The park was empty aside from a few joggers and a couple of moms watching their little ones play on the jungle gym. I dropped the Red Rhonda’s bag on the picnic table and sat down, my belly pushing up hard against the table and half of my butt hanging off the back of the bench. It wasn’t super comfortable, but it was far better than squeezing into one of those tiny booth seats at any restaurant.
I started pulling out the cheeseburger and fries, already salivating in anticipation of the juicy goodness that awaited me. Red Rhonda’s made the best burgers around, the closest thing to a roadside diner tucked neatly in the suburban playland of Denver.
I noticed a woman striding towards me like she was on a mission. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she wore a form fitting black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. She also looked like an older, thinner version of myself.
I watched her with mild curiosity from behind mirrored sunglasses as I bit into the burger. An explosion of flavor spread throughout my mouth, charred meat, tomatoes, pickles and an hint of mustard. I literally groaned in pleasure. As I plucked a still-warm crinkle fry from its container, I notice the woman was striding with determined steps in my direction. I glanced around behind me, no one else was there. I braced myself for the inevitable interaction of two strangers crossing paths hoping she would pass me by, oblivious to the fat girl sitting by herself at a picnic bench, pigging out on fast food. No such luck.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” She demanded coming to a halt in front of the table her hands waving up in the air. My family is full of hand-talkers and people have joked that if you tied our hands we wouldn’t be able to speak, however, that was not what I was thinking as I tried to desperately swallow the chunk of burger.
“WmmmFth? Which roughly translated to “I’m sorry, what are you speaking of?”
The woman, who looks uncannily like myself, as older and thinner (much thinner) scowled at me and gestured to the Red Rhonda’s bag, “That is going to be your downfall! You can’t eat that stuff, it’s so horribly bad for you!”
Great, a total stranger thinks I’m fat and feels it necessary to lecture me. “Fuck off, it’s none of your business what I do.”
Okay, that’s not what I said, I’m way too much of a chicken to actually say the words I’m thinking. I just looked down at the bitten burger, the taste of charred hamburger still lingering in my mouth, “I know, but for one day I just wanted to not think about calories and my weight, I’m sorry.” I was apologizing to a total stranger. God, I really am a loser.
My older doppelganger rolled her eyes, “Jesus Christ, was I always so damn pathetic?” She slipped onto the bench so that she was facing me. It was like looking into a mirror, same eyes, same big German nose, that little scar on my chin from a sledding accident. It was also like looking at relative that had a striking resemblance, but something was just a bit off keeping them from being a twin. She looked confident and secure, no trace of all the shit she/I had been dragged through before we hit thirty, and much healthier.
“Who are you?” I heard myself ask as I reached for another crinkle fry. It was unnerving how much she resembled me. The scar was the kicker. How could she have the exact same scar as me?
She sighed and shook her head, “You won’t believe me, but I’m you. Fifty years from now.”
I laughed. It was an instinctive response. I nearly choked on the crinkle fry and had to take a long drink of my soda to wash it down before I could answer her ridiculous claim, “You would have to be like 80 years old, and trust me, you’re not that old.” I chuckled again. “I agree we sort of look alike, but no way. Nice try though.”
She leaned forward on her elbows and used her just-listen-and-shut-voice, the same one I always used when people weren’t listening to me and hearing what I had to say. It was rather weird to hear it, did I sound like that?
“I don’t have time to convince you, Janna-Leigh. Just listen to me. You were right, you were so right its going to change the way America eats.”
“Right about what?” I searched my mind trying to grasp what obscure opinion I might have spouted that just happened to be spot on.
“The food. Yes, it makes you fat, but the chemicals, you nailed it! “She threw up her hands for emphasis, “The preservatives, girl, you were right about them! You wrote about it in your blog, how you were certain the long-term effect of decades of food preservatives were responsible for the increase of autism and ADHD issues.”
Cool, I was right. I frowned, “Wait, and how are you here? Time travel, really? “
“Technology surges forward super-fast in a few years, a ton of things changed.” She answered impatiently, waving her hands as if to get rid of that train of thought, “Now listen to me… it was that article that got the attention of some researchers and conspiracy theorists. They investigated and stumbled upon something much worse than autism.” She leaned forward so much I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes of brown.
“But what about…” I was hearing what she was saying, but it was farfetched and something out of a sci-fi novel. The fact that my little online blog caught the attention of anyone, but my close circle of friends was skeptical, the thought of the content being anything worth the attention of researchers was unbelievable.
“Girl, there’s no time, I must get you to safety. It was you that started it all. Now people want to stop you.”
“Oh…. MY…. God.” I said it slowly so she would know I was being sarcastic, “Is a killer android coming here to terminate me?” Yep, certainly a joke being played on me referencing a popular movie culture.
Anger flared up in her eyes and she grabbed my chin in a painful squeeze, “They found a chemical in there, one that makes some people go crazy. All those mass shootings? Those are the people that reacted badly to the chemical… it triggers the aggression in them.”
I jerked my head out of her grasp, “Isn’t there some kind of law of time travel that you’re not supposed to touch me?” I rubbed my chin and glowered at her.
She opened her mouth to speak but the sound of something solid clunking against wood caused her to jump up and yell, “Get down!”
Dumbfounded, I stared at the newly form pits in the picnic table. There were no bullets. I said as much.
“You’re an idiot!” She hissed and pushed me hard in the chest. I fell ungracefully backwards and landed with a grunt, my legs caught up on the bench and the rest of me lying on the grass. My eyes closed instinctively, and I let out strangled groan as I mentally assessed any damages. Aside from a sore ass and raw elbows, everything felt normal.
I opened my eyes and let out a chuckle, realizing I had let my imagination run away with me again. I always did have a way with daydreaming and getting caught up with my musings. It wasn’t the first time I had fallen from a bench or chair because of it.
I turned my head.
My doppelganger was squatting in the grass, watching me, a knowing smile on her face.
“Welcome to the year 2078.”
The Daily Rambling 