Sherman awoke to the sound of knocking.

"Sherman, it's 2 o' clock!"

"I'm up, Mr. Peabody…"

He wiped his eyes, remembering the events of yesterday, Friday. He dreaded Monday, and every weekday after. But especially Monday. He reached for his spare glasses on his nightstand. Sherman put on a white tee-shirt, with black shorts and his white Nikes with red stripes. He never felt comfortable going barefoot, for some reason. Time flew by as Sherman thought about the mess he was in. No doubt it was in every newspaper in America. Probably on the front cover, with enhanced versions with blood and death threats. How could he defend himself when he hardly knew what happened? To Mr. Peabody, to Penny, to anyone, what was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?

Sherman eventually ventured out into the kitchen to discover hours had passed, and that Mr. Peabody was preparing dinner.

"What's cooking, Mr. Peabody?"

"Oh, just some Dungeness crab with a passion-fruit basil concasse', truffled quails in a juniper-berry reduction, and, uh...baked alaska."

"Jeez, sounds complicated."

Mr. Peabody merely nodded, too focused on his cooking. Sherman walked out into the dining room.

Sherman was always compared to Mr. Peabody when it came to deduction skills. Now, he decided, would be a good time to test.

Five plates, all with fancy folded napkins and menus. Someone, rather, someones were visiting, and needed to be impressed. Two for him and Mr. Peabody, Mr. Peabody at the head of the table, with Sherman to the right, as usual, but with one chair across from him. The small fork and butter knife suggested a child or daughter with an interest in vegetables rather than protein, probably someone close to Sherman's age. Two more seats sat across from each other, one with large, sharp utensils, the other with a medium sized fork and butter knife. So, husband and wife then. So a husband, wife, and child or teenage daughter were visiting, and it was crucial they make a good impression. And the only child or teenage daughter he had met recently was...

This was gonna suck.

Ding! The elevator had arrived. Mr. Peabody ran in and threw off the apron he had been wearing to greet the Petersons. Paul was wearing a business suit, with a blue tie and jet black hair. Patty's clothes matched Paul's in color, but she was a lot closer to Penny in appearance, with the same blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Penny glared into Sherman, making him feel two feet tall, wearing a blue and black dress.

"Ah, the Petersons. Welcome!"

"So, he's literally a dog?", asked Paul.

"Paul!", scolded Patty.

"Oh, it's quite alright, Mrs. Peterson. Though I prefer 'literate dog'," remarked Mr. Peabody, hoping to get a chuckle and lighten the mood. Instead, he was met with a deafening nothing.

"Well, Peabody, I'll let you know I'm considering pressing charges for this. By the way, real or false teeth for him?"

Mr. Peabody stared back.

"Real, Paul. Why?"

"I wanted to know I'd be charging you with assault or aggravated assault."

"Well, tonight, the most important thing is-"

"No, the most important thing to me is my daughter, and I-"

Paul's phone then began to ring.

"Yes?"

A pause.

"No, no surveys right now, call back in ten minutes."

Mr. Peabody tried to shift the conversation.

"We're glad you accepted our invitation, aren't we, Sherman?"

Sherman grunted in reply.

"Aren't we, Sherman?"

"Yeah, bursting through the roof…"

"Why don't you take Penny to your room? I'm sure she'll be fascinated by your mineral collection."

Sherman sighed. "Come on, then…"

"Hang on, Peabody! I don't trust her with…well, him! I mean, he bit her! Why do you trust him?", asked Paul.

"The kids can settle their differences on their own, Mr. Peterson. Besides, honesty is a key principle in this household."


Sherman's room was quite large for a thirteen year old. It had shelves displaying his indeed impressive mineral collection, his bed, two desks and one rolling chair. This being said, it still felt too small for the two of them. Penny was sitting in the chair, texting her friends, no doubt. Sherman stood, watching his Newton's cradle display perpetual motion.

CLICK…CLACK…CLICK…CLACK…

"Everything going smoothly?"

Mr. Peabody had cracked open the door, his head peeking out into the room. Sherman stopped the office toy with his hands, then stomped to Mr. Peabody.

"Are you crazy?! No!"

"Why not?"

"Why not? She hates me!"

"Well, tell a joke, make small-talk-"

"Mr. Peabody. I-"

Sherman pointed towards his chest.

"-hate-"

He threw his hands to his sides.

"-her!"

He angrily pointed towards Penny. He knew this was only partially true. But it was the most believable part of him.

"Sherman, every relationship starts from a place of conflict, and evolves into something richer."

Sherman blankly stared at Mr. Peabody. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"Make it work!" He slammed the door shut, but quickly opened it again to whisper-

"But don't tell her about the WABAC!"

SLAM!

Sherman tried to start a conversation, but was cut off.

"Don't. Even. Think about it."

Sherman wasn't about to be intimidated now, though. He had home-field advantage.

"You know, Penny..."

He moved closer to her.

"...Sigmound Freud said that..."

She rolled off to the side of him.

"...if you dislike someone..."

He moved. She rolled.

"...they remind you..."

He moved again. She tried to roll away. Sherman grabbed the chair and spun it towards him.

"...of something negative..."

She tried to quickly back away, tipping over the chair. She landed headfirst.

BANG!

"...about yourself."

Penny slowly got up, rubbing her head. Sherman picked up the chair and rolled it out of the way.

"What do you know about Sigmound Freud?"

"More than you think."

"Yeah, right. Just like you know all about the Declaration of Independence. Ugh, what a crock!"

"But it's true."

"Where did you get that, anyway?"

Her tone quickly shifted from sarcasm to disgust to curiosity.

"Um..."

Sherman couldn't tell her.

"Did you read it in a book?"

"No..."

"Wikipedia?"

"No..."

"Your braniac dad tell you?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"I just...do, okay?"

"How do you know, Sherman? How-"

She tapped him on the chest.

"-do-"

Another tap, this one stronger than the last.

"-you-"

Tap.

"-know?"

She shoved him onto his desk, scattering his papers everywhere.

"Because I saw it!"

Sherman gasped. He didn't want to say it, it just slipped out.

"In a movie. I should've guessed."

"...No."

Sherman couldn't believe it. Again?

She huffed.

"Liar."

Sherman decided to do something he had never done in his whole life, and he didn't even know why.

"Come with me for a moment..."

He slowly opened the door and looked at her.

She bit her lip, thinking. "Where's this sick loser gonna lead me to? Some kinda torture chamber or something?"

"The faster you follow, the faster you get the answer. Aren't smart people curious by nature?"

"What?! He's dissing my intelligence? I'll show him!"

She quickly followed.

He snuck past the entertaining Mr. Peabody and the Petersons, to the elevator.

"Why are we here?"

"We need to go to Floor 59. I...wanna show you something."

"Let me guess: some super secret that's crazy and makes no sense."

"Yeah, and you can't tell anybody, ok? Not a word."

Penny was a little amazed her guess was right.

"Hey! I get to decide when I see it. Although right now I'm liking your honesty."

They walked out through an open metal doorway, walking down the hall to a bright, red door...passcode protected, of course. Sherman had memorized the passcode by now. "One-nine-six-three-pound", he mentally recited. The door hissed open, a metal walkway forming towards a dark room. Penny was having second thoughts, but her curiousity got the best of her. She was smart by nature, after all. She and Sherman walked into the darkness.

"He built it. Calls it the WABAC."

The lights snapped on, revealing the WABAC, hovering midair.

"...It flies?" "Wow, Penny, you sound so confident in that question."

"Well, technically yeah."

"How fast?" "Yes, a dog invents a flying red sphere and you want to know how fast it goes. Maybe ask 0 to 60 time while you're at it!"

"Oh, about the speed of light..."

"That's...that's impossible." "Is my only job to state the obvious like an idiot?"

"You know the theory of relativity, Penny?"

Penny shook her head.

"Well, it's the relation of time and speed-"

" Whoa whoa whoa...Could you put it simple?"

"Well, when your kissing a girl, a hour feels like an second. When you catch on fire, every second feels like an hour. That's relativity."

"So, it's what time feels like."

"It's what time is. The faster you go, the slower time around you goes. And if you go fast enough..."

Penny put the pieces together.

"You can travel through time? Like it's stopped around you and stuff?"

Sherman nodded as the two walked closer to the machine.

"Where have you gone in it?"

"The when is more important."

"Okay, smart guy, when?"

"Oh, 1215, 1492, 1781, 1620, 4."

She stared it, wondering if she was even awake.

"Can it go back to, say, an hour ago?"

"It...could. Why?"

"Then I could fake being sick and not have to see your face again."

"Ha ha. Mr. Peabody says it's not a good idea to travel through time to a period where you exist."

"Oh, yeah? Why?"

"Cause there'd be two of you."

"Oh. Right. Guess the world's not ready for that. Clearly, it's hardly ready for you!"

"You know what, I'm regretting showing you this already, so let's just go back-"

At this point, the door automatically opened for the two.

"Why? There is a time machine right in front of us, Sherman! Can I at least see it work?"

"Mr. Peabody says-"

"Oh, forget Mr. Peabody! If he jumped off a cliff, would you jump next?"

"-that you should never travel unsupervised."

"I wouldn't be unsupervised, Sherman. I'd have you showing me the way the whole time. You are super-smart, right?"

"Um...I think so..."

"So prove it."

Penny skipped into the WABAC.

...What could one little trip hurt, anyway?

Sherman stepped in.