Lisa Loud awoke with a start, her ears assaulted by the shrill blaring of her phone's alarm. Disoriented and bleary-eyed, she glanced at the clock on her computer screen. The digits glowed with a harsh intensity, displaying the unwelcome truth that it was now 7:00 AM. Morning had arrived, shattering the remnants of her peaceful slumber.
Sitting upright in her chair, Lisa rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The room was dimly lit, the pale light filtering through the partially drawn curtains. Her gaze fell upon her disheveled appearance—rumpled clothes and unkempt hair were a testament to the hours she had spent poring over her computer screen.
With a sigh, Lisa stretched her arms above her head, feeling the satisfying release of tension in her joints. Her muscles creaked in protest, as if longing for the comfort of a proper night's rest. She leaned forward, massaging her neck to ease the lingering ache that had settled there.
The room exuded a sense of stillness, as if time itself held its breath. Lisa's eyes scanned her cluttered desk, filled with scientific journals, notepads, and scattered research materials. The air was tinged with the faint scent of ink and paper, a reminder of her tireless pursuit of the truth behind the mysterious time shift that had catapulted her and her family into an alternate timeline.
Pushing herself away from the desk, Lisa swung her legs over the edge of the chair and planted her feet firmly on the floor. As she stood, a wave of dizziness washed over her, a consequence of having spent hours in front of the screen. She steadied herself, her mind focused on the immediate tasks at hand.
Her parched throat begged for relief, and her bladder urged her toward the bathroom. Lisa shuffled down the dimly lit hallway, the muted light casting elongated shadows on the walls. Though the ambiance felt subtly altered, she couldn't quite put her finger on the specific changes within this alternate reality.
Entering the bathroom, Lisa flipped the switch, filling the room with a soft, warm glow. The mirror revealed her disheveled reflection—wild hair, sleep-ridden eyes, and a furrowed brow etched with determination. She quickly dismissed her appearance, for there were more pressing matters that demanded her attention.
Emerging from the bathroom, Lisa continued her journey, guided by the faint aroma of coffee wafting through the air. The kitchen, normally abuzz with the clatter of dishes and the cheerful banter of her siblings, felt eerily still. A profound silence permeated the room, its absence of life unnerving.
With a deep breath, Lisa approached the kitchen sink, the cool touch of water offering a respite
for her dry, parched mouth. The liquid cascaded down her throat, providing a brief moment of relief. But as she swallowed, a nagging sensation tugged at her consciousness—a feeling that something was amiss, that the world she inhabited had undergone a profound transformation.
Lisa's mind buzzed with questions, the need for answers burning within her. The altered timeline demanded exploration, understanding, and a way to set things right. The headache that throbbed at her temples only fueled her determination to uncover the truth behind the temporal anomaly.
Leaving the kitchen, Lisa cast a final glance at the familiar surroundings, now cast in an unfamiliar light. She knew the road ahead would be treacherous, filled with uncertainty and challenges. But armed with her scientific prowess and an unwavering spirit, she was prepared to navigate this enigmatic landscape and uncover the secrets that lay hidden beneath the surface.
Lisa returned to her computer, sinking into her chair with a heavy sigh. The flickering screen cast an ethereal glow on her fatigued face, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon her shoulders. She stared at the blinking cursor, the blank document a canvas waiting to be filled with the answers she so desperately sought.
As she adjusted her glasses, a pang of frustration coursed through her. The events leading up to the time shift remained hazy in her mind, like fragments of a broken puzzle. She strained to recall the details, struggling against the fog that obscured her memories.
One particular recollection surfaced, faint yet significant. Lisa remembered working on a revolutionary deaging serum, hoping to unlock the secrets of reversing time's relentless march. Immersed in her calculations, she had been on the cusp of a breakthrough when chaos intervened.
Lynn, her rambunctious sister, had tossed a football in her direction without warning. Startled and unable to react swiftly enough, Lisa's experiment met an explosive end. The resulting blast reverberated through her senses, leaving her with nothing but darkness and uncertainty.
Now, sitting before her computer, Lisa pondered the possibility that she was the catalyst for the perplexing time shift. If only she could remember the precise details of that ill-fated moment, she might find the key to unraveling the enigma that had consumed her life. But the memories remained elusive, teasing her with half-formed images that slipped through her fingers like mist.
Hours stretched into even more hours, and Lisa had tirelessly scoured every corner of her scientific knowledge, desperately seeking an explanation. The walls of her room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with the weight of her own confusion. Fatigue clung to her like an unwelcome companion, and her eyes burned with the strain of sleepless nights and relentless research.
Equations danced across her mind, each one a possibility to explore, a potential answer to the complex riddle before her. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, delving into intricate mathematical computations, hoping to unearth the truth that eluded her grasp. But no matter how many variables she analyzed, no matter how many formulas she tested, the answers remained just out of reach.
A flicker of doubt gnawed at her resolve. What if she was not responsible for the time shift after all? What if she was merely a pawn in this grand cosmic game, her fate entwined with forces beyond her control? The uncertainty chilled her to the core, sending shivers down her spine.
The realization that she might never fully understand what had transpired frightened her. It was an admission of powerlessness, a reminder that even the brightest minds could be humbled by the mysteries of the universe. The weight of that realization settled heavily upon her shoulders, threatening to crush her spirit.
Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of hope sparked within her. If she were not the cause of the time shift, then perhaps there was a way to undo it, to restore their lives to the normalcy they once knew. The idea stirred her determination, fueling her resolve to seek alternative explanations, to turn over every stone until she found the truth.
Lisa's weary eyes shifted from the screen to the cluttered desk that surrounded her. Piles of scientific journals, scribbled notes, and scattered equipment spoke volumes of her tireless efforts. She had sacrificed sleep, comfort, and even her own memories in pursuit of answers. But she was not defeated, not yet.
Drawing on the reservoirs of resilience within her, Lisa steeled herself for the arduous journey that lay ahead. She would continue to dive into the depths of scientific inquiry, pushing the boundaries of her knowledge, determined to shed light on the mysteries that plagued her existence.
Lisa's eyes darted across the screen, scanning lines of code, equations, and data with a newfound intensity. Every neuron in her mind fired, desperately seeking the missing piece that would unlock the truth. Hours turned into minutes, minutes into seconds, as time blurred into a frenzied whirlwind of calculations and analysis.
And then, amidst the chaos of her thoughts, it happened. A glimmer of insight pierced the fog of confusion, illuminating a thread she had previously overlooked. The pieces fell into place, the code forming a coherent pattern that painted a startling picture.
A surge of mixed emotions surged within Lisa's core. Relief mingled with cold fear, twisting and turning in the depths of her belly. She had been wrong all along. It wasn't her experiment gone
awry that caused the time shift. The truth stared back at her, taunting and elusive.
Standing up abruptly, Lisa paced back and forth in her room, her footsteps echoing with a nervous energy. She raked her fingers through her disheveled hair, frustration and anxiety intertwining like a tangled web. How could it be possible? How could a seemingly unrelated incident trigger such a catastrophic event?
The room felt smaller, its walls closing in on her, suffocating her with the weight of her own ignorance. The air grew heavy, constricting her lungs as she struggled to catch her breath. She needed answers, explanations that danced just beyond her grasp.
Lisa's mind raced, retracing every step, every action that led to that pivotal moment. She dissected the events, analyzing every detail like a detective on the brink of solving a perplexing case. Yet, the truth remained elusive, hiding in the shadows of her fragmented memories.
Frustration welled up within her, threatening to spill over. She slammed her fist against the desk, a cry of vexation echoing through the room. How could she be so close, yet so far? The truth seemed to tease her, like an ever-elusive butterfly dancing just out of reach.
In the midst of her turmoil, a realization struck Lisa with brutal force. It wasn't just about finding out what had happened; it was about understanding why. She had dedicated countless hours to deciphering the cause of the time shift, but the answer lay beyond her reach, taunting her with its enigma.
Her pace quickened, mirroring the rapid flutter of her thoughts. She retraced her steps, delving into the labyrinth of her memories, searching for any hint, any clue that could explain the unexplainable. But the puzzle pieces eluded her, scattered fragments of a shattered truth.
Sweat dotted Lisa's brow, her frustration reaching its peak. She clutched her temples, willing her brain to make sense of the chaos that enveloped her. Desperation tinged her every breath, as if the weight of the entire universe rested upon her slender shoulders.
Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, a realization struck Lisa with such force that it jolted her out of her frenzied state. She had been looking in the wrong direction, focusing on the cause of the time shift instead of the effect. The answer wasn't buried in equations or data; it lay within the very fabric of their altered reality.
Her mind raced, connecting the dots with newfound clarity. The time shift was a symptom, a consequence of a disturbance in the intricate tapestry of their existence. It wasn't a singular event but a ripple effect, originating from an external force that transcended her own actions.
A sense of both relief and trepidation washed over Lisa. The burden of responsibility lifted from
her shoulders, replaced by a disconcerting realization. If she wasn't the cause, then who or what was?
Excitement surged through Lisa's veins as a newfound clarity settled in her mind. With a renewed sense of purpose, she hurriedly sat back down at her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard with fervor. She plugged in a series of intricate mathematical equations, the culmination of her tireless research.
The screen flickered to life, displaying a web of complex symbols and calculations. The numbers danced before her eyes, forming patterns and connections that seemed to validate her hypothesis. The evidence mounted, supporting her belief that the time shift was indeed a result of a disturbance in the fabric of space-time.
A surge of exhilaration coursed through Lisa's being as the equations unraveled before her, revealing a coherent narrative. She had stumbled upon a revelation that could shape the very foundation of their understanding. It was a breakthrough, a glimmer of hope that fueled her determination to uncover the truth.
However, amidst her excitement, a gnawing realization crept in. The equations confirmed the existence of the disturbance, but they offered no insight into its cause. Lisa's heart sank, and a tinge of frustration tinged her enthusiasm. The crucial question remained unanswered: What had caused the disturbance in the first place?
She furrowed her brow, her mind racing with possibilities. How could she identify the source, unravel the mystery that lay hidden within the confines of their altered reality? It was an enigma that she couldn't afford to overlook, a puzzle piece essential to the grander picture.
Leaning closer to the screen, Lisa immersed herself in the calculations, searching for any hint, any clue that could point her in the right direction. Every equation, every variable, held the promise of a solution, a key that could unlock the door to reversing the time shift.
But as minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into an endless stretch of time, Lisa's frustration grew. The answers she sought remained elusive, like a mirage slipping through her fingers. The complexity of the situation weighed heavily upon her, threatening to dampen her spirits.
Yet, Lisa's determination remained unyielding. She knew she had to press forward, to venture deeper into the unknown. She had come too far to give up now. With each obstacle she encountered, her resolve only solidified, propelling her further down the path of discovery.
She leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the screen, a spark of determination igniting within her. The road ahead was treacherous, filled with uncertainty and challenges she had yet
to face. But armed with her intellect, her unwavering curiosity, and the flickering flame of hope, she was ready to embrace the journey.
Lisa knew that finding the cause of the disturbance and ultimately reversing the time shift would not come easily. It would demand tireless research, countless sleepless nights, and a constant questioning of the world around her. But she was fueled by a sense of purpose, an unyielding belief that the truth was within reach.
With a deep breath, Lisa set her sights on the daunting task ahead. She would delve further into the realm of scientific exploration, uncovering every clue, scrutinizing every piece of data until she pieced together the puzzle. She would persevere, armed with the knowledge that she was on the right track.
The computer screen continued to display a sea of complex equations, representing the depth of her pursuit. With every line of code she wrote, every formula she formulated, Lisa edged closer to unraveling the mysteries of the universe. And she knew, with unwavering certainty, that she would not rest until she had found the answers she sought.
As Lisa worked, memories began to come back, faint and faded, like images glimpsed through a fog of fever. They were less fully formed images, however, than they were impressions, things that they recalled but could not clearly see. She knew that she had been working on a serum to cure the dreaded Loud Gene, which turned each Loud into a sexually psychotic mess upon entering puberty, but she had forgotten many of the finer details, suich as what the serum was and how she had arrived at its basic composition. Was the Loud Gene still present in this alternate timeline? She stopped and took mental inventory of herself, her feelings, her thoughts, etc, and decided that it was. She still felt somewhat…randy, as the saying goes, which, to her understanding, meant a perpetual state of heightened, though stable, sexual arousal. Then again, she likely always felt this way and could not remember feeling any other way.
Not that she could remember much of anything thanks to the wall of blackness in her brain. Another thing that she didn't understand was how hers and everyone else's memories had been wiped out by this time shift, and why she, Lola, and Lana, at least, had partial memory retention while the others did not.
All of this made very little sense to her, which heightened her frustration.
The more she thought about the Loud Gene, however, the more she remember, at least in relation to it. Her memories, as they were, came in the form of feelings and sensations rather than images or text. She remembered loving what's his face. The black boy. Adam? Aaron? Antonio? Ah, that was right, Anthony. At least she thought that was it. It resonated in her brain and sparked something deep inside of her that she could recall feeling, but was still pretty rare. She hadn't felt it very often, at any rate.
Her mind went back to the child that she knew had been growing inside of her, and a wave of sadness broke over her. She hadn't allowed herself to think of it thus far because she knew that if she did, she would tumble into a pit of depression from which she would not be able to extract herself. She could not afford to do that. She was the only one who could get to the bottom of what was happening. If there was a chance of reversing what ever had happened and restoring things to their rightful place - to the way they had been before the time shift - and if she let herself collapse, there would be no hope of getting back the amazing things she and the others had lost. Lola and Lana were counting on her, and she was counting on herself. She couldn't balk, couldn't let herself give in to the temptation to engage in self pity or anything of the sort. She had to stay focused and dedicated. She could not screw this up.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she looked at the computer screen and drummed her fingers. Back to the drawing -
Just then, and completely without warning, the bedroom door swung open and Lynn came swaggering in. In this timeline, forged from only God knew what reasoning and logic, Lynn and Lucy were twins. They both looked much as they had before, but there were some new shared similarities, such as Lynn's face being a little wider and Lucy having very faint freckles. In the old timeline, which Lisa had already come to think of as Timeline A, or The Mother Timeline, Lynn was something of a bully who delighted in taunting, picking on, and being unnecessarily rough with her siblings. She was what Lisa might call a stereotypical jock. She wasn't evil or sadistic in the classic sense, just something of a bully from an 80s movie.
In this timeline, which Lisa thought of as Timeline B, Lynn was not a bully. However, she was very "rowdy." Loud, boisterous, couldn't sit still for a single second, always moving and fidgeting. Basically, she was not entirely unlike the Lynn from Timeline A - or LynnA - only a little more, well, extra in that respect. Lisa had already mentally diagnosed this Lynn - LynnB - with ADHD. LynnA was active, yes, but she didn't fidget quite as much as this one. They were both energetic girlsbut LynnB was a little more energetic.
"Hey, Lise," Lynn said. She ducked to the side and threw a couple punches that did not land but came uncomfortably close to Lisa's face. "I need your help, my man. Would you be interested in helping me out? Huh? I gotta know right now, no delay, tell me, if not, it's cool, but, you know, I kinda need you, bruh."
Lisa sat up straight and adjusted her glasses. "First of all, I am hardly your so called "man." I am your female sibling unit."
"Sorry, sorry," Lynn said, "you're right, my bad, it's just a whatchamacallit. Figure of speech. Anyway, mah sista, care to help a wigga out?"
"A what?" Lisa asked, genuinely confused.
"You know, a white…" she trailed off and let the sentence hang unfished between them. She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, as if to communicate something that she did not want to outright say.
Lisa cocked her head. "I'm afraid I don't follow."
Lynn sighed and hung her head. "Don't make me say it, bro?"
"Say what?" Lisa asked, ignoring Lynn calling her 'bro'.
"Nigga, okay?" Lynn asked. "White nigga."
Lisa furrowed her brow. "Nigga," she said, "refers specifically to black people. One cannot be a "white nigga" the way water cannot be dry."
"You're such a killjoy sometimes," Lynn said. "Anyway, I need your help. Can you do it? Huh? Huh? Please? I'll be your best friend."
Sitting back in her chair and casting a longing look at the computer - beyond which she was sure lie the answers she was seeking - and drew a deep sigh. She did not want to be dragged away from her work. "I'm sorry, but I -"
Lynn fell to her knees and balled her hands as if in prayer. "Pllllllllllease? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?"
"I'm in the middle of something very important," Lisa said, "I simply can't break away."
"Please?"
"No."
"Fine," Lynn said and got to her feet, "you leave me no other choice. I'm going to make a really annoying sound until you say yes." She threw her head back, opened her mouth wide, and let out an ear piercing sound that made Lisa's fillings vibrate and nearly shattered her glasses. She winced in pain and plugged her ears with her simply increased the volume of that awful noise until Lisa's head felt like it was going to explode.
Breaking like a dime store condom, Lisa cried, "Okay! Okay! I'll do whatever you want, just, for the love of God, stop making that horrible sound."
Lynn stopped and flashed a smile. "Okay. Great." She grabbed Lisa by the hand and dragged
the little genius from her chair with such force and swiftness that her shoulder neatly dislocated. "Cmon, Lise," Lynn said, "Pick up those hooves, we gotta go."
Oh. Lord, Lisa thought to herself. What terrible fate did Lynn have in store for her?
As it turned out, Lynn wanted Lisa to sit on the sidelines of a family football game in the backyard and serve as a type of camp doctor should anyone injure themselves - a very good possibility given how unathletic most of the Loud brood was in both timelines. The match up pitted the Blue Team against the Gold Team, the Gold Team being the one captained by Lynn herself. On Lynn's side were Lucy, Luan, and Luna. On the opposing side was Dad, Leni, Lori, and Lincoln, the latter of whom made known his disdain for the game by pissing and moaning. In Lisa's timeline - that is, Timeline A - Lincoln was fairly well respected by the other members of the family, at least as well respected as anyone else. LincolnB, on the other hand, was, to use a crass term, a little bitch who bellyached and annoyed everyone around him to terms. The general concensses of the family was that Lincoln was everything from a wimp to a literal Nazi responsible for racism, sexism, homophobia, and the popularity of veganism.
Lincoln was, in effect, the proverbial black sheep of the family. Even Mom and Dad took every opportunity to "dunk" on him. Lisa was a clinical and calculating girl but she felt the full range of human emotions (though she didn't wear them on her sleeve). Normally, she would have felt badly for Lincoln and would have made an attempt to befriend him, as it were. However, LincolnB was so damn insufferable that she wanted nothing to do with him.
Though she did feel some sympathy toward him because Lucy, bully that she was, picked on him almost incessantly. See, LucyB, Lisa had learned, was bullied in school for being "weird" and "spooky." Not unlike LucyA, come to think of it, only the bullying here was a litte more pronounced and quite a bit more savage. That, Lisa suspected, was the reason that Lucy became a bully in her own right. And her favorite target was Lincoln. She tormented the poor boy. She did things to the others as well, however. From a snippet of conversation Lisa had overheard, Lucy one "lynched" Luna's guitar over some imagined slight: Luna came into her bedroom and found her guitar swinging. Another time, she spent three whole months sending weird pasted letters to Leni and making obscene phone calls threatening to kill her in a creepy, hissing voice. Leni nearly had a mental breakdown and Lucy laughed and laughed.
One time, to escape the taunting of the family, Lincoln crawled into the vents. He encountered Lucy perched like an emo spider, and she became furious with him, as the vents were "for her and Lynn only" - she and Lynn were very close and Lynn was one of the few people Lucy did not bully or pull sick practical jokes on. In retaliation for his invasion of her secret sanctum, Lucy chopped Bun Bun, Lincoln's beloved stuffed rabbit, into a million little pieces and scattered them throughout his bedroom. Lincooln, or from what Lisa had heard, was inconsolable for a good three weeks and even head a funeral service for the stuffing which was attended only by a few kids from school come to gloat over Lincoln's misery: it seems that he had made just as many
enemies in the Royal County public school system as he had at home. He was even a favorite target of the teachers. Despite being an exceptionally poor student, however, he passed all of his classes with flying colors…probably because no teacher wanted to risk failing him and having him in their class the following year.
Lynn tossed the ball to Luan, who caught it. Luan in the timeline wanted to be a circus clown…or a birthday clown…maybe a rodeo clown. Something to that effect. She often wore make up and big red noses around the house and squirted people with seltzer bottles when they were least expecting it. As per usual, Lincoln bore the brunt of her antics, mainly because he was the only one too timid and weak willed to kick her ass for her. She squirted Lucy once, and Lucy responded by taking all of Luan's things, putting them into a box, and then setting it on fire. Lucy stood over it, face flickering in the orange fire light, and screamed, "Burn! Burn!" in between evil cackles.
And that was how Luan found her.
And learned that most of her worldly possessions were gone.
Lisa wasn't entirely clear, but she was pretty sure that Luan savagely beat Lucy up over that. Regardless, it was well understood among the Louds of Timeline B that you did not mess with Lucy unless you wanted to constantly look over your shoulder and sleep with one eye open.
While the players took their postions on the field, Lisa dragged over a little pink plastic chair and sat down with a sigh of resignation. She crossed her arms and legs and watched the game's opening, but barely registered what was going on: Her mind was back on the problem of The Great Time Shift, as she had quickly come to think of it. She turned the problem over and over in her head, trying to compute a solution but failing. She yearned to get back to her work, but there was a very large part of her that didn't want to…because she was afraid that she would smash head long into a brick wall. Right now, at the present moment, she at the very least had hope. Hope that she could find the solution with relative ease…hell, even with Herculean difficulty. If she found that she could not crack the code and that she, Lola, and Lana would be stuck here forever, she would have no hope at all, and she would spiral in depression.
That she and the others were "stuck" here was not an apt description, she thought. It wasn't like they fell into a worm hole and were completely out of place in foreign surroundings. Things were different yet they weren't strangers in a strange land - they just had fleeting memories of what came before. She wondered if any of the others - Lincoln, Luan, etc - had any isolated memories of things from Timeline A. Perhaps they manifested as dreams or imagination. Perhaps they were completely devoid of any memory whatsoever. She found that hard to believe and made a mental note to ask around.
Lisa was stirred from her repose by someone shouting. "Someone's hurt!"
The family was gathered around a fallen comrade on the field, jostling for position. Lisa got up and walked over, shoving Leni out of the way after the ditzy blonde failed to heed three, "Excuse mes".
When Lisa saw who it was, she rolled her eyes.
"It's only Lincoln," she said.
"My ankle," he panted, red faced and crying, "it's broken. My ankle, oh God. Why me? Why, God?"
Lisa knelt and examined the ankle. There was no redness, no swelling, and no tenderness. She rocked back on her knees and shot a withering glance at Lincoln. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"Yes, there is. Oh God, my ankle's gonna fall off. I'm thirsty. My head hurts. I'm hot. Please help me." He began to hitch like he was going to break down sobbing.
Lisa rolled her eyes again and got to her feet. The others began to all talk at once, showering hate, insults, and taunts onto Lincoln's deserving white head. "You're a bitch, bro," Luna said.
"The best part of you ran down the crack of my ass," Mom told him.
"I can't believe this little faggot came out of me," Dad said with a heavy sigh.
Suddenly mad, Lincoln jumped to his feet, demonstrating that there was, indeed, nothing wrong with his ankle. "Fuck you guys," he spat. "You're all a bunch of butt sniffers anyway. I hope you get COVID and wind up in the hospital, you shitheads."
Dad lunged at him, but Lincoln was shockingly quick, and managed to elude his grasp. "Haha," Lincoln said. He stuck out his tongue. "Nanna nanna boo boo, you can't catch me, baby dick."
Again, Dad went for him, and Lincoln ran off laughing. He disappeared around the side of the house and Dad stopped chasing him. "Punk!" Dad called.
Around front, Lincoln stoimped to the front porch and sat heavily on the bottom step, resting his face in his hands. He hated those assholes. He always had and always would. They said he was entitled, self-congratulatory, and had delusions of grandeur. Well, could he help if he was better, smarter, cooler, kinder, and compassionater than they were? He was Lincoln Loud, for God's sake, the greatest thing since wifi. You know, in another world, everyone realized how kind and considerate he was and fell all over themselves to kiss his but. Every girl loved him
and wanted to have his baby and all of his daughters fought each other to suck his dick under the dinner table.
That world was so much better than this one. In that world, his family was great, not the bunch of scumfucks he wound up with in this timeline. He was almost sure that this really was a different timeline and not the one he was meant to inhabit. Call it a feeling, the kind of deep gut thing that you have when you know something to be true instinctively. He liked to imagine that he had fallen into a wormhole and wound up in the worst possible universe, but would soon be restored to his own where everyone fucking worshipped the ground he walked on.
One day, he'd get the adulation he deserved. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. He'd…
A deep, black shadow passed over the sun and cast Lincoln in chilly darkness. He blinked in surprise and looked up. What he saw threw him for a loop. A girl so fat that he celulite stomach spilled sloppily (and greasily) over the waistband of her too tight shorts. Her cheeks were puffed out and rosy, and her dark eyes were small and beady: Lincoln would have mistaken her for Chinese if her skin wasn't the dull bronze shade of Sonoran sand. The smell of sweaty and onion like BO wafted over him, and his nose crinkled in disgust. There was another smell underneath the layers of filth, one that was tangy and wild, one that he had only ever smelled before when he caught Lori playing with herself that one time - it was strong, musky, and frankly kind of scared him.
The girl's mouth, he noticed, was coated in crumbs, as though she had just eaten chips or crackers, and the front of her shirt, which stretched way too tight across her chest, was splattered with a variety of stains. There were spreading dark patches under her armpits and the cotch her her tiny shorts, from which her blubbery thighs burst, was sucked into her, uh, lady parts, and made a massive and intimidating camel toe. Lincoln swallowed hard and looked up at her. She smiled, twirled one strand of black, greasy hair around her sausage like finger, and twisted slightly side to side in a motion that was meant to look girlish but that actually made her fat quake and jiggle like Jell-O in a pan. "Hey, big boy," she said in a husky voice. "You're kind of cute. What's your favorite food?"
Lincoln had never been called cute by a girl before and the compliment would have stroked and gratified his ego, but coming from this gargantuan, this mountain with legs, it only creeped him out. "What?" he asked uncertainly, even though he had heard her loud and clear. Way too loud and clear.
"What do you like to eat?" she asked again. "I got something you might like to much on." She sucked her bottom lip suggestively into her mouth and nodded slowly.
Lincoln was suddenly very, very, very uncomfortable. "Uh…I'm not hungry. Sorry."
"I ate twice before I came over, so I'm not either," the girl said. "But I am thirsty."
Gulp.
"I'm not gonna lie," she said, "I saw you over here and you got my clit perkin up a bit. Name's Ronnie Anne. What's yours?"
Lincoln grasped for a response. "Uh…Lincoln. Look, I gotta go."
"Down?" Ronnie Anne asked.
The thought of her pulling out her big, hairy, smelly meat curtains and putting them in his face made Lincoln throw up in his mouth a little. "No, inside."
"I'll come with," Ronnie Anne said, inviting herself along, "you can show me your…bedroom."
Lincoln popped to his feet and whipped around. "No thanks, I gotta go, sorry." He fled into the house and slammed the door behind him, locking in. He pushed aside the lacy white curtain covering the sidelight window and peered out. Ronnie Anne stood on the porch, licking her chops like a hungry animal and rubbing her thighs slightly together. She looked like she was trying to create friction to get herself off, but to be fair to her, she was so fat that they always rubbed together. Lincoln let the curtain fall back into place, turned around, and let out a sigh of relief. Oh my word, that was close. He almost got devoured by the Mexican version of Gorlock the Destroyer.
Just then, Lana and Lola came down the stairs, talking quietly to each other. When they noticed him, they both started a little and abruptly ceased their conversation. For a long and neigh on insufferable moment, they all stared at each other, then the two blondes hurried through the living room and into the kitchen, Lincoln did not breathe again until he heard the back door slam, indicating that the two of them had gone outside, into the backyard. Was it just him or was there something kind of strange about those two? And, come to think of it, Lisa as well. There was something…different about them as compared to everyone else in the family. Lincoln couldn't quite put his finger on it but he felt it deep in his bones. They're not like us, he found himself thinking on several occasions, and had no idea why. It was true that they were clearly uncomfortable and out of sorts, but there was something else that set them apart from everyone else.
Lincoln decided that he wanted to know exactly what it was and would somehow get to the bottom of it.
Lana and Lola Loud, twin sisters plagued by worry and uncertainty, cautiously stepped into the backyard of their bustling household, where a seemingly joyous family football game was unfolding. The air, heavy with a sense of foreboding, weighed upon their hearts, suffocating any remnants of hope.
As they emerged into the somber atmosphere, the once vibrant sunlight seemed dimmed, casting an eerie pallor over the scene. The once inviting grass beneath their feet now felt cold and distant, mirroring the unyielding grip of despair that had taken hold of Lana's spirit. Lola, typically the beacon of cheer, now wore a mask of concern, her usually bright eyes clouded with doubt.
Their searching gazes fell upon Lisa, their sister and the family's prodigious intellect, seated on a plastic chair by the sidelines. She appeared lost in her own thoughts, disconnected from the world around her. Lana's heart sank further as she realized that even Lisa, the family's pillar of knowledge, seemed powerless against the enigmatic timeshift that had torn their lives apart.
The twins exchanged a glance, the weight of their shared fears hanging heavily between them. Approaching Lisa seemed futile, for they feared her response would only deepen the wounds of their already bruised spirits. Instead, they sought solace in each other's company, retreating to the porch steps.
The porch, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and intimate conversations, now held a sense of melancholy. The weathered steps, once a symbol of stability and comfort, seemed worn and weary under the weight of their burdens. Lana and Lola settled into their places, the silence between them echoing their unspoken fears.
From their desolate perch, they observed the disheartening tableau before them. The once vibrant backyard now appeared desolate, the sounds of laughter and merriment nothing more than hollow echoes in their ears. The passing cars and pedestrians on the nearby street seemed like distant echoes of a world they were no longer fully a part of, emphasizing their growing sense of isolation.
As they sat on the porch steps, Lana and Lola found no respite in the surrounding ambiance. The air, once crisp and invigorating, now suffocated their spirits, leaving them feeling trapped and powerless. The weight of uncertainty pressed upon their chests, stealing their breath and leaving them gasping for hope.
Their whispered conversations, once filled with dreams and aspirations, now carried a tinge of despair. Lana's voice, usually filled with optimism, quivered with the weight of her depression. Lola, fighting back tears, struggled to offer comforting words, her own heart heavy with
uncertainty.
Amidst the ongoing football game in the background, Lana and Lola battled the suffocating grip of their somber reality. The moments they shared on those weathered steps, once a source of strength, now served as a reminder of their vulnerability and the fragility of their once-unbreakable bond.
Time felt like an enemy, mocking their hopes of a return to their own timeline. The once-promising future now loomed with an uncertain haze, leaving them trapped in a limbo of despair. The vibrant world that once held so much possibility now appeared distant and unattainable, a cruel mirage taunting their shattered dreams.
As the day unfolded, Lana and Lola clung to each other, seeking solace in their shared sorrow. Their presence on the porch steps became a testament to their unyielding bond, a flickering ember in the face of encroaching darkness. Together, they faced the abyss of the unknown, clinging to the flickering hope that somehow, someday, they would find their way back to the life they once knew.
But in that moment, on the porch steps of their crumbling world, Lana and Lola found solace in the depths of their shared sorrow, knowing that their unwavering support for one another would serve as their guiding light through the darkest of times.
"It's going to be okay," Lola comforted Lana. "We're going to get to the bottom of this and everything's going to go back to normal. You'll see."
Lana drew a heavy sigh. "I hope so."
"It will," Lola said. "Have faith in Lisa. She can do anything."
The ball drilled Luan in the chest and she fell to the ground with a breathless oof. Lisa got up and walked over, examining the clown wannabe. "You're fine," Lisa pronounced.
"That really hurt," Luan whined to Lynn, who had thrown the ball. "You hit me in the tit."
"Bull's eye," Lynn laughed.
Getting to her feet, face red and angry, Luan cocked her arm back and threw the ball with all her might. She didn't look like it, but Luan had one hell of an arm, it turned out. The ball whistled through the air like a bullet, headed straight for Lynn's face. A look of shock and horror flickered across Lynn's features and at the very last minute, she ducked. The ball tore through the space where she had just been - it would have surely taken her head smooth off - and then sailed over the fence, landing in the yard next door. Mr Grouse's. Only in this timeline, Mr. Grouse had died
(was he dead in the last timeline? Lola couldn't remember). Though she had no clear memories of either her own timeline or of anything that had taken place in this one, Lola got the impression that the house had stood empty for quite some time, especially given how overgrown and jungle like the yard was. Someone, however, was moving in this very day, as a U-Haul truck was parked at the curb and people had been coming and going all morning, carrying boxes inside.
"Nice one, Luan," Mom said sarcastically.
":Just fucking genius," Dad added.
"I'm sorry," Luan moaned defensively, "but Lynn started it."
"God, you're such a child," Mom sighed.
"I'm 14! Of course I am."
"Go get it," Lynn snarled. "It's out on you."
"Bute -" Luan began to protest.
"Do it," Lynn commanded.
Throwing her head back and letting out a frustrated sigh, Luan stalked over to the fence, flinging her arms limply around in an impotent display of her anger.
"You're acting like Lincoln," Dad said.
Everyone laughed cruelly. Being compared to Lincoln was the ultimate insult, and Luan's face flushed red with embarreassment. She went over to the fence and craned her neck back to look up at it. Solid, knotted wood, it loomed six feet tall, the top of it spiked and ridged. Luan stroked her chin in thought as she dreamed up a way to get over it. She jumped, flopped against it, and bounced off, landing on her back with an umph. Everyone laughed again, and Luan's face turned fire engine red. She struggled back to her feet and tried to scramble up the fence but couldn't quite make it. Lana and Lola watched, lacking the amusement of the others. Finally, Lana sighed and got to her feet. Lola tried to stop her but before she could speak, Lana was already half way across the yard, taking big steps. She stood next to Luan. "I'll get it," she said.
Luan, panting and winded, ceased her assault against the wall. "Thank you," she said breathlessly.
Nodding, Lana jumped, grabbed the top of the fence, and scurried up like a nimble tree monkey who had done this sort of thing a million times before. To be fair, she had done this type of thing a
million times before. Ever the tomboy, she loved climbing things. Trees, statues, light poles, you name it. Back in Timeline A, she and Lynn often did parkour together, which is basically the art of running and climbing things. Because each one of her siblings was so different in temperament and personality, she had a hard time relating to them, but she had one special thing that bonded her with each of them. Her thing with Lynn was parkour. She freaking loved it.
Vaulting so that she didn't skewer herself on the pikes like a blonde shishkabob, she jumped over and landed in the next yard over, her knees bending and her balance almost upsetting.
The first thing she noticed was how high the grass was. Mr. Grouse, she had gathered, died at some point in the past year or two, and the bank had taken his house. Poor guy had been living here a good fifty years, ever since the seventies or eighties, and still hadn't paid the whole thing off. Someone was supposed to come around every so often and do yard work to make the place presentable for potential buyers, but they must have skipped the backyard on their last couple of visits, because the grass was so high and thick that it reached Lana's knees, and she wasn't exactly the shortest person on the face of the earth at 5'7. Bugs and crickets jumped around, and over yonder, the grass rustled as something moved through it, slightly alarming Lana. She was not afraid of snakes, spiders, or really any other bug or animal, but she was afraid of not being able to see what was coming at her.
Alright, she thought to herself, she had to be quick. Where was that stupid ball? She looked around but didn't see it. Taking a deep breath, she waded through the grass, bending over to brush it aside with her hand. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she quite literally tripped over it. She started to fall, but flapped her arms like a big, flightless bird and thrusted her hips back and forth, keeping her footing but just barely. She reached down, pushed the grass aside, and plucked the ball up, holding it over her head. "Who's your daddy?" she asked loudly in celebration.
Just then, she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye and whipped around, again almost falling on her ass. Someone was standing on the back porch and looking at her, and for a moment her heart squeezed because for some reason, she imagined that it was either a monster or a serial killer. The old Grouse house certainly looked like the kind of place where something fucked up like that would live. A shaft of sunlight fell into her eyes, blinding her, and she blinked, shaking her head slightly as though something tangible had gotten into her eyes and she could get it loose with a minimal amount of effort. When her vision cleared and she got a good look at who was on that porch, her heart soared into her throat and her jaw dropped open.
Inside of her, a strange mixture of feelings burst deep inside of her chest, spreading out through her being and consuming her. Something shifted in her mind, and for a brief second, she could almost remember everything, as though a switch had been thrown. If this were a movie or a cartoon, there would be a shaft of heavenly light cascading down from the sky and a thousand
angels would strike up the Halleljuh Chorous.
The person looking at her was a boy roughly her own age. Tall, well-built, and black, with close cropped hair and wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that, but she wasn't bowled over by his looks. Oh no. The instant she laid eyes on him, something inside of her seemed to click. She remembered very little about what had happened before she woke up the other morning sans her baby. She remembered only that she, Lola, and Lisa had beenpregnasnt and that they were madly in love with someone. The same someone. A someone who, Lana was sure, could not exist because they were so amazing and all around perfect. She had almost convinced herself that the boy of her dreams was just that, a figment of her imagination and not a real person at all.
But as soon as she saw him standing in front of her, she knew that he was.
He was real.
And he was right here.
All at once, she remembered his name.
Anthony.
Had she remembered it before? She didn't know. This whole timeline thing had her so out of sorts that she barely knew anything anymore. If she had thought of that name before, she wasn't 100 percent certain about it. Now, standing here in knee high grass in the back yard of Mr. Grouse's old house, she was. This was him and he was Anthony.
"Uh…what are you doing?" Anthony asked, sounding puzzled at her random and seemingly ghost like appearance in his back yard.
Lana completely drew a blank. She couldn't think, couldn't speak, a thousand emotions roiled through her like boiling water in a hot pot. She realized that she was gaping, literally gaping, with her mouth open like a dumb ass, and snapped her jaw closed. She wanted to run over and throw her arms around him, to give him a big, happy, grateful hug and perhaps even a longing kiss, but she was rooted in place, Had it not been for her stiff legs and frozen spine, she may have done just that, heedless to the fact that he didn't remember her. She probably would have made herself look like some kind of psycho and may have even prejudiced him against her forever. Thankfully, though, she couldn't move any more than she could speak or think.
He raised a quizzical eyebrow, and Lana realized that she probably looked like a psycho anyway, just standing here and staring at him the way she was. She swallowed hard around a lump in her throat and flicked her eyes away from him, her mind suddenly whirring back to life
and racing to come up with an excuse for what she was doing back here. In fact…what was she doing back here? She knew that she had climbed over the fence with a purpose in mind but now, after seeing Anthony and remembering more of the previous timeline that she, Lisa, and Lola had been so rudely taken from by whatever forces none of them could explain, she had completely forgotten.
Her eyes darted to the oblong thing in her hand, and suddenly it all came back to her. "Uh…sorry," she said and forced a laugh, "I was just getting my ball. It came over the fence and I, uh, I kind of need it."
Anthony's handsome features softened and his brown eyes sparkled in the light. "You play football?" he asked in an easy, friendly manner.
"Sure," Lana lied, "I love football. It's great." She laughed. "Sport of champions. I'm really good at dribb;ling and I always throw homeruns."
Anthony looked confused for a second, then it cleared and he held his hands up. "Throw it here," he said.
Lana threw him the ball, but it landed well short, disappearing into the brush. Lana flushed with embarrassment and Anthony chuckled. "Your form is all wrong," he said, coming down the porch steps, "no offense. Let me give you a few pointers." He snatched the ball up and came over. Lana's heart began to race and a somewhat fearful tremble raced through her body. He tossed her the ball and she caught it sloppily, almost dropping it. Anthony got behind her and touched her arm. The kiss of his fingertips against her skin was almost literally electric. They both jumped and he snatched his hand away. "Static electricty." he said with a nervous laugh, "sorry."
Reaching around her, he helped her get the ball in the correct position. His hand closed over the back of hers and his body lightly pressed against hers. Lana's heart exploded out of her chest and her breathing xame in short, hissing gasps. She could feel him against her and it made her tingle from her head to her feet. Anthony could feel it as well. His movements, normally graceful and poised, were clumsy, and she could hear his breathing speeding up as well.
When Lana felt herself starting to get wet, she looked down at the front of her jeans and saw a big, spreading dark patch. Horror filled her, but before she could fully realize how awful that was, a giant gas bubble formed in her stomach and she felt like she was going to let loose a wet, meaty fart. Her heart jumped into her throat and she pulled away from Anthony like ripping a Band Aid off an old wound. "I gotta go," she said in a rush. She threw herself at the fence and did her best not to let him see the big, damp wet patch on the front of her jeans.
"Wait!" Anthony called.
She stopped and twisted around to look over her shoulder without revealing the dark spot on her crotch.
"What's your name?" Anthony asked.
"Lana," Lana said.
With that, she tossed the ball over the fence and then scrambled over, falling from the top and landing in a heap in her own back yard. All of the others gathered around her and looked down at her. "You okay?" Lola asked, kneeling over her.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Lana said and sat up. She remembered the feeling of Anthony's touch and the way his body pressed lightly to hers, and a big, stupid smile spread across her face. "I'm even better than fine. I'm -"
Mom cut her off. "Ew, Lana. Did you piss yourself?"
Lana blushed. "No, I -"
Mom cupped her hands to her mouth. "HEY, EVERYONE! LANA PISSED HERSELF!"
The entire family, including Lincoln, gathered around to laugh at her. Lola and Lisa glared at them, then helped her to her feet and took her inside. "I met him," Lana said.
"Who?" Lola asked.
Lana looked from one of her sisters to the other.
"Anthony," she said.
For a long time after Lana climbed the fence back to her own yard, Anthony stood in the tall grass, his head cocked to one side and a semi puzzled expression on his face. He has the strangest feeling that he had met her before, and in fact knew her well, despite having never seen her before in his entire life. His mind churned as if trying to remember something, but nothing came to the forefront. He was certain, however, that he had met her somewhere before. Perhaps when they were kids? Maybe they randomly met at the beach and played together for an afternoon when they were four or five. You know how kids are, they'll become best friends in
the span of half an hour and then never see or think of each other again. Maybe that was it. It would be a hell of a coincidence but hey, those things happen.
Shaking his head like a man coming awake from a dream, he went back into the house. Boxes were stacked in the kitchen and his mother was putting away pots, pans, plates, and glasses, every cabinet door standing open. She saw him and her brow furrowed. "Are you alright, honey?" she asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"I think I did," he heard himself mumble.
"What?" Mom asked.
"Nothing," Anthony said. He shook his head again and went into the living room. He was just about to go up the stairs when a knock came at the door. He went to it and opened it. A geeky boy with thick red hair and glasses stood on the step,
His best friend Laird.
"Hey," Anthony said, cracking a smile.
"Hey, man," Laird said and held up a casserole dish covered in Saran wrap. "I brought you a house warming -"
Lindsey Sweetwater, Laird's stepsister, shoved him roughly aside and took his place. "Hi, Ant," she said and smiled prettily.
Tall with long legs, fiery red hair, and green eyes, she was clad in a sleeveless blue dress and sandals, a fine silver chain around her neck and a smattering of freckles across her high, arrogant cheekbones.
Anthony had been friends with Laird since elementary school and it was through him that he met Lindsey: Her mother married Laird's father three years ago. From the moment they had met, Lindsey had been mega thirsty for Anthony and eventually wore him down and roped him into a relationship. She was beautiful, that was true, but she was kind of a…well…this might sound mean…but a snobby bitch, the kind of rich daddy's girl who thought her shit didn't stink. Anthony kind of found that sort of thing off putting, but he managed to look past it because of her beauty and because she treated him well.
Which, not going to lie, made him feel kind of special, since she treated everyone else like shit.
There was also the fact that he really wanted to, you know…sleep with her. He wasn't some horndog who only wanted sex but damn it, he was a man after all, and Lindsey was smoking.
The only thing they had done so far was a few weeks ago, she sucked his dick. Of course, it was massive, so she was intimidated by it.
"Hey, Lindsey," Anthony said and leaned out the door to see if Laird was okay. Laird was brushing himself off. His casserole was okay, he must have held onto it when he fell. "What's up?"
"I made you this," Laird said and handed him the dish.
"Ahem," Lindsey said snottily, "I helped."
"Not really," Laird said.
Flashing, she slammed her elbow into his ribs and he winced in pain. Lindsey flashed Anthony a winning smile. "So…aren't you going to invite us in?"
""I'd love to," Anthony said honestly, "but I'm really busy. I have to unpack my things and set my room up. Also I need to help my mom."
"It's okay," Laird said, "I figured you'd be busy. I just wanted to drop off that -"
Lindsey stomped her foot. "I want to come in. Now."
Anthony sighed. "Look," he said, "I have to get this done. But when I'm finished, we can go out to that expensive French place you like."
Lindsey's eyes lit up. "Can we go shopping too?"
Oh boy. Lindsey loved shopping. She was the typical girl in that respect.
"Sure," he said, "we can go shopping."
Before Lindsey could reply, a Hispanic girl muscled between her and Laird, knocking both of them aside. The first thing Anthony noticed about her was her smell. It was dirty and sour, like sweat and unwashed feet. The second was her teeth. They were mangled like the blades of a chainsaw. Her hair was unevenly cut and her rail thin crackhead body was clad in clothes too big and baggy for it. "Sup?" she said. "Name's Ramona. Welcome to the neighborhood. You ever get lonely and wanna bang, you know who to call."
Anthony blinked in surprise.
Lindsey glared at her. "Ant?" she asked. "Who's this bitch?"
"I'm his new girlfriend," Ramona said. "Who are you?"
"His old girlfriend," Lindsey spat.
"Nice to meet you," Ramona said, "now fuck off."
Suddenly Lindsey, Ramona, and Laird were all talking at once, Lindsey and Ramona getting in each other's faces and yelling. Anthony opened his mouth and tried to calm the situation, but both girls simotaniously told him "Stay out of this." Anthony fell silent, then slowly, he backed up and shut the door, blocking out the sounds of their argument.
He let out a sigh and leaned against the door.
"Why does this weird shit always happen to me?" he asked himself.
There was no answer.
Heaving a deep sigh, he trudged up the stairs and went off to set up his room. He'd worry about Lindsey and what's her face later.
And Lana.
Something told him he would "worry" about her most of all.