If I Could Turn Back Time
Cutting backstage from that intriguing teaser video, we find one half of tonight’s main event deeply focused. Eyes open, staring dead ahead and mumbling under his breath, this might be what sport psychologists call ‘visualization.’
Alexander Redding: Earth to Ted. You doing alright there, good buddy?
Leaning into frame, while waving a hand past Palmer’s fixed gaze, Alexander Redding tries to get his best friend’s attention. As Ted’s focus breaks, the shot pans back to reveal the American telephone booth, once part of Ma’ Bell’s grand fleet.
Teddy Palmer: Woah! How dare you break my concentration? I’m trying to train here…
If your dog just perked up, it’d be the steam pouring from Grady Patrick’s ears at levels above human hearing, looking a little red under the bowler cap.
Grady Patrick: This!? You call this training?
Ignoring the smartly dressed agent, Palmer turns back to Redding with a huff and mildly flailed arms.
Teddy Palmer: Great! It’s gone now, and I ain’t getting it back.
Alexander Redding: I want to say I understand what is going on here…
Teddy crosses one leg over the other, and with a slight shrug of acceptance, places both hands behind his head.
Teddy Palmer: Don’t beat yourself up over it. Quantum Mechanics isn’t for everybody.
Grady Patrick: What the…
Grady’s thought trails in confusion, whereas Ted looks at him with an academic smugness.
Teddy Palmer: Time Travel, Grady. Look it up.
Ted turns his focus towards Red.
Teddy Palmer: Here’s a serious question for ya: If you could go back in time, where would you go? Or would it be ‘when’ would you go? Or is it both?
As Ted debates grammar with himself, Grady swipes at his face in frustration.
Grady Patrick: Wait, that’s what you’re thinking about!? Red just lost! Again! And here you are, busy philosophizing about time travel!?
Alexander Redding: Don’t need to hear that, Grady. But, Ted has a good question. Now, everyone automatically goes to that baby Hitler snuff film. But, I’m sure they’d Biff the Hell out of it: go back to the past and bet big on sports shit they know is gonna happen.
Teddy Palmer: True, true. That’s a good one. But I was thinking more along the lines of a personal moment in time. Like, for instance, I’d like to revisit that bikini contest I won.
Head tilted, trying to shake a bad image out of his head, Alex lets the liquor assist.
Alexander Redding: I recall the event, unfortunately. But, why that, specifically?
Teddy Palmer: I mean, why not? Fun times.
Alexander Redding: So you’d just go back to relive it?
Teddy Palmer: Pretty much.
The Iceback of Notre Dame shifts to lounge in his chair and ponders.
Alexander Redding: I think I’d go back and stop myself from buying that engagement ring. Warn the idiodic, almost-twenty year old that I was. Or slip you a pocket knife as kinda your lead shield from that zip tie kryptonite.
Silence befalls the two men on Red’s somber note. Grady looks less than amused with the conversation taking place moments before the evening’s main event. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Ted breaks the awkward silence.
Teddy Palmer: Remember when I was Jasmine’s Genie? I’d go back and use water based paint rather than acrylic…
Alexander Redding: Chicago was an interesting time, I’ll give it that much.
Teddy Palmer: Everything was blue for days. I mean…everything…
At the height of the nonsense the usually frazzled manager could stand, Grady slams a fist to the table, grabbing the attention to himself.
Grady Patrick: Again, main event! Ted, get your ass ready, and get to that ring!
Standing to meet the guy he was near eye level with sitting down, Alexander Redding puts a reassuring hand on Grady’s shoulder.
Alexander Redding: Alright, alright. Let’s stop thinking about this.
Grady Patrick: Thank you!
Alexander Redding: No use worrying over it. Not until we at least run an experiment, test a hypothesis.
Teddy Palmer: Are you suggesting…a Time Travel Trial?
Walking behind the third wall, obscured from camera, Red returns with an eerily familiar character in tow.
Teddy Palmer: Is that Blueberry Muffin’s Mexican Mime?
Alexander Redding: No, no. This is El Hijo Del Super Cool Gal Jr. Notice the bikini.
Obviously branded with the ampersand.
Teddy Palmer: Hola, bombón!
Red just smiles, and marches the mannequin straight into the accommodating sliding doors of the phone booth.
Alexander Redding: Wait, shit. What was the phone number again, Theodore?
Teddy Palmer: If I had to guess? Eight six seven five three oh nine.
With a shrug, Red punches in the digits, and steps clear of the area.
Alexander Redding: Let’s hope to Rufus that this works.
What starts as a subtle shaking leads to flashing lights, sparks shooting from the old connection at the top, before sparks begin shooting out from everywhere.
Grady Patrick: That’s not supposed to do that, is it?
Looking about the cubicle for a liquid not alcoholic, Red has no luck. Thinking quickly, he dives for the plug and disconnects the circuit. Smoke bellows from inside the booth, leaking from the seams of the rickety frame.
Teddy Palmer: Just as I suspected…
Teddy stands from his chair, disappointment strewn about his face. With a deep exhale, his head hangs.
Teddy Palmer: Time Travel is bullshit…
And with those words, Ted departs from the frame, enroute to face off with PRIME’s resident ‘Time Lord’.’ Red, still laying on the concrete, coughs as the smoke blurs his vision. Swatting his line of sight clear, a grin crawls across his face and he points behind Grady.
Grady Patrick: What?
Grady turns around to see Enemigo IV standing behind him. His arms are crossed and his foot is tapping the floor rhythmically. Grady slouches in defeat, looking back at Red.
Grady Patrick: If I could go back in time, I would have just been a doctor like my mother asked.
We fade to the last commercial break before the main event.