<1>
After the previous couple of relaxing weekends on Sunday I was preparing myself for some excitement. It's not so much that I go looking for adventure, however I know from previous experience that sooner or later, adventure will come looking for me.
Do you want me to create a weekend adventure filled with entertaining yet unfortunately fictitious frivolity?
If yes, proceed to <3>
If no, just tell me what you really did, proceed to <7>
<2>
Washington, 2013
President Chelsea Clinton, fresh from her extreme makeover, ascended the steps to the podium. Camera flashes popped and flared from the immense gallery before her on the lawns of the Whitehouse. Pausing for dramatic effect, she spoke the words that the free world had been waiting close to two decades to hear, "We Got Him!". The assembled crowd roared. Whilst Osama Bin Laden was still at large in his subterranean cavern network in Afghanistan, he was now known to be only a fall guy and the true terrorist mastermind, Dorganath had finally been taken into custody. Chelsea continued, "He was deep, deep undercover in Chicago-ish. Secure within a sham role as Layo administrator, Dorg had singlehandedly brought the Western world to it's knees. But We Got Him!"
From my vantage at the back of the gallery I nodded as the final puzzle piece fell into place. It all made sense to me now. Satisfied my instincts were proven correct I quickly phased off to . . .
Go to New York, 1983? Proceed to <8>
Go to Fiji, 1963? Proceed then to <6>
<3>
And so it was, bright and early Saturday morning, adventure, in the form of a statuesque redhead dame came knocking at my door. I thought to myself (as opposed to my unique ability to think to others) 'Here we go, another weekend filled with mind blowing, frenetic, freakish, exuberant, immoral, nasty, wanton, luxuriant, rampaging, unbridled, implausible and whimsical debauchery.'
Sure. That all happened in due course but it was what preceded those 2 and a half minutes that made this weekend interesting. Without saying a word, she reached into the low cut bodice of her French maid's outfit and extracted a . . .
If you wish for her to bring out a compact time-travel device that sends me on a good wholesome fun adventure, proceed to <11>
If instead she has some mains-powered device of an arousing, yet simultaneously disturbing nature down that top, proceed to <9>
<4>
Japan, 1603.
Ieyasu Tokugawa summoned the clan of black-clad assassins before his throne. "It is to you, the Red Monkey Claw Clan, that I entrust the continuation of this ancient duty. Hone your deadly skills continuously for if ever this sacred balance is disturbed, it is incumbent upon you to secure its restoration. No matter when, even say, 404 years in the future, if Pseudo's posts should go unthanked, slay everyone!"
Go to Melbourne, 24 September 2005? Go to <3>
Go to New York, 1983? Proceed to <8>
<5>
12.32pm, Delivery Room C, Brisbane hospital. "Push Mrs Paton, almost there, I can see the head. One more push, Aaaaaaarggghhhh, Congratulations! A beautiful baby boy. What's his name? Matthew. That's lovely (she writes name down on a small piece of paper, sticks it to trolley). We'll get him off and clean him up now and bring him back to you in a few minutes." Nurse takes baby away.
12.32pm, Delivery Room D, Brisbane hospital. "Push Mrs Trump, doing well, Baby is crowning. keep breathing, Aaaaaaarggghhhh, Congratulations! A beautiful baby boy. What's his name? Don. That's nice (she writes name down on a small piece of paper, sticks it to trolley). We'll take him off and clean him up for you and bring him back in a jiffy." Nurse takes baby away.
Two nurses, normally perfectly competent, are wheeling babies down maternity ward hallway. Large gust of wind. Paper flies everywhere. Nurse falls over. Baby trolleys collide. Confusion reigns. Nurse picks up two naming cards from the floor and sticks back on trolleys randomly. Newly arrived present day Matthew sighs heavily,
"Ok, but is he happy? Would sleeping every night with a succession of ever younger wives on a bed of scattered hundred dollar bills really bring you joy?" I sigh again, even louder this time, as I program the time travel device for . . .
Washington, 2013? Go to <2>
Rome, 57BC? Go to <10>
<6>
Oops! Faulty time travel device! Fiji?? I found myself standing on a hot basalt block in a sea of lava. That's the problem when you mess with time travel and the very fabric of the Universe.
THE END.
<7>
Worked all day Saturday, nothing terribly exciting occurred. Kids ran mental and I came perilously close to killing them, my wife and myself at several points in time. Went to bed early in anticipation of an interrupted night's sleep and a too-early rising Monday morning.
THE END.
<8>
New York, 1983. I boldly strode into the offices of my new broker, Toby Sachs.
"Tobes, I want to buy shares in these companies - Microsoft, General Electric, Wal-Mart, Oracle, Hewlett-Packard Co, Verizon Communications Inc., The Home Depot Inc, Boeing Co, Bank of America Corp., Pfizer Inc., J.P. Morgan Chase & Co., Time Warner Inc., Procter & Gamble Co., Costco Wholesale, Johnson & Johnson, Dell Inc .... and sell those in Beta Video, The Seagrass Flooring Company, Baghdad Condominium Co and Enron"
That organised, time to go to . . .
Go to Fiji, 1963? <6>
Go to Rome 57BC? Head to <10>
<9>
An erotic story? Are you kidding? If you have come here for inspiration from me, of all people, then your plight must be a sad one indeed.
THE END.
<10>
Rome 57BC.
"Friends, Romans, Countrymen. Lend me your ears. I am hungry but I do not know exactly what it is I wish to eat. I feel like something pretty substantial, but simultaneously, not too heavy."
"But Jules, there's not much on offer. Cornelius burnt the toast and all we have left is some lettuce and a pig. Even the hen's eggs have not hatched and I have discarded them into that pot of water over by the fire."
Newly arrived centurion Mattonius Titus Patonus speaks up, "Guys - I have a crazy idea!"
Problem solved, I head off to . . .
Japan, 1603? Proceed to <4>
How about London, 1983? Skip to <12>
<11>
. . . compact time-travel device! Intimately familiar with the apparatuses (apperatii?) of 4th dimension travel through vast previous experience I grabbed a 600ml bottle of Diet Coke, a large calibre hand gun (that I have kept around in case of battles with ninjas) and punched in the coordinates for . . .
Should I go back to Brisbane, 1973? If you think that sounds good, head on over to <5>
How about London, 1983? Skip to <12>
<12>
The polite smattering of applause rose from an appreciative audience of mothers and fathers attending the schoolboys rugby match between Belgravia College and Hampstead School for Boys. Mr Wilkinson looked proudly out over the field, smiling proudly at his infant son Jonny playing in his first game for Hampstead. Mr Wilkinson leaned over to the father standing next to him - "My boy is going to play for England one day and flukily win them the World Cup." That father next to him, still slightly disoriented from the exiting of the time-space continuum, murmured "Not likely" as he raised the Magnum 44.
Little Jonny never even heard the sharp crack of the pistol being fired as the slug took him just slightly to the left of his sternum. I suppose I could have taken out his knee but I just had time for the thought 'Better safe than sorry' before I phased off to . . .
Back to Brisbane, 1973? Go to <5>
Forward to Washington, 2013? Go to <2>
