What did Aunt Wilhelmina want him to do this morning? That’s right – turn the clocks back an hour. There were the VCRs, DVD players, alarm clocks, not to mention all those appliances in her kitchen. Any of one her servants could do this job, but this was the one chore Aaron wanted to do himself, twice every year.
Twice a year, these were the only times Aaron could move in time without having that damned time machine do it for him. He could do it without risking bodily injury or death. What if the time machine transported him into a plane crash?
He jumped out of his skin when he opened the door to the morning room. A mass of pink blubber and curly hair lay in the bed. His violin lay on the dresser. What was he doing in Aunt Wilhelmina’s Presidio mansion?
“Hey, Nero,” Aaron called out, “what’re you doing in here?”
“You walked by, and I’d been looking for a way out Byzantium 1435, so I bummed a ride on that machine of yours,” his New Jersey vowels showing despite himself. “Mine’s still in the shop back there, won’t get it for another five hundred years ago. You didn’t know I’d stowed away? Good.”
“So when do you come from?”
“And when do you come from?”
“I asked first. And you’re trespassing in my aunt’s house.”
“Nice digs, buddy.”
“Fat ass, buddy.”
“Your aunt’s a dried-up old prune, Aardvark. She wasn’t interested in a quick ride on the Nero express.”
“Your skin has the tone of dead whale blubber, Nero.”
“Where can I get myself some? This is San Francisco after all, isn’t it, the land of free love?”
Aaron liked him. He could tell it was the beginning of a great friendship.
No comments:
Post a Comment