Candy to chew indeed! It takes something a lot more substantial than sugar for L.E.G.get Grotecakes to chaw on, as he follows the rest of the FOGEY crew into the TARDIS. "Chewy sugar! Didn't those Brits learn anything from the New World? Shoulda brought a chaw o' tabacie from the replicator for this here invader that claims to have caputured our retired and retrofitted OOOFer starliner. Hey, another console to poke around in!"
LowlyEngineeringGrunt Grotecakes saunters over to the controls of the TARDIS as the rest of the crew seems interested only in the questionable display of their beloved ship, seemingly occupying an immense...well, dimension. "Sonic-screwdrivers indeed, les?see what these here gold links can do under this panel," states Grotecakes as he crawls under the controls and opens the first panel he encounters.
Inside the console Grotecakes sees no wiring, no fiber optics, nothing that appears truly substantial, but there does seem to be a mass of whirling, twirling and spiraling lights. "Why this here mess looks t?be as phony as yonder Dr. Whatsis or Whosis! Might as well find out if thar's anything further inside." This said Grotecakes reaches as far inside the console as he can and is immediately blinded by the blazing lights reflected in every direction by the gold links embedded in his bright red skin.
Back in the TARDIS... ...an unbelieving L.E.G.get Grotecakes is slowly becoming a little less dazed as the bright sparkles and twinkles recede to the periphery of his vision. The intrusion of his golden links appears to have interrupted the pattern of the lights which had been projecting a hologram of the OOOFers' Enterprise which is also sparkling and twinkling as it fades.
"I thought that blokes accent a bit off," proclaims the ol' Grote. "More like the 'Lord of Illusions' than the Dr., besides if I remember my Firesign correctly, "how can you be in two places at once, when you're not anywhere at all?'"
With his ruse failing the Tardis, floppy hat, scarf, even the jellybabies all disappear and the crew find them self back in the somewhat faulty transporter room where they seem to be interrupting the makings of an orgy. "Oh boy my favorites, soap bubbles and terrycloth," exclaims the rather one track cap'n.
"Typical his 'highness testosterone' doesn't even recognize that a LowlyEngineeringGrunt just saved his cajones from a dastardly alien known only as 'Young General X'," mutters a despondent L.E.G.get Grotecakes as he wanders from the transporter room to find somewhere that might be in need of repairs from his gold encrusted bright red skin. "Maybe communications could use some tweeking. The music doesn't seem to have the frequency range it should."
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