Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Part 3: A Persistent Fly
(The story so far: I’ve just traveled from 2012 to 1972 in hopes of keeping a legendary Bonanza photograph from falling into the wrong hands – namely, those of ugly redhead Mitch Vogel, who’s just apparently mistaken me for his gofer!)
"Doughuts?" I said stupidly.
Then I remembered – TimeRiver always went ahead (or behind) and arranged some menial job for you, so you'd blend in better. The blonde bimbo had just forgotten to tell me – apparently my menial job was being Mitch Vogel's "gofer".
A dream come true, I thought sourly.
"Sorry, Mitch – er," I amended quickly, seeing a slight frown cross his freckles, "Mr. Vogel – " (the frown disappeared, replaced by a smirk, which didn't help the freckles much) – "I, er, I'm new here and wasn't sure exactly what you wanted."
He rolled his eyes and sighed, then pointed towards the big glass doors at the entrance. "Go straight out on Melrose, two blocks down to the Winchell's on the corner. You can't miss it," he added sarcastically as I plowed through the doors, "there's a big sign that says "DONUTS" over the door."
I got a dozen glazed doughnuts, at 1972 prices, wow! – and, fighting a persistent fly, toted them back to Mr. Vogel, who accepted them graciously and gave me a tip. "Wow, a whole buck," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Now I can pay off my Starbucks Duetto™ VISA card."
He turned and stared at me. "Your WHAT?"
Oops, I thought. "Nothing, nothing. So anyway, what's on the schedule today, after the doughnuts?"
Still eyeing me suspiciously, His Redness popped a glazed ring into his mouth and, with his mouth full, answered, "We'mph gonna phumph the bug crun shun."
"I beg your pardon?" Now it was my turn to stare. He gulped down the rest of the doughnut, almost choking (sorry, Jamie-haters, but he survived - in THIS timeline, anyway), and repeated, "We're going to film the big crying scene."
"Oh, yeah," I exclaimed, trying to look appropriately respectful. "That should be really sad, huh?"
"Yeah," said Mitch, looking equally pensive. "I still can't believe he's gone."
I shook my head. "Yeah, it's gonna be tough without Dan, huh?"
The suspicious look came back. "Without Dan?" he growled. "What planet have you been on?"
"I – I'm sorry," I stammered. "I've been out of the country – maybe I heard wrong – but didn't Dan Blocker die last week?"
He shook his head, grabbing another doughnut, and walked away. "Not Dan," he called backwards, obviously wanting to get as far away from me as possible. "Mike. Michael Landon. HE'S the one that died, not Dan!"
(TO BE CONTINUED!)