There are probably a million words I could use to describe that box.
But I'll use one.
It was amazing.
All I could do was stand there like an idiot and stare at the enormous room inside the box.
The Doctor stood at a metal mushroom-shaped thing in the middle of the room.
Then he turned to me.
"Any comments? Any passing remarks? I've heard them all." He smiled and then pressed a few buttons on the mushroom thing.
"Why is it a phone booth?" I asked.
"It's not," he answered, "It's a time machine."
"Okay then, why did you write 'Police Box' on a time machine? Do police men just come in here? How many have you met? Are you a police man?" I fired these questions at him.
"Tori," he grabbed my shoulders, "Breathe."
I took a deep breath.
"Good. So," the Doctor began, "It's not really a police box, which by the way is a special phone box that police men used to use. "
"Okay," I said, "There's a light on the top, do you need to change the bulb? Why doesn't it run out of air? Why is it made of wood? Oh, you have a wood time machine, do you feel stupid?"
He glared at me. "It's not really made of wood, it's disguised as a police box from 1963. Everytime the TARDIS materializes, within the first nanosecond of landing, it analyzes its surroundings, calculates a twelve dimensional data map of everything within a thousand mile radius, and determines which outer shell would blend best with the environment!" He beamed, "And then it turns into a police box from 1963." The smile morphed into a frown.
"Why?" I asked.
The Doctor shrugged, "I don't know, I've been meaning to check…"
"How long has it been doing that?"
He hesitated, "Oh… not long…"
He pressed a few more buttons on the mushroom.
"So you're an alien," it was more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah. But in my terms, you're an alien," he said, poking my forehead.
"What kind of alien are you?" I asked him.
"Definetly one of the nice ones," he replied.
"Are you like a space squid or something? Are you like a tiny little slug in a human suit? Is that why you walk like that?"
He made a face at me, "Tori, this is me. This is what I really am," he stated, slapping his chest on each syllable.
"Okay," I smiled.
"Now," he turned back to the metal thing, "Tori Vega," he pulled a lever, "Prepare to meet the universe."
The smile he gave me then was one I'll never forget.