Okay, let's go over what we got," Bill said from where he huddled on the dirty pavement in front of the Circle K.
Ted raised his arms as if addressing a crowd. "Fellow students, honoured teachers. Myself, Ted, and my esteemed colleague, Bill, are here to tell you what historical personages feel about San Dimas."
Bill nodded encouragingly.
"What do I say now? Ted asked.
"Oh yeah," Bill glanced down at the rumpled paper on his knees, but as soon as he looked up again he forgot what he read.
As he tried to think, a sudden gust of wind sent the trash swirling. With a crash of thunder, something dropped out of the sky, sparks writhing over its surface, and landed almost at their feet.
"Bill?"
"Yes, Ted?"
"What is that?"
The sparks cleared to reveal a gleaming red phone booth, and a man stepped out, taking off his sunglasses to regard them.
Bill stared back a moment before blurting out "Do you know any persons of historical significance?"
"You know, it just so happens I do. Two of my favourite are right here, about to make some history of their own. I'm here to help."
"Who are they?" Bill asked.
"Yeah, how are you gonna help them?" Ted jumped in.
"Well, Theodore, William, here's how I'm going to start. The names Rufus, and I'm a history professor. Just think of me as your own personal tutor."
"Did you come here to tell us the answers?" Bill asked, standing up from the pavement.
"Not exactly. Come on, let me show you how it's done," He gestured back to the phone booth. "This here is what allowed me to come from the future, and it's going to allow you to do something a lot similar. With this, you can discover anything, from any point in time."
Bill and Ted peered inside, but it looked like an ordinary booth with nothing more than a phone and a directory. They looked at each other dubiously. Rufus reached past them and started punching in numbers. Another red phone booth hurtled out of the sky, its windows fogged and sticky with hand prints. Someone bolted out, disappearing into the night.
"Hey, wait!" A voice shouted, sounding remarkably like Ted.
Two boys ran out next, one with his dark hair flying, and the other wearing a hand-drawn Wyld Stallyns T-shirt.
Rufus dropped the receiver and left it dangling in his surprise. "If you'll excuse me, it looks like the two of you are in need of a rescue. You go on ahead, I'll catch you up as soon as you need me." Rufus called over his shoulder as he headed after the running figures, leaving both phone booths behind.
Ted dropped his open bag on the floor of the booth, shaking his head. "No way that was us."
"It's gotta be a prank, dude." Bill slammed the receiver back down.
The blinking lights on the key pad solidified briefly, and sparks chased each other around. The world twisted away in a smoky flash. Pulsing lights slammed them from all sides, and the booth rocked crazily. A mix of candy and paper spilled from Ted's bag and rolled around their feet. Their textbook flew out the open door and spiralled away into the glowing conduits. Bill and Ted stared out in open-mouth astonishment, and then at each other. In that moment, they forged an unspoken agreement to the only course of action. They both screamed. Their long howls ended in a sharp groan as the booth slammed the ground, dumping them out onto filthy cobblestone.
"Where are we?" Bill asked.
"One thing for sure, we are not at the Circle K," Ted watched the sparking booth anxiously. "Hey, what's in the phone book?"
Bill read off the page Rufus had left open. "The Classical period, an age of enlightenment and new musical forms. Mozart is known for his prolific works and his ability to compose in all genres of his time."
They shrugged at each other.
Nearby, a brick building issued sound and light into the street like flickering ghosts daring them to come inside.
"Let's go check it out."
Inside, a stage dominating the far wall spilled forth the sound that had drawn them. The conductor gestulated with the energy of one trapped in the most demented of passions. The music swelled as if carried by his movements, climbing upward in pitch and force as if in challenge of human ability.
"Classic rock concert, dude."
Bill and Ted joined in on air guitar, squealing out the shrillest chords they could imagine, and leaping about with a frenzy to match the show. The performers startled back on the stage, faltering the rapidly ascending notes. Bill and Ted filled in the sudden gap with their own improvisations as the conductor struggled to bring his symphony back in hand. It wasn't to be; the effect of air guitar was so shocking the conductor was force to call upon an improvisation of his own, bringing about an end with a startling cresendo.
"Most philharmonic!" Bill shouted as he and Ted treated the musicians to loud applause amongst the more sedate and confused appraisal from the audience.
The conductor exclaimed at the boys in angry German and climbed down from the stage, only to stop mid-stride and stare at them in astonishment.
"Nein! Bill und Ted?"
"Do you know us, dude?" Bill asked, wrinkling his brow in confusion.
The man's reply emphasized "Mozart" as he gestured to himself. Laughing, he folded his arms in a rocking motion as if cradling a baby, and then put a hand on each of their heads in the manner of commenting on their height. Putting an arm around each shoulder, he guided them outside. He gestured vehemently at the booth, eager and not the least bit surprised by its presence. Mozart picked up the receiver as if it where the most natural thing in the world, and handed it to Bill.
"I think he wants to come with us," Ted observed.
"Well, in that case, let's go," Bill grabbed the phone, only to stop and ask "How do we get back?"