Mortimer the Mighty

Mortimer munched noisily on a biscuit as he looked over his notes. Clearly, he was doing exactly what he was supposed to. If he wasn’t, The Time Lord would have surely stopped him.

Wouldn’t he?
Maybe this was a test.
Maybe The Time Lord wanted to see what this road led to.
No, The Time Lord knows all.
He is the past, present, and future.
I am doing exactly what I am supposed to.
We all are.
Aren’t we?

Mortimer contemplated this dizzying logic for a moment and sighed, brushing crumbs off his rotund belly and onto the floor, which was littered with papers.

He looked around for a moment before being consumed by how disgusted he was with himself. A failed time bender, he couldn’t even stop the New Year from coming to pass. The only thing he did succeed in was keeping up the glamour long enough to convince those people that he actually was The Time Lord.

He was sure The Time Lord would thank him for his efforts but, as usual, he was shunned by The Great One. Mortimer was equally certain that The Time Lord was just biding his time before punishing him, allowing him to stew.

“Perhaps being ignored is my punishment!” he thought proudly, a self-important grin creeping up his chubby cheeks.

“More likely…” he continued, his smile fading, “…he does not even notice me.”

“I do not matter.” Mortimer concluded darkly, stuffing another biscuit in his mouth.