~ Prologue
An excerpt from Teen Angel, with much liberty taken.
"Okay, all we have to do is make sure I eat the burger." Marty said to Steve after Marty had made an absolute mess of the universe by playing with the basic principals of time and space, or something. Whatever the Big Head was saying.
All he had wanted was to not die. Was that such a big deal? I mean a little trip in the old time machine and everything gets fixed, right? But no, it had to be against the stupid laws of space time. Darn it. So when he changed it so he didn't eat the burger. . . Steve did instead. And died. And made a pretty snazzy angel, if Marty did say so himself. But that wasn't the point. Steve wasn't supposed to die.
And now he was hiding in Steve's closet (which was too clean, he was going to have to conjure up dirty socks or something) and he had to watch himself eat the stupid six month old burger and die, again. Nothing was stupider than having to watch himself croak.
So anyway, no one was more surprised than him when Mr. Responsible, Steve the Level-headed, (So level you could balance six trigonometry textbooks on his head, Marty knew, he had tried). Anyway, he comes bursting out of the closet like his pants are on fire. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!
This of course, led to the inevitable screaming, hiding, and jumping by their doubles. Or was it previous selves? No, doubles was simpler.
"Why couldn't you let me eat it?" Marty asked confused.
"You're my best friend." Steve replied. "I couldn't just let you die."
Pretty quick, their hands were wrapped around each other, avoiding the wings. Steve looked pretty hot in white and gold and wings, Marty noticed. Part of the whole golden-boy image, Marty supposed. And I did not just think my friend was hot. Not me. I live in a world where pretty girls can't see me when I look up their skirts. All manly man, me.
"I love you, man," Steve whispered, real quiet.
"I think they should get a room." Either past-Marty or past-Steve said.
