So - not ginger, then. Which is a trifle disappointing, but on the other hand - breasts! So that's definitely a turn up for the books.

On the downside, though, my current ensemble is designed for someone taller and narrower than I presently find myself.

Sigh.

It takes me quite a while of rummaging through the various wardrobes in the TARDIS in search of something appropriate for this new incarnation; it's not that there's any lack of female clothes, but for some reason I seem to have ended up rather more, ah, generously padded in various locations than most of my companions have been in the past.

I survey Peri's cast-offs with a jaundiced eye, and conclude that shoulder pads are not really my thing. I examine one of Leela's fur bikinis with slightly appalled fascination, but it's quickly clear that I would need to sew three or four of them together in order to contain my new-found cleavage. I rather like some of Romana's things, but looking at them depresses the hell out of me - in my heart of hearts I'm still hoping that somewhere out there I'll stumble across her again - perhaps in E-space, or perhaps somewhere closer to home. Stranger things have certainly happened.

I don't look at anything that was left by Rose or Donna.

After a while I realise that I'm going about this all wrong. I don't want anyone else's cast offs. I close my eyes, and wander deeper into the TARDIS's wardrobe, half-expecting to find snow and fauns and magical lions amidst all the furcoats. Instead I find purple velvet trousers and a soft, unstructured jacket to match. I rather like the way it billows out like a cape when I twirl.

Understated has never been part of my sartorial mission statement, regardless of regeneration.

Right. A shocking pink blouse and a pair of red sequinned ballet flats are added to the ensemble. I have a vague feeling that there ought to be a hat, but at this point the TARDIS starts to make a rather distressing high-pitched wail, and I hurry back to the control room.

"There there, sweetheart," I say, patting the old girl and scanning half a dozen readouts and buttons and handles.

Odd.

Candyland? Surely not...

After a hard day of vengence, I like to kick back and watch some tv. I don't usually watch the news on tv, as I get plenty of worldwide status reports from the home office, which tend to be more, well, if not objective, exactly, at least covering more than one POV. Still I flip past one of the local stations' news show...

Huh, fancy that. The Doctor's regenerated again. She's fantastic.

Candyland - Portal Entrance

Once alpha and beta teams have crossed through the port, our time finally has come. Immediately inside, I take a relay unit disguised as a lollipop and shove it into the ground. Beta team is still visible a little ways ahead, Alpha team is further ahead around a bend in candy cane lane.

"Inga, you there?" I ask, speaking into the armor's comm system.

"You're coming in loud and clear." Replies Inga. "I've got visual feed from all units."

"Excellent." I turn off my mic, while I look around at Candyland for a minute. There is a path bordered lines candy canes leading directly away from the portal. Giant lollipops form a sort of forest on either side of the path, while gum drops and chocolate chips form the underbrush. No doubt there are chocolate gnomes out there somewhere.

The commander's voice cracks over the comm. "We've secured the immediate area. Where do we need to go to shut down the portal?"

"One minute I tell him." I remove a scanner from my backpack and point it toward the portal, looking for some trace of EM radiation that may lead us to whatever is holding the portal open. There it is, a narrow band of low frequency radio waves. Heading dead ahead. I sent a signal to everyone. Everyone's goggles and Hans' visor show a little arrow indicating the direction we need to go.

"There. We just need to follow the arrow." I tell the commander.

"Good. We proceed forward. We're at the edge of the forest up here, I want beta team to advance to our current position. Alpha team will explore the plain ahead. Epsilon will stay near the portal for now." Says the commander. I watch as beta team heads out. The minutes start to pass.

"I think we are clear to have epsilon team advan... wait a minute. Yeah, we've got something approaching, lots of somethings. Looks like chocolate bunnies and they have are carrying....candy canes" There is a minute of silence, then I hear gunshots in the distance and over the comm system.

"They have peppermint spears and they are attacking! Beta team move up!" There are more gunshots and a scream of pain.

"Beta team heading to your position. Oh shit what's that? Peeps! We've got Peeps coming for us." More gunshots ahead. I switch my visor to show the video feed from beta just in time to see a horde of giant pink Peeps. A few Peeps burst into goo as 10mm explosive rounds rip through through sugar coating, but there are too many. The video feeds from Beta go to static in quick succession.

"Alpha team is cut off. We've got to do something!" I say to Hans and our two city watch escorts.

Hans lowers the visor of his helmet and fires up the flamethrower. "It's time to make some smores."

And the thing is, obviously I stopped eating jelly babies, once I knew about their origins. I really did. And I felt very bad about the innocent delight I'd once taken in biting off their little heads.

Still, I've made a point of keeping clear of Candyland. The jelly people aren't a particularly forgiving bunch, by all accounts, and the Gingerbread Man accepted their demands for a fatwah as soon as they brought my case to their attention. The Oompa Loompas have got standing orders to shoot me on sight, and Willy Wonka couldn't persuade them otherwise, despite his very best efforts. (Which I consider really rather bad form, after I'd helped him rustle up that Great Glass Elevator. I mean, that's as close to TARDIS technology as anyone outside Gallifrey has ever been granted, dash it all.)

Candyland. It's not all sweetness and light.

It's a perfect summer day: a Simpsons sky, warm sun, cool breeze. I've got laundry on the line, and no fear that birds will mess it up - the birds here in Sang Sacre are smart - smart enough to work with me when needed, and smart enough not to poop on the underthings of the hand that can mess up all the squirrels in town for bustin' into the bird feeders.

Squirrels, on the other hand, don't need to be bribed with food. They just need the right kind of challenge - send 'em off on errands that are entertaining enough, and they will thank you. Not that it hurts to ensure plenty of nut-bearing trees flourishing in the local ecosystem.

That reminds me, I need to donate 20ish walnut trees to the city parks department. Someone has been spray-painting hate-speech graffiti to the tune of "Demons Go Hence!" on various public monuments. And I've got the squirrels primed and ready to observe who it is, then hurl broken nut shells into the path of the miscreant every time she or he sets foot out of doors. Should seriously mess up their shoes, along with the floors of any place they go. Also, if it does not stop soon, I will likely have all the pigeons dropping specialty packages on the ruffian's head.

Hmm, maybe the city parks could use some nice raspberry bushes....

Hans lays down a burst of flame, igniting a pack of peeps. I fire up the blast-o-matic laser and start cutting through the pink peeps like a laser through marshmallow. Oh the peepmanity.

"Everybody retreat!" I send out the command.

Alpha team needs no encouragement as they flew through the path Hans and I have cleared out. No sane person would stick around when there are rampaging peeps on the loose.

Hans' voice crackles in my helmet. "Running low, boss."

"Hans, pull back." I order over the radio.

There's only one choice. We'll never get close enough to deactivate the portal creating device. I give my computer's on-board computer the command to arm and release the pack on my back.

The second the heavy pack thunks to the ground and a pleasant voice of the computer fills my helmet. "Warhead deployed, five minutes until detonation."

"We have to get the hell out of here, Hans!"

We use flames and the blast-o-matic to carve our way past the peeps. Even with the advanced ventilation of the armor, I can catch the reek of burned marshmallow and newly created caramel in the air.

Hans' flamethrower dies as the last of its fuel is exhausted. Fortunately, we've cleared a hole and make the dash toward the portal.

"2 minutes" The computer's voice rings again.

Only the enhanced speed made possible by the servos in the powered armor allow us to outrun the hoard of remaining peeps.

"Clear the area in front of the portal! Nobody look at it!" I yell into my radio.

"30 seconds," comes the voice of the computer.

Hans and I sprint ahead and dive through with seconds to spare.

The computer's voice finishes the countdown. "Detonation."

The alley that had the misfortune of hosting a portal to Candyland sears in the flash of a two megaton nuke splitting atoms with extreme prejudice. Behind us, the portal winks out of existence before the shock-wave has time to it.

Some days you just don't have any choice but to nuke Candyland.

Ah, autumn! My favorite time of year - a day off at Hallowe'en, the crisp leaves, the smell of roasting marshmallows. Mmmm, that's a lot of roasting marshmallows. And, now I'm hungry.

First Entry Aeshma
10/13/2009

My chief minion has informed Aeshma that creating a blog will help Aeshma raise my profile as a villain, so that all will learn my name and only dare to whisper it in fear.

Today Aeshma have, no, has, purchased, no, um, taken by force, the supplies Aeshma need to put into effect tomorrow's evil plan. And what?

My minion tells Aeshma that Aeshma should use my backspace key when Aeshma makes a change instead of typing out what my change is. Fool, Aeshma needs no backspace key, Aeshma does not correct himself. Tomorrow Aeshma will consider getting a new chef, chief, minion.

What was Aeshma talking about? Tomorrow! Tomorrow, the city wiLL QUAKE IN FEAR AS MY EVIL PLAN IS FULFILLED.

MY MINION TELLS AESHMA THE HE PRESSED THE CAPSLICK KEY BY MISTAKE, FOOL MINION AESHMA DOES NOT MAKE MISTAKES1