Rushing up and down the FIFA carpark, the Doctor got increasingly frustrated. "She's BLUE!!! Not orange, but blue!" -- Fliss
The parking lot was almost lined with orange booths. Because this was an arena of high spirits, cheap alcohol, and impatient bladders. One would think, with paired booths every ten meters, that one blue one would be easy to spot, but such was not the case.
Holly said, "You don't even remember which parking lot you left her in?"
The Doctor stopped cold. Looked horrified. Muttered a very rare swear. "That's right. I have an impeccable sense of direction." And then took off with a certain destination in mind.
Five seconds later, the Doctor stopped cold, turned about face, and ran the other way.
It took them a further twenty minutes to realise that the Porta Potty booths were moving. Stalking them. And they had surrounded the TARDIS.
"Ah," said the Doctor once realisation sank in on both sides, and the orange booths started circling them. "Of course. This is the perfect place to get unsuspecting prey."
"But we're heavily suspecting prey," said Holly. "How do we fight them."
"Um..." said the Doctor. "Still working on that..."
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / mybaitshop]
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