Things had been a bit odd lately for the Killing Time Alliance. Between the lawsuit, the sudden arrival of emerald, the unexpected procurement of a new TTC and the somewhat sport-related transformation of Rowan to a partially aquatic form, frankly, we were all a bit perplexed, tired and, oddly, peckish.
It was Tristan who, using his standard brand of recuperative logic, suggested we travel to the planet Event Bistro Major.
What must be understood at this time is that Event Bistro Major, at that time, did not actually exist yet.
In fact, it can be said that, in a very real and objective sense, Event Bistro Major has NEVER existed.
Due, however, to the subjectiveness of reality while traveling in a Gallifreyan Time Travel Capsule, doing something which is, in fact, objectively impossible, is subjectively not only possible, but simple, and, by the definition of trans-temporal existence theory, actually compulsory.
If the previous explanation has cause your head to go cloudy, your eyes to glaze over, and drool to begin leaking from your mouth, take heart: the description was the literary equivelant of a pref-frontal lobotomy. This was intentional, as that is necessary to understand the rest of what I am to explain.
After piling into my TARDIS, I set the trans-temporal coordinates to take us outside of regular space-time, as Event Bistro Major existed in the purposefully pun-named happy hour.
As any Time Lord will tell you, it is possible to cross from regular space-time into an alternate existence, however, it requires the deletion of mass from within a TARDIS to do so. I, however, am FAR too fond of my capsule to eject any rooms from the interior. Therefor, I had long ago developed a strategy for accomplishing this goal.
At some point in my travels, my TARDIS materialized on a cargo freighter on a collision course with the planet Earth prior to the primacy of primates. On that freighter, there was a single life form. an Alzarian I came to find was named Adric.
Adric, as it turns out, was a polymath of incomprable ability, being nearly on par with the entire populace of Logopolis in his ability to calculate, recaluclate and alter the fabric of reality via his computational manipulations.
So useful was he, that I had him calculate a way to prevent a temporal paradox created by having more than one temporal instance of an individual in existence at the same time. This, to him, proved to be child's play.
Therefore, anytime I needed to breach the boundaries of regular space-time, I would take several (and on occasion, hundreds or even THOUSANDS) of temporal instances of Adric on board.
And eject them into the time vortex when I needed an extra boost.
The trip to happy hour, being one of the most taxing, was a trip that measured twenty-six thousand Adrics.
When we reached Event Bistro Major, we discovered a few things.
First, it was busy. There was a fourty seven year waiting list just to get into the lounge.
Second, the entire crowd consisted of us.
That is to say, not just us, but just us.
Repeated.
Millions of instances of us.
It seems, due to some odd set of coincidences (or, perhaps, merely the certainty of reality and the constant factor of Tristan's desire to party with the one being in the universe capable of understanding his need to party, which would be himself) it seems that at every single instant of our existence, the Killing Time Alliance decided to go have drinks at Event Bistro Major.
This fact created such an immense paradox within the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash that it actually brought Event Bistro Major into being by itself, hence becoming an space-time event occurring merely BECAUSE it was not an event which would never occur in space or time.
And hence, we all began drinking together, by ourselves.
I must, at this point, note that it is cosmically irresponsible to challenge yourself to a drinking competition. Even if the yourself you're challenging exists in a seperate body, the sheer magnitude of impossibilty of this actually happening, causes, by the very nature of it actually happening, the entirety of the Whole Kind Of General Mish-Mash to tear itself apart, become embarrassed by its sudden self-exposure, re-intigrating itself, then offering a chef salad as compensation for any inconvenience.
After a time of non-time, in a place of non-placement, I returned with the Killing Time Allience to my TARDIS, though I'm not certain which contingent of the alliance returned to which version of my TARDIS with which version of me.
But I do know that after taking the twenty-six thousand Adric trip back, we were unceremoniously introduced to someone referring to herself as The Terrible Zodin.
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