Five-Minute "The Hand of Fear"
by Curt Rozeboom

Alien: We must obliterate the obliteration-module at the correct obliteration time!
Roton: Meh... I'm bored, do it now.

Sarah: You know, it's odd how every planet looks just like a quarry on Earth. Where have we landed?
Doctor: In a quarry... on Earth.
Sarah: Shouldn't we be concerned about that siren?
Doctor: There's A Whole Lot Of Shakin' Goin' On!
Sarah: Doctor, I need a hand getting... oh dear!
Foreman: Please don't tell my boss about this, or I'll be doin' the Jailhouse Rock!

Dr. Carter: Can you give me a hand with this... er... hand?
Doctor: Well the BBC managed to score an electron microscope, will that do?
Dr. Carter: This is like nothing on Earth!
Doctor: While you contemplate that last statement, why don't I make a pointless trip to the quarry?
Sarah: Elvis-drad must live!
Dr. Carter: El-who-ACK!
Sarah: Ooh, Tupperware!

Guard: Who goes there?
Sarah: Tupperware salesgirl! Would you like to see our wonderful selection?
Guard: Well, all-- ACK!
Sarah: Idiot.

Doctor: Excuse me, are you the Big Boss Man?
Director: Doctor, I Got A Woman in my nuclear reactor!
Sarah: Elvis-drad must live!
Director: She Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog, barking mad!
Doctor: I'll use the cooling ducts to get to her.
Ms. Jackson: But those are extremely hot cooling ducts, you'll fry!
Doctor: I Got My Mojo Workin', Keep Your Hands Off It!

Doctor: Whooosh!
Sarah: Elvis-drad?
Doctor: No, but Elvis-drad must li-- gotcha!

Doctor: Driscol, you're Wearing My Ring Around Your Neck!
Driscol: Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers!

Hand: Knock, knock!
Tech: Who's there?
Hand: Elvis.
Tech: Elvis who?
Driscol: Elvis-drad must live!

Director: Doctor, we'd better get out of here, there's about to be A Whole Lot Of Shakin' Goin' On.
Doctor: Oh, don't get All Shook Up. And besides, I already used that reference.
Director: I like mine better.

Doctor: Lawdy Miss Clawdy, that's not Elvis!
Sarah: No, she's A Long-Legged Woman With A Short Dress On.

Elvis-Babe: Don't Be Cruel, Treat Me Nice!
Doctor: You're a Hard-Headed Woman, What Now, What Next, Where To?
Elvis-Babe: The Blue Moon Of Kentucky!
Sarah: Can we stop the Elvis song-title references, now?
Doctor: Oh no, we're just getting started!

Doctor: Alright, Everybody Come Aboard.
Elvis-Babe: A Little Less Conversation A Little More Action Please.
Doctor: Elvis-drad, we can't go on together with Suspicious Minds.
Elvis-Babe: Alright Doctor, I'll be Steadfast, Loyal and True.

Elvis-Babe: Welcome To My World.
Doctor: I've got a Dirty, Dirty Feeling...
Sarah: Now she's become Adam And Evil!
Elvis-Drad: Thank you, thank you very much!
Doctor: He was the Devil In Disguise!
Elvis-Drad: I Don't Care If The Sun Don't Shine!

Roton: Elvis-drad, You Were Always On My Mind!
Elvis-Drad: I'm the king of Nothingville, I'm So Lonesome, I Could Cry!
Doctor: Apparently, your people felt so lonely, they died.
Elvis-Drad: Then I will take over the Earth and ascend from a Jack To A King!
Sarah: Now we're in T-R-O-U-B-L-E!
Doctor: Elvis-drad, Clean Up Your Own Backyard.
Elvis-Drad: I Slipped, I Stumbled, I Fell!
Doctor: The More Bitter They Are, The Harder They Fall!
Sarah: Ladies and Gallifreyans, Elvis-drad has left the planet.

Sarah: Doctor, you've dragged me to the Edge Of Reality -- For The Millionth And Last Time! I'm Movin' On!
Doctor: I Got A Feelin' In My Body... I'm Comin' Home... to Gallifrey....
Doctor: I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.
Sarah: Uh, it's Sarah, and why won't you Let Me Be There?
Doctor: It's A Matter Of Time.
Sarah: Forget Me Never, Doctor.
Doctor: Easy Come, Easy Go!
Sarah: Aw-shoot! This isn't South Croydon. Well, I'm Gonna Get Back Home Somehow.
(Sarah thumbs it to South Croydon at Ludicrous Speed)


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This fiver was originally published on June 12, 2005.

DISCLAIMER: A lot of stuff in here is copyrighted by the company that makes Doctor Who. We, the administration of Five-Minute Voyager, could not possibly have less of a clue who that is. Well, actually we do since SCMoll told us, but it's funnier this way.

All material © 2005, Curtis L. Rozeboom.