The Daleks’ Day Out in Toyland (A Silly Adventure)
Noddy was polishing his steam-powered car, which now boasted a small, perpetually leaking tea kettle on the dashboard for emergency hot cocoa. His magnificent steam-whistle emitted a soft, contented “PWWWOOOOOT!” every time he buffed a rivet. Big Ears, ever the Gizmologist, was attempting to teach his pet clockwork mouse how to tap-dance on a tiny brass bell. Golliwog, officially an “Exemplar of Early Experimental Engineering,” was happily oiling his spring-coil hair, which shimmered with a delightful metallic bounce.
Suddenly, the sky above Clockwork City darkened, not with storm clouds, but with three colossal, heavily armoured, pepper-pot-shaped flying machines. They descended with an ominous, scraping sound, landing with heavy thuds in the town square, kicking up puffs of steam and scattering nervous automatons.
Out of each machine trundled a truly bizarre sight: a polished, bronze Dalek! Their eyestalks swiveled, their plungers twitched, and from their grating speakers came a sound that made Noddy’s wooden head throb.
“WE ARE THE DALEKS! WE SEEK TO ANNIHILATE ALL THAT IS… SILLY!” boomed the lead Dalek, its voice echoing off the clock towers.
Noddy, being Noddy, blinked. “Silly? But this is Toyland! We are all a little bit silly! It’s our primary function!”
“YOUR PRIMARY FUNCTION IS IRRELEVANT!” screeched a second Dalek, pointing its exterminator arm at a particularly fluffy teddy bear. “WE DETECT HIGH LEVELS OF UNNECESSARY WHIMSY! LOW EFFICIENCY! NO LOGICAL PURPOSE FOR BELL-RINGING OR SILLY SONGS!”
Big Ears, always the pragmatist (for a gnome-gizmologist), stepped forward. “Excuse me, bronze behemoths, but you seem to have misplaced your sense of fun. And possibly your internal navigation, because this is quite clearly not the ‘Planet of Utterly Serious Grey Things.'”
“DO NOT MOCK DALEK NAVIGATION!” the third Dalek whirred, its eyestalk flashing angrily. “OUR SENSORS DETECTED OPTIMAL TARGETING CONDITIONS FOR SILLINESS PURIFICATION! WE SHALL BEGIN BY EXTERMINATING… THE COLOR RED!”
Noddy gasped. “But my car is red! And my hat! And Golliwog’s trousers!”
“PRECIPITATE ACTION REQUIRED!” commanded the lead Dalek. “INITIATE ‘DE-SILLIFICATION PROTOCOL GAMMA-SEVEN’! ALL WHIMSY MUST BE… ERASED!”
The Daleks began trundling towards the town fountain, which was currently spouting rainbow-coloured water.
Golliwog, his spring-coil hair bouncing with a sudden surge of inspiration, whispered to Noddy and Big Ears, “Their sensors are designed for grand, terrifying things, yes? Not… not tiny silliness!”
Noddy’s oak head clicked. “Aha! We must be too silly for them to cope!”
Plan: Maximum Absurdity.
First, Big Ears pulled out his emergency “Gnome-Jammer” (which was actually just a broken kazoo). He blew into it with all his might. Instead of a jamming signal, it emitted a series of increasingly high-pitched squeaks, so utterly nonsensical that the Daleks’ eyestalks wobbled.
“ERROR! AUDIO INPUT TOO… HIGH-PITCHED! DALEK HEARING MODULES ARE DESIGNED FOR GRATING CRIES OF FEAR, NOT SQUEAKY TUNES!” blared one Dalek, momentarily forgetting about the red fountain.
Next, Golliwog sprang into action. He began to untangle his spring-coil hair at an astonishing speed, creating a chaotic, metallic, bouncy mess around his head. He then grabbed a handful of discarded gears and started juggling them, making silly faces and letting his hair bop wildly.
“ILLOGICAL VISUAL DATA! THE TARGET IS PERFORMING RANDOMIZED MANIPULATION OF GEARS WITHOUT APPARENT PURPOSE! AND ITS… ITS HEAD-SPRING-COILS ARE DEFYING DALEK LOGIC!” screeched a second Dalek, aiming its plunger arm at Golliwog, but it just sort of twitched in confusion.
Noddy, realizing this was his moment, jumped into his car. He didn’t just ring his steam whistle; he played a full-blown, cacophonous steam-whistle symphony! He then started driving in increasingly tight circles, making his little car spin like a crazed top, all while singing a song about marmalade and sausages at the top of his wooden lungs.
“STOP! CESSATION OF RANDOMIZED MANOEUVRES REQUIRED!” shouted the lead Dalek, its eyestalk swiveling so frantically it nearly popped off. “THE LEVELS OF SILLINESS ARE EXCEEDING DALEK CAPACITY FOR PROCESSING! OUR CIRCUITS ARE… OVERLOADING WITH WHIMSY!”
The Daleks started to emit small puffs of smoke from their various vents. Their plungers began to wiggle uncontrollably. One Dalek’s exterminator arm actually retracted and replaced itself with a tiny, confused rubber duck.
“RETREAT! RETREAT! TOO MUCH… INCONCEIVABLE JOY! LOGIC-CORE DEGRADING! DALEK PROTOCOL DICTATES EVASION OF EXCESSIVE HAPPINESS!”
With a series of frantic whirs and groans, the Daleks clumsily clanked back into their flying machines. With a final, desperate “EX-TER-MI-NATE… THIS! TOO! MUCH! FUN!” they ascended, leaving behind a faint smell of burnt circuits and slightly singed whimsy.
As the last Dalek ship vanished, Noddy’s car finally spun to a halt. Golliwog’s hair settled. Big Ears put away his kazoo.
“Well,” said Noddy, adjusting his propeller cap, “that was an exciting afternoon. Who knew that being utterly, ridiculously silly was our greatest defense against intergalactic tyrants?”
Big Ears nodded, polishing his clockwork spectacles. “It seems true brilliance lies not in absolute seriousness, but in the strategic deployment of sheer, unadulterated nonsense.”
Golliwog, after carefully re-coiling his hair, simply offered them both a perfectly-tied-with-string jam tart. “More tea, anyone?”
And so, Toyland returned to its normal, delightful level of regulated silliness, safe once more from the perils of being too logically efficient.
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 