For all their lives, Neas has been haunted by the Time War, the most horrifying conflict in the history of the universe. It was the war that gave birth to the Gladiator of Gallifrey and all that they stand for. Now, another war beckons the might and...
It was Christmas in the realm where Craig Jones and his father, Willie, lived. Carrie – the eighth regeneration of Neas – visited by chance of that specific day being the Christian holiday. Between journeys, she would bring the father/son pair back to their old neck of the woods in South Central Los Angeles to catch a break from all the interdimensional insanity.
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Of course, the Joneses weren't in South Central for Christmas. They were in Rancho Cucamonga with Elroy Jones – Willie's brother and Craig's uncle. The Joneses had neglected to tell Elroy about Carrie, who arrived in Rancho Cucamonga without notice, surprising the Joneses – mostly Elroy.
Carrie kept her TARDIS parked on Elroy's front lawn, invisible in the public eye through its onboard perception filter.
The Joneses' Christmas party was everything Carrie expected: a family shindig with classic holiday-themed R&B music playing on the stereo, BBQ fresh off the grill, and plenty of alcohol. Elroy's wife, Auntie Suga, probably had a little too much to drink herself, as she kept hitting on Carrie the entire party. At one point, she inched uncomfortably close to Carrie, rubbed her hand down her back, and clenched her left butt cheek – a gesture that made Carrie's eyes bulge.
It was in that moment Carrie felt her stomach unsettling, either from the BBQ and alcohol or Auntie Suga's abrasive advances. With Suga's hand still firmly grasped on it, both of Carrie's butt cheeks clenched as she felt the unsettling sensation in her stomach migrate further down her intestines.
"Excuse me," she whimpered, sweat beating from her forehead.
She was directed to the nearest bathroom by Willie and rushed right in, unfastening her skinny jeans and dropping them to her ankles. The second her bare posterior hit the toilet seat, she unloaded a flatulence-induced bowel movement that only a woman of her size and stature could be capable of.
It wasn't exactly the proudest moment in the Gladiator's lives – and neither was it the first. The stomach of this regeneration often tended to disagree with her. Willie once said it was her "inner brotha" trying to get out (whatever that meant), but Carrie knew it was a slight imbalance in her body chemistry – a design flaw in the regeneration.
A design flaw that stunk in more ways than one.
As Carrie continued to relieve herself, the bathroom door suddenly flung open (she mistakenly forgot to lock it) and Craig stormed in. "Carrie!" he yelled, only to be stopped by the fecal odor that contaminated the bathroom. "Damn, girl! How much of them ribs did you have?!"
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