November 11, 1986
3:30 PM PST

'So, how are you feeling, Mom?' Haven asked Clara.

'Are you sure you won't be born until tomorrow?' asked Clara. 'I'm wondering if I should have your dad take me to the hospital tonight. I feel like I'm just about to go into labour.'

'Well,' replied Haven, 'on my birth certificate, it says that I was born at 10:04 PM on November 12. Also, you and Dad love telling that story a lot.'

'Do you want me to make you some tomato soup, Clara?' asked Marty.

'Sure, Marty,' replied Clara, 'that would be great. Can you make me some tea, as well?'

'Sure, Clara,' replied Marty, 'that'll be no problem. I gather you're in a lot of pain right now?'

'Well, yeah, a little bit,' replied Clara, wincing a bit. 'It's not that unbearable, though. Besides, I welcome the pain with joy, as it means I'm just about to bring a new baby into the world.'

'So you're not going to take pain killers, then?' Jennifer asked.

'Uh, no, not really,' replied Clara. 'I know it sounds rather crazy, but I'd much rather have the natural childbirth experience.'

'You must be pretty tough, then,' Jennifer said, smiling. 'I am admittedly kind of a wuss, when it comes to pain. I can't even stand paper cuts. Also, the first sign of having a menstrual cramp, I reach for the advil right away.'

'Well, you know,' commented Marty, 'I used to absolutely hate being tickled on the soles of my feet. I just couldn't stand to be tickled there, and I still can't. I, however, let Jennifer tickle my soles on a regular basis, as I know it gives Jennifer pleasure to reduce me into a fit of helpless laughter. I also have to admit that I kinda love it, now. It does much to release endorphins, at any rate.'

'I'm not really that ticklish,' remarked Clara, 'but I don't really like people touching my feet. I guess my feet just feel real sensitive. I'd actually rather take the labour pains over that.'

'My feet used to be very ticklish, when I was little,' explained Jennifer. 'I remember having my feet tickled by some of my cousins, and I'd be squirming and laughing helplessly. They're really not all that ticklish, now. They're maybe about a four, on a scale of one to ten - one being not at all ticklish, and ten being horribly ticklish.'

'For me, it's sort of like a seven, on a scale of one to ten,' added Haven. 'My feet are pretty ticklish, but not unbearably so. It actually feels good to be tickled on my feet.'

'Wow! For me, it's definitely a ten,' Marty said, cringing. 'Actually, even more like a thirteen - way off the scale. My feet are horribly, terribly ticklish. I can't believe you ladies aren't as ticklish there. I tend to cringe even just thinking about being tickled there.'

'Well, I do go barefoot a lot,' offered Haven. 'I really don't like wearing shoes, unless I have to. Know what I mean?'

'Well, that doesn't mean anything,' protested Marty. 'I mean, I go barefoot a lot, too - and my feet are still very ticklish. Maybe I just have more nerve ending there, then you guys do. I swear that I must have the most ticklish feet in Hill Valley.'

'I remember my brother had ticklish feet,' said Clara. 'A lot of times, we would wake him up by tickling his feet. It worked each time. For some reason, though, I just never was all that ticklish.'

'Well, anyhow,' said Marty, hoping to change the subject, 'what are we going to do about supper tonight? I could cook, if you want me to.'

'Well, yeah, you can, if you really want to,' replied Clara. 'Another possibility, though, is we could just order a pizza. I'm sure Jules and Verne would love that.'

'Oh, yes!' exclaimed Marty. 'I would totally love that! Pizza Hut?'

'Oh, I love Pizza Hut!' gushed Haven. 'Let's get the pan pizzas!'

'Yeah, that's what I like, too,' replied Marty. 'Double cheese, everyone?'

'Oh, absolutely!' replied Haven. 'I don't really care for the other toppings.'

'Yeah, that sounds great with me, too,' added Jennifer.

The three teens then turned to Clara.

'Whatever you kids want is fine with me,' replied Clara, smiling. 'I don't think I can stomach pizza, right now.'

'Can we order breadsticks, too?' asked Haven. 'Those are always good.'

'Of course,' said Marty, smiling. 'You both like Pepsi, right?'

'Sure,' replied Haven, 'Pepsi is fine with me.'

'Can you make mine diet?' asked Jennifer.

'Sure,' replied Marty, 'that's no problem. So, Clara, when will Jules and Verne be back?'

'They should be back home in about half an hour,' replied Clara. 'We should maybe call Pizza Hut in about 15 minutes. The kids will probably be hungry, when they get home.'

'It is a bit strange seeing Jules and Verne as small children,' commented Haven. 'I mean, they've always seem so big to me.'

'Well, imagine seeing your parents at your age,' Marty said, smiling. 'It's kind of a surreal experience. Of course, it's very freaky to know that your own mom has a crush on you.'

'I hear ya, Marty,' Haven said, smiling. 'It seems rather uncanny that you're thirty years younger than your parents, and Little Marty is thirty years younger than you.'

'Gee,' mumbled Jennifer, 'I guess we know what to expect, when we turn thirty. I guess Marlene and Little Marty have been destined to be in our future, since we saw them in the future a little over a year ago.'

'It's strange to think that my future son will like like me, as a teenager,' Marty said, smiling.

'Too bad Sam Fox doesn't quite look like his father,' said Haven, shaking her head.

'Huh?' Marty asked, confused. 'Who is Sam Fox.'

'Oh, he's the future son of Michael J Fox,' explained Haven. 'I forgot that he wasn't born, yet. Michael has three other children, but they're girls.'

'Well, I'm sure I'm not the only person around who looks like Michael J Fox,' Marty said, smiling. 'A couple years ago, I met a young man named Douglas - and he also looks like Michael J Fox. He's the same age as Michael, too. Which raises the question, how will I like at 25? I mean, I look just like Michael J Fox - but I'm seven years younger than him. When he was my age, he could pass for twelve.'

'Well, if you take good care of yourself,' Haven said, smiling, 'I'm sure you won't look much different from the way you look, now. Even in 2004, you could pass for 20-something. Trust me, Marty, I recognized you right away. Other than having a few more wrinkles, you don't look much different in 2004, than you do now.'

'Well, that's good to hear,' Marty said, smiling.