TIME DOUCHE CH. 6 - DAWN OF THE DOUCHE

TIME DOUCHE CH.6 - DAWN OF THE DOUCHE

By Steven Novak

Napoleon smiles at you in that greasy-gross way only he and his weird little face can. For the first time since meeting him, you realize that he looks an awful lot like a used car salesman. History’s most feared general looks like he should be selling you a Honda Civic at a jacked up price.

“Is this what you are looking for, my friend?” Napoleon says with a snarl and an almost comical raise of his eyebrow.

The gesture makes you want to punch him right in his sweaty round face. Marie’s grip tightens on your arm and her head peeks out from over your shoulder. Napoleon is laughing now, chuckling to himself while he dangles the translator in his hand. You want to grab him by the little strand of hair hanging over his forehead, spin him around and slam him into a tree. At that same time, you are completely aware of the fact that you won’t be doing any of those things. Sure, Napoleon’s a five-foot-nothing pipsqueak, but you’re not exactly the world’s most intimidating dude either.

He also has the advantage of knowing how to use a sword.

You once needed six stitches after slicing open your finger while chopping broccoli.

Car salesman or not, you’d be smart to keep your distance.

At the same time, you’ve seen enough time travel movies, and watched and enough episodes of Star Trek, to understand that leaving the translator in Napoleon’s hands probably isn’t the brightest thing to do.

Oh, well.

Without warning you shove Marie backward and into the time machine. She trips over her own feet, clonks her head on the rear paneling, and yelps. You follow her inside and shut the door behind you, but not before flashing Mr. Honda Civic the finger.

He has no idea what the gesture means. You honestly don’t care.

Once you’re inside, the machine begins to honk and beep and flash and whir exactly as it did when you first stepped in at Nubleman’s place. A green light emerges from a bulb behind you, illuminates the back of your head, then begins to slide downward until it reaches Marie. You can hear Napoleon outside. He’s banging on the machine and whacking it with his sword.

Though you have no idea what you’re doing, you start pressing buttons. Marie is on her feet now. She’s standing behind you with her hands on your shoulders, pinching at your skin nervously and gnawing at her lower lip like a side of beef.

“What are you doing?” She screams at the top of her lungs as the machine begins to hum and rattle, and Napoleon’s sword continues to whack against it from the outside.

“I’m not . . .entirely . . .sure.” You answer respond honestly, because you aren’t—at all.

The chair you’re sitting in starts to wobble and the panels in front of your face flash like something out of a video game. Suddenly you feel Marie’s mouth on your neck. Her tongue bobbles your earlobe. She rips your shirt backward and mumbles something breathily into your flesh that sounds a little bit like, “This is so hot.”

This girl is a real freak.

By the time she has her hands down your collar and has begun tweaking your nipples, the beeps and boops crescendo into a sustained tone. The very instant she bites your neck there’s a flash of light a hundred times brighter than any of the ones prior. For a moment, everything goes black.

When you open your eyes, you realize that you’re sprawled out awkwardly on the floor of the machine. Your head is pounding and you’re covered in sweat. Someone is tugging at the waistband of your pants and your blood is rapidly rushing to your genitals. It’s Marie. She’s trying to get your pants off.

Oh yeah, she’s a freak and a half.

You’d like nothing more than to see just how freaky she really is, but you decide it might be in your best interest to take a look outside and see where Nubleman’s piece of junk has taken you. After successfully prying horny Marie, The Eighteenth Century Nymphomaniac, from your bloomers, you reach up and smack the door-opening button with your palm. The metal slides open with a whoosh.

Unfortunately, it jams half way.

There’s a black, foul smelling smoke rising up from under the machine, and the outside is covered in dents. Flashes of electricity occasionally spark from the areas where the dents look more like gashes.

It seems the little car salesman did a heck of a lot more damage than you thought he could.

The moment you step out of the machine it bursts into flames. The fire singes the hairs on the back of your neck and something explodes under Nubleman’s pile of junk. You snag Marie around the waist, pull her away from the fire, and tumble together to the ground.

A puddle of greenish colored goop softens your landing.

Despite the fact that you’re partially submerged in what is essentially Nickelodeon Gack, almost instantly Marie has latched onto your neck again. In between kisses, and licks, and full on slobbers, she’s mumbling something about the fact that she’s “waited long enough” and that she wants you to “spank her, ravish her,” and remind her what it’s like to be with a “real man.”

Not only is she freaky, she’s obviously confused.

Through Marie’s flailing strands of hair, you notice that the sky overhead is remarkably red—far redder than you’ve ever seen it, or than it ever should be. The air smells like sulfur. It’s a bit thicker than you’re accustomed to. The temperature is absolute sweltering.

Marie’s hand slides down your shirt and heads south.

The landscape on either side of you is mostly rocky. Everything seems to be covered in a layer of reddish sand and dirt and there’s not a single bit of foliage to be found. Though you can’t tell for sure with Marie’s limbs flailing the way they are, you think you spot a volcano in the distance.

Speaking of crazy-Marie: she shoves her tongue down your throat.

That’s when it hits you. Though your knowledge of earth’s history is rudimentary at best, you suddenly know where you are. Nubleman’s machine really did a number on you this time. You’ve gone almost as far back in earth’s history as you could possibly go.

The goop your sliding around might just be the very same goop from which life itself will eventually spring.

Marie climbs on top of you, rips open her shirt and flops out in all her glory.

Oh, well. Marie was right about one thing; this is going to be pretty hot.

THE END

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - TAKE ON NAPOLEON

TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - TAKE ON NAPOLEON

By MJ Heiser

The fires of a red-hot rage fueled by injustice and fatigue spread through your limbs. Damn it! This isn’t fair! You only wanted to eat some chicken. Instead you end up scrambling for a new wardrobe and getting blasted back to Revolutionary France to deal with a runaway royal and her douchebag boyfriend.

All you know is that you aren’t going to take this anymore. You frown. “Oh yeah, tough guy?” you say. There’s a strange, breathy, needling quality to your voice, and you realize that you sound a little bit like Sugar Ray Leonard. Or Mike Tyson. Through the scrim of your exhaustion, you’ve also noted that you’ve started the “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee” shuffle made famous by Muhammad Ali. The adrenaline in your system is making you giddy. I don’t know how to fight! you think gleefully to yourself. And I haven’t watched wrestling since Hulk Hogan’s day!

Napoleon watches you carefully. Suddenly, you see it: That strange twinkle in his eye that tells you that not only does he understand combat, he really, really enjoys it. He’s studying your moves for danger. A smile on his face makes it clear he knows there is no real danger.

“Monsieur,” he says politely with a deferential nod, “are you in need of a way to relieve your bladder?”

Marie giggles.

You stop shuffling and gape stupidly at him. “Huh?”

With a lightning quickness you can hardly believe, he draws his sword and draws a line across your guts. You feel warmth spreading down your abdomen. Blood. You also feel warmth spreading down your thighs. Piss.

“Or shall I do it for you?” he laughs, as the lights in your mental attic dim and go out.

The last thing you hear is the electronic squawk of Nubleman’s voice: “You ridiculous moron.”

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 5

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - Hold Marie Hostage

TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - HOLD MARIE HOSTAGE

By Mandy Ward

“Um… yes actually, that is what I’m looking for, thank you mon ami.” You dredge the high school French from your brain and hold out your hand. “Can I have it back, please?”

Napoleon tilts his head. “First you will tell me what you are doing with Marie.”

“Nothing. We were just taking . . .a walk.” She frowns at you. What else am I supposed to say? Sorry mate, I was just going to run away with your bird and take her back to my own time?

Napoleon snorts. “No one just walks with a lady, especially with one as beautiful and important as my Marie.”

“I do.” You shrug.

“I don’t believe you. You were going to steal her away from me.” Napoleon tosses the communicator from hand to hand.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You look at Marie, trying to communicate to her that she needed to corroborate your story.

Napoleon looks at her as well. “Well, Marie? Is he right? Or were you about to leave me for some unknown foreigner?” The communicator makes another bounce from one hand to the other.

“Non, I would not do that, mon cher. He dragged me out here, muttering about finding something and leaving,” Marie tells him. She takes a step forward. “I want only to be with you!”

Napoleon’s face softens as she reaches towards him and takes another step. “I believe you, ma cherie.” He looks at you and you shudder at the rage in his eyes. “I will take this insult out of your hide!”

“Hey, I don’t care. I just want to go home.” You point at the communicator which still rests in Napoleon’s hand. “Give me that and you take your bitch of a princess back to your shack, where you can poke her all you want.”

Napoleon’s face turns puce. “You pig! How dare you insult her yet again? I would have merely let your blood a little. Instead I shall kill you!”

Drawing the dagger on your belt, you leap forward and grab Marie, holding the dagger to her throat. “You make one move towards your sword and your princess gains a new smile.”

Marie tries to scream and struggles against you. You push the dagger against her slender white throat and a drop of blood dribbles down, leaving a scarlet trail behind. “Don’t move sweetheart, I really don’t want to hurt you.” She stops moving. Thank God for that. I wouldn’t be able to hurt her, you think. I’d rather take her to heaven a different way. Marie’s perfume and the warmth from her body are making you wish that the two of you were somewhere private right now.

“Enough. What do you want, pig?” Napoleon’s tone is softer.

“Throw the communicator over here and I’ll let her go.” With you free hand you point to a spot to your right that is clear of stones.

“Dog. Pig. Let her go first!” the petite soldier spits, his face flushing puce again.

“What on God’s Green Earth are you doing now?” Nubleman shrieks from the communicator. “I told you to get back to the Time Machine and get out of there!”

The voice coming out of nowhere startles Napoleon and he literally jumps a foot into the air. The communicator flies out of his hand and drops hard onto a large rock, smashing into a hundred shreds of plastic, a scattering of computer chips and other electronic components.

You groan and drop the dagger from Maria’s throat, not caring that she dashes back to Napoleon as you wrench the door of the time machine open and start pressing buttons left, right and centre.

“What are you doing, you ignorant piece of filth? Come out of there and fight me like a man.” Napoleon shouts . . .except it comes out as "Que faites-vous, vous ignorant pièce d'immondices? Sortez de là et me batter comme un homme."

You ignore him and keep bashing buttons. Damn, without that translator I don’t understand a thing they are saying and without Nubleman, I don’t know how to work this thing! That red button looks promising, maybe it’s the starter? Jamming your thumb onto the red button, you are surprised to hear a genteel female voice say:

“Thank you for choosing the ten second self-destruct sequence. Please exit the Time Machine and retreat to a safe distance. This Time Machine will self-destruct in ten… nine…eight…”

Staring at the machine’s dashboard you mutter to yourself “Self-Destruct sequence? Nubleman, you really are crazy.”

“…seven…six…five…”

You back out of the machine and try to scramble up the hill as fast as possible, but Napoleon grabs hold of the back of your shirt and shouts at you again. “Où pensez-vous que vous allez? Revenez!”

I think I know what that means. I have to get out of here before the Time Machine blows up. You dredge your French language memory again. “Um…laissez-passer!”

“Non, chien. Le seul endroit où vous allez est en enfer.” Napoleon hauls you backwards with surprising strength for such a small man.

“…four…three…”

You land right in front of the time machine. You can smell acrid smoke drifting out from inside the dashboard and there are tiny sparks starting to flicker over the keys, so you try to roll away and Napoleon jumps on you, punching you hard in the face.

“…two…one… this Time Machine will now self destruct. Have a Nice day!” the voice says calmly and the dashboard explodes with a blast of flame, scattering glass and plastic like bullets.

Time slows down for you and you see Marie torn to shreds by glass, falling slowly to the ground as one piece of glass pierces her barely contained chest and kills her.

Napoleon is knocked off you by the detonation and comes crashing down onto the same rock that the communicator shattered on, his skull caving in, grey brain matter and red blood mingling as it flies out.

Above you, the machine rocks in the burst of energy and topples over. A torn steel strut twists and drops like a javelin towards you. Abruptly time speeds up again and you just have time to think Maybe I shouldn’t have threatened Marie after all… before it all goes black.

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 5

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - Caught With Your Hand In Your Pants

TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - CAUGHT WITH YOUR HAND IN YOUR PANTS

By Tomara Armstrong

“Okay.” You look around. How is it that you find yourself in a situation once again? Big French guys have busted in on your chance to score with a royal hottie in hiding, and you’re not supposed to be upset? You’re either incredibly unlucky or someone has had it out for you from the beginning—some sick, sick sadist is controlling your fate. Regardless, you’ve had enough.

“Dude, do I look like I know what’s going on here?” The brutes glance at each other and eye you up and down. They seem to have come to the general understanding that you are not French. “Look, I’m a guest of Napoleon. Yeah, I helped him out earlier, maybe saved his life and stuff, but I don’t have any idea what all of this is about. Who’s Marie Therese?” You shrug and shoot a wink at the girl. “And what’s with the entrance? Aren’t you on the same side? And you just come busting thru the door? If I was Napoleon, I’d be pissed.”

“Uh… um…” both men shift their weight, looking nervous.

“I know your type, throwing shit around, trying to be all tough. Napoleon’s in the other room; dude’s gonna come unglued when he sees you’re tearing shit up.”

You’re loving every second of making these men sweat. In all probability, they could stomp you into a pulsing mass of goo on the floor. “You know what? Let’s get Napoleon in here,” you smile, but notice that Marie looks nervous. “Strike that. Why don’t you two dipshits go and find him?”

The two share a look, shrug, and sulk out of the room.

You’ve got a goofy grin on your face, replaying the moment in your head: tough talk, ninja moves, and naked girl slathered in chocolate.

Slap.

You barely have time to cover the stinging handprint on your face when Marie grabs the front of your shirt. “Why did you do that? Are you out of your mind?”

She’s not really pissed—she totally digs you. Naked girl… chocolate…mmm.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Shaking your head, you grab Marie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

She doesn’t resist. You’re feeling pretty confident as you head out into the night with Marie in tow. You just stole a girl from Napoleon Bonaparte. How cool is that? Of course, he would probably kill her if he knew who she really was, but still, pretty cool.

You’re overly zealous, jumping logs and lifting Marie over brush and puddles of mud. You’re pretty sure you’re getting close when she collapses to the ground in tears.

“Oh man.” Leave it to a woman to lose her cool at the worst possible time. You try to comfort her, but what started as a few tears has now turned into a full blown boo-hoo with accompanying snot bubbles. “Shush now,” you pat her on the back. “It’ll be okay.” She tries to speak but you can’t make out any of it. You glance around trying to determine how close you are to the time machine. “We’re close.”

“Close to what?” Finally the girl is making sense again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe,” you say as you heave her into a secure piggy back. She wipes her nose on your shirt and kisses the side of your neck softly. Does this make her my girlfriend? You smile and trudge on toward the machine.

You see the machine in the distance, slide Marie onto her feet, and hurry toward it. “What is that?” she asks.

“Never mind what it is, Marie, we need to get in it and get out of here.” You start pacing in front the machine trying to think what to do. “Damn it, Thomas. You’re being quiet.”

You reach in your pants, and look at Marie in shock. She blushes.

“Oh no,” you panic, running around the perimeter. “Where is it? Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“Oh god… I didn’t lose it, did I?"

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Napoleon steps from the brush holding the communicator in his hand. He looks pissed and your hands are still in your pants.

Will you...

A. Screw Nubleman--get in the machine with Marie and start pushing buttons.

B. Take on Napoleon. You’ve watched plenty of WWF, and he’s particularly puny. You can take him.

C. Pretend to hold Marie hostage and offer to trade the communicator for the girl.

TIME DOUCHE CH. 4 - Greatest Rouse Ever

TIME DOUCHE CH.4 - GREATEST ROUSE EVER

By Cathleen Holst

You open your mouth to speak, but the brutish men tell you to shut it, informing you that you’ve made a grave mistake by coming here. “Oh, really,” you say, sitting up in bed and suddenly you see a flash, and it’s over.

You’re dead.

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 4

TIME DOUCHE CH. 4 - Betray Marie

TIME DOUCHE CH.4 - BETRAY MARIE

BY Mandy Ward

You look from the brutes to Marie, wondering if you really ought to defend her. After all, she seems ready to sleep with just about anyone who takes her fancy and certainly doesn’t care about the common folk, despite her intention to live as one of them. So what if she’s sexy and curvy and everything you like in a woman? Underneath it all, she’s still as sluttish and unfaithful as a camp follower.

“I’m glad you guys turned up,” you drawl. “I discovered this bitch lying in wait for Napoleon. I think she was going to murder him.”

Three of them look at her and she whimpers, but stands her ground. The fourth frowns. “It looks more like she’s trying to seduce you.”

“Of course she’s trying to seduce me. She’s attempting to leave this place alive.” You bluster a little, hoping they’ll take it for anger when all of a sudden you’re actually rather scared.

“Why would a woman like this want to murder Napoleon?” the fourth man asks.

Great. Trust one of them to have brains and brawn. You were trying to get them to arrest her and then you were going to wake Napoleon to come to her rescue, but you’ll have to spill the beans now. “She’s a member of the royal family. I mean, for God’s Sake, look at her; the bearing, the accent, the figure!”

Marie draws in a deep breath and, almost as one, the men’s eyes are drawn to her ample assets. Yes, that’s right. Go on, scream for help and watch Napoleon appear to find four men smirking at your chest.

But you realise that only two of the men are leering. The other two have drawn their swords and, with only a second’s pause, they lop the heads off the two drooling brutes. Then they both drop to their knees, their sword points grounded and heads bowed. “De la naissance à la mort, que nous servons notre reine,” the brainy one says softly.

From Birth to Death, we serve our Queen. The translation makes you shudder. So she’s not given up on her birthright after all.

The blood from the slaughtered men pools out around their bodies. Marie delicately steps away from it, holding her skirts out of the crimson liquid.

“Thank you, gentlemen. It is a relief to know that I can count on such loyalty still. You may rise.”

They stand up. “What do we do with him, your majesty?” the brainy one says.

“He saved Napoleon’s life today, but was about to force himself on my person,” she says, her head tilting back slightly as if she’d smelled something rotten. “That is against the law and is punishable by death; but for the act of saving My Love’s life and returning him to me, I reward him with a quick death rather than being drawn and quartered.”

“Oh now, hang on! You were coming onto me, not the other way round,” you protest loudly as they advance towards you.

“What’s going on?” Napoleon emerges, chest bare and blinking sleep from his eyes. “Marie, is there a problem? Why are two of my men dead?”

Her lovely eyes go wide and her bottom lip trembles before she flies to his side, ignoring the blood that splashes up her skirts in her haste to reach him. “Oh Napoleon! This . . .this . . .thug tried to force himself on me!”

Lying bitch. You think fast, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation. In your pocket you can hear Thomas muttering something, but it’s not loud enough for you to hear properly. He’s probably just cursing me again.

“What?” Napoleon’s gaze drops onto you and you shiver at the fury in his eyes. “Captain, what is the truth of this matter?” his arm curls around Marie’s waist and pulls her to him protectively.

The intelligent one replies. “Sir, we were passing by your door when we heard muffled cries in here. We forced our way in and found this man—“ he points his bloodied blade at you, “—and his two confederates attacking Madame Marie. He insisted that she is the Fille de France and that she should be executed. His confederates suggested having some fun with her first and that was when we entered.”

The other man nods as Napoleon looks at him.

Oh come on, Napoleon, you’re smarter than that! Use your brain, they have blood all over them and are carrying bare blades, for Christ’s sake.

“We beheaded the brutes and were about to administer the same fate to their leader when you entered,” the Captain finishes.

You sigh as Napoleon looks at you. “You saved my life so that you could kill my love? How dare you.”

You try to appeal to his political side. “Look, I swear that I am innocent of this! She was trying to seduce me and she admitted to being Marie Therese, the French Princess. Of course she’s going to lie about it, she’s a noblewoman!”

He holds out his hand and the captain places his sword into it. “Stand back, my love, I must dispatch this ruffian!”

“A man in love is only as intelligent as his todger,” you mutter, sighing and attempting to put some distance between you and the enraged Napoleon.

The two soldiers place themselves between you and Marie, while Napoleon advances towards you. You back away and slip in the blood pool surrounding one of the bodies. Catching yourself against a chair, you pull yourself upright, turn and trip over the second body.

“Aha! I have you now.” Napoleon springs forward and lunges smoothly, the blade piercing your back, carving through your ribcage and as the point touches your heart. You think Oh, well, Nubleman isn’t going to get his time machine back.

Your heart bursts and blood flows out of every upper orifice, adding to the pool on the floor. Your last sight is of Marie. The damn bitch has a smirk on her face. What a nasty piece of work; I’m glad I didn’t do her now…

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 4

TIME DOUCHE CH. 3 - DIREGÉ COMME L’ENFER (Run Like Hell)

TIME DOUCHE CH.3 - DIREGÉ COMME L’ENFER (Run Like Hell)

By James McShane

Okay, Boney’s lady is smokin’ hot and you know that in your finest hour you’d give her the loving of the century. But this is not your finest hour; it’s not even your century. And no matter how your heart says otherwise, discretion is the better part of valour – especially in your situation. You kiss her lightly on the cheek and say in your best historical French, “Not tonight, Josephine.”

She spits in your eye. “Never mention that woman in my presence again, you scum bucket. He loves me more than he loves his wife.”

“Lady,” you whisper, “some dudes will say anything to a woman, if it gets them a free pass through your corset.” It is at this point you want to say vive la revolution, but you think something will be lost in the non-translation. “Thomas,” you say to the air, “I’m making like Moses and getting the flock out of here.”

"Now is not the time for bad jokes!" Nubleman screams. "Don’t forget my machine. Get your ass back there, as quick as you can."

“On my way, TN.” You bid the mademoiselle au revoir. (This comes out as “until the next time” due to the inbuilt translator.) To which Marie replies, “There will be no next time.” Ever the pessimist, this Marie is. C’est la vie!

Using your memory, you manage to reach the outside once more. You look around, but you see no one in pursuit. You breathe a sigh of relief. To the time machine, you think. Tout de suite! Now where the hell did you leave it? Oh yes, further up the hill, you remember. Your stomach lurches at the memory. You pick up your pace, hoping that you’re one step closer to the machine, and one year closer to your own time. Then something out of the ordinary happens.

In front of you, about thirty paces from where you are, the air shimmers. You stop in your tracks as you feel a wave of energy surround you like a tornado. But this, as you know, is not Kansas anymore. You’re quite sure, from what little you learned from history books, that 18^th century France never experienced tornados. Whatever is happening in front of you is caused by science, not Mother Nature.

Merde! you think desperately. Sacre-fucking-bleu! Nothing like a little Franglais to get the blood boiling nicely. The shimmering air and energy wave intensify but seem centred on one spot. Out of nothing something altogether different materialises. You half expect a blue telephone box, with some bloke in a bow-tie coming out of it, waving madly at you. But it’s not a box of any sort; it’s a 16 foot replica of the Washington Monument. At its base, there is a hatch, and you shiver as it begins to open.

“Thomas,” you say through the confusion, “did you by any chance send out for reinforcements?”

"Why do you ask?" Nubleman says.

“I think I’ve found another time machine. And someone is coming out.”

"Fucking NASA," your host spits. "I have a spy in my company. Someone has sold my secrets to the bloody government."

“Welcome to the big bad world of business,” you retort. “So what do I do now?”

"Go with whoever it is and see what they know. Then steal their secrets. I’ll pay handsomely."

You shrug. As long as it gets you back to your own time, and away from the smelly French, you’d go with Doubya if that’s who it was in the monument. But it’s not the former U.S. president; it’s someone more famous, more deadly and better dressed.

The new arrival is leather-bound, wearing sunglasses, built like a brick shithouse, and sporting a crew-cut that is instantly recognisable. He walks over to you, and then holds out his hand.

“Come with me if you want to live,” he says. You take his hand and immediately feel your bones crushed by his incredible strength.

“Oy, be careful, will you?” you shout. “I use that hand for nocturnal entertainment.”

“Where is Bonaparte?” the Governator says gutturally. You point behind you with your good hand. He nods and looks down at you. “Your presence here has disrupted FoxNet’s plans. You must be terminated.”

You freeze. “I thought you were here to save me.”

“I lied,” he monotones. “I am to wipe the French from history, and it is unfortunate that you have allied yourself with cheese-eating surrender monkeys. For that you must pay.” He grabs your head and squeezes until your brain mass seeps from all your facial orifices.

You know you should call for your mother, but all you can think as you die, as the last of your grey cells exits through your nose, is Fucking Republicans!

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 3

TIME DOUCHE CH. 3 - JUST SAY NO

TIME DOUCHE CH.3 - JUST SAY NOBy Debbie Davis
You laugh nervously and move her hand away. “We don’t need to do that,” you whisper.

She smiles and puts her hand back on your chest and you try to remember the last time a chick this hot was throwing herself at you. Oh. Right. That’d be never. “I would like to say thank you for saving Napoleon, Monsieur Fred.” She brings her mouth close to yours and tries to kiss you. “So, merci.”

Her accent is spot on. At least from your vague memory of French class. The way the words flow from her lips makes you want to put yours there….No! Stop! You jerk your head away. “Wait, aren’t you from Austria?”

“Oui,” she nods. “How is it that you know this?”

Shit! You shouldn’t know that! Unless, of course your from hundreds of years in the future. Shit! Shit! Shit! Faux pas, even.

“You told me,” you offer. Her hand has now moved to the task of loosening the God forsaken shirt you’re wearing and your eyes dart around. Her bedroom door is closed, and the fireplace in the area you’re in flickers as if it is trying to set the scene for you out of some romance novel like the ones your mother used to read.

“I told you no such thing.” She smiles at you. “You would only know this if you were following me. Were you following me, Monsieur Fred?”

“I wasn’t following you,” you tell her.

“Monsieur Fred,” she shifts her body, rolling it closer to yours, and brushes her lips on your neck. Sweet Jesus. “It is not good to lie.”

“Napoleon told me then,” you try. “Earlier, before we came here. He wouldn’t stop talking about you,” you add, hoping she may allow this knowledge to sway her from the original mission. As much as you’d like to bone her, you’re no fool. She belongs to Napoleon Bonaparte, the emperor of France, for God sakes!

She smiles. “Ah, yes Napoleon is a great man, which is why I must thank you for saving his life.”

“Words are enough!” you say frantically. “Truly!”

A voice comes from your pocket. A voice that is going to be haunting your dreams for all of eternity. Thomas. “Could you stop talking you bloody eediot! It’s three thirty in the morning.”

Marie stops abruptly. “What was that?”

You shrug and shake your head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A disturbingly evil expression paints her face right before she grabs at your manhood roughly. You yelp. “You think I am stupide, Fred? Your crotch is talking.”

Actually, your pocket is talking. More aptly speaking, Thomas is simply back with his mindless babble. Blah. Blah. Blah.

“I assure you, Madame, it is not.”

“Oui,” she says. “It is.”

Maybe she’s as pretty on the inside as she is outside. Perhaps the truth will work. You move her and sit up. “Marie, I am from far in the future. I came here in a time machine and I just want to get home.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. This story you tell is ridiculous and impossible.”

Okay, so that didn’t go off as well as you thought it would. You try the next best thing… rejection. “Listen Marie, I don’t know what you were hoping would happen between us, but I just don’t see you that way.”

She takes a lot of air in and before you realize what she’s about to do, and far before you can stop her, she screams, “TRAITOR!”

The word works like a flipping dog whistle and you jump to your feet just in time to see Napoleon storming from the room, naked as the day he was born.

“Zut Alors! What is going on here?”

You look down at yourself: your shirt is unbuttoned, and despite how much you tried to think of your big toe while she was throwing herself at you, there’s a tent pitched in your pantaloons.

“N-n-nothing,” you say with as much confidence as you can find.

Napoleon's eyes dart to your pants. Since he’s naked you know he’s about to get a serious case of envy. “It does not look like nothing.”

Marie rushes to his arms. “Ah, Napoleon. This man Fred, he is a brute. He came here as your friend and confidante and now he tried to take advantage of me. The worst kind of animal.”

Napoleon is eerily quiet but he doesn’t need words. Anger swirls in his eyes, and he mumbles something to Marie that you cannot hear. She retreats into the bedroom and you look for something, anything you can use to defend yourself, but the only thing around is the blanket Marie tried to take advantage of you on.

You hold your hands up. “Listen man, your woman came on to me. I rejected her, end of story.”

“YOU LIE!” He screams.

“No,” you shake your head, “I swear, it’s true.”

“My woman is not unfaithful.” As he says it, Marie returns from the bedroom with the biggest sword you’ve ever seen.

“She’s unfaithful!” You yell. “And if she isn’t, it’s not for lack of trying!”

“Arrrgh!”

Napoleon lunges forward wielding his sword like the fencing people you’ve seen on TV. Only his sword is ten times as wide and three times as long. The frigging thing is huge. Well, we all know what he’s compensating for, you think to yourself in the seconds before he takes your head clean off your shoulders.

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 3