Monday May 8th, 1995
Brock Rockwell must die.
During gym class, instead of kicking the soccer ball, he kicked me. Right in the wedding tackle. Everyone laughed. Even Becky Murphy. Now I’ll never be able to trick her into playing “Doctor” with me. I’ll just have to settle for that centerfold I Photoshopped her head onto.
Brock thinks he’s so rad just ‘cause he started puberty early. Who does he think he’s impressing with his towering height, deep masculine voice, and single chest hair?
Curse my undescended testicles!
And curse my father’s highly publicized impotence. And his inability to produce an older brother to exact vengeance on my foes! The closest I’ll ever get to that is if I build a time machine and travel back in time to beat the living shit out of a much younger Brock Rockwell…
After watching Time Cop and the first half of Back to the Future Part 2, I resolve to build a Time/Revenge Machine when I grow up.
Tuesday May 9th, 1995
Another run-in with mortal enemy at school. Brock makes a move on my woman at recess. Summoning the strength of the Noble Eagle Totem, I swoop in to defend my property.
But Brock’s puberty powers are immune to my Eaglelike Awesomeness. He’s used his full manly magic to bewitch Becky against me. She pushes me away. Only the strength of the Mighty Pegasus Totem can break this spell of bewitchery.
Before I can unleash an attack of pure awesome Brock knocks me to the ground. He is so dead. He doesn’t know how bad I’m going to kick his ass. In the future! I warn him my future self will mess him up.
Several minutes and several punches to the groin later, my future self is a no show. Either I failed to perfect time travel or I’ll become such a failure that my future self wishes to spare me the shock and disappointment of learning I’ll become a bloated loser.
From these options there’s only one possible explanation: Brock stole my time machine à la Biff Tannen in BTTF Part 2 to prevent my future self from giving him his long overdue comeuppance. I must immediately commence work on a time machine to warn my future self of this treachery!
Wednesday May 10th, 1995
Gathered the necessary tools in backyard for my Time/Revenge Machine:
• 1 Cardboard Refrigerator Box—to act as Time Vessel/Chrono Displacement Tube
• 1 Roll of Tin Foil—to act as Chronological Time Reflector/Hyper-dimensional Resonator
• 1 Lite Brite—to act as Flux Capacitor
• 1 Roll of Duct Tape—to act as Biotronic Oscillator/hold everything together
I resolve to make my maiden time voyage in the nude, because A) I saw it in Terminator, and B) I don’t want to get any ectoplasm on my clothes as a result of time displacement. My mom would kill me. Everyone knows nothing washes out ectoplasm stains.
Using an egg timer as the ChronoDial, I set my time machine for ten minutes into the future. The timer goes off after a short wait. I exit my vessel and check the watch I left outside it. It reads ten minutes from when I set the ChronoDial. My experiment is a complete success! I have traveled ten minutes into the future!
Brock Rockwell rides by on his bike. He mocks my modest man meat. Enjoy the laugh, Brock. It shall be your last!
My mom doesn’t share the laugh. She’s horrified.
I’m grounded. I can’t watch Babylon 5 for a month! Mom doesn’t buy my ectoplasm story. If only I had mind control puberty powers like Brock!
Thursday May 11th, 1995
Rained last night. Time machine ruined beyond repair. Possibly God’s way of telling me not to tamper with his Universe. Resolve to start work on a God Machine.
On the way home after school a strange man pulls up beside me in his car. He offers me a ride home.
“I don’t take rides from strangers,” I tell him. “So unless you’re my time-traveling future self, take off.”
“Uh, yeah,” he answers. “That’s who I am. I’m you… from the future!!”
He looks nothing like me. But he convinces me that future people change their race like people in the present change their hair color. I guess Jews must be really popular in the future. But who am I to question my future self’s taste in people?
I climb into the Chrono Chamber of my future self’s time traveling Chevy Nova, i.e. the trunk. The time warp to the future is pitch black, bumpy, and smells like an old gym bag.
The time warp abruptly stops. A man in a police uniform yanks me from the time machine. Another handcuffs my future self.
Time Cops! Or possibly ChronoGuards. Or whatever they’re calling themselves in this futuristic society I’ve landed in.
Brock Rockwell is there with the Time Cops. He tipped them off. That evil genius! Curse his man-hair and my lack thereof! He gives me some bullshit story about saving my life and asks if I want to play with him. His puberty mind trick fails to work on me. I respond with a swift kick to his newly descended testicles. That’ll teach him to “help” me!
I must travel back in time to warn my future self not to get arrested. But Brock will be there. He’ll always be there. Mark my words, Brock Rockwell, you will rue the day you ruined my plans with my future self. Rue, I say!
