LOST IN TIME

By: Ethereal Fury

DISCLAIMER: I own everything. This is the hierarchy of power:

Ethereal Fury (That'd be me in case you didn't know)

God

Squaresoft

Everyone else

Unfortunately, the FF8 characters are property of my subordinate Squaresoft. Although I am more powerful than them, by copyright laws, they get the ownership of Final Fantasy (damn… so much for creating the universe!)

A/N: Hello… after a long break I'M BACK!!! Mwah hahahaha. No seriously, I got a few requests to continue my weird Lost In Time series, so I'm back with the next installment. My psychology exam for this afternoon was cancelled (well, postponed at least), so after spending 3 hours on the net and 1.5 studying for my Literature exam, I decided to write this fic… you'd better review cause I spent valuable time away from studying to write this!! Thanks! BTW, this takes place right after the first chapter, mmkay?

P.S. Slight Quistis n Zell bashing, so if you really like them, don't read! (It's not that bad, you still should)

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Chapter 2: The 70's

Squall awoke the next morning to the soft sunlight filtering through his blinds. As his eyes fluttered open and his SeeD room came into focus, he reached a hand up to his chin. Good, no long hair he thought, bounding out of bed and heading to the bathroom for a shower. Everything seems normal—I'm back to my time! he contemplated, turning on the hot water tap. As he turned to shed his shirt and pants and step into the shower stall, a reflection from his mirror stopped him dead in his tracks. He turned around fully, facing the mirror. Tentatively, he reached a hand to touch the top of his head, his locks now permed into curls about a foot high. They were real alright, not a mere product of his imagination. His mouth dropped open in mute horror—he was sporting an afro. An afro! This is worse than last time! he thought in despair, turning off the overflowing tap and marching out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He noticed for the first time the disco ball taking the place of his lamp, perched on his ceiling, and the poster of Elvis Presley upon his wall where only yesterday the Beatles had hung. This can't be good he mused, throwing open his closet doors to find something to change into. "Like dude! Where's my clothes?" he wondered aloud, finding in his closet only a white sequined suit-like thing. Seeing as his other alternative was to wander around Garden wearing his pajamas, Squall decided to change. The pants clung to him like a second skin and flared off towards the bottom (I've actually seen people dressed like this NOWADAYS… Hong Kong is a fashionably scary place), sequins adorning the pant legs and making them flash in the light. The shirt wasn't much better—white, tight-fitting, and with fringes of sequins at the sleeves. I look like a fag he commented sadly, looking for his black combat boots but instead finding only black and white platform shoes. With resignation, he put them on and studied his reflection in the mirror. With these heels, I could pass off as my mother he thought morosely, grabbing his keys and strutting out of the dorm, the tight pants and platforms making walking difficult.

Halfway to the cafeteria, he was met by Zell, who looked more a sight than Squall, if such a thing was humanly possible. His spiky quiff that yesterday had been molded into a crew cut was combed back slickly with a lot of gel, a single strand of blond tumbling over his forehead in a manner resembling that of Elvis Presley. Contrary to his usual baggy clothes, Zell was sporting blue bell-bottoms that resembled Squall's and a sleeveless top, platforms encasing his feet as well.

"Like dude, where you goin?" he asked, falling into step with Squall, the lock of blond over his forehead bouncing with every step.

"The cafeteria," Squall responded, concentrating on walking without falling. Who would've thought heels were so hard to walk in. I wonder how girls do it he wondered, slightly amused.

"Sweeeeeet! Mind if I join you?" Zell asked, strutting along.

"You already have," Squall replied dryly, walking into the cafeteria and leaving a confused Zell behind.

Zell stood, staring into oblivion, the wheels of his brain visually turning (think Kelso from 'That 70's Show') trying to digest Squall's comment. After 5 minutes, Zell finally understood what Squall had said and laughed aloud. "Like dude, that was funny! Hey dude, where'd you go?"

Squall watched Zell scan the corridors for him and brought a hand to his forehead. First he's vegetarian, now he has terrible fashion sense and he's stupid… this gets worse every time! he thought, shaking his head and going to sit by Irvine and Selphie.

"Like sweet outfit Squall," Irvine stated.

"… Whatever," came the reply as Squall settled down in the chair across Irvine's.

"Like, totally booyaka," Selphie agreed, taking a sip of root beer.

Squall studied Irvine and Selphie carefully. Irvine looked pretty much the same—same sleeveless purple vest, slightly bell-bottomed brown pants, and brown cowboy boots with golden spurs propped up on the table. His hair was short, somewhat resembling Zell's crew cut from yesterday; his cowboy hat gone and large sunglasses with purple lenses covered his face. Selphie had the same flipped-up hair, although it did look slightly bushier and her yellow sunflower dress had turned into a two-piece miniskirt and tank top set that revealed her navel, which sported a belly-button ring. On her feet were 5-inch heels, which raised her minute height to about Irvine's chin. By the time Squall had finished studying the pair, Zell had joined them with a tray of hotdogs. He sat there, studying them, mesmerized.

"Like dude… how'd they do that? How'd they put the sausage in the bread?" he asked after about 5 minutes of intently observing the wondrous hotdog.

"They make 'em like that. Y'know, the pig grows sausages with bread from its back," Irvine explained.

Zell looked confused. "Pig? Don't they come from dogs? I mean come on man, hotDOG! What else could they come from? Dude, why else would they call 'em hotdogs?" he argued.

Before Squall could utter a single word, a blast of music came from the cafeteria door. A myriad heads turned to see Seifer, dressed in an Elvis-like turquoise suit with a red bow tie, enter with his posse Fujin and Raijin (who thank Hyne were dressed normally), wiggling his butt to "Ain't Nothing but a Hound dog".

"You ain't nothing but a hound dog…" Seifer sang, shaking his rear end and strumming his guitar.

"You ain't nothing but a hound dog, ya know?" Raijin continued.

"You ain't nothing but a hound dog… you ain't no friend of mine," Seifer intoned, nearing Squall's table.

"FRIEND. NO." Fujin finished.

"Thank you, thank you very much," Seifer said, responding to the applause he was receiving. "I want beer," he proclaimed, setting his guitar on the floor and dropping into a chair beside Squall, who was more than freaked out.

Dude… that afro sure looks bad on blondes… it looks way better on me Squall thought, still in shock after the disturbing scene of Seifer with a guitar and singing. And those clothes… like puh-lease. He needs an image consultant he continued, watching as a group of uniformed girls approached Seifer, sighing and giggling, asking for his autograph. Seifer quickly signed the papers 'The Knight' (you know, Elvis was 'the King' so Seify is 'The Knight') and said another "Thank you, thank you very much."

"I know how they do it!" Zell exclaimed.

"Do what Chicken Wuss?" Seifer inquired, lighting a cigarette.

"Put the hotdog in the bread!" he replied (yes ladies and gentlemen, he was STILL thinking about that).

"How? I've always wanted to know, ya know?" Raijin said.

"TELL," Fujin demanded.

"They make the bread with a hole in the middle… and after all the bread is made, thy take the hotdog and glue it in!" Zell declared triumphantly, proud of his discovery.

"Zell Michael Dincht, I cannot BELIEVE you are eating red meat," Quistis, who'd come up behind them, said. Quisty looked much like Squall remembered her looking yesterday—except her hair was short and permed in a sort of mini-afro. She looked like a 70's hippie.

"So like dude… I mean duddette… it's okay if I eat white meat? Or brown meat, like a burger?" Zell asked, pushing aside his plate of hotdogs.

"I guess. I just read you shouldn't eat red meat. It kills animals or something," Quistis stated matter-of-factly, picking up a hotdog she'd just told Zell not to eat—which demonstrated the extensiveness of her intellectual quotient. (Sorry to all you blondes out there; I got nothing against blondes—heck my best bud is blond—but I'm going with the stereotypical unintelligent blond bimbo. Don't flame me).

"Hey Quisty! Where you been?" Selphie inquired cheerfully.

"Just got out of someone's dorm. The thing is… I can't remember his name," Quistis answered, eating another of Zell's discarded hotdogs.

"I got a joke; I'm blonde, what's your excuse?" Seifer said, seizing the opportunity to make fun of Quistis. The others roared with laughter, except Quistis and Zell who didn't get it and Squall, who cracked a small smile.

"I don't get it," Quistis commented.

"I got another one. Dude, how are blondes and the Bermuda Triangle similar?" Irvine began. The rest shrugged their shoulders.

"They've both swallowed a lot of semen!" Irvine finished, howling with laughter.

This time, Zell was the one to speak. "Huh? Seamen? What's that gotta do with anything dude?"

Squall was shaking his head, suppressing laughter. "I… know… another… one," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. The others looked at him expectantly; Mr. Commander wasn't particularly notorious for telling jokes.

"How do a blonde and a 747 differ?" he asked. After receiving questioning glances from the 7 seated around the table, he added, "Not everyone's been on a 747!"

While everyone guffawed, doubled over with laughter, Quistis scratched her head. "Isn't a 747 a plane?" she asked.

The rest nodded, unable to speak. Quistis still didn't get it. She shrugged and checked her watch. "Oh! It's time to sleep—I mean study—with Nida. See you guys at the party at 8, okay?" she said, standing up and walking out of the cafeteria to *study* with Nida (hint hint, nudge nudge, wink wink—studying is the last thing they were doing!).

Seifer stood as well and picked up his guitar. "Gotta practice for tonight. See you at 8. Thank you, thank you very much," he stated, turning to walk out and snapping his fingers for Fujin and Raijin to follow.

Squall, Selphie, and Irvine stood and left as well, leaving only Zell at the cafeteria table. "Hahahaha! Semen and seamen… play on words… that IS funny dudes! Dudes? Dudes? Hello? Damn… they left without me! Oh well, at least I have time to work out the other 2 jokes—I still have 4 hours till 8 o'clock!"

And so 8 o'clock came and all the students in Garden filed into the ballroom. A stage sporting a banner that read 'The Sorceress Knight—one night only!' was by the far left. Upon it, in the spotlight, was Seifer with his guitar slung over his shoulders, Fujin on keyboard, and Raijin on drums. The ballroom was dark, the only light emanating from the 3 colorful disco balls hanging from the ceiling, casting flashing lights on the many bodies in the room.

"Thank you, thank you very much for coming," Seifer's voice boomed from the speakers. "We'd like to start… a one, a one, two, three…"

The Bee Gees' 'Night Fever' rang out through the ballroom and bodies began dancing. The dancing bug bit Squall (and literally—he's got the bruise to prove it!) and he leapt inot the middle of the dance floor, where he began a dance that rivaled John Travolta's in 'Saturday Night Fever' (if you've watched it, you know what I mean. If you haven't think 'Grease'). A crowd was forming around him, and he could see that someone else was following his intricate dance routine. He turned and saw Rinoa, clad in a blue miniskirt and sparkly silver top with a knot tied about 2 inches above her navel, exposing her stomach. Her midnight hair flowed freely behind her as her body moved to the beat. Squall's mouth dropped open—Rinoa looked downright sexy. Maybe these clothes and this dreadful hair aren't that bad after all. I mean, look at Rinny! he mused as the music switched to the more traditional disco beat of 'Stayin Alive'.

"You can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a woman's man

no time to talk; the music loud the ladies warm

I've been kicked around, since I was born

But it's alright, it's okay, you can look the other way

And we can try to understand the New York Times' effect on man" Seifer sang, nasal voice included (if you've heard the Bee Gees you know what I mean).

Squall was at the center of the ballroom, one hand poised on his hip, waiting for the chorus. When the 'For whether you're a brother…' that signified the beginning rang through the ballroom, Squall began the traditional disco move—booty shaking, flared pants glimmering in the pulsing light of the disco balls, and hand going from hip to air, head following, and back again until the chorus ended. Once the song was over and the crowd applauded its approval and Seifer strummed the opening notes to 'Love Me Tender' (by Elvis), Squall decided to head back to his dorm, pictures of Rinoa's revealing attire flashing through his mind. Back in front of the mirror in his dorm, he petted his foot-high hair. Please be gone tomorrow he prayed, removing his platforms and drifting off to sleep.

THE END!! or is it?

A/N 2: Phew! That's another chapter done! I know it might be short, but typing at 11 pm after studying doesn't exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy. Keep in mind I was born smack in the middle of the 80's and so anything about the 70's age is made up/ gotten from TV and blown totally out of proportion. I also know the characters are OOC, but hey, how would you feel if you just kicked the ultimate evil's sorry hide and were trudging along nothingness and suddenly you woke up in a decade far before your time… and then you wake up the next day with an AFRO? If that doesn't put you out of character, I dunno what will. Anyhow, enough crap… read and review please; praise me, flame me, bitch at me… anything, even if it's bad, is better than no comment at all. I still got lots of decades to go through, so I can write chapter 3 if someone actually reads this. Hehehe… imagine Squally boy wearing… *gasp* SPANDEX?!?!?! Ew! Ew! Ew! If there's one thing I hate it's Spandex!! Enough reviews will probably earn you guys the chance to see Squall and co. clad in the aforementioned clothes. Thanks for your time to R/R

Ethereal Fury