Phil gathered the Cartoncasters to his bedside. It was his time - the
mercury fumes, you understand - and soon he would be gone. But instead of
shuffling off to wherever it is he goes, he instead shifted before their
eyes, metamorphizing into a brand new Phil. This one wore some atrocious
plaid slacks, sure, and his recorder-playing wasn’t up to its usual stuff,
but it was clearly the same guy, otherwise how could he rant about Dr. Who
so well?