It took him a while…nearly 40 years, but he finally solved the problem with his sub-transit temporal confabulator. Or we can just call it a “time gate”, for you and me. It all started as a game when he was a kid. He would build spaceships, gadgets and machines out of any sort of cardboard box he could find. He would use old wrapping paper tubes for swords and flatten boxes for his shield to slay the dragon dog that lived in the house. If it was a small box, like a shoe box, then the machine would be a model for his action figures…a miniature to experiment with and hopefully build it to scale at a later date…when his
Yeah…I used to be MegaMan. Once…a long time ago. Not just once, I mean, I was always MegaMan. I don’t ever really remember a time that I wasn’t MegaMan. Well, I wasn’t called MegaMan when I was a kid…and no, I wasn’t called MegaKid. I was just Jonathan. Not an ordinary kid, but just Jonathan at the time. And all through those years my Dad would always make sure I never forgot how special I was, about how I was to save the world. Every time I got angry or frustrated as a kid my Dad was right there to turn it into a “learning moment” about how extraordinary I was, and about how I needed to judge each situation
They scared the be-jeebers out of me the first time I saw them. It was late at night as I was getting up to pee. Slowly stumbling down the hall to the bathroom, everything was dark with only enough light from the windows to allow me to make out the outlines of the doorways and corners, enough to help me from stubbing my toes. I saw the glimmer out of the corner of my eye and turned to see him standing there as a hollow see-through man. He was standing in the kitchen, slightly blurry and translucent but I was able to make out some sort of packages in his arms. He saw me and we both screamed. He dropped
The screams of terror filled the night shocking him out of his bed. High pitched nightmare screams that could only come from a 6 year old child’s lungs. The word “Daddy” was screamed repeatedly as one long word “daddydaddydaddy” at decibels that almost had the neighbors dialing 911.
…and he told me this mid-drink which I almost spit up. This was when I began to realize, I was in the middle of a professional-drinker-bar-room-whopper. This was going to be the “fishing” story of a lifetime. The one that got away. I hoped and prayed that he was a good story-teller because I liked what I heard so far. Yes, I was in the mood for a seriously good yarn. Fasten your seat belts ladies and gentlemen and keep you hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.