Glad that's over. Better hide the time machine before Daffy finds out about it. In this timeline; the other one's shot, what with us being kicked out of the house, my rabbit hole floding, minor details like that.

Anyway, I'll just take it apart and he won't know what the parts are for.

That's what I was doing before the door rang. I finished unscrewing the minute hand from the disc, set it down (don't want to break the time machine; might need it again), and went through the house to the front door. Daffy pointedly ignored the impatient ringing, watching TV.

"Who is it?" I politely sang, while looking through the peephole.

"President Obama," A nasally teenager's voice responded, putting his own eye up to the peephole before I could get a good look at him. Staring at his eyeball seemed kind of dumb, and I knew who it was, so I opened the door.

Yakko Warner was dressed formally, mock-solemnly walking down a red carpet that they had brought. Wakko was doing a drum-roll, dressed in marching band attire. I didn't recognize the youngest one; she looked like their sister, and must've been born after I moved. She was also dressed up for marching band.

And she was playing "Hail to the Chief" on a kazoo.

I know it sounds dumb, but I hadn't seen the first two in years, and, like any children, Yakko and Wakko were older.

"Who is that?!" Daffy called out from the living room. He had never met them at all.

"President Obama," I said, in a carefully modulated deadpan. I heard a gasp coming from the living room, some rustling around in a drawer, and it all ended with Daffy running and panting into the entry way in his ridiculous mall pants. No shirt, no underwear, just a pair of way-too-big jeans.

"You look really stupid dressed up like that," Daffy declared, pointing an accusatory finger at Yakko, who was now wearing almost the same outfit: no shirt, I don't know if he had any underwear on, and a pair of way-too-big khaki slacks.

The three snickered for a moment. "You're good," Yakko said, "He has too much of a monotone," pointing at me, "You could learn something from him."

"It's supposed to be a monotone, so that people don't think I'm serious," I said.

"I'll be sure to give you lessons in... whatever it is I'm so good at." Daffy said.

"Wait... you're serious?" Wakko said. When Daffy didn't immediately respond, Wakko laughed even harder than before.

"What's so funny!"

"You're wearing the same outfit, silly." The youngest one who's name I needed to get said.

"I make it look good." Daffy tried to strike up a pose.

"Please! My sides are starting to hurt!" Wakko mock-pleaded.

Daffy pointed at Wakko, "And you're not wearing any pants! And in front of the president, too!" Daffy switched his accusing finger to the girl, "And you're not wearing any shirt!"

"What's so strange about that?" I asked.

"It's indecent -"

Then I noticed what else he had said, "And do you still think the president's here?"

"Wh- You. Lied to me,"

"Wow. Dumber than advertised," I don't remember which of the kids said that.

"Anybody who isn't at least decent has no place in this house!" Daffy announced.

"Okay. Come on, kids," I offered.

"Wait! Where are you going!"

"Out of this house, like you said."