Incongruity
It was a quiet evening in Hill Valley. It was midnight, and the streets were empty. Except for Red, of course, who was sleeping on a nearby park bench.
Suddenly, a triple sonic boom pierced the night., Red sat up, grunting. In front of him, a Deloreon screeched to a halt. The passenger door swung upwards, and Dr. Emmett Brown stepped out.
Red muttered, "What the-"
"Sorry 'bout that, Red," said the Doc, as Marty swung the driver's side door open. "My young friend here has had a bit too much to drink." Marty stepped out and closed his door, heading across the street to a phone. "But don't worry, we're going to call him a cab right now."
Doc swung his door down and followed Marty across the street to the payphone. Marty held out his hand and Doc Brown placed a quarter in it.
"Are you sure about this, Doc?" Marty asked. "I mean, won't we be messing up our own pasts somehow if I do this?"
"Of course I'm sure, Marty!" Emmett Brown responded. "I don't know what I was ever thinking, filling that fake bomb with pinball machine parts. But there's no way they could have tracked me down that fast. Not only that, but I went back in time to see just how they found out."
"So? Those terrorists almost killed you!" Marty shook his head. "I really don't see why this is necessary."
"Trust me on this one, Marty," responded Doc Brown, pacing. "If the terrorist hadn't come to kill me, nothing would have turned out like it did. Your life would be completely different, and there's no telling what the future would turn out to be!" He stopped and turned to Marty. "Now we've got to hurry, before Red over there gets suspicious."
Marty sighed. "Well, you're the Doc, Doc. What's that number again?"
Doc handed Marty a small piece of paper, and Marty dialed. After two rings, someone picked up.
Marty cleared his throat. "Yeah, hello? Listen, if you're the guys who Doc Brown sold the fake bomb to, I can tell you where he'll be in about an hour and a half…"
It was a quiet evening in Hill Valley. It was midnight, and the streets were empty. Except for Red, of course, who was sleeping on a nearby park bench.
Suddenly, a triple sonic boom pierced the night., Red sat up, grunting. In front of him, a Deloreon screeched to a halt. The passenger door swung upwards, and Dr. Emmett Brown stepped out.
Red muttered, "What the-"
"Sorry 'bout that, Red," said the Doc, as Marty swung the driver's side door open. "My young friend here has had a bit too much to drink." Marty stepped out and closed his door, heading across the street to a phone. "But don't worry, we're going to call him a cab right now."
Doc swung his door down and followed Marty across the street to the payphone. Marty held out his hand and Doc Brown placed a quarter in it.
"Are you sure about this, Doc?" Marty asked. "I mean, won't we be messing up our own pasts somehow if I do this?"
"Of course I'm sure, Marty!" Emmett Brown responded. "I don't know what I was ever thinking, filling that fake bomb with pinball machine parts. But there's no way they could have tracked me down that fast. Not only that, but I went back in time to see just how they found out."
"So? Those terrorists almost killed you!" Marty shook his head. "I really don't see why this is necessary."
"Trust me on this one, Marty," responded Doc Brown, pacing. "If the terrorist hadn't come to kill me, nothing would have turned out like it did. Your life would be completely different, and there's no telling what the future would turn out to be!" He stopped and turned to Marty. "Now we've got to hurry, before Red over there gets suspicious."
Marty sighed. "Well, you're the Doc, Doc. What's that number again?"
Doc handed Marty a small piece of paper, and Marty dialed. After two rings, someone picked up.
Marty cleared his throat. "Yeah, hello? Listen, if you're the guys who Doc Brown sold the fake bomb to, I can tell you where he'll be in about an hour and a half…"