Identity Crisis of the Daleks

The metallic and unbelievably non-dulcet tones I mentioned earlier belonged to one of 7 Daleks that were...standing is the wrong word...parked immediately outside the doors of what, to them,  appeared to be a nine-foot mushroom covered in icing sugar (and I SWEAR, my TARDIS was laughing again).

As the Daleks began to advance on my Capsule, We could hear the the sound of another TTC engine materializing just beyond and we saw the familiar bird-emblazoned pyramid of Sabrae's TARDIS fade into existence.

As the doors slid open, one of the metal conquerors slid to intercept her.

"Hey!" she shouted at me, completely ignoring the death-machine approaching her, "I am out of coffee. I was about to go get some and you called me here. So you had BETTER have some damned dark-roast in there!"

"Umm...Sabrae, hun," sapphire said, as calmly as possible, "we are dealing with something a bit more important than that right now. You can go out and get your coffee later."

Sabrae's wings dropped and a look crossed her face that could best be described as "Yeah, I'm going to run the OTHER way into that pack of rabid badgers backed against that wall".

"You don't have coffee, do you?"

I shook my head.

It was at this point that Dalek had gotten in front of Sabrae completely.

It was also at this point that Sabrae proceeded to rip the eye-stalk off of it and use it as a bludgeon to pulverize it into a dented, cracked, pile of scrap with some bloody fleshy lump, all the while shouting vulgarities about there being no decent caffeinated beverages in all of the Gallifreyan-influenced systems in the cosmos.

The rest of the Daleks wisely backed away from her.

"We are the Daleks..." one of them began.

"No you're not," I interrupted.

"Yes, we are! All non-Dalek life is inferior and must be exterminated!"

"I agree with that last bit," I said, "But not the first. You're not the Daleks."

This seemed to slow them down for a moment.

"Daleks are the most perfect life-forms in the Who...Universe, right?"

"Yes!"

"Well look at you lot! You're in metal cans. You've got one eye, so no depth perception. You've got no HANDS let alone opposing thumbs! You're CLEARLY the inferior species to me, so that makes US the Daleks, not you."

The Daleks proceeded to look at each other and were silent for several minutes...

"No! We are the Daleks! We will prove it!"

"Right, well come on in, then and I'll show you how to prove you're the Daleks."

The six remaining Daleks, sapphire, Sabrae, Tristan and Skippy all followed me into the depths of my TARDIS until we reached the lowest level...

The bowling alley.

"Right," I said, "If you are REALLY the Daleks, and hence the supreme species, then you should have no trouble beating me at a simple game like this, but, of course, you can't, since it is, as I said, WE, who are the Daleks. You're merely gnomes in a crunchy outer shell."

"We will be supreme! We are the real Daleks!"

I will not bore you with the details of what happened at this point. Suffice to say, what I said about the Daleks not having opposing thumbs is true.

As such, Daleks are TERRIBLE bowlers.

The fact that they lost them game confused them enough to convince them that they were, in fact, NOT the Daleks, and therefor, we were.

This made them blink out of existence altogether.