INTO THE PAST

　

　

My interview with a nut-case wasn’t unusual during my work week. Being chief operating officer of the largest patent attorney‘s office in Washington, left me little choice but to interview most of the nut-case propositions. In front of my desk, sat a small helicopter like device with two seats in it. On the outside were whirling radius objects that sped so fast around the small machine, sounds of what might be gun fire, exploded in my office as the whirling objects broke the sound barrier.



“Enough already, you should hear this with my hearing aids on,” I said.

The cute blonde operator dressed in a tight silk tee shirt and hot pants opened the porthole,

“What about it Mr. Charlton, want to see yourself again when you were twenty.?”



“I don’t take dares without being serious, Judy. Move your tight “you know” over, I’m coming aboard.”



“Are you sure your heart can handle a trip through time?”

“With what your flashing at me, lass, if I can handle that, I’m up to the ride.”

“Now don’t take this as being forward, Mr. Charlton, but the seat is so small, I’ll need to sit on your lap to close the cockpit. Any issues with that?”

“Not on my part if you’re used to elevator rides.”

“Sounds interesting, I’m closing the hatch. Oops, sorry about brushing your cheek.”



“It seems to me, you could manage to keep those puppies in order.”

“I’m trying, you can only do so much with a pair of 38’s.What time period?’

“Late fall, 1955, University of Miami campus.’

“Here we go, hold on tight.”

“I would but you have my arms pinned to my side.”

“Oops again , I need to adjust the seat handle, it’s under your right leg. Just a

minute.”

:”Take all the time you need Judy, I’m not in any hurry.”

“Thank you for being polite. I think I finally reached the handle.”

“Judy,”

“What?’

“That’s not the handle your looking for.“

“Oh it isn’t, too bad.”

“Judy, start this damn thing.”

“My but you’re anxious, Mr. Charlton. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world unless

you pleaded with me.”

“Okay, Judy, I’m in your hands, but you can forget about the hurt issue.”

“Got it sir, cleared for take off.”

“So am I.”

Smoke and noise filled the room, the plaster on the walls cracked from the heat and then the machine disappeared. Three weeks later with not a sign of the time machine, Miss Bristle Butt, Charlton’s executive secretary filed a missing persons report. Then a telegram surfaced from 1955, with faded writing,

As Miss Bristle opened it, a smile erupted across her craggy brow,

“Miss Bristle, having a wonderful time, be back in the spring. Get that worthless son of mine and put him to work again. Tell him his bonus will be a six week trip with Judy, I’m not selfish about sharing things, especially with junior. Oh yes, and order six refills on my prescription.”