Chapter 3:
Back at the house, Professor Utonium was putting away the last of the sandwiches. He sighed, remembering that the girls and him never really had a good vacation from their crime-fighting. He sat down on the sofa and took out his newspaper. As usual, there was a page on recent sports scores, recent world news, and recent monster attacks. He placed the paper down, already bored with his daily reading material. Unknown to him, Bubbles had already crept through her bedroom window, and flopped down on her bed. She was too tired to move, and she figured the others were downstairs watching TV or something. She looked up at the cieling and closed her eyes. That's when the doorbell rang. The professor got up out of his sofa and walked to the door, opening it quickly.
"Who is it?" he asked. It was the future Blossom and Buttercup. The girls didn't reply, however, they screamed, waking Bubbles from her nap. Cautious, and not fully aware what was going on, she silently hovered out her door and to the middle of the stairs. "Please girls, I'm not going to hurt you!" Professor Utonium shouted over the screaming. The girls stopped. They immediately looked over the professor.
"You're...Alive! Ohmigosh!" The older Buttercup cried. Blossom hugged the professor tightly. He pushed her back with a horrified look on his face.
"I don't know who you are, but if you don't get out, I'm going to call the police!" He picked up his phone, ready to dial 9-1-1.
"But, professor, we're...your daughters." He hung up the phone. He shook his head, his mouth open and hands sweating. He looked over the two girls slowly, over and over. He finally licked his dry lips and spoke in a hoarse voice,
"Blossom, Butttercup? What happened to you?"
"It's, um, kinda a long story," Buttercup said, "I don't really know, but I think we MUST be in the past, and you must be the professor, except you look a few years younger." Realizing that her babbling would probably go on for a while, Blossom cut in with a few opinions of her own.
"How old we in this time?" The question was puzzling to the professor, but he answered it anyway.
"The girls are five," He stated.
"Then we must be ten years in the past. Oh, wow! We came here a year before our horrible experience ever happened."
"What horrible experience?" The professor asked. He had hoped nothing too serious had happened to his girls, but now he wasn't too sure.
"I'll start, Blossom," Buttercup said, " It happened when we were six."
Back at the house, Professor Utonium was putting away the last of the sandwiches. He sighed, remembering that the girls and him never really had a good vacation from their crime-fighting. He sat down on the sofa and took out his newspaper. As usual, there was a page on recent sports scores, recent world news, and recent monster attacks. He placed the paper down, already bored with his daily reading material. Unknown to him, Bubbles had already crept through her bedroom window, and flopped down on her bed. She was too tired to move, and she figured the others were downstairs watching TV or something. She looked up at the cieling and closed her eyes. That's when the doorbell rang. The professor got up out of his sofa and walked to the door, opening it quickly.
"Who is it?" he asked. It was the future Blossom and Buttercup. The girls didn't reply, however, they screamed, waking Bubbles from her nap. Cautious, and not fully aware what was going on, she silently hovered out her door and to the middle of the stairs. "Please girls, I'm not going to hurt you!" Professor Utonium shouted over the screaming. The girls stopped. They immediately looked over the professor.
"You're...Alive! Ohmigosh!" The older Buttercup cried. Blossom hugged the professor tightly. He pushed her back with a horrified look on his face.
"I don't know who you are, but if you don't get out, I'm going to call the police!" He picked up his phone, ready to dial 9-1-1.
"But, professor, we're...your daughters." He hung up the phone. He shook his head, his mouth open and hands sweating. He looked over the two girls slowly, over and over. He finally licked his dry lips and spoke in a hoarse voice,
"Blossom, Butttercup? What happened to you?"
"It's, um, kinda a long story," Buttercup said, "I don't really know, but I think we MUST be in the past, and you must be the professor, except you look a few years younger." Realizing that her babbling would probably go on for a while, Blossom cut in with a few opinions of her own.
"How old we in this time?" The question was puzzling to the professor, but he answered it anyway.
"The girls are five," He stated.
"Then we must be ten years in the past. Oh, wow! We came here a year before our horrible experience ever happened."
"What horrible experience?" The professor asked. He had hoped nothing too serious had happened to his girls, but now he wasn't too sure.
"I'll start, Blossom," Buttercup said, " It happened when we were six."