic life.

“Dear Mr. Zonk,
Due to a clerical error involving misplaced goats and the National Goat Rehousing Act of 1987, your address has been reallocated. You must immediately vacate Ballykillduff and relocate to Hacketstown. Failure to comply will result in fines, forfeiture, or the confiscation of your egg whisk.
Yours sincerely,
Bridget O’Reilly, Housing Officer.”

Zonk read it twenty-three times. Then, because Daleks were never taught cursive, he took it to Mrs. McGillicuddy to confirm.

She nodded gravely.
“Yes, Zonk, it says you’ve to clear out for goats.”

“GOATS?!” Zonk screeched, his eyestalk twitching. “I AM A DALEK. I AM SUPERIOR. I AM NOT—BAAAA—COMPATIBLE.”

But the stamp was official, so the order was final.

Chapter Two: Packing Day Madness

Daleks are not natural movers. Zonk had never even owned a box.

  • He wrapped his death ray in bubble wrap, then popped the bubbles because it was “oddly soothing.”
  • He tried to pack his plungers but got stuck inside the box himself and had to be rescued by three laughing children.
  • He labelled one box “KITCHEN” even though all he owned was a teapot and a bag of gravel.

The neighbours came to say goodbye.

Farmer Murphy scratched his head. “Well Zonk, I’ll miss you frightening the cows.”
“And ruining the bake sales by vaporising the buns,” added Mrs. O’Malley.
“And chasing the bus shouting EX-TER-MIN-ATE every Tuesday morning,” sighed young Liam.

Zonk emitted a strange wheeze.
“I… WILL MISS YOU ALL. EMOTION DETECTED. ERROR. ERROR. HAND ME A TISSUE.”

Chapter Three: The Road to Hacketstown

If you’ve ever tried to drive a Dalek down an Irish boreen, you’ll understand the chaos.

Zonk scraped hedges, flattened molehills, and sent sheep scattering in all directions. Every pothole made him bounce like a kettle drum. He muttered crossly the entire way:
“WHO DESIGNED THESE ROADS? EXTERMINATE THE COUNTY COUNCIL ROADWORKS DEPARTMENT!”

Halfway along, he was stopped at a Garda checkpoint.

“Any ID, sir?” asked the Garda, trying not to laugh.

Zonk extended his plunger and proudly produced… his TV licence.

“That’ll do,” said the Garda, waving him through.

Chapter Four: New Home, New Neighbours

Hacketstown wasn’t ready.

The council had given Zonk a cosy little cottage on Main Street. They’d even widened the door so he could roll in (though the Ryans next door lost part of their hedge in the process).

The Ryans introduced themselves with apple tart.

Zonk vaporised it by accident.

Instead of being upset, they clapped. “Sure, he’s better than the microwave!”

Soon Zonk became a local treasure:

  • He called out bingo numbers in perfect monotone: “TWO LITTLE DUCKS. TWENTY-TWO. QUACK QUACK. EX-TER-MIN-ATE.”
  • He refereed hurling, obliterating any sliotar that went over the sideline.
  • He joined the choir, though he only sang “EX-TER-MIN-ATE” in four-part harmony.

Even the priest admitted, “He’s loud, but at least he never misses a note.”

Chapter Five: The Return of Bridget O’Reilly

One day, Bridget O’Reilly herself appeared on Main Street, carrying yet another letter.

“Terribly sorry, Mr. Zonk,” she said, shuffling nervously. “There’s been another mistake. The goats never actually moved into Ballykillduff. You’re free to return.”

Zonk froze.
“RETURN? AFTER ALL THIS? I HAVE BINGO. I HAVE FRIENDS. I HAVE EMOTIONS. I HAVE… A GAA MEMBERSHIP CARD.”

Bridget gulped.
“Well, rules are rules…”

Zonk whirred menacingly.
“RULES CAN BE EX-TER-MIN-ATED.”

And for the first time in Carlow County Council history, one metal citizen openly refused relocation.

Chapter Six: The Party of All Parties

That evening, the townsfolk threw the biggest party Hacketstown had ever seen. Lanterns lined the street, fiddlers played till their fingers blistered, and Mrs. Ryan baked forty apple tarts (kept well out of Zonk’s line of fire).

They crowned him Honorary Mayor of Hacketstown with a crown made of Quality Street wrappers.

Zonk rolled onto the stage, eyestalk glinting in the moonlight.
“I… AM… HOME. TOGETHER… WE SHALL EXTERMINATE… LONELINESS.”

The crowd roared.

An Unexpected Ending

From that day forward:

  • The post office was renamed The Dalek Sorting Centre.
  • The church choir featured a permanent “EX-TER-MIN-ATE!” section.
  • At the pub quiz, Zonk was unbeatable, though every wrong answer resulted in the dartboard catching fire.
  • The town slogan was officially changed to: “Hacketstown — Come for the Fields, Stay for the Dalek.”

Years later, tourists from far and wide came to see the legendary Dalek Mayor. Children sold “I ♥ Zonk” badges. Farmers swore their cattle behaved better just knowing he was around.

And if you pass through Hacketstown late at night, you might just hear it:
The steady rumble of metal wheels, the faint glow of an eyestalk, and a deep monotone booming proudly through the valley:

“WELCOME TO HACKETSTOWN. NOW… BUY A RAFFLE TICKET.”

 

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