A long time ago in a city far, far away (London) was a thin and merry man who was skipping home in the rain late one evening.
This unusual man always wore the most eccentric of clothes he could find, which typically entailed a suit with pants too short and waist too big, and suspenders to hold them up, barely hidden under a polyester coat.
… And there was always the bowtie…
On this particular evening, which was not an unusual evening for the man, the rain was particularly torrential, so the man pulled his coat over his head as he rushed to his destination.
At the same time, despite the predictions of rain by the weatherman, an otherwise brilliant Doctor, had tested fate unsuccessfully that day and was driving his brand new 1963 Jaguar home.
He had driven his special edition single seat convertible sports car to medical practice in the morning, yet found himself in a mad rush to get his new ‘baby’ home.
Unfortunately, the merry man and the Doctor were to meet in the most unfortunate of manners that evening, as the merry man crossed an intersection not seeing the speeding Jaguar coming his way as he was catapulted nearly 50 meters in the rain.
“Oh Dear God, What have I done?,” cried the man driving the Jaguar as he screeched to a halt.
The formerly merry man was now lying broken and bleeding, and had slid across the intersection into a blue police box which looked very similar to this:
The Doctor rushed to the side of the broken man, who was laying, barely conscious, on his back in a pool of blood with his head propped up against the blue police box.
There Doctor quickly realized the man needed a hospital.
Realizing he’d never be able to get the man to the hospital in his vehicle, the Doctor found the Police box’s door had been broken open by the impact.
Thinking quickly, the Doctor opened up the police and used the still functioning phone and contacted the local hospital.
With help on it’s way, the operator asked for the man’s identity.
“Hold on a moment,” said the Doctor, frantically.
The Doctor ran to the man, who was clinging to consciousness.
“Son, I’m a Doctor and here to help you, but first I need to know, what’s your name?,” said the Doctor.
The man stuttered “Doc.. Doc… Doctor,” he said.
“Yes, I am a Doctor,” the Doctor replied, but he realized the man couldn’t move, let alone identify himself.
“Sir, you’ve been badly injured. Help is on its way, but we need to know who you are, who can we contact to let them know you’ve been hurt?,” said the Doctor.
The man’s eyes rolled back a little… he was losing consciousness.
The Doctor searched the man, and found a wallet in his front right suit pocket, but the wallet contained nothing but a single piece of blank paper in it.
The man spoke again, “I… Am… Doctor…,” as the man then lifted his right arm, and pointed towards his head.
The Doctor, seeing the blood pooling on the ground behind his head, reached behind the man’s head and felt something embedded in the man’s skull.
“Oh Dear God,” said the Doctor, as he rushed over to his car to get his medical bag which had gauze in it.
“Son, I’m going to pull you inside the police box, I need to stabilize your wound before help arrives, ” said the Doctor.
The man didn’t respond.
The Doctor then dragged as much of the man into the Blue Police Box, at the very least to get his head out of the rain.
As if on cue, the rain stopped outside.
It didn’t even register to the Doctor to think “That was odd…”
The Doctor rolled the man on his right side, as he asked “Son, what’s your name?,” at about the same time the Doctor could see what looked to be the end of a screwdriver sticking outside of the man’s head.
The broken man, looking out of the police box, saw a featureless man whose face was hidden in the shadows standing not far from the Police Box.
As the Doctor tried wriggling the screwdriver out, the broken man’s eyes grew wide and blurted out:
The Doctor looked in the direction the broke man was staring at, and saw the man.
“Yes, very good, that’s a guy, but son, what is your name?, The Doctor said as he rolled the broken man on his other side to get a better angle of extracting the screwdriver.
“F… F… FOX” he blurted out.
The Doctor tugged the screwdriver out, and just happened to see a fox cross the road where the broken man was looking.
The broken man’s eyes started to roll back in his head again.
“Stay with me son, I’m bandaging you up. Now can you tell me your name?”
The broken man, losing consciousness, was repeating…
“Guy …. Fox….. Guy … Fox …. Guy Fo….”
The Doctor interrupted. He could hear the ambulance siren wail in the distance, help was just about here, but he knew he had little time to learn the man’s identity lest he slip into a coma.
“Son, I need to know your name,” the Doctor pleaded.
Looking past the Doctor up to the now clear starry night sky, the broken man said as plain as day:
“I…. Am…. The…,” as he then lapsed into a coma.
It was the 5th of November, 1963 when the broken nameless man slipped into a permanent coma despite the best efforts of the Doctor who had accidentally hit him..
But that’s only the start of the story.
For when the broken nameless man lay there, broken and bleeding as he looked up at the stars, that’s when his journey actually began.
For what the Doctor didn’t see, was the broken man’s mind rush to meet the stars.
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