Disclaimer: I don't own Phil of the Future
Ten Ways
It was still ringing in his ears: "What do you mean you've had the time machine fixed all this time?"
Why was Barb so upset? Why was Pim gnawing on his left leg? Women are supposed to be sensitive, able to pick up on the signals that the male of the species submits, aren't they? That's what I did. Oh, I may not have come right out and said it, but I definitely dropped hints:
1. I stopped asking Phil to help me calibrate systems on the time engine.
2. I started riding a bike around town to get out and meet people.
3. I no longer hide from the mailman.
4. I've been spending more and more time with the virtu-goggles.
"Pim, stop that. You're hurting Daddy! Barb! Now put that down, Honey. It's only for tenderizing meat - I think that's a law here! Barb!"
5. I tricked out the inside of the time camper instead of fixing the time engine itself.
6. I've been nicer to Curtis - and not just because he's my boss at work. If we were going back, we'll then we'd just drop him off and be done with it, but because we're staying, I think we should all make an effort to be friendlier toward Mr. Curtis.
"Phil! Do you want to come in here and give your old dad a hand? Son?"
7. I planted a tree in the front yard. Back yard would be just for us; front yard announces to the world that the Diffys are homesteading in this lagoon of history.
8. I've placed an order for one of those exercise machines from one of those swell 30 minute documentaries on how to become healthier in America, even when I was told that it wouldn't be shipped for two to four weeks.
"Pim, put that down. That's a felony!" Maybe I better duck.
9. I gave the tires off the time machine to Debbie Berwick so she could recycle them for cupcake money for the needy in Pickford.
And, ten, I'm this year's Yuletide Prince. "Come on, Guys, how about a hug. No, not that tight, Sugar Plum. If you squeeze Daddy there it's called homicide ..."
"Barb, Lloyd, Pim. What you play now? No fair. Play without Curtis. Curtis play, too? Get club, or maybe better rock? Must be another good game of CHAR-rahds. Oh, and neighbor at front door. Says 'important.' I give you this."
Barbara Diffy takes the note and reads it to herself while Pim continues for the both of them.
"Hey, listen to this. It says that there's going to be an old-fashioned neighborhood feast on Christmas Eve at H. G. Wells and that we're all invited. Practically a carnival, a night filled with food, entertainment and games and prizes."
Pim stopped her attack. Presents? Money changing hands? Suckers! Maybe a couple more nights in the dark ages wouldn't be too hard to stand. One more opportunity to strike back at the Fashion Zombies for being so cruel to her. Yes, that would make a good parting gift-slash-Yuletide present - emphasis on the 'slash.'
Barb could do some final Christmas shopping before heading back empty handed.
And Phil? Well, confidentially, Phil was the main reason he had decided his family should stay rooted in the 21st Century. Oh sure, Curtis could function here without anything trying to eat him and Barb was happy with her little hobbies and such. Pim was able to entertain herself, but it was his son, Phil, who finally had a purpose in life, someone real to make happy - what was her name again? Lloyd Diffy. Say what you want about the guy, but he did place his family first, even if it meant his looking incompetent in front of them. As far as he was concerned, Pickford was the Happiest Place On Earth.