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Time for lunch

Time for lunch

One of the reasons I like to time travel is that I hate to fly. When I fly, there’s the packing, the long drive to the airport, the tension in the airport of going through security, the frustration of not having enough money to be able to board first, the agony of sitting so close to people for hours, and the long and slow dis-boarding.

But when I time-travel, I get to where I’m going in an instant. Like this morning, I thought, “Hey, I’d like to go to Sicily.” I punched in the time-space coordinates and arrived in Syracuse, Sicily. I randomly had chosen the year 640. Emperor Constantine the Bearded and his wife, Fausta, were in the midst of moving the capital of Sicily to Syracuse. It used to be in Constantinople. It’s some kind of miracle I didn’t fall asleep when I typed that. I find the details of history as dull as reading the manufacture’s warranty on the inside of my eyelids.

Emperor Constantine asked if I could help them unloaded the ox-drawn carts of their stuff. I said yes. But then I noticed there were over a thousand carts. I got upset at myself because I was hoping to just sight-see. But the the Emperor gave me a gold coin, and I could use the money, so I began the unpacking. But after a few minutes my back started to hurt. I tried to explain, but it turns out back pain didn’t exist then. Emperor Constantine ordered my immediate death, and I was brought to a head-chopping-off block. (It turns out there was one on every block. Head removal was the most common way of resolving grievances the civil officials had with the populace.)

The axe operator, his name was Cyril, set my head on the block, and I was asked if I had any last words. I paused to give impact and said, “Life is a ball rolling down the hill. It rolls over bumps. It rolls over small rocks. Sometimes the ball will bump into a tree, bounce back upwards, and then continue on down the hill. My rolling seems to be coming to an end. But with balls, you can never be sure.” That’s when I rubbed the time-travel jack in my pocket and reappeared back to today.

I still have the gold coin with me. Now that I’ve told you my adventure, I’m going to Blerghoeorves Deli, and use it to pay for a Pastrami on Rye.

 

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The frustration of time-hiccuping

The frustration of time-hiccuping

Mary Anning

I bought my time-travel machine from Costco five years ago. It was a really good price, and at the time it was pretty good quality. But over time I’ve discovered it has some bugs.

For instance, yesterday I was hoping to visit Mary Anning, the noted fossil collector, in October 1833, in a field outside Dorset, England, when she barely missed being killed by a landslide that took the life of her dog, Tray. I was hoping to save the dog. When you do something kindly to a dog, they’ll love you forever, and I need all the love I can get.

I showed up for a few seconds, Mary and Tray looked up at me from fossiling, I started to yell, “Back up”, but I time-hiccuped to 1066 London, and the Coronation of William the Conqueror. I really don’t like things ceremonial. I’m anti-fancy. I prefer things dirty, messy, and if I’m lucky, abominable.

I did attend the Coronation dinner though because I knew they’d be serving mutton. There were platters and platters of mutton. I love mutton. I like it diced, roasted, boiled, fried, baked, barbecued, steamed, braised, stewed, sautéed, stir-fried, grilled, and pickled. I ate three plates of mutton, waited an hour, and then had another plate.

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Passing time with Bram Stoker

Passing time with Bram Stoker

Bram Stoker

I had the day off from my dish washing job at Phlegp’s diner, so I got in my time-travel machine and rode to March 1897, London, and the Pipe and the Monkey book shoppe. I often travel backwards and forewords in time to March days. I was born in March, and I’m self-obsessed, so it’s only natural.

I went into the book shoppe to see the author Bram Stoker give an author talk about his just released book, Dracula. There was only one other person in the audience and she was asleep. She was snoring loudly. I love coming across a public snorer. It reminds me that even though we do our best to appear strong, we are essentially powerless to nature’s bidings.

Stoker was standing at the lectern, staring at the snorer and puffing sighs. I puff sighs when someone irritates me. I have a belief it will change that person’s behavior. How is it that you don’t have to take a test and get a license in order to be a human?

I apologized for being late and took a seat near the front. I asked Mr. Stoker to tell me about his inspiration for writing the book. He went into great detail and length, but I don’t remember what he said. I’m simple minded and am mostly interested in traveling in time, telling people about it, and hearing them say, “Wow, you travel in time.”

When Mr. Stoker was done, there was a book signing. I paid two shillings for the book and told him to make it out to Remke the Snerd. While he signed, I said I felt the book would do well. He began to cry and his tears smeared what he wrote. Below is an image. I like Dracula, but this had more impact on me.

smear

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Why not visit Richard the Lionheart?

Why not visit Richard the Lionheart?

jack

I have two time-travel machines. The one I have at home is the regular sized.I stand in it, like a phone booth. On a keypad I punch in the time and place that I want to go. There’s about a one-second delay, and then there I am, in the designated time in the past or future. The other one is pocket sized. It looks like a jack game piece. I hold it in my hand and quietly say where I would like to go in time.

Today I was out for a walk when I got the hankering to visit Richard the Lionheart, aka King Richard I of England. I reached in my pocket, grabbed the the jack, and whispered, “March 1193, Dürnstein, Austria, Dürnstein Castle.” In the next moment I was standing next to Dürnstein castle, on a mountain top, overlooking a distant valley.

I opened the great door, and found myself standing in the enormous castle hall. A person in rags was on their hands and knees, scrubbing the elaborately designed floor. They looked up mid-scrub. I waved at them. They looked puzzled. Then I thought that was foolish on my part because who knew back then what waving meant. (I once started a local war in Pofader, South Africa by scratching my head.)

I wandered into a hallway, down a set of rock stairs, and into a dungeon. There was a sleeping attendant guarding the handful of cells. I tiptoed by without a problem. Back then it was easy to sneak around because pretty much everyone was drunk on mead. I came to the cell containing Richard the Lion-heart. He had been imprisoned for some soap-operay kind of situation he’d had with Leopold V, Duke of Austria. No matter where you travel in time, some kind of dumb shit is hitting the fan.

I told Richard that I was from the future, just stopping by to say hi. I gave him some gum that I had in my pocket. He chewed it and had an adverse reaction. It was an extremely strong peppermint gum called Grenades. I don’t know if you’ve ever had it, but I chew a lot of gum and this stuff always makes my eyes water and my tongue hurt. Richard had to pick up a rat and lick it in order to get the taste out of his mouth.

 

 

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I found this picture of us taken at the mall’s photo booth

I found this picture of us taken at the mall’s photo booth

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waiting for you to finish what you’re doing

waiting for you to finish what you’re doing

Waiting for you to finish up what you’re doing.

Hopefully it won’t be much longer.

While you’re finishing up, could you think about what you’d like to do?

A few ideas in case you don’t think of anything: chisel ice, melt the wax into the shape of a bear, punch the Moon, name the Cow.