Apocalypse Rising (Book Two)

The Idiot's Lantern

Rose poked her head out of the TARDIS before stepping out, careful not to trip over her full pink skirt. She grinned, looking around, before frowning. "I thought we'd be going for the Vegas era!" she called back into the TARDIS, looking over her full pink dress, pink heels, and denim jacket. "You know? The white flares and the, grr. . . chest hair."

There was a rustle from inside the TARDIS, and the Apocalypse poked her head out, frowning. "You are kidding, aren't you?" she huffed, her hair swirled up into a messy bun, wearing sequined white flare pants and a sequined red shirt and white heeled sandals. "You want to see Elvis, you go for the late fifties! The time before burgers. When they called him the Pelvis, and he still had a waist." She ducked back inside. "And besides, you see him in style!" Rose laughed when the Apocalypse drove a scooter out of the TARDIS, the Apocalypse smirking at her, wearing a white crash helmet and red shades. "You going my way, doll?" she joked with a grin.

Rose smirked right back at her. "Is there any other way to go, daddy-o?" she countered, slipping on her pink sunglasses. "Straight from the fridge, man!"

The Apocalypse grinned. "Hey, you speak the lingo!" she praised.

"Oh, well, me, mum," Rose shrugged, taking the pink crash helmet offered as she slipped on behind the Apocalypse. "Cliff Richard movies every Bank Holiday Monday."

"Ah, Cliff," the Apocalypse nodded. "Somehow, I knew your mother would be a Cliff fan."

"Where we off to?" Rose asked as they drove down the roads.

"Ed Sullivan TV Studios," the Apocalypse answered. "Elvis did a Hound Dog on one of the shows. There were loads of complaints. Bit of luck, we'll just catch it."

"And that'll be TV studios, in, what, New York?"

"That'll be the one," the Apocalypse nodded, stopping at a stop sign.

A red London bus drove past, and Rose burst out into giggles at the face the Apocalypse made as they looked around, seeing hundreds of Union Flags. "Digging that New York vibe," she laughed.

The Apocalypse shook her head. "Am I that bad of a driver?" she whined.

"But I wonder what all the flags are for," Rose wondered.

"Why don't we ask?" the Apocalypse said, nodding to a man hauling a TV out of a van. She parked the moped and hopped off, strutting over with Rose behind her, their helmets under their arms. " . . . wired up for the great occasion," the man was saying.

"The great occasion?" the Apocalypse asked, the two of them stopping before him. "What do you mean?"

"Where've you been living, out in the Colonies?" the man huffed. "Coronation, of course!"

The Apocalypse nodded, then asked, "What Coronation's that, then?"

The man stared at her. "What do you mean? The Coronation!"

Rose's eyes widened. "It's the Queen's," she explained. "Queen Elizabeth!"

"Oh!" the Apocalypse cheered. "It's 1953!"

"Last time I looked," the man nodded. "Time for a lovely bit of pomp and circumstance, what we do best."

Rose looked around, frowning. "Look at all the TV aerials," she told the Apocalypse. "Looks like everyone's got one. That's weird. My nan said tellies were so rare, they all had to pile into one house."

"Not around here, love," the man told her. "Magpie's Marvelous Tellies, only five quid a pop."

"Oh, but this is a brilliant year," the Apocalypse told Rose as Magpie got into his van and drove off. "Classic! Technicolor, Everest climbed, everything off the ration. The nation throwing off the shadows of war and looking forward to a happier, brighter future!"