THE YOUNG MAN WHO TRAVELED THROUGH TIME

This is another one of my Most Favorite Things I've ever written. This is my Boswell story. I was a really, really gullible kid. Once, this kid at summer camp told me that the camp counselors kept him in the basement where they were making him build a nuclear bomb so they could take over the United States. He convinced me that he was extremely knowledgeable about building nuclear explosives and that I had to help him or the world would soon be under the control of our camp counselors.

This has been a recurring theme throughout my life.

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Mike was just a regular guy - he liked his hamburgers with mustard, his reality shows with animal-testicle devouring, and his centerfolds with big hineys. At night, he'd feed his chihuahua, grab a frosty beer, and sit back in his easy chair to watch the latest sitcoms. He never really laughed at the sitcoms, but he felt compelled to watch them - "The storyline," he told me once, though the shows had no real continuity and there was only a tenuous connection between one scene and the next.

Yes, Mike was just a regular guy. A regular guy, that is, until one soul-scarring day when he went back in time.

Later, when he tried to think back on how he had traveled some two hundred odd years into the distant past, he couldn't remember. Mike couldn't always recall the precise details of the incident, but he sure did like to tell me about all it. "One time," he confided in me, "I banged this, like, old England broad with a big ass."  He nodded at me with big eyes, showing his utter sincerity. "Daayyumnnnn," Mike concluded, raising one eyebrow.

I feel that it is my duty to document Mike's adventures for posterity. Perhaps it may seem silly now, but I believe that we should all nod our heads solemnly and listen to the story of MIKE, the greatest time traveler of all ... well, of all time!

Without warning, Mike found himself in the 18th century, the most dangerous century of all time. Fighting for his life, no way of knowing where to go or what to do! Quickly he adopted a British accent so that no one would know his true identity. I wouldn't believe it myself if he hadn't told me.

"Lewwwk heeeyahh, loove," he told a beautiful young American woman who was walking next to him. Actually, it wasn't really America yet - from the way he explained it to me, it was actually a collection of 'colonics.' So if I understand him correctly, it was really a colonical girl. "Lewwwk heeayh, loove," he told the colonical girl. "Oyyy am een Loove wif yeww." She smiled at him and they began making out right there.

Suddenly, an enraged George Washington drove up in his horse and buggy. "Bitch," shouted Washington,"I'm going to fuck your shit up!"

"Neeeew, Moyyk," shouted the beautiful colonical girl with the large breasts. "We've ewwwnly joost met and oym fawwling in LEWV wif yewww!"

"I shall defend thou honor!" yelled Mike, and pulled out his gun, shooting George Washington in the face repeatedly until the gun only clicked, clicked. "My God," someone cried, "Who will sign the Declaration of Constitution now?"

"I will," said Mike, quickly forging Washington's signature on the now bloodstained paper. "To arms," he cried, "let us kill the damned British!" Grabbing some tea, he threw it in the Gulf of  Mexico to rally his half-man, half-android troops. They all came - one by one - with giant rayguns and uzis.

The British began oozing up from the soil. Hideous shapes that seemed to come from a heavy metal album cover. They oozed and grimaced, occasionally stopping to vomit a heavy stream of sewage onto the American soil. Mike cringed at the sight - he felt his sanity slowly draining away. "QUICK, MY ROBOT LEGIONS," he told his army, "ATTACK THE BRITISH!" And they did, tearing off the horrors' heads with surprising ease like popping the tabs off of a Coke can. But the British kept coming. Mike knew that he must do something!

Quickly he rolled his twelve-sided die and summoned a level 15 mage to attack. The mage cast FireAsh(+2 Demon protection) on the evil British army and suddenly they all began melting and shrieking, a high-pitched noise that would haunt Mike until the end of his days - or so he told me. "Personally," he said, "I think I could get over it - in time." At this, he smirked and crossed his arms, indicating that the story was over.

Sometimes he would elaborate on the stories - certain elements would change, mysterious details were added. At one point, he defeated the British by rolling over them with a "Super-armored magical tank." It was a damned exciting story. Yet I would always feel that I was missing entire important scenes. He would sometimes allude to a mysterious incident in which he shook Batman's hand.  Once, he told me that he made out with "something like, twelve, maybe twenty British colonical chicks." He also hinted that perhaps he had died and they had sent back a robot in his place - and then he had risen from the dead, "just like Lazarus," and defeated the robot clone using incredibly awe-inspiring Ninja powers.

Mike was pretty much all I talked about for about a week until he got fired. Apparently he couldn't work because of a "ninja-related injury" and spent all his time drinking coffee and drawing pictures of girls with large behinds. He also flexed his muscles quite a bit. After Mike disappeared, I got very excited and figured that he must have gone back in time again. But my manager told me, no, he just got fired.

I cannot begin to explain how scientifically important a time travel venture is. I hope you can begin to imagine the implications of such a journey. Let us remember Mike and his fantastical journeys always. Perhaps these writings will outlast even me so that my children and their obnoxious children can learn of Mike, the Time Traveling Hero of the Twenty First Century.