"Please let me in, Mummy," says the child, sticking his hand plaintively through the mail slot. There's a crosswise scar across the back of his hand. It's very effective: if his Mummy were inside, right, and just scared of him because of what he is...well, that would be the saddest thing in the world, right? For some reason, thinking about that makes me sad for the Doctor. He just...not "wants," because he'd laugh at you if you said he wants; he needs to be let inside. And there's nowhere for him to go, because there's nobody else like him, so all he has is monkeys to play with. That's rough. He begs again and again, and the Doctor says, quietly, "Are you all right?" Nancy throws a vase at the door and it smashes. The child pulls his hand back. "You mustn't let him touch you!" she shouts, and the Doctor asks why. "He'll make you like him," she says. Meaning? She starts to edge away. "Nancy, what's he like?" asks the Doctor. They look at each other. After a long silence, she breathes out: "He's empty." The phone rings, and the Doctor asks an Excellent Question with his eyeballs. Nancy: "It's him. He can make phones ring, he can -- just like with that police box you saw." The Doctor looks at the shadow, and picks up the phone. "Are you my mummy?" asks the child. Nancy grabs the phone and slams it down. The radio in the parlor turns itself on: "Mummy? Please let me in, Mummy." The Doctor screws around with the radio, but stops when a monkey with cymbals starts clapping and yelling, "Mummy?" See, I don't do the monkey-with-cymbals. That's like the Carrot Top of scary. The Empty Child was the scariest thing besides killer clowns until this monkey shit started. That's like the child coming to your house and calling you "Mummy." Screw that. Nancy agrees, and she bounces.
The Doctor, who has picked up the creepy monkey, heads back into the hallway, where the child is sticking its hand through the mail slot again: "Mummy? Let me in please, Mummy..." The Doctor kneels and looks at the little scarred hand, concerned. "Your Mummy isn't here," he says. The music goes dead. Don't talk to ghosts, The Doctor! The child takes a second, and asks again. "No Mummies here! Nobody here but us chickens!" The Doctor looks back behind him, where there's nobody, and grins sweetly at the shadow: "Well, this chicken." The child claims to be scared, and the Doctor asks why everybody's so scared of him. "Please let me in, Mummy," begs the child. "I'm scared of the bombs." The Doctor thinks a bit, and says that he's opening the door. Which would have been fine, pre-monkey, but now seems deathly stupid. The child pulls his hand back out again, and the Doctor opens the door. There's no one there. He walks out to check the street, but there's no one there at all.