“There’s nothing I can do now, the puppies will be born sick, and die within minutes.”
My dog would give birth to nine puppies, and he couldn’t do anything.
But I could.
I sent her into the future, where her puppies could be saved.
A bitch in time saves nine.
When he finished writing his autobiography, he realized how much he’d missed in life by concentrating on pure science, so he went back in time to force his past self to enjoy life.
The resulting autobiography was also a disaster — no accomplishments.
On his third try, he became a writer.
His Oedipus complex had become manifest, causing him to kill his father, and plan to rape his mother.
But his mother had died years before; her death caused his psychological problems.
Still, he found a time machine, and accomplished his goal.
Then he realized when and how he would die.
The killer walked up to his victim from behind, and backstabbed him.
The victim fell, face up, revealing to the killer that he’d actually killed himself.
“Oh, shit!” he thought, looking upon his own, now inert features. “That’s the last time I go back in time!”
How right he was.
Blogger’s note: apologies for missing yesterday. In an attempt to redeem myself, there will be two stories today.
He wasn’t interested in fantasy, anymore. Reality had to be his focus.
He had no patience for allegory anymore. Satire? Might as well waste everybody’s time by avoiding the point.
No.
What he would say next, he would mean. No more dicking around.
He opened his mouth and said, “I…”
Every time he sneezed, he would travel back in time by thirty seconds. It eventually became a major annoyance. He compensated for it by using it for his own entertainment: warping around, startling people. Then he got cocky, and provoked the wrong person. Thirty seconds later, he still hadn’t sneezed.
I went back in time to tell myself this story was lame, to just scrap it, but then I later went back in time again to tell my meddling self to stop doubting myself. Then I got into a fight with myself. Oh, forget it, I fell down stairs, okay?
A watched pot never boils.
An eagerly awaited time machine never arrives.
He’d sent his off exactly two hours into the future.
Six hours later, waiting for it to return, doubt creeped into his mind.
Did he send the time machine forward in time, or did he send it backward?