Fry had no where to go. He had been evicted from Robot Arms. Leela was nothing short of pissed at him and The Professor was just being plain old. The rain had began falling again and lightening lit up the dark sky. He pulled out his wallet, empty. A hotel room was out, even the Hilton Inn, which was now nothing but a glorified crack house patronized by prostitutes. The only place that had its arms wide opened in taking Fry in was his old house in the ruins of Old New York City. A few hours passed as he crept in the sewers and then found an entrance to the sub terrain city, forgotten by society.

It was like going through a time machine. The streets were covered in trash, and The Fry homestead was ill kept and falling apart. Just like in 1999, the last time Fry had seen his family. He walked into the ancient home. He had been back before, with Leela and Bender to retrieve his rare 7 leaf clover, but somehow Yancy had figured out a way to open the Romco Record Vault.

"Home sweet, home." He said to himself.

He sat down on the dusty and battered couch, just the way his dad had found it in Central Park in 1992. This thing would last a thousand years according to his dad, as long as the Soviets, who had ironically disbanded 4 years prior, didn't launch their ICBM's and blow up America and democracy.

"Lousy commies!" Fry said, repeating his father who had died centuries before.

His eyes searched the living room and rested upon a family photo. He remembered how his mom found NCAA football and the Green Bay Packers more important than life itself, how his father/grandson was always preparing for a nuclear holocaust and the World War that would likely follow, his brother Yancy who had named his only son after his younger brother. There was something important in all of these memories that could be of use, but right now Fry was exhausted he lay down and slowly fell asleep. The family photo, with himself absent seemed to watch over him, as if they had been waiting for him to return, offering a delayed homecoming. He fell into a deep sleep and began to dream.

"Come on Phil, race you to the end of the street" Yancy challenged his younger brother, rolling up on his bike.

"Ha, I beat you all the time!" The young red headed boy said, picking his bike up off the ground.

The two brothers raced down the street side by side. A familiar green colored pick up truck was coming down the street towards them It was there father, coming home from the surplus store with sandbags. He stopped and they pulled up alongside him on the drivers side window.

"Back when I was a kid, I spent my summer vacation building bunkers to help repel invading Commies. I didn't have a father ya know. He took off after some incident happened in New Mexico. I always figured the Commies got him with some kind of nuclear bomb or it was some kind of lobster alien, a one eyed chick and an old guy." The gruff sounding man said.

Fry then woke up from his slumber. The secret bunker, of course! They had spent the whole summer of '84 building it. Who knew what kind of goodies his father had stockpiled it with. Sure, those weapons would be old but not useless. He went into the basement and walked to the center of the room and pulled up a trapdoor. He turned on an old lightbulb that was somehow, still worked. He looked around the room and found a whole arsenal of modern (Year 3000) weapons. There was a note from Phillip J. Fry II!

Dear Uncle Phillip,

I am sure you are wondering how I got these here, or knew that you indeed would find them. You will never believe this but, I have managed to travel through time somehow. While on an expedition through the galaxy I inadvertently managed to cross through time. I don't remember how, but all I remember doing was making some Jiffy Popcorn in the ships microwave and flying through some kind of quasar or something. Somehow I ended up in the year 3000. I met a tiny alien that called himself a "Nibblonian" who advised me to assemble this because you were the chosen one. I don't know why I believed him, but my father, Yancy always said you were meant for something great. Good luck Uncle Phil.

Captain Phillip J. Fry II

P.S. Also, he mentioned that you are my great grandfather. Congrats on doing the nasty in the pasty!

Fry read the letter a few more times. Mainly because he had a reading problem since he lacked the delta brainwave and that "Nasty in the pasty" made him laugh. It was a pretty disturbing, yet hilarious thing at the same time. He folded the letter up and put it into his jacket. He eyed all of the weapons that lay before him. To bad he didn't know how to use a single one.