"So, Meat-Thing; do you have a new virus that I may bring to life, or are you still preoccupied with the Lydia Meat-Thing?"
"Can it, bits for brains! It's not for lack of trying, but I don't exactly have the privacy anymore since she arrived," Malcolm snapped back, hating that Kilokahn brought up the obvious. He was preoccupied with her presence. And he hated admitting it, even to himself.
Suddenly, he got a splendid idea and he leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and smiled. "You know, she never did tell me what year she's from. Or what all her machine can do. Perhaps if I have a little peek, I can enjoy a little time travel of my very own."
"But I thought she informed you that it wasn't fully operational," Kilokahn reminded him.
"Functional, schmunctional. I could probably figure out what's wrong with my eyes closed," Malcolm scoffed, knowing full well he was lying, but not caring. He immediately stood up and walked over to the darkened box. "Now, I believe she tapped it twice to turn it on," he recalled, gently doing so. He smiled even wider when the lights came on, illuminating the room. He stared through the glass and squinted his eyes to see. "It looks like one of the dials is pointing to the year two thousand seventeen."
"So the Lydia meat-thing really is from the future!" Kilokahn announced.
"Well, let's just have a little look inside," Malcolm reached out to touch the handle on the door.
Suddenly, a loud wailing alarm rang out and Malcolm jumped back, covering his ears. "Make it stop, Kilokahn; make the wretched thing stop!" he screamed.
"I cannot do that!" Kilokahn responded, but his voice was almost completely drowned out by the sound.
"What do you think you're doing?" Lydia yelled, walking into the room and literally using a keychain device to turn the alarm off. "It only responds to my touch; now keep your grubby mitts off!"
Malcolm instantly sat down, still hearing the atrocious noise reverberating in his brain. "Ohh," he muttered, massaging his temples.
"Serves both of you right," Lydia huffed.
Malcolm looked over at her and noticed that she was wearing maroon satin pajamas and he opened his mouth to make fun of her, but stopped when he saw the look on her face.
Without a word, she opened her time machine door and gestured with her hands to welcome him in. "Now. If you wanted to take a gander around, all you had to do was ask."
Malcolm looked at Kilokahn and shrugged before getting up and going inside. He could feel himself practically drooling over all of the electronics, dials, switches, and blinking lights. It was nothing he'd ever seen before. Glancing to his left, he noticed a small sliding door and he looked at her before touching it, fearing that God awful noise again. When she nodded her approval, he slid it only to reveal a small closet with some clothes and shoes. "This is incredible! And you built this?"
"Both of my parents are inventors, so it runs in the family," she nodded. "By the way, where are your parents?"
"Vacationing in Bora Bora for two weeks," he stated, still taking in every light and hidden compartment. He opened the closet once more, mostly to make sure he didn't imagine it.
"I always keep extra clothes in here in case either I need to look more era-appropriate or," she suddenly looked downward at her shoes, "in case I were to get stuck somewhere for a while. I just really want to go home."
Malcolm felt bad for her and immediately closed her closet and stepped out of the time machine. Not knowing what else to say or do, he shrugged simply and looked at her. "Well, I'll let you go downstairs to sleep."
"Yeah. Thanks for letting me crash on your couch. Goodnight, Malcolm. Goodnight, Kilokahn," she replied just as awkwardly before leaving.
As he watched her go, he felt a twinge of an emotion that could only be described as empathy. If anyone knew how she felt, it was him. He always felt out of place, surrounded by people he thought either weaker than himself or just plain stupid. He longed to feel accepted by people, but yet, he knew he would never feel anything more than an outsider, looking in on the rest of the world.
"I'm logging off for the night, Kilokahn," he said as he went back to his computer.
"But you still have not given me a virus to bring to life! I want my virus!" shouted the ruler of the digital world angrily.
"Well, you'll have to wait until tomorrow, because I'm going to bed. Now take it or leave it, because either way, I am logging off!" With that, Malcolm switched off his computer and Kilokhan disappeared.
Maybe after Lydia goes home, my life will return back to normal. I hate having so many thoughts and emotions running through my brain. It hurts! he thought to himself as he got ready for a night of restless sleep.
Who knew school in the nineties could be so much easier than school in two thousand seventeen? Lydia thought happily as she finished her lunch and returned the tray to Mrs. Starkey, who was singing "Bad to the Bone" as if no one could hear her. She was just about to head to her locker when a conversation caught her ears. Peeking around the corner, she could see Malcolm, cornering the same girl he had several drawings of: Sam's girlfriend, Jennifer.
"Oh, come on, Jennifer; I really could use your help!" he was pleading.
"No, Malcolm. I already told you I have a date with Sam tonight. And besides, you're a whiz in math class."
Just let the girl go, Malcolm, Lydia thought. You're sounding desperate and pitiful.
"Well, yes, usually I have no trouble, but today's lesson has me completely stumped. I'll tell you what; if you agree to come over to my house and help me for just a little while, I'll show you a real, working ti—"
"Typewriter!" Lydia shouted, desperate to say anything to overpower Malcolm's next word. She walked over to them quickly. "Malcolm has a working typewriter with all the bells and whistles. Right, Malcolm?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Jennifer smiled and rolled her eyes. "Malcolm; I've seen a typewriter before. Now, I'm sorry, but I really have to go," she quickly dashed away before another word could be said.
Lydia was fuming. He was really willing to sell her out for a tutoring lesson? Letting her anger do the talking, she grabbed his arm and literally pulled him out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. "I can't believe you," she hissed. "You can't just go around telling people about my time machine!"
"It would have been worth it to see the look on Sam Collins' face knowing that she was with me. Besides, I wouldn't have told her it was yours," he defended.
Lydia literally growled. "You are lucky that I almost have it fixed! I can't wait to go back home and away from you! You are such an insensitive, selfish jerk!"
Malcolm was too busy rustling through his locker to listen to her, however. "Oh, no! I must've left my history paper at home! What am I going to do now?"
Just do it quickly and walk away, she told herself as she opened her backpack and pulled out a small binder. "Here!" she cried, shoving his missing binder—with his report—against his chest before storming away angrily, leaving him shocked and slightly winded from the impact.
Sam was at his locker and watched the incident out of the corner of his eye. Malcolm couldn't be nice or polite to anyone; not even his own family. He often wondered if his parents ran away from home to get away from their own son. He looked at Sydney and furrowed his brow. "That does it. Hey, Frink!"
"What do you want now, Collins? Oh, let me guess; world peace?" Malcolm drawled, his hand on his bruised chest.
"Why can't you just be nice for once? Lydia's your cousin and you're as mean to her as you are to the rest of us."
"Well, we can't all be filled with sunshine and roses like you," he replied, his voice dripping with disdain.
Sydney moved in closer before Sam could continue. "Look, Lydia is really trying to help you. Not to mention the fact that she's constantly defending you; always talking about what a great artist you are, and how you make her laugh—"
"She—she says all that?" he cut her off, genuinely taken aback
Sam nodded. "Yeah. So would it kill you to be a little nicer to her? I don't know what happened, but she seemed pretty upset." He then turned to Sydney. "Come on, Syd. Let's get to class."
As Sam walked away, he allowed himself to look back at Malcolm. He figured Fink would be gone, but surprisingly, he was still standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at his notebook. He looked both perplexed and dumbfounded. Maybe one day, somebody will blast through those walls he always has up and he'll realize what he's been missing out on, he thought to himself. But that is highly unlikely. Malcolm Frink has been and always will be a miserable person.
