My life is a sham. My stoned neighbor woke me up 18 hours later only for me to discover I knew less about my self now then I did before. I saw several evil ninjas robbing a
Wal-Mart across the street last night, and I didn’t even feel like fighting them. On a lighter note, I received a mysterious invite to play RPG’s with three mysterious fellows dressed in all black and trench coats. They said it would be good to forget my troubles and pretend to be someone else for a while. But before I could ask any questions or tell my Mom where I was going. I was clubbed and thrown into the back of a Lincoln Towncar. After I reawakened, I was in a seedy water front warehouse at a table playing Dungeons and Dragons for my life. I secretly used my gifts to travel though time back 5 mins. at after each move, playing through every possible scenario. My creativity and my secret powers helped me to play to win against my menacing mob opponents. After I won, I stole the prototype
XL-1 Racer, which was in a giant car-shaped crate in the back of the warehouse. I used it to run over 1 mob boss, 3 goons, 2 old woman, a dog, 3 cats, 2 mail-boxes, and a fire hydrant. When I got home the car was repossessed and I couldn’t get my free cable TV anymore, This is the worst day ever.

 

2002-2-26   steve vortex II

I was in a pub with Derek and the gang, it seems we have let bygones be bygones, and have started fresh. We drank and talked and drank some more. I began to see pretty colors after about the 6th pint if you catch my drift. Sadly, the intoxication mixed with the awesome powers of time travel is a dangerous combination in which I haven’t held in the highest regard lately. I began tripping through time, as any good and drunk time-junky would do. Some 1,000 years into a distant future, I walked the streets as a strange foreigner to these people of the future. I slowly began to notice the slight stench of fish. I, in a drunken stupor, strolled up to the meat market in a frenzy of complaint. I whooped and hollered until I couldn’t anymore. I felt an immediate cold slap of fish from the meat man. I wailed in pain on the floor before the man threatened to get his young upstart of a nephew who would show me a thing or two. I was off. The man was ranting about how my kind doesn’t belong in the market and that I was trash. I tried to explain I was hypoglycemic, but he wouldn’t listen.
This indeed was a sad future. I began to sober up in a bleak alleyway behind the “Sizzler 3000” restaurant. I had enough good vittles for three weeks. But the cook stared a glassy cold stare of the sea when he dumped the next batch and chased me off with a meat tenderizer. I made my way to a museum of history to see why your average time-traveling teenage white male. To my horror, I found the entire history of America was acted out by fish/man mutant (bipeds with giant piranha fish heads) mannequins. There they were, George Washington crossing the Delaware, Lincoln giving the Gettysburg Address, Roosevelt during WWII. It was all there, but mocked and tainted by this fish head business. I exclaimed words of my distaste to the woman curator to only see a Giant fish monster. Fish monsters have taken over the whole world and my future. I ran to the nearest exit, breaking the glass cases in disgust along the way. I was a fugitive in a world I didn’t belong. It all started to make sense.
I dove into the nearest sewer, and 72 hours later I had traveled to an Antarctician bubble colony under the sea through a mass of networked sewer pipes traveling through the center of the Earth [where I had recruited a hardcore group of human rebel resistance fighters to aid me in my one man war against the fish people-surface dwellers]. Anyway, I saw a group of fish monsters (more gruesome than those of the city), most likely pirates of the sea. We waged our war, but to no avail. We fell back behind a makeshift bunker and waited. They had, of all people, my landlord held hostage. Damn. In order to save a fellow human for our cause, he would see me and I would most certainly have to pay the rent this month.
As I decided to strike back in a movement I called, Operation: Tuna Death, the strangest air vessel descended into the water and upon the air bubble like a feather falling from the skies. Just then a strike of several hundred lasers rained upon the fish monsters, and a powerful British voice belted out, “God, save the Queen.” A mysterious balloon rounded shaped child then gracefully fell from the ship. Then in a daring rescue attempt, the old English man swung from the cargo door of the ship by nothing more than his mustache screeching, “Don’t forget the duster, ole chap!” After the balloon boy made a cooing noise, they both proceeded climbing up the ‘stache to victory. They then used a grappling hook of sorts to retrieve my landlord. The ship then proceeded away through a time portal with the fish’s every tendril and tentacle gaining behind it, and with a quick flash they were gone. The mutant creatures dazed and confused for a while; then found, to their surprise, there captive was back in the bubble where he had been before as if he never left, Strange indeed. My freedom fighting force then set forth against the fish-fags with full strength. Fighting with our primitive blades and bombs, we were quite the match for those caviar-swooning fish heads. Anyway, as the battle raged on, we slowly drove the fishmen to the sea where they belong.
After the Great War, as I call it, I was made King of the Bubble. I had my men and the fish women to rule over. They mated like amoebas multiplied by rabbits mating each other. Soon I had legions of “quarter fish, and 3 quarters human” mammals for the ultimate breed of mutant army members. I soon grew power hungry and was overthrown by that which I had created. After living a week in exile I was mysteriously transported back to my time. But unknowningistly to me, I realized, my rental of “Legally Blonde” was a week over do. Oh man. I’m legally broke.

 

2002-3-6   steve vortex II

So I was on my way to my Time Travel IV AP class (it’s odd how a man with the ability of time travel can be so unpunctual). Anyway I arrived 20 mins. late and the teacher was so picking on me. Professor Brown had been explaining an extended version of the quantum time theory when I strolled in. He curtly welcomed me and as I took my seat he told the class that we would be starting the lecture over because of my tardiness. What a jerk. I wouldn’t have even bothered showing up if after the lecture we didn’t have a killer field trip to the 60’s to observe the social patterns of time travel in that era. Apparently, the head time traveling department in the world was based in Germany during the 1960’s. They produced artificial time traveling vessels in the form of the Volkswagen Euro Bus as well as mind altering drugs to help one get more in tune with there mental time traveling abilities. Anyway, it would have made a great trip had I not left my permission slip in my other jacket. As everyone else walked through the class time portal, I was to remain at PsyHigh working on the complete chapter 48 textbook definitions. This really blew. I told myself I would do them later and then time travel back and hand the definitions to me just moments after the class left so I could go home as opposed to waste my time at school. I waited and waited for my future self to bring by the definitions so I could leave, but he never showed. My future self is a lazy bastard. I sat in the room for 8 hours before I snuck out the window. I decided against doing the definitions because why would I do the definitions for my past self if my future self didn’t do it for me. As I was contemplating the whole issue, I walked by my physiology teacher; I asked her whose fault the not doing the definitions was. She told me that it wasn’t my fault but that I was beautiful anyway. I gave her a most confused stare. She then proceeded to seduce me. She was a beautiful 32-year-old teacher and I, an 18 year old in his sexual prime. I guess it was just meant to be. As she brushed my cheek with her lips, I received a detention for mind control. Although I am quite charming to the ladies, I haven’t the mental capacity for mind control. A Psy-Hall Monitor printed up my form of punishment and for the next 3 months I was stuck in a classroom. This never would have happened if I had just written my definitions, or even prior to, brought my permission slip for the field trip. Oh well. (Later I soon learned that Derek had been utilizing a remote control with the ability to control minds in a 5 ft. radius. So it was him who controlled my teacher into seducing me.)
 

2002-4-8   steve vortex II

After my 3 week time travel suspension for the violation of teacher/student relationship, I had so much bottled up time juice [a secreted slime which is produced through the pituitary gland in most time traveling psychics] …enough bottled up time juice to fuel a Greyhound Bus for a time travel trip back to the frontier days. No sir, I’m not exaggerating, because that’s exactly where I (and about 23 senior citizens on the chartered bus to Island Capri Casino) went today. No one wanted to go on a time trip with me. My parents were on a cruise in the Caribbean. My friends were busy watching this God-Awful movie, “2069: A Sex Odyssey”. (Stanley Kubrick would be rolling in his grave) I had lain down in the center of the road, I’d hoped to catch a sympathetic family carload to take back in time with me, but when the bus stopped I took the opportunity. Through the travel experience, I only had enough juice to transport everyone back to the 1920’s. Which made for an interesting trip, I think. Through some mystic time warp malfunction, my old buddies all transformed into there 1920’s younger selves (all quite normal looking after this metaphorical time-face lift) They then began to disperse, going to old hang outs, meeting old friends, having a gay old time, but I was alone. I tried to round up whom I could, but then some of the fellows that formally had walkers and oxygen tanks, beat me up in the old navy style, and then went to port to have what women they wanted. I was hog tied on the pavement for six hours until one of the hot old people chicks helped me up after coming out of a club at 4 AM. Her name was Delilah. She was a goddess wearing a long red dress. I tried to that she was one of those old ugly people that came with me on the bus, to keep myself in check, but her beauty was outstanding, and I couldn’t resist. As I reached in for the kill, I received a sharp slap across my cheek. Apparently I wasn’t being very formal in front of her [or the small crowd that had gathered]. She stormed off into the arms of another man. I was heart broken; it was like my own Grandmother forsaking me. But before I had recovered I had received a square blow across my jaw. The man was pummeling me to a bloody pulp. If the police hadn’t showed up I would have a world of trouble trying to use my time traveling gifts anymore. [You see, a time traveling psychic gets his time traveling juice from a region behind his nose, which by now had been nearly broken in two] Anyway, The two lovebirds headed off into the sunrise, and I was hauled off to jail. Why, I don’t know. As I was thrown in the back of the police car I grabbed the keys, but to my surprise the door wasn’t even locked, nor the handcuffs, in fact there were no handcuffs. I dove out the other side of the car only to be verbally halted by the commanding officer at the time, Sgt. McMurphy. Sgt. McMurphy was my homeroom teacher back in present day Psychic High School. I continued to run, but no one stopped me. A few men raised their voices in order to say that I was in big trouble. They pretended to reach for their pistols but I knew they didn’t have them. I told myself I would time travel back 15 mins. when the cops first got there and steal their guns, so they couldn’t hurt me with them now. But my time line strategy fell through with about four gunshots to my back. I fell to the ground wincing in pain. Sgt. McMurphy called me a pansy, he said they used rubber bullets. After being in the cooler overnight, I was released and spent the rest of my time at an old movie theater watching a Charlie Chaplin movie. I slowly transitioned back to my own time after I dosed off at the cinema. When I returned back to good old 2002, I was handcuffed and thrown into solitary confinement for breaking the time traveling field-trip protocol. I forgot I had left the 23 senior citizens back in 1920, all without permission slips, trackers, lunch money, or the bus. So apparently I was at fault. In my interview with Barbara Walters, I tried to explain the situation, but we were constantly taking make-up breaks for her cracking face. We couldn’t get through one question without her needing to be sprayed down. The editor must have had a field day with this one. I was sitting at home watching the show airing about a week later, and to my surprise my story was not there. Apparently they had hired some actor, Seth Green, to play me on TV and give my responses, but they weren’t even my responses. The actor stated that I had abused these old people and made them work in coal minds and that I made a pass at Barbara (which is only half true). My message was totally deleted out and scripted by some clever hotshot creative writer. I was probably going to jail, and I would have to take next semester at Psychic High by correspondence. Oh well.
 

2002-4-19   steve vortex II

This detention center doesn’t carry nearly the same connotation the tabloids labeled her as. After my conviction of “Time Crimes” (It rhymes, that’s how you know it’s an official Time/Space Law), I was imprisoned for a 30-day period. Life in the slammer isn’t all so terrible; I have Internet privileges, 3 square meals, and a big friend named Rodriguez who takes care of me. Rodriguez is a 48-year-old weight lifter from Oregon, who consequently time traveled back to Vietnam in order to save his brother. His time crime was attempting to single handedly win the Vietnam conflict, with modern laser weapons, thus changing history. He’s a real grizzly character, but he treats me good. Sometimes he calls me Tim (which was his little brother’s name). It can be creepy, but I think the good out weighs the bad. One night he then proposed this crazy plan in which I travel back in time to the prison visit him back two years ago and help him with plan Break: Omega. Apparently he has had this crazy plan to break out of prison for 5 years, and he has just been waiting to get a time traveling buddy to help him out. I couldn’t believe he had planned this plan so far in advance. At first I didn’t believe him, because he had this knack for stretching the truth. I agreed to help him, but before I transported back to 2000 I had thought what if he was just making up having the plan for 5 years. Why would he want me to go back only two years as opposed to five? Wouldn’t he want me to go back so he wouldn’t have to stay in prison so long? I began to think what he had told me was a mathematical subtraction error. So I transported back to 1997. And to my surprise I found Rodriguez rocking in the corner, sitting in a pool of day old urine, repeating the phrase, “I’m going to get out, I’m going to get out.” I thought I must be in the wrong cell, but it was Rodriguez; clear as day, by the number on his convict vest, 642215, that was his number all right. So I sat next to the stench of my former friend, until he claimed to have a plan. He said I should time travel to the future to get an envelope from him in the year 2026. Here I would receive my instructions and the rest of the plan. He was carefully sifting through old napkins with crazy designs on them. He said he would give me the designs and instructions now, but they were not perfected yet. But by 2026 they would clearly be finished, all nice and tidy in the envelope. I agreed to his plan and instantly jumped through the time vortex to make it to 2026. When I arrived Rodriguez greeted me with open arms, but apologized for his unfinished plans as he handed me an unsealed envelope, I thought the plans would be good enough, because he had 29 years to work on them, but I guess old age caught up with the incompetent bastard. The napkins had a lot of spirally-do’s that didn’t make any sense. He must have gone crazy since we last spoke, but I had brought him a snow cone anyway. Just as I was leaving he told me that I was a good kid and to stick to my guns, I thanked him for the experience and attempted to transport back to my time. Just as I did, the future prison alarm went off. I knew I was in it for sure. All times zones were alerted of the time breach and when I arrived back in the current time, an army of PsySWAT team members and Rodriguez greeted me. Except Rodriguez was not in his cell, he was not caged or chained at all. As I began to ask questions, a tall man in a dark suit walked up to me and said I was to be imprisoned for another 3 months due to my crazy time traveling escapades, and then he clamped on time restrictors (a device which prevents me from jumping through time). Rodriguez then was awarded a large bag of money and his freedom. He had turned me in for exchange of the freedom so he could finish what he started in ‘Nam. I began to swear like a sailor at the regurgitated civilian as he walked out the towering doors of the prison. It’s pretty lonely now that he’s gone though; I pass the time by doing arts and crafts. I don’t know, Maybe one day I’ll trick someone into a trick of sorts in which I will be freed. Oh well.
 

2002-4-25   Steve Vortex II

A time rift in the Space/time plain was created in the prison during a riot (Riot- food fight with the mashed potatoes) a time rift in which everyone was thrown back 2 weeks. Around two weeks ago I was still a free man. This turned out great. I was back loitering around 4th Street. It was magical, like it all happened two weeks ago. Anyway, I then remembered my ploy to pull over a small traveling family to travel back in time. Just then I turned to my left only to see myself (or past self) lying in the middle of the road awaiting helpful passengers assistance. I heard the horn of an incoming bus (the same bus filled with old people that I trapped and sent back to 1920). I darted into the center of the road to retrieve my former self as to prevent history from following this wretched trend. When I grabbed my/his shoulder the world stopped turning. All of a sudden the universe was falling apart. The sky was collapsing like a weakened dome, the oceans being drained, the continents ripping apart, etc. Back in school, Professor Brown had explained this old theory to me, that if you come into contact with your future or past self, you unravel the fabric of the universe and the time/space plain. I knew I had unintentionally destroyed all reality, but my quick thinking pulled through once again. After about 6 hours of bleak and utter darkness, I realized if I went back to stop myself from stopping myself I could prevent the whole mess. So I did. But I know what your thinking, that dummy just went back in time to do the same thing and destroy the universe again, but alas no. That happened the first time I went back to fix things, but after the third and fourth times I was in the zone, I knew what I had to do in order to fix everything. I time traveled into the distant future to the year 10,000,876, exactly one year after the proclaimed extinction of all human kind. Thus no mechanical time devices are built to go beyond this year, but as for all natural psychics, it was a walk in the park. Once I was transported to this distant time, I went on an epic quest for the one and only “Time Hero”. “Time Hero” was actually Michael J. Fox. He was appointed “Time Hero” after his Grammy nomination for Doc Hollywood, thus he has been overlord of all time. His experience in the movie saga, “Back to the Future” gave him just the right experience to save the universe. Apparently there was some time lag in the destruction of the universe, because the world still existed in the year 10,000,876 AD. Oh well. The first thing Mikie said to do was to transport us to 1955. Once we got there, he made a phone call to his old friend “Doc” (who reminded me of someone I just not sure who). We met up at the “Enchantment Under the Sea” Dance. From there, we had to make sure that whatever we did we surely got Biff’s Grandmother to go on a date with Principal Strickland. After about 6 wine coolers and a syringe full of pheromones we set off to the Italian Kitchen. The couples got along like a couple of rabbits. Sick, I know. After about 5 minutes, Mickie’s laughter subsided. I then asked him if now the time vortex had repaired itself and the universe. He said he didn’t know. I awestruck sat there in disbelief. Mikie then commented, “We sure got Strickland good didn’t we, buddy.” I gasped at his idea of playing a joke on that bald man, and then at Mikie’s reluctance towards his position of “Time Hero”. I wallowed in my self-pity as I transported back to the time when I destroyed the world by touching myself. I thought one last retrospective would do me good when I would hear random voices exclaiming my stupidity in the vastness of space during the rest of eternity. I then shot up with the greatest idea to fix everything ever. I hired myself a man who would ride a rocket thru the streets and snatch up my past self so he couldn’t commit the crime and my slightly less past self would not end the world by touching the other past self, right? I don’t know but it worked. I sat there triumphant on 4th Street, I had beaten time and space, I had restored dimensional stability. I was a god. About an hour later I was sentenced to 3 months in prison for abducting another carload of people to travel to the days of Christopher Columbus. I just couldn’t help myself.
 

2002-9-13   Steve Vortex II

My three month sentence slowly turned to four months after an inciddent concerning me and the postmaster's daughter. I didn't realize that a postmaster was so politically powerful. But anyway, now, I'm free man. Back to school and back to the basics. I was hanging out with Derek last night. He had said that the grocery store has been pretty boring without the time traveling exploits of your's truely. Oh well, I'm glad to be back. School is tough though. I had to drop my last semester of courses in order to serve my jail time. So I thought it would be easy to go through the classes again, but apparently Psyhigh has instituted new syllabi for all the higher learning classes, such as Time Travel IV AP. The course is now like 40% research, 10% homework, and 50% odd scavenger hunt though the recesses of time. You actually have to do more than just show up now. Also all you work is in pairs. You are partnered up by the computer's random name genorator program to a person in which they think is mentally compatable with your psyche. This week I'm partnered with Melvin Sweeney. He's the dumbest student at PsyHigh. His parent actually sent his two brothers to college, but couldn't afford to send Melvin to college. (or didn't want to shame the family name) So he's been sent to this high school. I hear they used to feed him fish heads and he lived in the basement. Gross. But he can't even time travel. So I don't know why he's in the class. We go on our first trip tomorrow. It'll be weird to actually try and make small talk with someone who eats fish heads. Well I could talk to Rodriguez in prison, and he was partial to fish heads. Oh well.
 

2004-2-4   steve vortex ii

Jesus H. Christ! I never want to spend another second with that Melvin kid. It was September 13th 2002 and we were going on our field trip for Time Travel IV AP. Our assignment was to go and collect a 18th century musket from the American Revolution, easy enough, right? In any case, I told Melvin to sit tight and that I'd go get the musket. So I jumped through time in the typical fashion and arrived July, 4th 1776. I beat up a local farmer, stole his clothes and headed into the local township of Philadelphia. I was supposed to absorb some of the era's culture and mannerisms before I returned, so I went to the Declaration of Independence signing for sentimental reasons, had some Tea, shoed my first horse, it was all good fun. Then I went to the local stockade, stole the musket, and just when I was ready to jump back to the present. I saw Melvin in a small hovering craft [presumably a home built time machine made of cardboard and a hover pad]. He was screaming, probably scared of the bending of time as he traveled back. Then there was silence. he looked around and saw all the towns people and began circling his craft. Of course the townspeople were frantic thinking that Melvin was in-fact one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. I yelled to Melvin to "get down from there", and to "stop scarring everyone". Melvin then had a look in his eye, a slight twitch. it was then I feared for the worse. You see Melvin before he made it to class that day was playing his 5th hour of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Melvin began running over the towns folk with his hover craft, laughing maniacally the whole way. He really just bruised their heads since he was floating which was alright I guess... but then he killed George Washington! Well, it was an accident I guess, he skipped off Ben Franklin's head which damaged his hover-pad on the bottom of his craft. He went spiraling out of control directly in George Washington's chest. Now this didn't kill him, it really just scarred him pretty good. Washington then thought that Melvin was a British assassin, and ran to get his horse and Musket. Sadly I had that musket so he couldn't shoot Melvin... God, I wish he shot Melvin. So anyway, Washington jumped on his horse which had a loose shoe and the horse threw Washington off paralyzing him. Melvin felt bad for hurting him with the time machine craft he was riding on so he went over to help the fresh paraplegic. He tried to turn Washington's Head the opposite direction to first aline it with his body and second to put it back into place as part of an ancient massage technique he learned watching the discovery channel. Sadly he was turning it in the wrong direction, snapping George's neck. I yelled at melvin for killing America's first president before he even made it to office. I told him not to do anything, I was going to travel back to the present to get our teacher so he could help fix it. But when I got there, our teacher Dr. Brown said there was no discrepancy in time and space. I was baffled at first, I figured the death of our first president would have major repercussions in the time space continuum. Shortly there after, Melvin returned. We collected our grades for the trip and went home. I still didn't understand what had happened. When I got home, I started to make some dinner. I tried and tried to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I couldn't do it. When I couldn't make dinner I lost interest and flipped on the TV. The History channel was on, I didn't want to watch it but the remote was all the way on the coffee table, and I was in no mood. As I watched I learned through and elaborate title sequence that it was a special about George Washington, America's first president. But it was weird, George Washington was black. I mean don't get me wrong black people are cool, but George Washington wasn't black. I was stunned to say the least. The special said he had dropped his last name "Carver" and quit his lifetime career as a peanut enthusiast to become America's first president at the request of a strange retarded looking fellow. It was then that I knew that Melvin had royally screwed time and space by replacing our first president with George Washington Carver. To be honest that didn't even anger me so much, cause I mean everything turned out basically the same and we didn't get in trouble for it. But what did anger me is that now there was no such thing as peanut butter. Melvin, you bastard. So after about a week of no peanut butter I decided to jump to the future, today February 4th, 2004, the day peanut butter was created, and for some strange reason Melvin no longer attended PsyHigh. So I began to enjoy this utopian future world sans Melvin, ahh, this is the life.