Murder He Wrote Part 1.4
~ (from Part 1.3)
I blinked my eyes. We were standing in someone’s yard. I say were standing, because many of us fell to the ground due to the effects of time travel. Time travel had many affects on me, as I’m sure it did on others too, not all of which should be shared. The grass I was standing in was black with oil. A path of tar led up to a mansion. While we stared at the 5-story house, jets and spaceships passed over us. The air smelled like gasoline, and the clouds looked polluted with acid rain. In fact the smog was so thick that I could feel it on my skin, like a thin veil of plastic. We heard some noises coming from the mansion. Timmy had fallen, puking on himself. I reached down and grabbed his hand, to help him up. Timmy’s hand looked as black as charcoal, but felt slick. I slipped on the oiled grass, and fell to the ground beside him. My face fell in the mud, which tasted like the worst kind of alcoholic drink you can imagine; mixed with mud.
We all agreed to ask the owner of the mansion for help. Bratt walked up first, and knocked on the door. A tall, blonde haired boy in a white lab coat opened the door. We were amazed to find that he looked just like Pavlov! “Come right in,” Pavlov said as he placed wires on Bratt’s head. “Now I’m going to read your mind. You are thinking about a piece of tape.” “No,” was the answer. “You’re thinking about hats.” “No,” was answered again. “Spoons?” “No.” “Africa?” “No.” “Food?!” “No.” “Homework.” “No.” “Deaf Leopard.” “No.” “Toilets!” “No, no, no!” Bratt said angrily. “Get these wires off my head! We are lost in time! Do you know what this is? Do you know what this means?!” Bratt asked as he pointed to a dial on the Time Recorder.
“Yes. It means this jerk doesn’t work!” Pavlov said as he threw his mind reader to the floor. “But can you get us home?” Joe asked. “Let me see that time device, first,” Pavlov said, squinting his eyes and focusing on the Tape Recorder Time Machine.
“Is that you Pavlov Carpathian?” Laurel asked.
“No, I am Pavlov Carpathian the Seventeenth! I am the great, great, great, blah, blah, blah, great grandson of the Pavlov you know from the Bonner Academy. Also all Pavlov’s are one and the same; in other words I am a transdimensional being that exists simultaneously in many dimensions. Although I have limited temporal manifestations, I am still able to travel dimensions at will; to help alleviate any discrepancies. This is of course how I travel through time, by willing myself through dimensional doors.”
“Of course,” Joe and Bryan said to eachother making the hand signs for crazy.
Pavlov checked the batteries on the Time Travel Tape Recorder. “This little time machine is merely a modified version of an electron generated flux-capacitor unit that I invented for a nostalgic race of aliens, at some point in one of my favorite timelines.”
“What does modified mean?” Timmy asked, scratching his head.
“Well it doesn’t mean antidisestablishmentarianism, that’s for sure!” Pavlov said. “You can adjust the amount of years traveled per second, by moving the volume dial.” He began setting the volume dial. John took the Tape Recorder from Pavlov, saying he was setting the dial wrong. Joe took it from John. Bratt stole it from Joe. I knocked it from Bratt’s hands. Timmy tried to catch it, but fell and landed on it.
Then there was a BOOM!!! I closed my eyes. We were flying through time again, I felt the inexplicable spinning again. I opened my eyes and saw smoke coming from underneath Timmy. Timmy recovered the Time Recorder, which was now smoking, fizzing, and popping! All around us was nothing, except for shades of light gray and dark grey. “That was incorrect,” stated Pavlov shaking his finger at Timmy.
“Busted!” Boston said.
“Damn it,” Bratt said.
“Pavlov, can you fix it?” Joe asked. “That recorder thing looks broken!”
“Sure, all I need is a screwdriver, wires, and two sets of brains,” Pavlov confirmed.
~ (continued in Part 1.5)