Acknowledgments: Thanks to Mara for the beta.

For most people there were probably more advantages than disadvantages to the growing popularity of cell phones. Even Clark Kent–who was hardly “most people,” despite appearances–could appreciate those advantages most of the time. Still, there were times when he needed a phone booth in a hurry and they were getting harder and harder to find, even considering how much territory he could cover in a hurry.

Clark finally spotted one on the corner of Main and Market. It was a strange one–large, blue and old-fashioned with the words “Police Box” over the door for some reason–but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He glanced quickly in both directions, then hurried across the street and tugged on the door.

It was locked.

Clark frowned. Normally, he made it a policy not to destroy public property if at all possible–it was bad for Superman’s image if nothing else–but this was an emergency, and emergencies meant exceptions.

He tugged harder, applying just the slightest bit of super strength. The lock snapped, the door opened, and Clark ducked inside.

He stopped. He stared.

“Hey now–what do you think you’re doing?” demanded a scrawny man with tousled brown hair, wide, wild brown eyes and an English accent. He stomped across the improbably large interior to study the door, then turned back to glare at his intruder. “You broke the lock! That lock has withstood whole fleets of Daleks, and you think you’ve the right to just snap it in half whenever you fancy? Where am I supposed to find a locksmith to repair a used TARDIS, may I ask? Considering I’ve got the last one in the known universe!”

Clark stammered and took a step backwards towards the door. “I–I’m sorry, I…I was just looking for a p-phone booth–“

“Yes, well this one happens to be mine, and I’ll thank you to leave it,” the man fumed.

Clark left. There had to be easier ways to change into his costume without having to deal with a pin-striped lunatic lurking in some sort of dimensional pocket disguised as a phone booth. Maybe there was a vacant elevator somewhere nearby…

The Doctor watched him go with an expression of disgust, then turned back to the TARDIS’s center console, muttering under his breath:

“Bloody Kryptonians.”