I returned home, landing quietly on my front porch. I could see through the front window that Laurel and Crank Boy were sitting on the couch, watching television. I was missing The Phyllis Diller Show, I realized, and I was about to burst right in and berate them for starting without me, when I realized I was still dressed as a Campus Republican. I tore off my monkey suit and was about to burst right in, when I then realized I was still wearing my super-hero suit. I tore off my suit and was about to burst right in, when I then realized I was standing buck nekkid on my porch… which just goes to show you, it's hard for a guy like me not to get arrested just for being a person.
I snuck around the side of the house and climbed in my bedroom window. I put on my usual snazzy wardrobe - jeans, a Monkees t-shirt, and a button down shirt with a pattern that often made people's eyes bleed if they weren't expecting it - and then sauntered wearily into the living room.
Sure enough, the wondrous visage of Phyllis filled the television set. They barely looked up as I came in, which I understood - Phyllis has her own rules that must be obeyed.
"There you are," Laurel muttered. "I thought you were getting chips."
"They were out," I replied. I breathed a huge sigh of relief to see her alive again. I wanted to celebrate, but I would have to do so quietly. "I'm going to make myself a nice, stiff drink. You guys want one?"
Both Laurel and Crank Boy looked up at me with a bewildering stare.
"What do you mean, ‘stiff drink'?" Crank Boy asked.
"I dunno, I was thinking maybe a gin and tonic, or a nice little screwdriver, or maybe a Long Island iced tea," I said, salivating at the thought.
An awkward pause followed.
"Scotto, what the hell are you talking about?" Laurel asked. "What the hell is a 'gin and tonic'?"
A horrible chill ran up my spine. I dashed into the kitchen and threw open the door to the liquor cabinet… and found only plastic cups and plates. No vodka, no rum, no precious, precious gin or bourbon or even a single solitary bottle of cheap red wine. I scoured the kitchen from top to bottom, but could find no trace whatsoever of alcohol… the fridge was devoid of beer, the freezer contained no hidden bottles of luscious likker, and the recycling bins near the back door contained only soda pop bottles.
Holy merciless Christ fucking Satan right in the eye socket, what on earth had I done? That Neanderthal I had killed… it had seemed so hilarious at the time, the suffering of a primitive being, but I knew now what I had done. Undoubtedly that wretched ur-human had been one of the direct descendents of the first person who ever realized that fermenting grain could get you really, really drunk… and now the world was devoid of the precious beauty known as the alcoholic stupor. Oh sure, Laurel was back to life, I mean, the trip wasn't a total failure, but… but a world without alcohol would be JUST TOO MUCH TO BEAR!
I dashed into my bedroom, ignoring Laurel's barbs about my mental health, and practically leapt back into the suit. All I had to do was go back and not kill a guy and we were set. I hurled myself into the sky with all my might, and once again began racing back in time. I kept expecting those smug cigar aliens to stop by and give me all kinds of "I told you so" shit but apparently they were too busy probing Midwesterners to notice.
And then, there I was, landing in the prairie again, somehow failing to violate the rules of time and space by appearing there at the same time twice. I guess that was one of the hidden powers of the suit - you could fuck with Time all you want, and never have to worry about paradoxically running into yourself and then having to kill yourself with your teeth in a mortal death match. There he was, that same freaked out Neanderthal with the big rock. He threw it my way, and I just let it bounce right off my suit. Then I shouted, "BOO!", and the ugly creep hobbled off into the distance to join his friends.
The glorious future of alcohol thus preserved, I headed once more back to my own time. This time, before heading home, I stopped by every known liquor store I could think of. Sure enough, there were dozens littering the streets of Seattle, just as I remembered. I was definitely going to celebrate, yes sir, there would be fireworks in the Ewok village tonight!
I joined Laurel and Crank Boy on the couch, having poured each of us the stiffest gin and tonics I had ever made in my life. Laurel took a sip and her lips practically curled right off her face as she said, "Thanks." Crank Boy did that thing where he looked like his whole head was suddenly being squeezed in a vice and then said, "Needs more lime." We sank into a reverie with Phyllis, lovely Phyllis, to entertain and enlighten us. The world was a simple place once again. Someday I would reveal my secret identity to Laurel and Crank Boy, but not today, not on this glorious day of victory and relaxation.
And then came an unexpected knock on the door. I rose wearily, fully prepared to tell whatever Jehovah's Witness was on the other side of that door that Jehovah was a bitch who was best witnessed tied up to my bed while I was fucking him in the ass. As it turned out, my polite rejoinder was a bit misguided. I opened the door, and to my utter surprise, saw Percy standing there, a shy smile on his face. A limousine waited for him at the curb.
"Hello, Scotto," Percy said. "Remember me?"
Slowly Crank Boy and Laurel got up off the couch, careful to maintain their distance.
"Percy," I whispered, "is that you?"
He nodded handsomely.
"I was in Seattle on business, and I thought I'd look you up," he said. "I don't really have time to stay, unfortunately, as I need to catch a flight to Munich. But… I couldn't get this close to you without stopping by to let you know… that I really appreciate what you said to me all those years ago in the Student Union. I know now how awkward and pushy and needy I was, and I understand why you avoided me for so long… and I'm really thankful that you took even that brief amount of time to sit down with me and make me realize that I didn't have to try so hard. That I could just relax, and instead of chasing after friends, friends would find me.
"Times have been good to me since then, Scotto. I gained a lot of self-esteem, and redoubled my studies in history and economics. I went on to start an ecologically sound car company that is about to release the world's first car that will run completely on water and cigarette butts. I've made myself a millionaire dozens of times over, and I've donated the greater share of my fortune to important causes, like helping end AIDS in Africa, and helping remove land mines from the world's hot spots, and helping fight illiteracy here in America, and doing my part to make sure that every single child has a warm place to sleep and a copy of Grand Theft Auto 29 in their console.
"And I have you to thank for all this industrious confidence, Scotto. You really taught me that all I needed to do was be myself, not some thing I thought you and your friends might want me to be. I couldn't let that gift go unrewarded, and so I've made a ten million dollar donation to what I believe would be a non-profit organization that you could really support: Alcoholics Anonymous. After all, I know how much you always looked after the young drinkers at school and made sure they knew the ropes… this is just a logical extension of the kindness you showed even back then.
"Well, I wish I could stay and reminisce, but I didn't get to where I am by not being punctual. I don't think I'll stay in touch, Scotto… it's enough to know that we had that one magic moment of connection, and then went our separate ways. It's a surprising gift that our reality has handed us, and I just wanted you to know I won't forget it. Take care of yourself, Scotto… but then, you always seemed to manage that, didn't you?"
And with a roguish smile, he nodded and wandered back down the steps to his car. An astonished Crank Boy and Laurel slowly made their way to my side and watched as Percy's limousine drove off down the street.
"What… the flying fuck… was that all about?" Crank Boy asked.
I trembled with rage.
"ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS??" I screamed. "You prissy bitch, I could have USED that money to buy ECSTASY! God fookin dammit all to mother fookin hell, don't you know how much Ecstasy COSTS these days?"
Laurel put her hand on my shoulder, and said, "Scotto… dude. Calm down."
"But… but what about giving that money to MEEEEEEEE??" I whined.
"Scotto, you're going to need to calm down or I'm breaking out the Thorazine suppositories again," Crank Boy said sternly.
I quieted down.
"Whatever that blast from the past was all about," Laurel said, "at least his heart was in the right place. Now… let's rewind The Phyllis Diller Show and break out that stash of morphine we've been hoarding."
I sighed. Laurel's hand on my shoulder was strangely comforting, and I realized just exactly what I'd been through that day. I turned and smiled at the both of them.
"I guess that does sound like quite the plan, now doesn't it?" I said. "Maybe you should be Captain after all."
"Huh?" she said.
"Never mind," I replied, heading back into the house. "Clearly I'm just a little tipsy…."