[A/N: I challenge any fanfiction writer reading this to write something answering this: What would happen if all (or at least 5) of Farrah Fawcett’s characters met? (not the psychotic one who killed her kids, just the non-dangerous ones) My guess is they would probably do something illegal or at least be (adorable) pests. ]
“Ow!” Dex ran into a pole near the stairs of the alien club. “Dammit I was trying to be sexy!”
“No one else can see you but us, Dex”, Strawberry said and rolled her eyes. “Keep your glasses on next time so you won’t embarrass yourself.”
“They make me look like a dork!” he answered, rubbing his face and doing as he was told. Shakira laughed, so did Holly and Linda Lee, one of Strawberry’s friends who agreed to help out. She worked in Chinese medicine, and like Strawberry and Shakira, could choose her own hours. All five of them had gone out for dinner at the club in Dreg’s Den and were now on their way home. When they got back to their ships, they noticed someone running towards them. The pretty-boi in a suit saw them, yelled out “HEY!”, then tripped over. “Who are you?” Linda asked as the others stared.
He stood up and answered: “My name is Lawrence Piro.”
“And you are…..?
“Farrah’s former doctor, now I’m looking for her current ones”, he said with a touch of pride. Shakira’s eyes looked as if they were about to jump out of her head. “YOU BASTARD!” she yelled, smacking him across the face, “YOU FUCKING POISONED HER WITH THAT CHEMO CRAP WHEN THERE ARE OTHER WAYS AND ALL IT DID WAS MAKE HER WORSE!”
“Do you think I enjoyed it? The pharmaceutical companies have my entire profession BY THE BALLS so if I even SUGGEST anything other than chemo, radiation or surgery I’ll lose my licence and get my ass thrown in jail! They don’t even want us knowing about nutritional medicine!”
Shakira paused. “So you are on our side?” she asked, her pride a little damaged by the fact that she misjudged someone yet again.
“Yes. Yes I am” he answered, with his hand still on his face. “And I take it that one or more of you are her new doctors?”
Strawberry replied with “Except for Holly, yes we all are”, because it was bordering on impossible for someone to stick to such a precise nutritional therapy all on their own if they didn’t have the energy to do all the cooking/shopping/cleaning, and appropriate hired help was impossible to find on their planet. She didn’t feel like explaining this to him, and would have preferred to write the web address of the Gerson Institute* on his face, as she didn’t currently have much respect for him either.
“Uhh…how did you know we were here?” Holly asked, getting a little creeped out.
“Farrah said where she was in her video diary on YouTube.” Dex facepalmed, then Lawrence continued, “I’m sure she didn’t know that her YouTube habit would get any of you in trouble.”
Holly then squeaked, “What do you mean by trouble?” Shakira immediately started thinking about the Time Lord police, who didn’t approve of anyone using a TARDIS to change anything in the universe whether it involved time travel or not. She was sure she was being followed earlier today when she went to see Jill Munroe. It seemed to be a law of the universe that Shakira had to be the doctor of all the non-psychotic versions of Farrah.
“You know how certain companies will stop at nothing to protect their empire? Well they aren’t too pleased that someone so willing to share what she’s doing about her health problems with the world is healing herself naturally, because it can’t be patented, so they got the hospital to take her power of attorney.”
“THEY DID WHAT?” everyone yelled at the same time.
“Yeah, it’s kinda unsafe for her to go back to Los Angeles. They can legally force her to go back on chemo and to stay away from nutritional therapies.”
“Hey what’s going on out here?” Farrah appeared at the TARDIS door in a silk nightie, and then Lawrence explained everything, including why he was now on their side, so she could trust him.
She was understandably shocked. “……what? Why did they do that? Where can I go?”
“You can stay with me, and you can bring any of your friends over any time”, Shakira offered, fingering the scarf that was draped over her head and matched her purple and green salwar kameez, “you can bring your son over sometimes too if you want.”
“Hey no one knows where I live, when you miss home you can stay with me too”, Dex said.
Shakira looked over at Holly. “You want to go inside to continue talking about what we’re going to do about this?”
“Yes it’s getting cold out here”, the blonde said, her flimsy white dress blowing in the desert breeze. They all went inside Shakira’s TARDIS to her guest room, unknowingly saving themselves from the head of the hospital where Lawrence worked and where Farrah had spent too much time. The bald, overweight man and his two assistants, one an attractive brunette and the other a 30-something man with sharp features, were showing photos of Lawrence and Farrah to denizens of Dreg’s Den, and trying not to jump when they noticed the ones who didn’t look human. “And remember, DON’T tell anyone about these aliens! The government has ordered all its departments and anyone who goes here to keep quiet and leave them alone!” the head whispered to his assistants on arrival.
“Excuse me, umm…Madam? Sir?” the female assistant asked. “Have you seen either of these people? We’re looking for them.”
“I prefer ‘madam’…..”, he winked, “and have you seen….this man?” Frank N Furter asked, producing a photo of Elvis Presley and giving her a dramatic look.
“That’s Elvis Presley! He died years ago!” said the woman, confused.
“I know, I brought him back to life….hahaha!”
“Okay I know this place is crawling with aliens but I don’t believe what you’re saying. You obviously have no grasp on reality.” By this time, the head had become aware of their conversation.
“How DARE you question my scientific skills and how DARE YOU insinuate that I, Dr Frank Nigel Furter, am mentally unstable! OW!” The head attacked him from behind, whacking him over the head with a baseball bat originally intended for Farrah’s doctors (who the fuck else?). “We’ll take this one back to the psych ward, maybe he knows something, but he sure needs to be locked away.” And so, accepting their temporary failure, they tied up Frank N Furter, put him in the boot of their car and started to drive back to Los Angeles.
*That would be: http://gerson.org/gerpress/