Willie's Redneck Time Machine (17 page)

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Authors: John Luke Robertson

BOOK: Willie's Redneck Time Machine
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2319

YOU DECIDE TO TELL THE WOMAN
in the military outfit everything. Who you are and where you’re from and how you got here. She seems most curious about the time machine.

“You say it resembles an outhouse?” she asks. “What would that be?”

“It’s sorta like
 
—well, it’s usually something outdoors where you can go take a break. You know
 
—use the bathroom.”

She nods. “I see. A Vitronic Controllock.”

“Is that
 
—? You’re referring to the outhouse?”

“It’s interesting that you’ve managed to get here that way. And you say this man who came before you . . . his name is Si?”

“Yes.”

She goes to the wall in front of you and touches it. Immediately a photo of Si’s face appears on the wall.

“Is this the man you’re referring to?”

You nod.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

The picture of Si goes away.

“So can you let me go?” you ask, looking down at your hands, which still can’t move.

“That is one thing we can’t do.”

The door opens and three men dressed all in black step inside.

It will take them less than ten minutes to steal every memory you have.

They can steal your memory, but they can’t have your soul. For that is forever bound back in West Monroe.

Soon enough you will be back there, memories all in place, future stories left untold. For now.

THE END

Start over.

Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

TODAY

GOOD THING YOU PICKED BUCK.
People forget about Buck Commander, your other business, but not you. You love it just as much as Duck Commander. And sure enough, choosing Buck takes you where you want to go.

It’s good to be home. Back in a place where one of your children isn’t missing. Back where Confederate generals aren’t giving you the stink eye. Back where you belong.

After a big dinner and some family games, Korie opens her birthday presents. When she gets to yours, you prepare her, making sure she knows it’s something very valuable
and
very meaningful. You can see her face light up.

That is, until she actually opens the present.

“It’s a hat.”

“A very special hat,” you correct her.

“It’s a Confederate soldier hat,” she says, deadpan.

“Yes, but do you know who that belonged to?”

John Luke and Jase stare at you but don’t say anything.

“I don’t know,” Korie says. “Robert E. Lee?”

“No! Stonewall Jackson.
The
Stonewall Jackson.”

Korie nods. “That’s great.”

“Serious. That thing has to be worth some good money.”

Korie puts on the hat.

“I think they sell those down at Walmart,” Uncle Si says.

“No, no
 
—it’s real.”

“It doesn’t look real. Looks like it was made in Taiwan,” Miss Kay says.

You shake your head. “No, it’s real. I promise you.”

“Thank you,” Korie says, putting the hat back in the box.

“Look, it’s real. I mean
 
—it’s as if I practically took it off Stonewall Jackson’s head. Jase, doesn’t it look real?”

He only shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

You let out a sigh.

You travel through time and get a famous general’s cap and still . . . nothing.

No respect.

Next time you go back in time, you’ll borrow some jewels from some famous person. Because, as you know, women love the sparkly stuff.

THE END

Start over.

Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

TOMORROW

THE DOOR OF THE OUTHOUSE SHUTS
with you inside.

Nothing happens.

You look above you, then around you. Then you decide to go ahead and take a seat.

You sit for a while. Waiting.

Trying to figure out where the others went.

You’re sitting there in a wooden outhouse in your warehouse.

John Luke doesn’t appear. Neither does Jase nor Uncle Si. You don’t see or hear anything. But the more you sit on this round hole that’s meant for other things, the more you find a certain sort of serenity. It’s calm in here. It’s so peaceful.

You think that maybe you should put this outhouse in your office, and then when people start to bother you, you can simply step inside and hide.

You don’t wonder about the others for the moment, or whether it’s Korie’s birthday again, or even what you’re going to have for lunch.

You sit in the outhouse and find contentment. It’s a pretty rare thing these days.

Then a worry strikes you. There is peace and quiet in here, but in the end, what does it all mean?

THE AMBIGUOUS ENDING

Start over.

Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

2319

YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW,
so you press one of the screen images. It’s a beach scene, so it can’t be all that bad. Right?

You feel the vibration and the motion ramping up, so you hold on to a handle at the edge of a workstation until the movement stops. Then the door opens, yet the monitors don’t say where you’re at or what year it is.

“What’d you do?” Si asks.

“I saved us.”

“You think it’s safe to go out there?”

“I don’t hear anybody,” you say. “You think we’re still invisible?”

You step closer to the door opening and hear the sound of the ocean.

We’re somewhere better. Somewhere we can get a tan.
But
you feel your bare head and face and know you won’t be able to stay in the sun for too long.

“Ready?” you ask Si.

“Man, I was born ready. Born to be wild.”

You shake your head. You’re really not wanting anything wild. Not for a long time.

You step out of the machine but don’t recognize your location. Your feet sink as you find yourself walking in soft sand. Then you see the water nearby.

“Hey, look
 
—there’s a horse,” Si says.

He pulls the large beast toward you by its reins.

Something doesn’t feel right.

Then again, you’ve just journeyed through time and space in an outhouse. Or in a time machine that looks like an outhouse, which might actually be worse. So lots of things don’t feel right.

“I don’t think this is West Monroe,” Si says.

“Of course it’s not West Monroe, Si! When was the last time you saw a beach in WM?”

You decide to hop on the horse, and Uncle Si gets up behind you. You don’t see anything for miles. Just sand, with water on one side and forest on the other.

For a while the two of you ride in silence. No one is around. The sun is blinding. Sweat streams down your forehead and your back.

Then you stumble upon some massive building that blocks out the sun.

“What’s that?” Si asks.

You stop the horse and dismount, staring up at the huge structure.

“I’m back. I’m home. All the time, it was . . . We finally really did it.”

Then you recognize it.
No . . .

You’re standing in front of the Statue of Liberty, except half of her is buried in the sand.

You start to scream. “You maniacs! You blew it up! Noooooooooo
 
—”

THE BEGINNING . . . OF THE END?

Start over.

Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

TOMORROW

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR KORIE
was a huge success. She laughed at the picture of herself with John Luke, thinking you had done some fancy stuff with Photoshop. You ended up going outside later that night to check on the time machine, but it was gone, and John Luke and Si had no idea where it went.

Now it’s lunchtime on the following day, and you head out of your office to find Jase. You’re in the mood for a shrimp sandwich at Duck Diner. As you walk into the warehouse, you end up finding the wooden outhouse, looking just as it did the day before.

“No way.” Someone’s definitely playing a trick on you now.

You hear footsteps approaching
 
—maybe it’s the culprit.

“Dad?”

You turn and see John Luke standing there. Wearing the same clothes as yesterday
 
—same cap, same everything.

“Are we going?” he asks.

“Going where?”

“Going to get Mom’s birthday present.”

You look at him for a moment.
This isn’t funny.
Then you keep looking at him.

“What?” John Luke asks.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Mom’s birthday?”

He has no clue what you’re getting at.

“Didn’t we have the party
last
night?” you ask.

But once again, John Luke’s face is blank. He changes the subject. “What is that?” he asks, pointing toward the outhouse. “Did you open it?”

Okay, fine, I’ll play along with Father Time.


I’m
not opening that door,” you say, repeating what you told him
yesterday
.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I think . . . I think maybe someone’s playing a trick on me. Or I’m losing my mind. Which very well might be happening right now.”

“I’ll open it,” John Luke says, grinning as he starts to tug on the handle.

“Hold on there,” you say without any conviction.

John Luke opens it anyway.

“Maybe you shouldn’t step inside that thing.”

But he does. And soon the antennas are flashing. Just like yesterday, John Luke is missing when you open the door.

You remember what Si told you after he landed from parachuting.

“There’s been a space-time continuum problem. You have to go back to the future.”

It’s either that or you’ll probably be trapped inside this
Groundhog Day
forever and ever.

Living out the same day. Or days.

Day after day.

Week after week.

You get inside the machine. There’s really no other option.

Do you travel to the year 2319?
Go here
.

Do you just sit inside the machine without doing anything?
Go here
.

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