The ‘Protector of the Small’ Parodies I Posted on ‘Mark Reads’

I’m reading the Protector of the Small series along with my homies at Mark Reads. As I did with the Alanna books, I am using parody to express myself in the comments. But then something terrible happened! A commenter named Scrabblized said she MISSED one of my posts! Oh, nightmarish horror! So now I’ll just archive everything here. Because two whole people DEMANDED that my incredible work involving characters that I didn’t come up with be preserved.


“Doctor, you’ve done it!” Clara cried. The group of Daleks, five in all, ceased their advance and sputtered to a halt.

“You Daleks never change,” the Doctor said, snapping the top of his sonic screwdriver shut. “New paint jobs–same old predictable circuitry.”


“Doctor, they’re right,” Clara said. “They’re paralyzed but that doesn’t exactly change our situation, does it?”

The Doctor flipped his bangs with a smarmy jerk of his head. “You could be right,” he said as the TARDIS materialized behind him with a slow whine. “We’d have to destroy one Dalek a minute. And their armor is impervious. Well–all but one spot.”


“That’s right,” the Doctor agreed. “If only someone with such a weapon were here, while being able to hit a small, round object with dependable accuracy and force.” He tugged his bow tie. “If only.”

The door on the TARDIS clacked open and a horse carrying a ten-year-old girl plodded out. The girl held a wooden lance in her hand. The thrilling music that plays at the end of every Doctor Who episode began on cue.

“Hey guys,” Kel said. “Did someone need several inanimate objects struck in a hurry?”


Kel positioned her lance with the tip directed at the blue Dalek. With a word to Peachblossom she charged. The lance split the Dalek’s eyestalk and struck the back of the head-dome with a clang; the Dalek was flung from its spot, crashing onto its side.

“Yes! Huzzah! Bravo!” The Doctor cheered. “Now, can you do exactly that four more times!?”

The Doctor made several exaggerated facial expressions as Kel did so.

“Alright,” Kel said as the final Dalek’s shattered head-dome slid from her lance. “I’ve got to go back to my fantasy universe filled with magic and fantastic creatures. Come get me if you need anything! I’ll be climbing a tree.”

The Doctor saluted as the sky lit up from the Ultra Dalek’s explosion. It died for some reason and everything was saved.


NEXT TIME ON <i>DOCTOR WHO</i>–! The Doctor and Clara are tied to chairs! And there is a button at the top of a ladder that MUST be pushed! Will Kel conquer her fear in time!? WILL SHE!? !?!?!?!




Kel and Neal sat together at supper, re-establishing all of the characterization from the previous book.

“So,” Neal began. “Should we remind everyone of your fear of heights in THIS chapter or–?”

“Time to interrupt whatever’s going on!” a voice from the far end of the hall shouted. It was the Doctor, with Strax marching beside him.

“I’ve tracked a weeping angel to this location,” the Doctor announced. “Strax, inform them of the situation while I check to see if it is, indeed, blueberry pie day.”

Strax grunted, pushing ahead of the Doctor. “You! Girl! Help me bar the doors!” he barked.

“I am not a woman!” Wyldon shouted back. Neal smiled.

“Well, Stump, here in Tortall that can be taken as quite a compliment.”

“What did you call me, page?” Wyldon growled.

“Stump,” Strax repeated. He nodded as much as his squat face would allow. “It’s a compliment where I come from, too. You should be honored.”

Wyldon grit his teeth. Strax and Neal bumped fists.

“Now! You, girl,” Strax addressed Kel. “Where is the armory?”

“How did you know SHE was a girl?” Wyldon asked.

“She’s wearing a dress,” Strax replied. “That’s what dresses are for: to constantly remind everyone of your sex. This is such a well-mannered world.”

“Hold up,” Neal said. “There is this hideous, stone gargoyle with wings over there. Oh, wait, it’s just Kel’s dog. Nevermind.”

“It’s a weeping angel!” The Doctor said, rushing over to Kel. She was staring at the statue.

“Kel, listen to me. You must not blink. Keep looking in the direction of that thing and do nothing. Be absolutely stoic.” He bit his lip. “I know I can not even begin to ask such a difficult task of you. But you MUST try to be impassive and calm while you chant a soothing mantra to yourself.”

Kel kept staring. Not a molecule on her body moved as her face froze into a perfect mask of Yamani-ness that even the most Yamani of Yamanis would be envious of.

“Holy crap can that girl stare,” The Doctor said.

“How long is this going to take?” Neal asked. “Kel’s got a big day.”

The Doctor smirked. “I’ve already peeked ahead. She’s going to get into a scrape with Joren. AGAIN. She’s going to tell Wyldon she fell. AGAIN. And to top off the day–big surprise!–she’ll find a mysterious gift.”

“Oh, like you ever do anything different!” Neal said. “Later you’re just going to get in the TARDIS, try to fly somewhere, end up in the wrong place, and then solve a dilemma involving a monster.”

“Well at least I can talk to girls I have crushes on!” the Doctor shouted back. “And guess what? I’ve seen the end of the universe! How’s that for ‘too old to date her,’ smarty?”

As the two argued the angel’s stone skin began to crack.

“Doctor! Something besides staring is happening!” Strax gasped. The Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver.

“Incredible,” he uttered. “Kel’s impassiveness is so absolute that the angel is beginning to doubt that it’s even being looked at. The quantum particles are in flux!”

The angel flickered. With a piercing shriek it faded out of existence.

“I just made all that crap up–but hey! It’s dead,” The Doctor said, clapping a hand on Kel’s shoulder. She kept gazing into blank space. “Let’s all celebrate! To the exotic Ice Parks of Andoria! My treat!”



The Doctor, Kel, and Neal arrive in London instead! And the spidrens have teamed up with the arachnid lady from the Christmas episode! With Kel gone, will Owen ever find out where the library is? WILL HE!?


“The Entitlement of the Daleks!” by Mark Oshiro (not really, just pretend he did this)


The Doctor and Clara studied the numerous glass cases at the ‘Messages to the Doctor’ museum. Clara pointed at a weathered rock inscribed with script.

“These guys need you to defeat a soul-sucking demigod.”

The Doctor rubbed his chin. “I wasn’t really looking forward to singing for thirty straight minutes, but if they need our help we can’t ignore them.”

Clara spoke up again. “Hold on–here’s something in the Hall of Jerkasses. It’s a tome detailing the cruelty of a boy named Joren.”

“The fuck!?” the Doctor exclaimed. “Bullies!? Let’s get that shit settled first. C’mon.”

The Doctor rolled up his sleeves, revealing bad-ass tattoos. They hopped into the TARDIS and blasted off, picking up salads along the way. When the box’s doors opened again Clara found herself in a cramped room lined with urinals and toilet stalls.

“Don’t tell me Joren’s in here?” Clara asked.

“Oh, he’s not here; I just needed to take a trip to the loo first,” the Doctor explained. “It’s realistic and shit for us to do this in the middle of a story. Screw tension–a guy’s gotta pee.”

When the Doctor was done, he bumped into an elderly fellow.

“Merlin’s beard,” Dumbledore said. “It seems that the Room of Requirement has fulfilled my needs once again. I was just in the hall at Hogwarts, hoping I’d get to spend some time with the eleventh Doctor.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “That Tennant guy gives me the creeps for some reason. Wanna hang out?”

“We can do a bad slash fic later,” the Doctor promised. “Like the ones that Mark reads when he goes on tour. This summer! His blog posts are available in ebook and physical!” He grabbed the hem of Dumbledore’s robe. “SEVEN BOOK PACKAGE! It’s such a FUCKING DEAL!” He winked and stepped into the TARDIS with Clara again.

When they arrived on the roof of castle Tortall, the Doctor displayed a most troubled expression.

“Dammit. I forgot to tell him to donate through PayPal.”

“Doctor, you aren’t making any sense!” Clara said. “You’ve gone ‘that’ word! You’ve gone it good!” “Well if I’ve gone that word then I’m the wordiest gone of that word that’s ever gotten!” the Doctor proclaimed. “It’s only because sometimes the show’s writers project themselves onto me; I can’t help it.”

“Why?” Clara asked.

“Because FEELINGS, that’s why.”

“Mithros, why does he keep coming back here,” Neal sighed.

“Check this out, y’all!” the Doctor laughed, pointing his screwdriver at Clara. “When we went to the Room of Requirement I used its wishing power to come up with something I needed: a breach into the void!” He flailed with his arms as a massive chasm opened in the courtyard below. “With a few adjustments this hole will begin to attract ‘Bigot Particles.’ When the switch that just appeared next to my hand is thrown, every bully in every world, reality, and dimension will be sucked inside and banished forever!” The music built to crescendo as the Doctor clenched his hand in a fist. “All we need is a sample of the bigot particle–the bigot magnet himself, Joren!”

Neal cleared his throat. “Joren’s not here anymore. He left.”

“Well go get him,” the Doctor asked.

“I can’t,” Neal said. “He went east. He’s a squire for Paxton. You were not prepared.”

“Well that’s anticlimactic,” the Doctor said. “But give me a few minutes and I’ll come up with a six-page blog post explaining why I loved the ending anyway.”




In a special episode written by Spectral Bovine, the Doctor becomes obsessed with a man named Hugo! Why is he so important? Why must he be shoehorned into every conversation no matter the context? Find out NEXT TIME!


(This was written at the end of Squire, before I knew what the villain’s name was. I was conjecturing what the ending of the final book would be. Yeah, it didn’t turn out like I thought.)

“You have demolished my robot army!” the pimple-faced mechromancer screamed. “How did you find my secret lab? How?”

Kel knew her Yamani-face would be put to the test. “A talking door told me you’d be here,” she replied.

“I can see there’s no reasoning with you,” Pimple-Face groaned. “And since my terrible facial complexion prevents me from fighting, I have stolen a legendary warrior’s soul and bound it to my ultimate weapon. Behold!”

A mechanical horse rolled out on tank treads, and upon it sat a stumpy suit of armor. He held a lance and his shield was marked “WL-70N.”

“Looks like we’re having one last bout,” WL-70N said.

Kel lifted her own lance and steered Peachblossom to face the machine. “Charge,” Kel whispered. The horse bolted at the opposing tank-beast; the WL-70N’s treads lurched forward.

“Forgive me, old master,” Kel said. “I’ve weighted my weapon again.” She clicked the switch to ignite the gunpowder packed into her lance. A flame of sparks spewed from the hilt, rocketing the spear forward.

“Well done, Mindelan,” Wyldon’s soul admitted as his shield impacted with the warhead. For the first time in ten years the old knight was unseated: flying back fifty feet through the air from the resulting explosion.

“No! Not my souls!” Pimple-Face shouted as WL-70N crashed upon a container that read: SOULS DON’T OPEN. The souls burst out and flew back into the babies that Neal freed from the evil daycare two chapters ago. Neal himself arrived now, covered in spit-up stains from his hilarious, baby-sitting adventure.

Peachblossom collapsed, exhausted from all the terrible jokes. Kel dropped from the saddle.

“Hey Neal,” Kel said with a cough. “It’s a good thing these Lady Knight shields are made Raven-tough. Raven: fulfilling your evil scientist-slicing needs for over a century.”

“What does that even mean?” Pimple-Face wondered as Griffin sliced his head off.

“Neal, Kel,” Peachblossom wheezed in Michael Dorn’s voice. “You’ve both done me proud. But I think my journey is at an end. Come closer; I must tell you something.”

“What is it?” Neal asked. Kel took a step back.

Peachblossom smiled, using the last of his strength to bite Neal’s butt one last time.




I got into a discussion with Monkeybutter about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and which turtle Kel and the others would be. She insisted that Neal would be Donatello! Please! Her obvious wrong-ness inspired this song:


Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortalls! Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortalls!

Heroes in a half Kel! Tortall Power!

They’re Tortall’s most fearsome fighting team! (We’re really hip!)

They’re giving kids staff practice ’till they’re green! (Hey, get a grip!)

When the evil Scanrans attack, these Tortall knights don’t cut ’em no slack!

Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortalls! Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortalls!

Wyldon taught them to save refugees! (He’s rad like that!)

Kelandry leads, Valestone scrubs latrines! (You’re breaking my back, Jack!)

Nealan is cool, but rude! (Gimme a break!)

Owen-angelo is a party dude! (JOLLY!!)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortalls! Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortalls!

Heroes in a half Kel! Tortall power!

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