The Toilet Paper Caper: Chapter 4
A Stark Mystery
We left my fleabag office and went downstairs to Rebecca’s fleabag car. Parked next to the curb, in all its rusted glory, was a sky blue 1974 Ford Pinto. With the time-travel upgrade. Rebecca hopped in the driver’s seat, and I contorted myself into the passenger seat. I figured I better set her straight on a few things before we began.
“Alright, Darling…”
“Only my friends call me by my middle name.”
“Alright, Darling.”
“You’re rude.”
“It’s part of my training. Us gumshoes have to deal with some unsavory characters, like politicians and CEOs, so we need to speak their language. Besides, I call most dames Darling. Or Doll Face. Or Buttercup. Take your pick.”
“I suppose Darling is okay.”
“Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, there are some things you need to know before we start doing the Marty McFly.”
“The what?”
“Nevermind. It’s a movie. We’ll watch it later on my phone.”
“Ha, ha! Like you can watch movies on a phone.”
“Can I continue?”
“Whatever, dude.”
“Alright. First thing. We are not going to travel to any time where apes can talk. Second, subliminal messages might have worked in your time, but they are outdated. Now we use social media to spread fake news, whip people into a frenzy of outrage and cause panic. This is going to blow your mind, but everyone uses computers now to communicate. Think Star Trek without the Vulcans. It’s too weird to explain, but trust me, it is far more effective than commercials to brainwash the masses.”
“So, you think Uncle Whipple is hiding in one of these social medias?”
“They are not physical… nevermind. It is very possible that Whipple used social media to cause the panic buying. This leads me to believe he was in this time recently. I am not sure what Whipple would do, but if I had a time machine, I would go back to the early 1980s and buy a ton of Apple stock. Then come back to 2020 and cash it in. Then go back to the 1970s and buy a bunch of Procter & Gamble stock. Then come back to 2020 and start buying up toilet paper and post about shortages on Facebook, causing a wave of panic buying. Then once Procter & Gamble stock went crazy, sell it and go back in time to the 1970s and live like a king. And then go see all the great bands when they were in their prime for five bucks.”
“Uhhh…”
“Stick with me, Kid. Time travel is ridiculously complex to follow, depending on whether you believe in alternate timelines. And which rules your particular brand of time travel has invented to keep everyone from going back in time and fixing their mistakes. Which is why most time-travel TV shows don’t last long. But we’ll catch that tissue squeezer before he can hatch his evil plot and stop this crisis before it happens. Which means we need to go back to the ‘70s.”
“Radical, Dude. Give me some skin.”
“Sorry, social distancing.”
“What?”
“Nevermind.”
Rebecca fired up the Pinto, which fortunately didn’t explode, and set the clock on the Pioneer 8-track player to 1972. Then she popped in a Three Dog Night 8-track and stepped on the gas.
Then, like that scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey, we were flying through a psychedelic tunnel of light. But instead of classical music, we were hearing:
Jeremiah was a bullfrog Was a good friend of mine
By the time we had spread joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, the lights had stopped, and we were parked in a fleabag town in the 1970s. I wanted to be sure, so I looked at the people walking by. Sure enough, people were wearing big-bell Levis with patches sewn on them, and crazy patterned shirts. And everyone’s hair was either a mop or feathered. This was 1972, alright.
I looked at my phone. No service. I was scared.
Alright, Darling, let’s pay Uncle Whipple a visit.
Continues in Chapter 5:
Previous chapters: