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APPLES ARE BETTER THAN ORANGES - timeformyself [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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APPLES ARE BETTER THAN ORANGES [Sep. 2nd, 2006|12:59 am]
Professor Dimeter never took time travel seriously, never believed that it was actually possible, certainly never tried to make it a reality. At least not in the reality I live in.

He was fascinated by time travel stories when he was a child and those fantasy stories may have been what drew him to physics, but that's all there ever was to that.

He was pretty useless to Mavin. He can't help him go back and fix the damage he had done and thought Mavin needed a psychiatrist because time travel is physically impossible.

"You didn't believe that before I changed history." Mavin said.

"I seriously doubt that." Professor Dimeter replied.

That was the whole thing.

On the way back to my house we stopped at Wendy's for lunch. He ordered French Onion Soup and an orange frosty. The counter girl told him the French Onion soup was a limited time promotion and over a year ago, and that the only frosty choices were Chocolate and Vanilla.

Mavin looked devistated.

"How can you not have orange Frosties anymore?" he asked me as if I were responsible for my timeline.

"Well, we would have had them but someone planted a couple extra trees in Dallas over a hundred years ago and that blew the whole thing." I said back at him.

Mom looked upset too, and the loss of a favorite food isn't enough to trouble her. While we ate I tried to think about what was going on and what could be bad enough to get my mom upset. When we were down to a few cold fries the thought hit me.

I asked Mavin, "If you did get back in time and corrected the damage to the timeline you did, what would happen to me?"

Cold Wendy's french fries aren't the best without a sinking feeling in your belly. With one, forget it. We didn't eat another after that.

"You could come with me." He suggested.

"And come back to a world that doesn't know me?" I asked.

He made a face at me.

"No way." I added.

"Your dad would still be alive." I said.

"Not my dad, your dad."

Then my mom spoke up.

"It doesn't matter though because you can't. Our Marcus Dimeter never invented time travel and you don't know enough of what your Marcus Dimeter invented to recreate it. I'm sorry son, but you are stuck here."

Mavin looked like he was going to cry.

Right away my mom felt bad about how bluntly she spoke.

"What will happen to me?" Mavin eeked out, his voice cracking.

"You can stay with us." My mom offered.

"As what? You don't even know me." He sniffled.

It was my sniffle. I swear, I sound just like that when I'm trying not to cry.

There was an akward moment of silence that lasted too long. Once a kid in school killed himself. I didn't know the kid but we had an assembly and there was a long, akward moment of silence then. It was like that only longer.

"You are my son." My mom said.

"What?" I yelled, knocking over my soda cup, which, thankfully, only had ice left in it.

"You are my son too." My mom assured me.

"But I'm not your son. You didn't raise me, you don't even know me." Mavin protested.

"You aren't fully raised yet and I'll get to know you." My mom insisted.

When my mom insists on something you can argue with her if you want to give your jaw muscles a workout, but that's all you'll be doing. We both knew it so we didn't say another thing about it.

The rest of the day we spent in my room looking through my CDs and catching each other up on the bands we liked and didn't like. For the most part we liked the same things. At one point he said he liked something when he was 14 but grew out of it.

"Well, if I'm not going to like it soon Imight as well toss it now." I said and pitched it in the trash.

He fished it out saying, "Are you crazy? If mom caught you thowing out something that could be donated to something."

We stared at each other a minute before he asked, "What?"

Then I told him about the Kirkland Art Center and how mom never lets me throw out an old book or CD because it can be donated to their annual book sale.

I hadn't ever heard of one of the bands Mavin mentioned to me that he liked.

"Maybe the never got together." Mavin said.

"One way to find out." I said and went for my computer.

He was fascinated.

"You have a database of every band in your computer?" He asked. I told him I didn't but I could search the internet.

The next three hours was spent showing him the internet, explaining how it worked, looking up its history for him. Of all the things that could have been different. My world has the internet, his has orange Frosties. I think my world got the better of the deal.

Mavin is asleep now and I'm pretty tired. Tomorrow is Saturday. No school. Its supposed to rain but if it doesn't we are going to the New York State Fair.