Just how far am I willing to go for you, the intrepid reader? Oh how you’ve been made to suffer. I decided to do you a solid. Hey, it’s my way of saying thanks for being here. But how? Where and when?
The opportunity at time travel recently fell into my lap. The dictates of the space-time continuum prohibit me from saying how exactly, but I can say this much: It was a one-time opportunity and I take some time to think about how to use it wisely.
I proceeded with caution. After all, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the utter destruction of the entire universe. At least that’s what I thought at the time. On second thought, it would get a bunch of assholes permanently out of my hair. Hmmm.
No! Don’t even think it! Stick to the objective. This is about my reader, not personal satisfaction. This is no time to be more narcissistic than usual.
Formulating a plan, I knew the limits of the trip. It would be a quick jump a mere 24 hours into the future. I’d literally be a man before my time. And I resolved to make the most of it.
There had to be a way to give my reader a little payback. I resolved to find a way how. If only I had more time…
I arrived a little disoriented. I shook my head and looked around. Nothing looked different. My watch still showed the same date. Great Scott!
Oh, wait, dumbass. The watch went traveled through time with me. Of course it’s going to say the same date. Duh. That’s heavy.
I ran to the computer and checked the date. It was tomorrow. Perfect! I had to work quickly. I didn’t know how much time I had.
I loaded the blog and pulled up the most recent post. The post that I was about to write 24 hours in the past. The post I had written few a few minutes from now. Wow, this was hard to straight.
I had to review that post.
Yep, I knew it. The damn thing sucked. No likes. No comments. This was bad. I studied the post as carefully as I could. I had to memorize every possible detail of my ultimate suckitude. I think it was about then that I wished I had brought a camera or even pen and paper. Would taking knowledge of the future back with me cause irreparable damage to the timeline? I didn’t know. I should have risked it.
Wait a minute? I just realized there was likely the future me wandering around somewhere. I was at his computer. Why hadn’t I bumped into him already? And if I did, what would happen? It could be a chance to do that one thing I’ve always wanted… NO! No time for that now. Too risky. I went to the living room and checked the comfy chair. Yep, there he was, the slovenly bastard. Passed out with an empty bottle of tequila still clutched in his hand. Bastard! I just just purchased that, too, and I had sworn it was going to last. What happened to the poor devil, I wondered. I could only speculate. Besides, he wasn’t the reason for this trip.
As I left him I heard the unmistakable sounds of choking on spittle. Damn fool!
Just as I reached the computer I was gripped by a terrible wrenching force. I was going back! Back to the past by which I mean the present day now. I only hoped I had done enough…
I blinked a few times until my vision cleared. I was back in my time and in front of my computer. There on the screen was the rough draft of my next blog post. Of course! I was just about to send it. But I had seen this veyr same post in the future. Was it too late? Was that future inevitable, some preordained piece of a twisted unchanging fate? No! I had to try.
I clicked delete and realized that the future was still unwritten. My reader had been saved. To celebrate, I sat down and wrote this piece of shit instead.
Welcome to the alternate timeline where anything can happen. Yeah, we’re all probably worse off than ever before. Suck it.
Try a Delorean.
Love “Killing Time”! Great song!
Early Clint Black was the bomb. Utterly the bomb. Later Clint Black was also good. He knew how to write very clever lyrics. Everyone go buy his first album.
And this is why I’ll never be a Fresh Presser…you have your priorities straight. I would have traveled to lottery day screaming “show me the money!”
My commitment to the reader is extreme. I think I’ve proven that. Again and again and again. We Freshly Pressers are persnickety that way, at least in my bailiwick.
I used to scream “show me the money” but nothing ever seemed to happen. I then decided that money is evil.