with Hollywood Hunks*
So I ran into Nicolas Cage, John Travolta, and Matthew McConaughey; and I said, "Hey, Hollywood dudes! Who wants to travel back in time?"
Naturally they said, "Yes." Who's going to say no to an offer like that?
Okay, they did. At first. I had to bring back a baby Woolly Mammoth from the Paleolithic era to convince them that my time machine works.
Plus, I still have a tusk scar on my right shin.
And the Woolly Baby "fertilized" the back seat. (If you know what I mean.)
So Nic, John, and Matt decided to join me in my time machine. (After I sanitized and fumigated the back seat.)
Only problem was: We couldn't agree on when!
Cage seemed obsessed with the American Revolution. (Probably researching another sequel to National Treasure.)
Travolta wanted to ride a dinosaur. Despite my several warnings that he'd be more likely to feed a dinosaur than ride one.
McConaughey thought it'd be best to visit the future, so he could see which of his movies flop and avoid wasting time making those. Under my breath, I muttered that it was a little too late for that.
Nic and John snickered along.
I wanted to visit the Garden of Eden to see what Eve looked like. God made her, so she had to look perfect. My other suggestions were Esther, Cleopatra, and Helen of Troy. I even said, "Four of them; and four of us!"
Travolta still thought he could hop on a pterodactyl and fly around without a hitch.
I'm starting to wonder if maybe his Barbarino portrayal wasn't an act.
Those Hollywood dudes couldn't agree on when and started getting pushy with me and with each other. So I finally said, "Hey, I just thought it'd be fun to hang out and go on a Magical History Tour with you guys. I didn't mean to start a civil war."
Bingo! We all agreed we'd go see the Civil War. And then we'd figure out which historic hotties to visit.
I underestimated the egos of Hollywood stars. I thought that being actors, they could take direction. But they couldn't. Not from me anyway.
They were quite immature, as if I owed them the time of their lives, just 'cause they're from Hollywood and have each kissed my favorite actresses, on or off screen. Their childish behavior led to my calling them the Holly Boys. (But not to their faces.)
I warned them of the two rules of Time Travel. Okay, three.
Rule number one: Don't get your picture taken! (Which usually isn't a problem if you go back far enough. I say "usually", because on the wall of a certain cave in Lascaux, France, you'll find a prehistoric painting of me. Being "immortalized" is kind of nice. But it makes me wish I had a better haircut.)
Rule number two: Don't alter history. Don't! Under no circumstances! Never ever ever alter history! The ramifications of doing so can cause the worst kind of Butterfly Effect. It's so horrible, it's more like a Moth Effect!
Rule number three: Always tip your time-traveling host lots and lots of money! And hook him up with the TV, movie, and music starlets of his choice.
So what did the Holly Boys do? ...
One: Those hams posed for pictures!
These are actual photographs from the Civil War era:
Two: They saved Abraham Lincoln's life! Well, the first time. He wound up being assassinated about two years later by John Wilkes Booth. Which is now the story we know. But he actually died earlier than that, which led to a Southern victory. Yes, the Rebels won! That is, until we infiltrated the South, thinking we'd be safe by being on the winning side. But then the Holly Boys put the moves on General Robert E. Lee's daughter Eleanor "Agnes" Lee. (Sadly, she never married and died of tuberculosis a decade later.) Naturally, General Lee got overprotective, which led to quite a ruckus. Which inadvertently distracted the Rebel troops at Gettysburg. Which led to a major victory for the North. As we fled for our lives, Nic, John, and Matt saved Lincoln's life. So the North won the Civil War after all. Yay! Since I left a world overwrought with Nascar, grits, and banjo music, I opted to let history be changed. So when you enjoy a meal that doesn't include grits and where bluegrass music isn't playing all the time, thank the Holly Boys.
Reward Poster for John Wilkes Booth; File 967A, 1866, Letters Received; Records of the Adjutant General's Office, 1780s-1917; Record Group 94; National Archives.
Three: The Holly Boys stiffed me! No tip! Nothing! They stuck me with the plutonium bill too. Didn't even buy me lunch. And not one of them said to Anne Hathaway, "You've really gotta meet this guy!" But hey, maybe that's how Hollywood stars haze newbies. Perhaps this will lead to my burgeoning acting career.
If you wish history hadn't been altered; and you'd rather live in a world where every meal requires copious amount of ketchup, then blame me. I just wanted to hang out and be cool with the Holly Boys. I thought for sure at least one of them could hook me up with a bikini supermodel. One with a heart of gold, of course.
Too bad Travolta broke my time machine. Still intent on riding a pterodactyl, he thought he could push any button he wanted as long as he imagined where he wanted to go. He even tried clicking his heels together and chanting: "There's no place like the late Jurassic period. There's no place like the late Jurassic period."
Ergo, I can't go back in time to undo the terrifying events that happen moments from now. But don't blame Travolta. I shouldn't have let civilians travel through time. It's against the Time-Travel Federation's regulations. In fact, that's the real rule number one. Those other three were rules two through four.
Okay, rules two and three. I made up number four. Seems like common courtesy though. If someone gives you an incredible trip, you give him/her an incredible tip.
Deep down, I think we weren't meant to alter time. That we should learn to take responsibility for our lives. And deal with the consequences of our own actions; and sadly, those of others, no matter how deranged they may be. Makes sense to me. But still, the first chance I get, I'm getting my Turbo Time Jumper 3000 fixed and going back to see what all the fuss was about Bathsheba.
* They made me call them that. (Otherwise, they'll report me to the Time-Travel Federation for my aforementioned violations.)
P.S. Although incredibly historically accurate, as if we'd actually been there; and with official photographs to corroborate what I say, this is a fictitious work of humor/parody.
P.P.S. Despite the irreparable damage to the space/time continuum and the busting of my time machine, I still had a lot of fun Nic, John, and Matt. We should do it again some time. But when?
P.P.S. Despite the irreparable damage to the space/time continuum and the busting of my time machine, I still had a lot of fun Nic, John, and Matt. We should do it again some time. But when?
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