Like Christopher Reeve in “Somewhere in Time” I saw my femme ideal in a photograph. The difference is, I saw my photograph when I was fourteen, and have held onto that image all of these years since. But unlike Reeves, the photograph that drew me in was of a super hot, nude young woman on a rock and roll album cover. Unfortunately, the nude figure on my album cover was pressed against, and nearly draped over, an equally nude man. Surely she couldn’t love that pecker-wood, could she? Not if I could help it!

I had found that photo in my older sister’s album collection those many years ago, which I was prone to raid at risk of death for the Boz Scaggs, Louisiana’s Larue, and Juice Newton (who also had a hot album cover) that could be found in there. The songs on the chosen record were good, not great. My beautiful young woman‘s voice was a little nasally, having a high, goat-like trill that was pleasant enough, but had not yet found the desperation that “Rhiannon” would bring to it a few years later, standing it out in Mick Fleetwood’s crowd.

So, playing Reeve’s game, I surrounded myself in 70’s album rock memorabilia, took a few tokes for old times’ sake, and dropped a hit of the old blood sucking game changer onto the tip of my tongue. If that wouldn’t take me back in time, then what the hell would?

And it worked! I closed my eyes, and Stevie found me, coming all the way through the years; young, not quite demure, buck naked, lured to me by familiar smells and intoxicated thoughts. Lindsay tried to follow her, as always, but together she and I were able to cram him back inside the album’s jacket. We rocked the hours away, Stevie and I, to Sarah, Gold Dust Woman, Landslide and others. Straddling me in my easy chair, her weight on my lungs, her hot breath on my neck, my fingers gliding silkily along her soft, if oft-handled skin, she whispered into my ear, “It’s so good to be back.” And it was good.

So when the music ended, and it was time for Stevie to go, I pulled out my ragged and worn copy of “Simple Dreams,” giving left over time to the lovely and talented Ronstadt to have her way with me as well. It is well that acid trips last so damn long.

God, do I love time travel!

Time! Time is all we want! Is all we need! Sweet, sweet, blessed time. Time to pop another beer. Time to replace my headphones. Time to settle in deeper, thankful for a love making that does not need Time’s little blue pill.

God I miss the nineties. We had Nirvana, CDs, cars that looked like plastic jelly beans with headlights, people weren't on their phones all the time, Gameboys and huge computers that were all retro and shit, Sonic wasn't bastardized by the internet yet, it was all good. There's plenty of good reasons to go back to the nineties, especially considering that last one. But I wouldn't go back for any of these meager luxuries, I would go straight for the piece de resistance, the ultimate key to life's meaning that time has left behind, Heaven's Gate.

Just calm down for a second and hear me out. Say what you want about alien cults, but they were poppin back in the day. They had all of these cool patches, shirts, and shoes. Don't forget the classic lifetime movie and alien crossover aesthetic. Iconic style. These guys meant business too. They weren't just going to sit there and wait for the aliens to come to them, they were taking matters into their own hands. Sure that Bo guy was running around and getting himself castrated and what not, but he was a man of action. He wasn't going to stop looking for answers until he slapped those alien cheeks. Even if it meant drinking the Kool-Aid he was in it to win it and be fly in Nikes on his way out.

Now compare that to all of these...ughh...starseeds. These trust fund twenty something women who look like Victoria's secret models, making all these qualms about "channeling", "manifesting", and "self improvement for the saving of humanity". If you were reincarnated from an alien you should at least make an effort to look like one. Bo knew where it was at, he was bald, had that buggy eyed look going, talked like sedated televangelist. What do these people do? Dress like rich hippies? Talk about...gag!...finding themselves? Lame. Booo! Get out of town and park your fancy converter van in the driveway of your two million dollar house. People these days are no match for the big leagues.

If you've gotten this far, this is where time travel comes in. There was supposedly an alien spaceship following comet Hale-Bopp that Heaven's Gate members tried to teleport to by doing the final deed. Putting aside the extreme measures taken, the whole thing sounds like a ball. Think about it, those guys might be out there somewhere slaying alien pussy since 97. Sure, it's 99.99 percent likely the the ship isn't real, but I'm a positive kind of guy. Who knows, maybe they're looking down on us now, being fed Zigamorph grapes from the vine. I don't care if it's a waste of everyone's time and resources, we need to know the answer. Time travel would be the ultimate solution. All I'd need to do is go to a time when the comet is close to earth.

Of course this would lead to two potential solutions with two different outcomes. The first option would be to go to 97 when the comet last past. While I'd have some company on my alien quest then, I'd have to go to the future and clone myself and then convince that clone to join a suicide cult in the past and then have them travel back to the present to tell me of the aliens if the "teleportation" method worked. There are infinite ways this plan would end in a horrible failure or unnecessary death so I'll likely scrap it for the alternative. The other option is to travel to 4385 when the comet is supposed to pass again. If the earth hasn't baked itself into a puddle of ice cream, they'll probably have more assessable ways to space travel. I'll just go to whom ever runs the spaceships and bother them about my alien quest until they give in and give me a ride. This is my preferred method. The only con would be that the Heaven's Gate folks won't probably be around by then if I ever find the ship. I'll just be stuck with one guy whose pissed off that I won't shut up about the 90's. It still beats dealing with a dead clone or shenanigan's from another one of me.

Then comes the question, what will happen if I find the ship? Best case scenario the cult's descendants have interbred with the aliens into some ultra intelligent hybrid. I'd just hang out with them for a while because I got nothing better to do and freeload off of whatever subscription service they have for extraterrestrials. That's about it. No lofty goals after that. I could probably just live there and not have to do any chores. To them I would be like tending an ant. Say what you want about it being an over elaborate scheme to be lazy for the rest of my life. It's a cool plan and nobody's thought of it but me.

i travelled back in time, two years in the past, to correct a spelling mistake on a post.

i spelled cookie with kookie, and it was something that needed fixin'.

strapped on to the machine,

sped up transitional loop nos. 1-6, and 8 AND 32.

travelled back, one day after i posted.

back then you could correct stuff you posted.

you could do that.

the I from those days was too busy to notice.

i made the correction and flew back.

but i found half a paragraph copied 31 times.

back then that happened a lot.

at least now its spelled correctly; kooci.

"What did you do?" Lana stepped into the door frame and leaned against the jamb.

"What do you mean?" Tom's tone was innocent enough, but his demeanor was too rigid.

"There was a...disturbance."

"What like the neighbor playing music too loud, or cats fighting, or-"

"You know what I mean."

Lana stepped into the room and looked around. When she walked in between Tom and the tv, she really knew he was hiding something because he didn't protest. Not that she didn't already know. He tensed up and stared ever more intently at the screen.

She stepped over to him and leaned down, staring at his profile. His eyes were wide and his lips were pursed.

"I will find out what you did....somehow. You know you're not supposed to use it. For anything."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."

"It's my work, Tom!" She yelled as she stomped through the house examining everything she could with the temporal radar.

This went on for the better part of the afternoon.

Finally, her voice rose from the kitchen indignant and vindicated.

"Oh you mother fucker! Are you serious? I'm pouring it out!"

Tom ran to the kitchen to stop her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he blurted out as if they were a single word.

She held two beer bottles next the the sink. Bottle openers ready and glared right through him.

"Why?"

"I just wanted cold beer for the game and realized I had left it out after we got back from groceries. I'm sorry." His eyes were pleading. "Please, please, please."

"If I let you have them, you will never learn."

Tom pouted on the couch during the 3rd quarter debating getting more beer or missing part of the game. It seemed hardly fair he should have to choose.

I had finally done it,

After 40 long years of planning and building,

the time machine was completely finished.

I had waited so long for this moment.

I inputted the precise date and time,

the one that had been burned into my memory.

I was ready to rectify this wrong.

In a flash, I was transported to my old school playground,

surrounded by my young peers.

I had to find myself quickly before it was too late.

There I was, young me in front of the school bullies.

I heard the words come out of Lenny Distane's mouth,

"You're so ugly, I bet your mom doesn't even love you!"

His goonish sidekicks laughed and they began to walk away.

I ran as quickly as I could to my younger self and whispered in little me's ear.

My younger self smiled at me and nodded.

Young me stood up and yelled in the direction of the bullies,

"Hey, Lenny! Your face makes onions cry!"

The comeback lingered in the air for a moment.

Suddenly, the whole schoolyard erupted in laughter.

I had done it! All those years of planning had finally paid off!

I could go home and rest easy now.

Tomorrow, I would begin dismantling the machine,

its heinous purpose was complete.

"Are you sure about this?"

"No, but I must get it."

We were standing in the lab. Lockes to the left of me I was holding a handheld time machine. I was getting ready to go back and grab the most important thing ever, that I forgot when I left my old school. of course, I was just visiting but still, I miss it and want it back.

Lockes moved to the door and looked out the white halls were barren.

Looking back in he nodded.

"ok here goes nothing." with that said. I started it and selected the date of April 25th, 2027. The machine whirred and then,

*POP!*

Opening my eyes I found I was back. I looked around and found myself whoops in the girl's bathroom. I stowed the machine and went out. I took out my mask and put it on it had been with me forever and assumed the position of the other security guards present so I could blend in. I looked around and saw a clock.

"Crap," I murmured. I had messed up the time it was 11:23 A.M. I needed to wait another 3 hours before I could grab it. well time to blend in.

"Ahem" I cleaned my throat for in front of me there were 2 students, what the word. oh right touching each other.

They looked at me and ran.

I moved over to the conference table in the center of the room and sat down I then made myself less seen by sinking into the shadows.

While in the shadows time went by faster. when I came out it was 2:58 P.M.

There left on the table was a katana, one made from the strongest metal in the world and it looked so pretty. The handcrafted hilt was matched by the jade on the saya. I moved in closer going for my prize when I felt a shadow coming I quickly grabbed my prize and then came out of the shadows moving closer to the girl's bathroom.

I ran in and shut the door quickly. I looked around and noticed the door to one of the toilets was ajar, I did not want to find out what the small moans were about. I took the device out and typed in my former address with only an advance of 2 seconds and then.

POP!

"Sir your back!" Lockes almost yelled.

"Yes, I am now."

"I placed the device in a mannequin's hand and set the timer to ∞.

I stepped back and watched as the device and mannequin POPPED away.

I moved to out of the lab and found myself on the deck far below the city was bright in the darkness of the night. I leaned on the railing thinking before I heard the door open and I presume Lockes was coming next to me I looked over at him and I saw his kind face, looking out at the expanse of clouds. he looked at me and spoke. This was the first time in a long while, he spoke more than a few words.

"

"Master" he paused. "Sir, do you miss the way it was?"

The words sadly struck me, yes, I missed life from long ago, but I missed her the most.

I turned from the railing and moved to a com board on the wall.

"Captain take us back to Germany. I have what I came for."

I waited a second before adding

"and tell the fleets to prep themselves for war."

Lockes and I walked to the front of the ship as it started to gain altitude he looked at me and then down at what I was holding.

"Sir, what now?"

"If this world does not end this war soon I will end it for them," I spoke with no emotion.

"Yes sir, as you wish. what did you retrieve?"

I looked down and opened my hand to show Lockes.

"A pen?"

No, I thought not just a pen.

"This was the first gift she gave me one made from rare minerals and metals and uses exquisite ink. I lost it long ago I intend to keep using it and hope with all my heart she wakes."

Lockes looked out at the horizon.

"let's go the bridge" He motioned to the door and ended with a jester before he spoke his last word.

"Master"

I smiled and followed him.

Thomas closed his laptop.

"That's enough writing for now. I should probably check in on the Magium." He said, yawning as he sat down on his hardwood floor, cross-legged. Closing his eyes, he focused on his world, the Magium. He saw the main character, in the middle of a battle.

'I remember this scene. Damion gets his sword knocked from his hand, he gets some high ground, does a back flip and breaks the bad guy's neck and saves the- wait, hold on. What just happened? I do not remember writing the scene that way!' Thomas thought, as he witnessed his main character teleport away from his enemy using magic. He was shocked. He sprung up from the floor, ending the vision and frantically looking through old Google Documents to see if he had re-written the original scene. When he couldn't find anything suggesting that on his laptop, he searched through old notebooks, desperately trying to know how one of his own creations could go against what he had written.

He picked up one of the oldest notebooks he had started writing in. Even looking at it brought back memories of simpler times. But there was no time to focus on the good days, he had work to do. He scoured through the pages, until he finally found what he had written. He reads it aloud to himself.

"Damion picks up the sword. He doesn't have much knowledge of how to wield it, so he slashes at the man without precision or form, and the man quickly disarms him. Damion back away, noticing that he was backing into an incline. He turned around and ran, straight up the hill. He could hear the man's footsteps behind him, and his body, without thinking, reacted. He jumped, flipping backwards in the air, reached for the man's chin, and twisted as hard as he could. He heard a crack, and the man crumpled to the ground as Damion landed on his feet.

"He turns around, and cautiously checks the man's breathing. He was dead. Damion shakes his head, and leaves." Thomas said, confused. How had Damion derailed from the story he had planned? Suddenly, Thomas had an idea.

'If I go back in time, I can figure out a way to make sure he doesn't derail again. I'm a genius.' He thought to himself, as he sat down cross-legged once more, focusing on where in Damion's timeline he wanted to go.

"I want to go...here," He said, and suddenly, he was somewhere else. In the distance, he could see a hill. He must be in the place Damion will derail. "I'm not sure how many minutes away I am before Damion meets up with the mysterious man, but it's fine. Okay, so if I focus enough, I should be able to force Damion to not go off the plan. But I won't know if that'll work. Maybe I should-" He said, spotting Damion and the man. Thomas quickly turned invisible, to prevent being spotted himself.

"Here kid, I'm Quill. Take this." The man said, tossing a sword in front of Damion. He picked it up, and attacked. He failed. Damion backed up, and ran away from the man, who was quickly catching up.

'I know what to do!' Thomas thought, as he stretched his mind towards Damion's, and seized control of his body. He then flipped backwards, and broke the man's neck. Damion had saved the day. Or rather, himself. He stopped controlling him, and looked at the Timeline again. He went back, and found himself back in his apartment once more, cross-legged on the floor. He sighed, as that was not only a close call, but an encounter which drained him of his energy. He climbed onto his bed.

'Man, that was a stupid reason to go back in time.' Thomas thought to himself, as he drifted on to sleep, exhausted from the experience.

That was the best freakin burrito I have ever eaten in my entire life. The savory meat, the fresh lettuce, the sweet corn. My stomach is rumbling just thinking about her. I wish I could live in this moment forever, queso and guac covering my fingertips. Yet, like all delicious things, it must pass.

Oh wait, I remembered touching the device in my pocket. Well, Professor Johnson said to only use it in dire situations, but I would say this is pretty dire. My fingers stain the complex computer as I fumble the buttons. Set time: Burrito o'clock!

That was the best freakin burrito I have ever eaten in my entire life. The savory meat, the fresh lettuce, the sweet corn. My stomach is rumbling just thinking about her. I wish I could live in this moment forever, queso and guac covering my fingertips. Yet, like all delicious things, it must pass.

Oh wait, I remembered touching the device in my pocket. I'm sure Professor Johnson wouldn't mind if I just...

There are scientific reasons why lightbulbs are shaped the way they are, glass strength, illumination, etc. However, due to the overwhelmingly male influence on inventions at the time, and as with many other items invented in that time period, they are phallic. Think, wall outlets with their male/female configuration, the battery, the stapler, etc.

If I could go back in time, I'd influence the creation of the lightbulb such that the accepted standard would be heart-shaped. Illumination and glass strength would not be compromised, as far as I can tell, but we would eliminate the phallic shape. Wouldn't that be a nice change?

Dials set. Machine engaged. Time set to: Ancient Mesopotamia.

I had nearly finished fiddling with the time machine when the lab door burst violently open. In stormed the greatest genius of our generation, aka my little sister, holding a set of bolt cutters and breathing heavily.

”Oh, I see you made it.” I said.

”What the hell are you doing? You chain me up in my room like some animal, set traps along the hallway and lock me out of my own lab! I should have you arrested!”

“It wasn’t personal,” I explained, “I just needed you out of the way so you wouldn’t interfere with my plan.”

My sister was a neat shade of red. She was so easy to rile up it almost took the fun out of it.

”And what plan is that?” She asked.

I smiled. “It’s a secret.”

I fiddled with another dial and she pounced. One moment I was standing in front of the time machine, and the next I was being pummelled to the ground. My sweet sister landed on top of, giving my stomach a jab with her elbow in the process. Any air I had in my lungs escaped with a whoosh.

“How many times have I told you not to touch my time machine?” She screamed at me.

”A few,” I gasped out. I struggled to push her off but dear little sister was built like a tree.

“A few too many,“ she snarled. “This is a top secret project. Do you know what would happen if anyone found out that you had been messing with it? We’d both ‘disappear’ very quickly, and thats if we’re lucky.”

”…Can’t…breathe….“ I gasped.

Lil’ sis kindly removed herself from my person. Finally able to breathe and sit up again, I rubbed the back of my throbbing head. That one was going to hurt for a while.

”Shouldn’t given the family a tour of your lab, then,” I muttered.

She blushed. It had been unprofessional for a government employed genius to show off her top secret, world changing time machine project, but she was still an eager seventeen year old girl.

My sister set to inspecting her time machine, no doubt to make sure I hadn’t destroyed anything. She paused when she read the screen displaying my intended destination.

”Mesopotamia? Why do you want to go there?”

I stood up and patted myself off. “To see the sights of course. Who wouldn’t want to see the wonders of such a groundbreaking civilization?”

She frowned. ”Name one ’sight’ from that period.”

“Well, there is that place… with all the plants that is, some kind of garden… the Garden of Eden! Yes, I was going to see the Garden of Eden.”

Her eye twitched. I wondered if she was trying to piece together how stupid I was. I hoped so.

“Tell me the real reason, or I’ll tell Mom about your little…collection.”

My heart stopped. “You wouldn’t!”

”Try me!” She shouted back. She cackled with laughter. “Tell my the truth or your dirty little secret gets exposed!”

”Fine, I’ll tell you,“ I said, no longer smiling. Little brat wasn’t just a genius, but also a rotten snoop.

“The truth is, I was having hard time with my novel. I’ve reached a bit of a roadblock, you see, a ’writer’s block’ as we call it in the industry.”

My little sister rolled her eyes

”I had no idea where to go next,” I continued,” and then it hit me! No, not inspiration. An idea. A brilliant idea. A way to make all blocks dissolve before me.”

She yawned. “So you were going to go back in time to find inspiration?”

I chuckled. “Oh no, not for inspiration. See, the problem with writer’s block is a systematic one. It’s only a symptom of a greater problem. And how do you cure the symptoms? You target the disease of course! Don’t you see? The disease is writing itself! All I have to do is go back in time to where writing began and destroy all traces of it before it can spread.”

I cackled, “It’s perfect! I can single-handedly save all writer’s from suffering so terribly. I’ll be a hero!”

It was silent for a moment. Then she removed one of the slippers from her feet and threw it at me, landing squarely on my face and making a bruise on the front to match the one on the back.

”Get out!”