So that's what the ring does!
It is I, mighty Bumblekat! … Well, not really. Anyways, this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while, and I've finally typed it! Read, if you dare!
Or, you know, if you're just bored, and want to read something…
Ian, do the disclaimer!
Ian: Why should I? You don't own me, or Breakeven by The Script, or the awesome book Terminal Man by Michael Crichton! Blast, I just did it, didn't I? Bollocks.
The Cahill family reunion had started entirely normal. While the adults discussed stupid, boring adult stuff that I don't feel like making up, the younger generations of Cahills were doing their usual obnoxious tasks. The Holt kids were sparring, Amy was reading The Terminal Man with Saladin in the library, the Kabras were trying to get clues out of the Starlings, Dan was acting like a ninja, and Jonah was listening to 'Breakeven' by The Script.
All of a sudden, there were eight flashes of golden light in the front hall of Grace's mansion, each followed by a loud thud. The adults were too engrossed in conversation to hear or see this, but all the aforementioned Cahills came running to see what the matter was.
"Amy? But I thought you were in the library!"
"I was, you dweeb. That's obviously not me."
"DANIELLE NATALIE CAHILL AND MARIE SINEAD HOLT, YOU ARE DEAD! I don't know how you managed to get the ring and send us back in time, but your mom's are going to MURDER us!" As the Cahills gathered around the newly arrived kids (the youngest was maybe three, while the oldest was maybe fourteen), a girl of maybe twelve with coppery red hair and amber eyes continued her heated rant, which she directed at two ten-year-olds, one with black hair and jade green eyes, the other eerily like Sinead at that age.
"Hope, why awe Mommy and Daddy so difawent? Dey wook wike Mawanda!" asked the three year old. She had auburn hair and blue eyes.
"No reason, Layla. Go play with I.J., okay sweetie?" said the coppery haired girl, briefly pausing in her rant. She then turned to the Cahills.
"I know this'll sound insane, but what year is it?"
"2007." Supplied Ian. "Why?"
"Hey, Danni?"
"Yes…?"
"If you place any value in that miserable thing you call a life, start running."
"Same here, Marie. Move it or lose it. I'll even give you a head start."
About twenty minutes later, the coppery haired girl tackled the black haired one to the ground. "YOU SENT US TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE PAST, YOU MORON!"
Five seconds after, a girl with auburn hair, bluish-green eyes and glasses tackled the Sinead lookalike. "WE'RE BACK BEFORE WE WERE BORN!"
I love both The Script and Michael Crichton, they absolutely rule. If only I owned them… Whatever. Please read my other stories too, I won't abandon them! My internet connection has been down for about a month, is all! I promise you, readers, I'll never abandon a story! Ever!