The Unfortunate Recorder

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"Absolute rubbish, this thing. It used to be in tune..." The bright blue striped recorder swiftly went from one hand into the interior breast pocket of a short, choppy looking man who looked more like a hobo than anything else. His deep smile lines accented his cheery face, but weren't being used at the moment.

The man behind the face was a traveler, a man of infinite knowledge and passion. His expertise with the galaxy was unmatched by those who thought the world was no bigger than Sol 3, and he often proved them wrong. But this time, he traveled alone; a very dangerous thing. This man was the Doctor.

The Doctor stood at the console of his machine, lovingly dubbed the TARDIS. He was twisting knobs and flipping switches, cradling his cranium with an interested fist, deep in thought. The TARDIS often kept him busy and took him wherever he wanted (read as NEEDED) to go. It never failed him. And this time was no different...at first.

....whir.....
.....WHIR.....
WHEEEEEZZEEEEE.......
WWWHHHEEEEEEEIIIRRRZZZ......
GWONG!

The TARDIS materialized. The Doctor stood at the vector screen with an intense curiosity. "Now that's funny. I didn't say you could land yet! Now then--A-hem---where are we?" He twisted some knobs on the screen. It revealed an interesting sight: pure black. Perhaps the dark? The Doctor flipped the door lever and promptly exited the craft.

Outside the TARDIS was no better. The darkness had engulfed him, nearly taking away his complete line of vision. The only light that eminated out was coming from the interior of the TARDIS, but even that was dim. From what light that was coming out he saw a metallic grid on the floor, and a closed, heavy duty door. "Now THAT'S curious...."