Back From the Future - 4/27

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knob
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Re: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby knob » Tue May 18, 2010 1:17 pm

So I open the door and the man is just stepping onto the porch. Pretty normal looking guy in his 40s, balding, wearing shorts and a t-shirt like a dad at Disneyland. Carrying a folder like he’s a door to door salesman. “Hiya,” he tells me, smiling.

Naturally I go into defense mode. I’m late already, I tell him. Serious appointments and all that.

He pauses like he’s checking something. Kind of goes blank for a moment. Then he looks up again, smiling. “Naw,” he says. “You’ll make it in time.” He winks and moves closer to me. “Although if you’re just a second faster, you’ll run right into the dame with the short red dress at the end of the candy aisle. Really. You’ll bump right into her. Wow, she’s a looker. Hope you got a pick up line,” he says, winking.

I say, “Huh?” Takes a minute to realize he’s talking about the 7-Eleven, which is where I’m headed.

“Seriously,” he says. “I can see the future. Fact, I’m authorized to see up to twenty minutes into the future for you, no charge.” He holds up a finger, fast, like he knows I’m about to put up a fuss. “No, I’m legit. Really. Try me. Tell you what. I’m going to predict everything that’s going to happen one minute from now.”

I’m still too confused to say much, so I just stand there.

He points up the street. “Little terrier, runs out onto your neighbor’s front lawn. Barks,” he says. He pauses. “Blue car going west,” he says. “Junk heap. Hey, slows down. Mmmm, license plate number 873 7DF. Neighbor?” He points up. “Bird. Um, crow.” He looks back at the street. “Car. Backing up.” He pauses. “Stopping in front of your house. Guy getting out.” Then he kind of jumps. This is fascinating. His face actually drains of color. He slaps his hand over his chest, stumbles backwards. Looks like he’s having a heart attack. I put out a hand to steady him, but suddenly he spins and points at me. “GUN!” he screams. “SHOT ME! THINK HE GOT YOU! QUICK! NEED YOUR SIG! I CAN CHANGE THE FUTURE IF I HAVE YOUR SIG!” He digs into his pocket and pulls out an iPhone. Thrusts it at me. Seriously, the guy’s moving as fast as he can. He’s panicking. His face is red.

I’m backing away about as fast as I can across the lawn, which needs a good mow. I don’t realize I’m doing it until my butt finds the rosebush. Dang.

He’s chasing me. Holding out his iPhone and screaming incoherently. He’s gonna jump me. Fight or flight kicks in full. I disengage from the rosebush and run toward the garden shed. I’m picturing my shovel, which is somewhere in there. He stops screaming all of a sudden and just chases after me. Our feet pound on the weeds.

Simon, the Giletto’s stupid dog, starts yapping somewhere in the distance. I get to the shed door. I think it’s unlocked. I’ve got my hand on the knob when I hear the squeak-crash of Bacon’s old Chevy Citation. Sounds weird on my quiet street. Didn’t think he knew where I lived. My softball bat put the squeak in that squeak-crash. I’m sweating. Squeak-crash, it goes, down the street.

The man’s caught up to me now, of course, and I realize he’s clutching my arm. He’s breathing hard. Still looks like he just looked Death in the face or something.

A crow goes, “Caw.”

“It won’t change unless you sign,” he whispers, gasping. He’s holding the iPhone at me.

I glance at the house. Glance at the corner.

“Honest,” he pleads. He leans a little closer. “Company only holds it up for so long once I’ve engaged it,” he says hoarsely. “We’re gonna be back up in front no telling when. Just like that. I can’t stop it unless I got your sig.”

“Bacon shoots me?” I ask.

“Me, then you,” he whispers. “Something like a Colt 45.”

I take the iPhone and fumble my sig across the screen with my fingertip. Doesn’t look too accurate.

But the guy kind of slumps against me in relief. He pats my arm once, then stands. He looks around, and up at the sky. He blows out a lungful of air. Passes the back of his hand across his forehead.

“Tell you what,” he says. “It’s on me. I’m going to eat the cost of that one, and then I’m getting out.” He backs away. Fumbles in his pocket again. Pulls out a business card. “Just so you know the company.” It’s some ugly logo and some dumb name. Time-something-or-other. “I’m gonna cancel your account, then I’m cancelling mine.” He kind of waves vaguely toward my house. “Go on,” he says. “Won’t happen now. But watch out for that guy.” He’s gone, around the corner.

Twenty minutes later I’m still pretty hopped up on adrenaline. I’ve been watching my back the whole way and listening for Bacon’s car. But I gotta have a Coke. I’m in the candy aisle. What the heck. I run forward a step.

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RE: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby theSkilled » Sun Jun 20, 2010 3:45 pm

"I'm sorry." I say. "I don't know a Schmitty Sliver." I was closing the door when he stuck his foot in between it, creating a wedge I was happy to break. I looked in his brown eyes, those eyes that were a complete stranger, and I knew that I was in trouble. He had said he was Schmitty Silver of Greenentire, Washington. I'd never heard of it, so I was about to shut my front door. But there he was, his golden hair, his smooth skin, his handsome face staring straight at me. He had to be twenty years younger than me, me being forty and him in his early twenties. This Schmitty guy was a real nutjob, probably trying to kidnap me. Since I was a good fifteen pounds overweight, he couldn't take me. Well, so I thought.
Schmitty swung open the door, took my shoulders, and pushed me backwards. I was to shocked to scream, I'd never been kidnapped before, and I didn't know what to do. I could hear the door slam but my eyes focused on his. He looked mad, he even looked furious, and he pushed me backwards so I fell over the arm of my chair and into it sideways. My poor old heart was being ripped from my chest. Looking up with scared eyes I could only pant out, "What's your deal, punk?" Isn't that what kids these days say?
"My name," said the man, "is Schmitty Silver. In the future I give you CPR at a community swimming pool. You told me you owed me one. So here it is..." Schmitty pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, it was folded into many squares, and then he threw it on my lap. After that he walked out the front door, slamming it with a force that made me whimper. I opened the note and my lower jaw dropped. As fast as I could I raced for my phone. The last few minutes were a blur but all I remember is cops running into my house and demanding more information. If it was correct, the information I was handed was a picture of a group of men. The men stood by missiles. The picture was printed on printed paper, dated July 7th, 2021. It was titled, Hawaii Bombs California. USA is Under Attack by Own State.

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RE: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby Catana » Tue Jun 22, 2010 7:06 am

I’m vacuuming the living room when the kitchen timer buzzes and the phone and doorbell chime at the same instant. Muttering a curse, I straighten, brush my hair back, and wedge the phone against my shoulder as I head to the kitchen. It’s George, the third time he’s called this morning. “What?” I snap off the timer and pull out the cakes. Whoever’s at the door is still leaning on the bell. “Wine,” he says. “What’s the menu?”
“Osso busco,” I tell him again. “Get a couple bottles of Cabernet.”
“But what label?”
I get a glimpse of a delivery guy through the window. “We’ve gone over this. A French wine, but don’t spend more than $40.”
“It’s got to be good, Lily.” His voice is flat.
“I know.”
“This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“I know, George. It will be fine.”
I can barely conceal my irritation as I open the front door, but the guy beams me with a 1000-kilowatt smile. He’s carrying an enormous vase of flowers.
“Hi, I’m Kobe. I’ve got your order.”
“Um, I didn’t order any flowers.”
“Hold on a sec.” He fumbles with an invoice. “Mrs. Dennison? 1904 Southridge?”
George. What the hell was he thinking? We can’t afford flowers like these—roses and delphiniums mixed with coreopsis. I was planning to pick up a bouquet at the grocery store. “Okay.” I reach for the vase. “Where do I sign?”
“Just a minute, ma’am. Let me get the rest of them”
I watch dumbfounded as he goes to the van and returns with another mega-arrangement featuring gladioli; I’m sputtering protests when he brings the Asiatic lilies, orchids and long-stemmed roses. By the time it’s over there are a half dozen gorgeous floral displays cluttering the living room, and Kobe’s inside too, arranging them on end tables and bookcases. “This is some party you’re having.”
“Take them back! This is a mistake!”
“They’re prepaid, ma’am.” Now he’s sitting on my couch. “But, yes, it is a mistake.” His smile has dimmed and his warm brown eyes regard me soberly. “Don’t go to your party.”
“What?” Alarm bells go off in my head. “I’m sorry, sir, you’d better leave.
“Mrs. Dennison, please hear me out. I know it seems strange, but I have some
vital information for you. Your dinner guest—Mr. Fakhoury—is a dangerous man. Your husband is out of his depth on this. Don’t stay at your house tonight.”
“How do you know my husband? Who are you?”
“My name doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I know what happened tonight. Everyone in the house was killed.”
“You’re crazy!” I’m backing away, groping for my cell phone, but he’s quicker. He lifts it out of my hand.
“You’re scared, of course you are. I’m sorry. But look at this. It will explain.” He thrusts a newspaper clipping under my nose.
I don’t want to read it. I want to dash out the backdoor and keep running, but he’s got my arm. “Please, Mrs. Dennison. It will save your life.” And his eyes are gentle and concerned, not like a rapist or a serial killer. In fact he reminds me of someone I once knew, a long time ago. I draw a shaky breath and focus on the paper.
It’s creased and yellowish like it’s been inside someone’s scrapbook. Then the photographs hit me. There is George, wearing his phony campaign smile, and there’s me, looking slight and eager to please. The words rush at me: “Police are still looking for clues in the firebomb explosion at 1904 Southridge…. The home, belonging to George Dennison, former city council member, burned to the ground… Among the guests… Akbar Fakhoury, a terrorist suspect… No survivors…” My eyes jump to the date—Saturday April 17. Tomorrow.
The flowers smell like a funeral parlor. I’m faint. I sway, but he’s there to catch me, and then I ’m looking at the future from far away. I see myself braise the veal and frost the cake. I’m setting the table with the Limoges china and there’s still plenty of time to shower before George gets home. I’m wearing my black dress and pearls as I greet our guest, a jowly man with flat dark eyes. I smile at the right times, the meal is a success, and no one notices me slip out the backdoor after the dessert course and run to the end of the street where Kobe, my husband-to-be, is waiting.

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RE: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby mammamia1803 » Thu Jul 01, 2010 8:40 am

I slammed the door in his face.

Something told me he was one of those salespeople who tried to make you feel insecure. But whatever he was selling, I wasn't buying it.

Boy, was I wrong.

But, being the vulnerable buy-everything person I am, I couldn't let a good sale go. I reopened the door.

"Sir? Wait--please!" I called to the salesperson. "don't go!"

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere," the salesperson said cooly. "I'd stay here all night if it meant you readdressing me and what I have to say."

"Alright, what do you have to sell?" I sighed. Quite frankly, it was kind of creepy, what the man had said. 'I'll stay here all night....' Was he stalking me or something?

"Nothing," he spoke calmly.

"Then why are you here?" I rudely questioned.

"I'm here to save your life," the man said in one of those thank-you-very-much tones. I stared at him, bewildered.

"Why don't you come in and have some tea?"



Author's Note: I know it was very short and uninteresting, but maybe I'll add more later.

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RE: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby bigdreamer787 » Thu Jul 01, 2010 4:54 pm

Well I'm over by 20 words. Hope that doesn't kill it.

For once the house is totally and completely barren of all human life forms, save myself. Of course this means I’m sitting here bored and trying to keep the dogs from whining, the cats from tearing the hell out of the furniture, and the hamsters my sister brought home from making a royal mess of bedding on the floor.

I flip a page in my book, only to be brought out of the world I put myself in by a knock at the door. Of course Hemi goes flying at the door, barking madly and Trini starts prancing around thinking Mom’s home. My first instinct is to run from the door. I hate answering them. Side affect of being around a family of lunatic psychos that attract every cop in the city.

But for once I close my book and get up. “Get back,” I say to the dogs, pushing my way to the door. “Move!” I grasp the handle and open it slightly, glad for the plastic door between me and the man outside. With dogs pushing their way forward, and making their presence known by my side, he looks like he made the wrong decision.

“Can I help you?” I ask through the door, patting Hemi on the head as he sits next to me.

“Um… I know this is going to sound completely bonkers, but I need to speak with you. I have information about the future that could save your life…”

“Oh like what? ‘Jesus saves’ right? Look dude, I’m a Witch and..”

“No, no! Nothing like that! I’m speaking literally. In about six weeks… well can I come in? It’s a long story.”

Sighing, I size up the guy. “I’m going to let the dogs out and arm myself. I’m not one for strangers.”

“No, you’re not.” He smiles and nods. “Do that and I’ll still be here.”

Closing the door and literally dragging poor Hemi and Trini to the back porch and closing them in, I grabbed my favorite knife from the kitchen drawer and walked back to the front door. Taking a deep breath I open the door and let him in. Warily watching as he passed me by and sitting on my sister’s couch turned bed.

“Okay. Prove you’re from the future…”

“That’s easy!” He said, pulling out a few papers from his suit jacket. “Our marriage license and your birth and death certificates.”

“We’re married?” I asked shocked. He certainly looked my type, but I’ve been single for years now.

“Yes, and unfortunately, I killed you. Indirectly of course!” He hastened, as my eyes hardened and the hand with the knife in it tightened.

“What do you mean, you killed me?” I screeched, shooting out of my seat.

“Calm down! It’s okay… well it’s not really but, really!” he held out his hands in mock surrender. He sighed and explained. “In six weeks you’ll get an email from me on that dating website you’ve been so fond of. A year later, we marry and 2 years later you get killed because I’m an idiot, and you never learned to drive.”

I swallow hard and search for my seat again. “Drunk driving?” He nods. “God, I must have caved so hard. I don’t let people who have drank, drive. It’s against everything, because…”

He interrupts again, “Because just about everyone who’s died in your family from unnatural causes was involved in drunk driving accidents. I know.”

I sniffle and nod. “Okay so how are you here? How are you going to fix this?”

“Fixing this is simple. You don’t email me back. We don’t get married. And you don’t die. How I’m here is complicated. I was given a choice. I could enjoy what time we had, enjoy our love. Or, I could go back, stop you from dating me and you live. But not get to… well love you.”

I nod again. “So you’re here to tell me to not email you back…”

“Worse. I want you to get off that website. For at least a year. I’m a persistent little ass.”

Sighing I get up. “I don’t get the choice in this do I? It’s either death in two years or life without some kind of love that obviously would mean something to me.”

“Don’t make me suffer killing you. Please. I can’t bear the thought of it.” He trailed off.

“I understand. Will I remember you at all? When you leave here I mean?”

“I don’t know. But thank you for living and for clearing my conscience.” He says as he walks away fading into the air.

bigdreamer787
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RE: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby bigdreamer787 » Thu Jul 01, 2010 4:54 pm

Well I'm over by 20 words. Hope that doesn't kill it.

For once the house is totally and completely barren of all human life forms, save myself. Of course this means I’m sitting here bored and trying to keep the dogs from whining, the cats from tearing the hell out of the furniture, and the hamsters my sister brought home from making a royal mess of bedding on the floor.

I flip a page in my book, only to be brought out of the world I put myself in by a knock at the door. Of course Hemi goes flying at the door, barking madly and Trini starts prancing around thinking Mom’s home. My first instinct is to run from the door. I hate answering them. Side affect of being around a family of lunatic psychos that attract every cop in the city.

But for once I close my book and get up. “Get back,” I say to the dogs, pushing my way to the door. “Move!” I grasp the handle and open it slightly, glad for the plastic door between me and the man outside. With dogs pushing their way forward, and making their presence known by my side, he looks like he made the wrong decision.

“Can I help you?” I ask through the door, patting Hemi on the head as he sits next to me.

“Um… I know this is going to sound completely bonkers, but I need to speak with you. I have information about the future that could save your life…”

“Oh like what? ‘Jesus saves’ right? Look dude, I’m a Witch and..”

“No, no! Nothing like that! I’m speaking literally. In about six weeks… well can I come in? It’s a long story.”

Sighing, I size up the guy. “I’m going to let the dogs out and arm myself. I’m not one for strangers.”

“No, you’re not.” He smiles and nods. “Do that and I’ll still be here.”

Closing the door and literally dragging poor Hemi and Trini to the back porch and closing them in, I grabbed my favorite knife from the kitchen drawer and walked back to the front door. Taking a deep breath I open the door and let him in. Warily watching as he passed me by and sitting on my sister’s couch turned bed.

“Okay. Prove you’re from the future…”

“That’s easy!” He said, pulling out a few papers from his suit jacket. “Our marriage license and your birth and death certificates.”

“We’re married?” I asked shocked. He certainly looked my type, but I’ve been single for years now.

“Yes, and unfortunately, I killed you. Indirectly of course!” He hastened, as my eyes hardened and the hand with the knife in it tightened.

“What do you mean, you killed me?” I screeched, shooting out of my seat.

“Calm down! It’s okay… well it’s not really but, really!” he held out his hands in mock surrender. He sighed and explained. “In six weeks you’ll get an email from me on that dating website you’ve been so fond of. A year later, we marry and 2 years later you get killed because I’m an idiot, and you never learned to drive.”

I swallow hard and search for my seat again. “Drunk driving?” He nods. “God, I must have caved so hard. I don’t let people who have drank, drive. It’s against everything, because…”

He interrupts again, “Because just about everyone who’s died in your family from unnatural causes was involved in drunk driving accidents. I know.”

I sniffle and nod. “Okay so how are you here? How are you going to fix this?”

“Fixing this is simple. You don’t email me back. We don’t get married. And you don’t die. How I’m here is complicated. I was given a choice. I could enjoy what time we had, enjoy our love. Or, I could go back, stop you from dating me and you live. But not get to… well love you.”

I nod again. “So you’re here to tell me to not email you back…”

“Worse. I want you to get off that website. For at least a year. I’m a persistent little ass.”

Sighing I get up. “I don’t get the choice in this do I? It’s either death in two years or life without some kind of love that obviously would mean something to me.”

“Don’t make me suffer killing you. Please. I can’t bear the thought of it.” He trailed off.

“I understand. Will I remember you at all? When you leave here I mean?”

“I don’t know. But thank you for living and for clearing my conscience.” He says as he walks away fading into the air.

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Re: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby DominaPatti » Sun Aug 01, 2010 9:15 am

It was my day off work, and my roommate was gone for the day, so I had the apartment all to myself. Time for some reading. I nestled into my pillow as I excitedly eyed the stack of my newest finds from the used bookstore downtown. First on my list was an original copy of H.G. Wells’, The Chronic Argonauts.
From the kitchen I heard the coffee pot give its last sputters as it drew the remaining water from the reservoir. Still in my pajamas, I rolled off my bed and onto my feet and walked the short distance to the kitchen. My roommate had her bedroom door open, and it looked like a tornado had blown through it. I shook my head as I rounded the corner to the kitchen and walked to the coffee pot which was on the countertop near the sink. I grabbed a mug from the cabinet overhead then poured myself a cup. After adding cream and sugar, I started back towards my bedroom. There was a knock at the door. “Delivery.” A man called. I hadn’t ordered anything. Perhaps my roommate had, but he could leave it at the door. “It requires a signature.” I sighed, it would only take a minute, and then it was reading time.
I set the mug on the bar countertop and walked past the small dining room table into the foyer; I closed my roommate’s bedroom door before opening the front door. I frowned as the summer heat hit my face. The man was wearing a FedEx uniform: black top and shorts with a purple stripe.
He looked familiar. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak, he pushed his way in and closed the door then locked it. I started to scream but he placed his hand over my mouth, I felt a gun to my back.
“I’m not going to hurt you. ” He turned me around to face him. It was the man from the bookstore.
“I’m here to help you. Please don’t scream. My name’s Darren, and I’m from the future.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you crazy?” I started edging away from him. I looked at the weapon he held it didn’t look like any I had seen before.
“There is no time for this. There are men coming here for the book.”
“What book?”
“I placed it in your things at the book store.” I realized which one he was talking about. It was an older book that looked as it had been abused and misused. It had been free, so I had taken it.
“If I can prove that I’m from the future, then will you believe me?”
I was scared. I wasn’t sure why he needed the book, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust him. I had just met him a few hours ago. I wasn’t sure what he would do to me after he got the book. “Why…” I started to say, but Darren placed a finger over my lips.
There was a knock at the door. “Police.” After a minute hesitation, I started for the door.
“It’s not the police,” Darren said grabbing me. “Don’t open the door.”
“I can hear someone inside.” Another man said. “Open up or we are coming in.” They started pounding on the door. “Let’s blast it down.”
Blast it down? I stood bewildered. “Where is the book?” Darren asked again. “I’m not going to hurt you, them however…”
“Okay, ” I screamed over the racket from outside. They had stopped pounding and it sounded a live wire was outside the door. I ran to my bedroom. Darren followed. The front door exploded open just as Darren closed and locked the door behind us. He went through the adjoining door to my bath room and made sure the door was locked.
At the bottom of the pile I found the book. “Got it.”
Darren came back into the room. He took the book from my hand. As he opened the book, a spiral tunnel of glowing light opened. I backed up to the door. The intruders had made it to my bedroom door, and were making quick work of getting through it.
“Come.”
I shook my head.
“They will kill you.” He said pulling me to my feet.
“Elysia.” He called my name.
“How did you know my name?”
The door splintered.
“Trust me.”

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RE: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby Chagstrom » Fri Sep 03, 2010 12:31 pm

John approached the very familiar white, wooden door. He could of course just let himself in, as he had a key in his pocket, but decided knocking would be better for both of them. John knew he had time before he was let in, as Jack had to put pants on, turn the television down and look out the window to see who was knocking. John stuffed a rag into his pocket and raised his fist to the door.

Jack was sitting on the couch in his boxer shorts when he heard the knocks on the back door. He got his pants from his bedroom, in turn spilling a glass of milk on the hardwood floor. "Dammit!" he cursed outloud. He'd clean it up later as it'd make a hell of a stink if it wasn't cleaned up soon. Walking to the door, he turned the television down with the remote, tossing it on the couch.

Unlocking the door and opening it halfway, Jack saw an old man who looked very familiar to him. It was difficult to see the man, as the porch light was burnt out again. He stared at the man, waiting for the man to say why he was at Jack's back door. After several awkward moments of silence, Jack said to the man "Sir?"

John knew exactly what Jack was going to say for the duration of his visit. He knew this because he remembered being Jack 42 years ago. While his memory was spotty now being 72 years old, John recalled almost every single detail of that strange night. The one detail he could not remember proved to be the most important one; how to save his own life. He knew he had to try to remember, as John knew he only had three days left to live, though he couldn't remember why.

John was upset that he hadn't paid more attention to himself all those years ago. He remembered being amazed that he had met his future self that the message he had been told completely slipped his mind. He was hoping that this visit would trigger his memory. He was hoping this visit would save his life.

"Sir? Are you ok?" Jack said to the odd old man standing in front of him. John woke up out of daze and replied "Hello, Jack". John handed his younger self the rag from his pocket. "This is for the milk in the bedroom. If it's not cleaned up now, it'll make a hell of a stink. Trust me, I know." John entered the home smiling remembering the old man saying that to him 42 years ago.

knob
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Re: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby knob » Fri Sep 10, 2010 9:40 am

Edit: Sorry, posted in wrong thread.
:o

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RE: Back From the Future - 4/27

Postby allonsy_doctor » Sun Jan 16, 2011 7:41 am

It had not been a good morning.

First of all, I had hit my head upon rolling out of bed this morning. Then, my girlfriend called me and broke up with me after laughing at me telling her about my injured head. I’d thrown the phone across the room when hanging up with her and it had cracked my brand new sofa that I’d just received yesterday. So, to put it lightly, things hadn’t been going very well for me. And it was about to get worse.

I had just sealed up my bill to send out in the mail when the doorbell rang. My head had been pounding already, and the alarm-like sound of the doorbell only worsened it. Heaving a sigh, I slowly got up from the couch table and sauntered over to the door. I grabbed the door handle and pulled it open.

Standing just before me was an old woman. Even for her age, she was quite beautiful, and her gray old eyes were shinning when they saw me. She was dressed in a polka-dot red and white dress and leather high heel shoes. She was decorated with chucky jewelry around her neck and wrist, and he wore golden hoop earrings that brought out the gray in her hair.

She smiled when she saw me. The old woman looked as though she was going to move her scrawny little body and throw her still-shaking arms around me. “Did I get here in time?”

“Say what?” I asked. Her voice was smooth and musical, like a singer that hadn’t sung in a few years.

The strange old woman spoke again. “You haven’t gone to work yet, have you? What time is it?”

I blinked twice. “It’s almost noon. And how did you know that I was going to work today?”

“You told me,” the old woman said. “Back in the twenty first century, you said that you worked every Tuesday from noon to four. Although you did skip some Tuesdays and went Thursday instead. It depended on your mood.”

I’d never told anyone that. How could she know that? “Who are you?” I demanded. “And what do you want?”

The old woman smiled again. “I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I’m your wife.”

“My… what?” I was a bit shell-shocked. I thought she was going to say she was my mother. I’d been brought up by my father because my mother had abandoned me when I was a newborn. She couldn’t handle being a mother to my father. Having an illegitimate child. “My wife?”

The woman nodded. “Well, technically not yet. May I come in?”

Numbly, I pulled the door open a bit more and she strolled right in as if she owned the place. She then proceeded to sit down on the couch and cross his legs in a comfortable, relaxed manner. I shut the door, then came over and joined her on the couch just across from her. “Tell me what you mean, ‘not yet’?”

“I mean,” the woman replied. “that I’m your future wife. We haven’t gotten together yet. I’m here to stop you from finding another woman.”

My jaw nearly dropped off my face. “So, let me get this straight… You’re my future wife, and you’ve come back in time to stop me from marrying another woman?”

“Precisely.”

I tried to process this information. “Right. And you asked if I’d gone to work yet. Why is this?”

“Well, apparently if you go to work today, then you meet up with a receptionist that you fancy, then later ask out and marry. But you divorce her three years later. But if you don’t go to work today, you’ll meet a woman you think is gorgeous who’s selling you something and you’ll ask her out. That woman is me.”

I stared. “And… exactly how do I know you’re not setting me up for an assassination attempt or something? And how did you come back to the past anyway?”

The woman, my “future wife”, rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. Here,” she thrust out her hand. There was my father’s ring.

She smiled. “See? And you’ll learn about that later.”

“Later?”

She opened her mouth to answer when a beeping sound came from her wristwatch. Then, she disappeared.
I was awakened from my trance by the doorbell. I opened it up. There stood the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. “Hi,” she said. “I’m selling this thing here, hold on…”

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