New Project Backwards story # 1

More time-travel adventures with Steve Weaver!

New Project Backwards Story# 1

By  Mike Stevens

    

     He slammed the book shut, and at long last, Steve was done reconstructing all the research he’d done on the time machine.  He would try it without General Wells’ help this time.  Help?  Open ridicule was more like it.  He didn’t believe Steve had travelled back in time, or anywhere for that matter.  In fact, he had mocked him when he’d told him all of the people he’d talked to.  He couldn’t explain why it only was seconds or minutes to General Wells, and several days to him.  But he knew he’d been to the past, and after Wells destroyed the time machine it had taken him three long years to research and construct, he had painstakingly reconstructed the time machine in only a little over two and 1/2 years, because this time he had a clue what he was looking for.   Still, that was a long  time to spend on anything, especially since there were no guaranties it would work.  He hoped it would work; god, how he hoped it would work.  Well, there was no reason to wait.  After all this time, and all the worry, the time machine seemed to dare him to climb in. 

 

 

     At first, nothing happened, and Steve cursed loudly, “Son of a b***h; all this time, and the morhi--”

 

 

     He came to in, where?  The first thing to register on his groggy brain was that it had worked.  The second thing to register was he was being stared at by a familiar face, the face of John Wayne.  It was the familiar face that had accompanied him through his high school years, albeit a much younger version.  This era face looked to be in his 20’s.  The face said,

 

     “Wake up, Stevo; you promised to read lines with me.”

 

     “Sure, after all, I did promise,” replied a confused Steve. 

 

     “Okay, here’s a copy of the script for the part I’m trying for.”

 

     While Steve read through it really quick, Wayne began, “Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place: But he; as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bombast circumstance...”

      He stopped reading and glanced up at Wayne, “  “Wait, what’s this?

 

     “It’s “Othello’ from Shakespeare.”

 

     “No, I know what it is, but you, of all people?  This isn’t the kind of stuff you were know for, plus, you’re not even black. 

 

     “Oh sure, look at the former football player at USC try to act something classy; he’ll embarrass himself miserably.”

 

     “No, I just meant don’t you think you should stick to westerns?”

 

     “Westerns?  I hate horses, and they’re nothing but guys finding an excuse to wave around their guns and ride around on those filthy beasts; disgusting, and what do you mean ‘were’?”

 

     Oh oh; “Eh, slip of the tongue; I meant to say, ‘aren’t westerns what you want to be known for?’”

 

     “Oh, nope, and I’ve already told you why.”

 

     “But Shakespeare?  His stuff doesn’t exactly make for good movies.”

 

     “Movies?  Hell, I’ve got my eyes on treading the boards.  Movies aren’t exactly high art.”

 

     “What about the millions of kids who’ll be disappointed at the movies, with their popcorn and soda’s, without you riding in to save the day?”

 

     “Yeah right; millions; I wish!”

 

     “Believe me, that’s the way it will be--err--could be.”

 

     “You really believe that, don’t you?”, then quieter, so he thought Steve wouldn’t hear, “Poor B*****d!”; still, I might just try that, as people with about as much talent in their whole body as I do in my little finger are making a name for themselves, and I haven’t had much luck.  I recently was offered a contract from Fox Film Corporation, so I suppose I can make movies until the name Marion Morrison becomes well known on the stage.”

 

     “Have you given any thought to changing you name?  Marion Morrison doesn’t sound like a star’s name.”

 

    “Oh yeah, a name was suggested by a friend of mine, who was just trying to help, but I rejected it.”

 

     “What was the name?” asked Steve.

 

     “Ebeneezer Woolydong, but I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.”

 

     “Wow; I’d maybe change it to something simple that is likely to stick in people’s memory, such as, oh, I don’t know, John Wayne.”

 

     “John Wayne huh?  I kind of like it; maybe I’ll try that name for awhile.”

 

     Yeah, I predict some good luck for you in the future, thought Steve.  “Yeah, that sounds good; I’d definitely give that a go.  Well, I’m thirsty; might I trouble you for a glass of water?”

 

     “Sure, no trouble, and as soon as I get back here with your water, and I’d recommend whiskey instead, we’ll go over my lines.”

 

      “Thanks Marion,” replied Steve.  Wayne then went into the kitchen to get Steve a glass of water.  Steve waited until Wayne had disappeared into the kitchen, and whispered “Get me out of here!”  His last conscious thought was Ebeneezer Woolydong? and everything went black. 

 

 

The End

 

 

 

    

 

    

 

 

 

   

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[Michael Stevens]

Please excuse me; I had the saying "as much talent in their whole body as I have in my little finger" completely backwards; speaking of backwards!