Christmas Back on Earth

Based on previous posts, one would expect that Christmas with the Doctor, Jack and the Master--even on ordinary earth--would be an extremely stressful and possibly life-threatening experience. Surprisingly, this year, everyone respected the spirit of the season and no one was killed (that I know of). Here's to wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, and may the new year be as fantastically adventurous (although hopefully much less dangerous!) than the last!

How I Survived Halloween

Incredibly, I am still alive. I haven't seen the Master for four days. I knew he was planning something extremely illegal and possibly life-threatening for Halloween, because honestly, what else would the Master do?
I won't go into details, (because he broke several intergalactic laws and the Doctor would surely be upset if I got his husband arrested) but I will tell you it involved a nail file, the mysteriously missing molotov cocktail, a snow blower, a teacup pig, and several events uncannily similar to an old Irish folktale.
The important thing is, I survived and haven't seen the Master since! I managed to lock him out of the building and barricade all entrances to the apartment. I must remember to thank the Doctor for thinking up that In Case of Zombie Apocalypse Survival Plan. It has come in very useful.
I hope the Master didn't help him develop it, though, because then he would know how to use the emergency exit. (You may think it is stupid to have an emergency exit during a zombie apocalypse. But what if one of the other barricades falls through? Then you'll need an alternative method of escape!)
I'm probably just psyching myself out, but I swear I can hear a strange ticking-scratching sound coming from somewhere. It's probably nothing.
But just in case...
If I die, Jack, you gain rights to the apartment and all my stuff. As well as my science equipment (Doctor, you can take back all the future-science-y things you gave me. TimeWimey and all of that. Also you can have those shoes you liked. I swear, you have freakishly small feet. And they can totally pass for Man Shoes.)
It is very quiet in here now....too quiet. I can't even hear the sounds of the street outside, or the loud creaky elevator used by the other tenants. I'm sure the Master has something to do with this.
Come to think of it, I can't even hear the keyboard clicking. The Master must be standing outside with some sort of Noise Cancellation Ray or something equ

Ssshhhh...

I would like to start this post by apologizing. It has been difficult to update on the blog. The Master somehow managed to short circuit the entire building and my laptop has been running on reserve battery. I am typing this in the dead of night with all the lights off, pressing the keys excruciatingly slowly so that the Master will not hear me. He has become extremely bored and tiresome since we shut off access to the air ducts (the landlord was getting complaints from the other tenants)
Three days ago Jack went on a "business trip" to Torchwood One and took the Doctor along. I suspect they are there to convince TO to hire Jack--they still haven't caved.
For a brief time after Jack and the Doctor left, the Master was a lovely flatmate. He helped around the house and just yesterday gave me a killer french manicure (literally killer. I won't go into details.) I suspected it was part of some clever ruse, and now I am proved correct. Tonight, on the eve of Halloween, the Master has officially lost it. This surely must be what it is to live in a horror movie.
Oh, no. I can hear his footsteps. If I don't survive past this post, be warned. The Master is a highly dangerous individual, bearing uncanny resemblance to the late Prime Minister Harold Saxon and should not be approached. Ever. Even with caution.
It is a good thing he gave me that manicure--I may have to use it.
To Jack and the Doctor--if I am not here when you return, do not believe anything the Master tells you, no matter how un-suspicious it may seem. I will miss you both, I am sure.
The footsteps have stopped. It is impossible to defend myself against a completely silent, dark, and seemingly empty apartment. I cannot even use the Emergency Molotov Cocktail I whipped up, because it has mysteriously vanished--probably stolen by the Master.
I'm starting to feel a little freaked out now.
Master? You can stop the creepy Halloween act.
Jack? Doctor? You can come home now.
Seriously.

An Excuse

So sorry about my lack of activity, its just, well, this internet buisness,
Its a bit adicting, if you'll excuse the excuse.
That in combination with day-time Telly, well, I'm not sure I'll ever need to leave the house again.

Just joking. I've been spending most of my time chasing Nimons and Weavils about.
Jack, I'm sorry and I take it all back.
Weavils are the unsolvable problem. I'm sorry for the judgements.

Biding Time

Hello everyone, you may have noticed that I have not been on here for a while. I have been quite busy doing...well nothing as I do not have a job and can't cross my own time stream, therefore not able to go outside without wearing a sweltering disguise. Another reason though is the Master has finally stopped hogging the computer which he has been playing solitaire on for the last couple of weeks (he can't seem to figure out how to do anything else on it...) He now has moved on to a new fascination...the air vents. I mean really Master you are as bad as having mice in the walls.
Sophie has been doing a great job of keeping me calm when I get anxious and claustraphobic being trapped in this apartement (with the Master) but hopefully Torchwood One answers my letters very soon otherwise I just might go insane.

The Missing Crewmembers

Just a quick note to update you all. You may have noticed that Jack and the Doctor have not been on the blog since we landed. The Doctor is extremely excited, having landed a job in a childrens toy shop, and is constantly bringing home broken toys to try and fix with his sonic screwdriver, which makes him far too busy to post on the internet.
Jack is still not permitted to leave the apartment building, but he has written to Torchwood One, explaining the necessary details and applying for a job. In the meantime, he has been very helpful around the house. He is currently in the kitchen starting on dinner and packing a lunch for the Doctor. (I swear, it's like living with a regular family! The Doctor and the Master are like small children--the former, a six-year-old ecstatic at his first day of school. The latter, a younger child, jealous that he is too young (or in this case, too dangerous) for school. I guess that makes Jack and me the parents?)
Oh, dear. The Master seems to have gotten the cat lodged in the ventilation shafts again. I think he's trying to convert her into one of his little minions. Luckily, Marie is too clever for that.

The Ventilation Obfuscation

Last night I awoke sometime around two or three in the morning to hear a horrifying sound. It was a cross between a dying chipmunk, someone trying to gnaw through sheet metal, and what the Master refers to as his "tricky noise". (read as: a muffled snicker he thinks the rest of us can't hear)
I got up to investigate this terrifying sound--armed with a small Molotov cocktail I happen to have saved for emergencies--prepared to deal with a serial killer or other horror-movie-esque intruder. What did I find? The Master, in an attempt find a way in and out of the flat without being seen, had crawled into one of the air ducts in the ceiling and gotten himself jammed inside it. I had to use a blow torch from the at-home lab to get him out. (Although I was tempted to leave him there until a more reasonable hour, or possibly several days)