Screw the Universe (16 page)

“And I wasn’t! So everyone wins.”

“Yes, why not,” said Dr. Porn. “Anyway, I’m guessing you fathered at least one child, or, by virtue of
you
doing the, um, deed and not another man, didn’t father a child that might otherwise have been fathered, and those children, in turn, did or did not father children that otherwise would or would not have been fathered, and so on, thus altering the time stream significantly.”

“So, you’re saying because I porked some hippie in the past, Private Purplepants was never born.”

“Yes.”

“And my nastification also resulted in that floating scrotum up on the bridge?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Does that mean I’m related to him?”

“Most likely, yes. Indirectly, though.”

“I’m not ready to be a father, Porn!”

“You are aware you have a son, right, sir? On board the Zdravo? Right now? He’s probably in the daycare ward.”

Captain Tyler could do nothing but shit his shorts. Literally. It was disgusting.

After getting cleaned up and putting on a fresh pair of pants –
this
Federation was against showing any amount of leg at all cost – Captain Tyler found First Lieutenant Duknerts.

“’
Nerts, I just don’t know if I can live in this world.”

“Captain, if I could be so bold.”

“Boldly go, Archie.”

“Maybe you should meet your son first. That may help warm your heart towards our, um, universe.”

“I suppose. What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

“He could stab you in the face.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re kind of a terrible father. Well, the this universe you. Your son hates him... you... the other you.”

“This is getting confusing.”

“I agree,” said First Lieutenant Duknerts. “From now on I will refer to you as Dumb Tyler and the old you as Awesome Tyler.”

“I’m not sure that I agree with that.”

“Too bad,” replied the first lieutenant. “Also, hey, look, we’re here!”

First Lieutenant Duknerts knocked on the door of the daycare ward and then ran away laughing.

“I don’t think I like this Duknerts very much,” said Captain Tyler, noticing a very peculiar warming sensation coming from the doorway in front of him. Before he could figure it out, though, the door to the day care center swung open with a whoosh and a quickly evaporating fireball, revealing Little Oswald Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler Junior standing in the center of the room. The rest of the room, and the teacher, and the other children, were on fire.

“Okay, fuck this,” said the captain, slamming the door shut and running back to Dr. Porn, his one true friend on this ship. On the way, he bumped into Second Lieutenant Rhinotestis, shrieked like a little girl, called him a giant floating sack of baby juice and continued on his way.

Second Lieutenant Rhinotestis went back into his room and resumed weeping from an unknown duct of some sort.

“I can’t do this, Dr. Porn,” cried Captain Tyler, crying like a little crying baby. “I don’t like this world! How do I go back to the way things were?”

“Well, I’m no universe-renowned astrophysicist, but I’m guessing you’re going to have to go back in time again and stop yourself from procreating with all those unwashed counter-cultural hobos.”

“Stop... myself... from... Look, I know you mean well, but I don’t know if I can do that.”

“It’s either that or you continue to live here, in our world, where your very existence is frowned upon, with a pyromaniac child and a giant nutsack for a third-in-command.”

“Abstinence it is!”

Back in his cabin, Tyler said to the computer, “Please bring the ship back around to Timeskipado. When we’re in orbit let me know so I can make my way to the teleportation area.”

The computer whispered back, “I know you’re technically new here, sir, so I’ll let you in a little secret. You have a personal teleportation chamber right in your quarters.”

Captain Tyler pulled the loose change out of his pockets and sighed.

“Damn. Just dimes and nickels.”

“
No, I mean in your cabin. Not in your spare change.”

“Right, I knew that,” said the captain, looking around his bunk. “Now where now?”

“In your private bathroom. Above the toilet. You’ll have to stand on the seat and pull the purple handle.”

Captain Tyler walked into the bathroom and looked at the overly complicated toilet/teleportation chamber. For a super-advanced piece of machinery capable of bending time and space, it looked surprisingly like a toilet from the 1930s: a bowl at the bottom and a box at the top with two handles hanging off chains.

“What’s the red handle do?”

“It flushes the toilet.”

“Can I pull both at the same time?”

“I... I suppose... No one’s ever done that. And there’s no mention of it in the personal teleportation chamber guidelines.”

“Then I will take a shit while I teleport!” shouted the captain, dropping his drawers triumphantly. “For science!”

Several hundred sabre-toothed butterflies slept in the trees surrounding the time machine when Captain Tyler appeared with pants around his ankles. He looked at the native inhabitants, irritated that no one saw his magnificent entrance and pulled up his pantaloons. Upon tightening his belt one notch too far he let out the most ear-blasting, nose-melting fart known to man or beast.

Still, no response from the butterflies.

Captain Tyler gave up and entered the time machine, and, not remembering when the 1960s were, spun both dials with sheer recklessness and disappeared into the past.

The time machine appeared in a small room that belonged to a young, incredibly attractive woman. Tyler exited, saw the woman lying in her bed and immediately got in with her. Understandably, she was woken up by the intrusion and screamed.

“Shh…” whispered Tyler, bringing his hand to his lips.

“Who are you?” asked the woman.

Tyler thought about it for a moment and decided to go with a fake name as a precaution, to not upset the apple cart, as it were. He said, “The name’s, uh, Gabriel, my dear.”

“What are you doing in my room?”

“I’m, uh…” said the captain. Judging by the mud and straw decor of the woman’s room and the ratty-ass clothes she was wearing, Tyler deduced that he may have overshot Woodstock slightly and ended up very far in the past. But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he came to do. Or undo. Or whatever. At any rate, Dr. Porn didn’t say the captain couldn’t bone this woman, so, Captain Oswald Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler, inept at most everything, but by some miracle quite deft at picking up the ladies, dug deep into his bag of tricks and said, “I’m an angel.”

“An angel?”

“Yup.”

“Where are your wings?”

“They’re very, very tiny. You can’t see them. They’re like buffalo wings.”

“What’s a buffalo?”

“It’s like a furry cow.”

“What’s a cow?”

“You’re not the brightest, are you?”

“What are you doing here, angel?”

“Well, my dear, I’m on a mission from Por— God. I’m on a mission from God. He wants me and you to get it on. For the benefit of all mankind.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, I’m an eighteen year old virgin with a husband who refuses to touch me, so, sure, that sounds good to me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Awesome!” said Captain Tyler. “And in case anyone asks, you can still claim to be a virgin since sex with an angel doesn’t count.”

“What if I become pregnant?”

“Say it was a gift from God,” said Captain Tyler. “That should shut everyone up. Or at least a good chunk of them.”

“Sounds good to me,” said the woman. “Now, get down there!”

Two minutes later, the job was done, the woman disappointed and Tyler looking for his socks. Despite having complete control of time, he was in a hurry and had to get to Woodstock.

“You’re leaving?” asked the woman.

“Yeah,” replied the captain. “I’m not a cuddler.”

“But... just the one time? You don’t want to, I don’t know, try again?”

“Sorry, sugarpubes. Got places to be and vaginas to infiltrate. The mission and all that.”

“Oh, right, well... Can you come back?”

“I can’t make any promises. I barely even know when I am as it is.”

“Oh, okay,” said the woman. “Well, at least tell your angel friends! I’m a devout young virgin, willing to do all kinds of crazy shit for God. ALL KINDS.”

“You got it, Marge.”

“Mary.”

“Right,” said the captain. “Anyway, toodle-oo.”

Captain Tyler entered the time machine, spun the dials, and ended up in ancient Rome. Seeing nothing but tigers and screaming gladiators, he spun the dials again, ending up in 1967.

“Close enough,” he said, before exiting the time machine, grabbing a hamburger, and flirting with – and then immediately shacking up with – some long-haired, free-loving, bra-hating, unemployed painter calling herself Daffodil Freepeoples. Against all odds, they lived happily for two years, out of a van and then in a commune, sustaining themselves off their garden and whatever food they could scavenge from local dumpsters. They talked of getting married and starting a family, but then Tyler heard a radio announcement for the Woodstock festival, immediately dumped her ass, and hitchhiked his way to New York state.

Before entering the festival he made a quick detour at a local pharmacy to purchase six dozen condoms, give or take a hundred. Sure he was trying to avoid passing on his seed at all costs, but Captain Tyler was determined to have just as much sex as the last time along the way. Maybe even more.

Three days later, Tyler had successfully boned nearly a third of the half million people in attendance. And only managed to use six condoms. Completely confident that his unintentional offspring had been stricken from the earth he entered the time machine and returned to his own time.

Captain Tyler emerged from the time machine and set foot on the surface of Timeskipado only to find the native population of sabre-toothed butterflies replaced with pink, blob-like creatures, though all had what appeared to be human genitalia. Just hanging out there in the breeze. A species so ingrained with nudity that it was against the law to be seen in public wearing clothes. So, essentially, Tyler’s kind of people.