DIAL “T” FOR TIME TRAVEL OR TICONDEROGA OR TRIGONOMETRY OR…
A graphic scrawls across the screen “EARLIER THIS EVENING”. Mortimer Kjedelig leans against the wall next to the corridor leading to the the super secret back entrance that only the talent knows about, the entrance that allows the PRIME wrestlers to escape without the issue of being hounded by bloodthirsty, needy fans. Kjeldelig is sporting a long houndstooth overcoat, why? Because he thinks it’s cool….even if he sweating like Richard Simmons running an aerobics class in hell to the tune of “Physical” by Olivia Newton-John on an endless loop. Morty (if that is his real name) finally sees the person he is waiting for approaches.
Mortimer Kjedelig: Martina McFly, as I live and breathe!
The Time Lord looks at the masked wrestler, expressionless. But then again, can you blame her? All she wanted to do is freeload from catering. Is that really so much to ask?
Mortimer Kjedelig: I admit, I have spent the better part of the week feelin’ a little upset by what transpired with us last week. Admittedly, I may have come off, in a certain perceptive light, as…too forward and things got messy. Not all of it my fault, mind you. You need to take responsibility for your part as well with your “Nothin’ personal” and condensatin’ tone. But then, you took it too far and after our interaction last week, you went back in time and somehow alterated my match with Great Scott. You got some balls, you know that? You and I both know that is the only way that that fuckin’ skidmark coulda beaten me! I don’t know how you did it, if you roofied me or roided him up or what, but I know you did it!
To this accusation, there is an eyebrow raise and the crunch of a nacho. She stands tall, her voice sharp.
Anna Daniels: Don’t be absurd, Mister Anderson. If we wanted to screw you in a match, we’d be a bit more obvious.
Mortimer Kjedelig: Mister Ander….oh! Me! Well, forgive me if I’m not buyin’ it. When I was workin’ for…the…insurance industry….sometimes unruly people would be made an example of and get early retiremented, sometimes with a rodent in their mouth, and other times, people would just disappear and never be seen again, to which the management stated the employee quit and other times, people had an unexpected work related injury. But, you know what? I’m not tryin’ to argue the point. I’m feelin’ like maybe I wanna give you another shot.
Mortimer Kjedelig reaches into his trenchcoat and pulls out a heart shaped box and hands it to Anna Daniels.
Mortimer Kjedlig: Don’t get the wrong idea. I got it in the clearance bin at the dollar store. Eighty percent off. I think they’re still good. The expiration date is faded, but hey! It’s an adventure, right? Consider this a gesture of peace between us. So, whaddya say we revisit my little request from a couple weeks ago?
She looks at the box. Then back at Mortimer. Then she took the box, curious.
Anna Daniels: We’ll listen to what you have to say. No promises, though.
Mortimer Kjedelig: It’s simple, you do your little time travel thing, go back to January 27, 1999. Find an eighteen year old kid named Rowan, scrawny guy wearin’ one of them carnegie sweaters. Like Mister Rogers. A real nerd type. He’d be workin’ at the Macy’s in the mens department. You just tell the kid, do not listen to his uh, “alleged”, cousin, Mikey. Tell him do not get into that car. Bada Bing, Bada Boom, Abracadabra, Alakazaam! You come back, there’s a happy endin’ for everybody involved. Except Cousin Mikey. He’s “allegedly” fucked. I’ll text you the details. You got a disposable phone?
Anna Daniels: Hm.
The vessel that is Anna proceeds to set down her plate of nachos and the discount Valentine’s candy. For a moment, she doesn’t look at Morty. There’s the turning of gears, as if the Multitudes are considering the offer. It feels like forever to him.
Anna Daniels: No, sir. We do not have a disposable phone. and you’re thinking about this a bit too optimistically, don’t ya think?
There was a shift in that sentence, the sharpness turned into smokey brashness. Before anybody else can think about such things, there is another that would remind someone of cold militant bluntless.
Anna Daniels: First of all, let’s consider that we did go to Mister Rowan’s Neighborhood. We tell him exactly what you said. Who the hell are we to him? We would be some random lady that stumbled into the men’s department pretending to get a present for our husband. Why would he believe a single damned word we said? It would be a stranger’s word against the word of a…
A pause for dramatic effect. It’s clear that while the one speaking is harsh, whoever’s steering the vessel simply cannot themselves as they perform the most exaggerated air quotes in recorded history.
Anna Daniels: …”cousin”. Now granted, this can be remedied by going a bit farther back and building some sort of friendship. But here’s the big hurdle.
A sudden movement as her hands go from air quotes to clutching onto his shoulders as hard as possible. It is the motion of someone who needs to be understood and her tone goes along with it. Frantically in a stream of consciousness manner.
Anna Daniels: What if you’re wrong? You think it’s silly, right? Biggest mistake of your life undone by a simple fix. Bada Boom, Bada Bang, Abracadabra, Alakazam, and every other psychic Pokémon. But take off the rose colored glasses for a bit. Consider the possibilities of what happens if Rowan doesn’t enter Cousin Mikey’s car. That guy sounds like nasty business. Do you really think he’d accept Rowan’s decision? Wouldn’t there be something worse right around the corner? Maybe there is no such thing as HAPPILY EVER AFTER. MAYBE THERE’S JUST LIFE IN ALL ITS COSMIC HORROR AND INSANITY!
Another pause. Slowly, she unlatches from his shoulders and returns to a neutral state. She picks up her plate of nachos and crunches into a chip. Almost like the outburst never happened. A clearing of her throat.
Anna Daniels: Answer’s still no, bud.
Anna takes another chip and proceeds to walk off leaving Mortimer Kjedelig staring, nay, glaring at her, his lip twitching, his fists clenching and he looks at the frugal heart shaped gift and then back in the direction of where Anna has made her exit
Mortimer Kjedelig: You fuckin’, manipulatin, CANCEROUS WHOAH!!!!!
Mortimer Kjedelig grabs the box of chocolates, raises them above his head and slams them on the ground and proceeds to stomp on them and then stomping becomes jumping up and down on them like a child throwing a tantrum. He grabs the large coffee pot on the catering table and slams it down on the pink cellophane, red cardboard, chocolate and cherry mess on the ground. Mortimer looks down at the result of his rage and frowns….and sniffs….breathing heavy and then looks down the corridor as the scene ends.