A crazy situation

The fragrant scent of figs, leaves, and dirt awoke Wilbert. He squinted his eyes open and shut them quick – the bright sun went through his head like a saber. Oh, where in the name of Walter Mitty did this pounding headache come from? Wilbert tried to open his eyes again, but all he saw were blurry green leaves and a bright white light beyond it. He had a bitter, metallic taste that came from his molars. Did a filling come out? But his mouth was so dry, it felt as though his cheeks remained glued to his teeth and gums. And then his stomach lurched.

Oh, just another hangover – no big deal.

Where was he? But more importantly, when was he? He tried to remember what the time machine had done. He’d wanted to visit Mesopotamia, but no – now, he remembered – it’d transported him to ancient Rome and the bordello of Messalina. That’s right, that’s where the hangover came from – an orgy of brandywine, fruit nectar, olives, and figs. Also a round, sporting with Messalina’s voracious fertile crescent and then Marcus Agrippa’s statue physique.

Wilbert could feel the stirrings between his legs at the thought. Just as he liked it – a curvaceous woman followed by a muscular man. But then Emperor Clau-Clau-Claudius had broken up the orgy and sent Messalina over to the lion’s pit.

Damn the emperor, but where was his time machine? If he could get it into gear, he could be back at Aunt Prudence’s in time for dinner. And then Wilbert saw sandaled feet at eye level –

“Who harkens there?”

Wilbert looked up. A cherubic boy – no, young man, as Wilbert could saseew up his toga, a nice endowment he had, plump and long – stood by him, curly brown hair, pink skin, blue eyes, pudgy everywhere, holding a violin.

“A visitor from another state. And who are you?”

“I am Hexabus from Pompeii.”

Wilbert stretched up with his arms, lifted himself up with help from his knees. His stomach lurched and he vomited. When the spell passed and he stood to look Hexabus in the eye, Wilbert laughed to himself.

“This reminds me,” Wilbert said. “You’d better leave Pompeii.”