Thursday, June 14, 2012

Operation Timeslip

Operation Timeslip

veiny with a girth roughly the size of a can of Campbell's soup.
Otherwise I would say that nothing else about my physique is especially remarkable, despite what some “over-embellishing” journalists may have you believe. To say I have the frame of an Olympic swimmer is rather inaccurate since the ocean liner I was aboard was hijacked by members of The Cult Of Dagon at the time I was supposed to compete in that most august of competitions and I was unable to prove my worth. My skin is often too tan, mostly from my exposure to the unyielding elements of the Middle Eastern deserts where I routinely hone my archaeological skills, though it tends to settle to a more golden cast when I've been in more temperate climates for a time. Another side effect the merciless sun has had upon me is to lighten my normally auburn hair into a more blond color, not dissimilar in hue to a freshly mined ingot of that most valuable of metals.
So it was upon this modest body of mine that the eyes of these distant future Earth's primitive inhabitants fell and I remember feeling quite a shock of surprise to realize that they had mistook me for a god. My first thought was to of course refute the assumptions of these poor, albeit noble, descendants of ours and prove that I was indeed all too mortal but then the full weight of my dire situation settled once again upon my shoulders. If I was to return myself and my equally displaced companions to our own native position within the stream of time I would need these uneducated brutes on our side to provide assistance with a myriad of tasks; such as constructing suitable domiciles, helping us discern potable food and water from poisonous, and ultimately to build siege engines so that we could storm the Nazi encampment in which the time conveyance they used to kidnap us was housed.
As you will see during these interviews these natives were an invaluable asset. I can also say with all honesty that, though my hand was the one that guided them, these strange and wondrous creatures were the true heroes of this little jaunt of mine and their ultimate sacrifice leaves me humbled to this day.

Charles Foster (mechanic) It was pretty obvious that we had stumbled upon some cannibals and that Ol’ Bird Chest, that’s what we called Dr. Gunn, was on the menu. He seemed to think they worshipped him, but it was pretty obvious they was fattening him up. Since they wasn’t coming after us immediately though we convinced Loretta -Loretta Sanchez-, to maybe figure out

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