Council: You expect the council to believe that you had no awareness of the harmful side-effects of your so-called time displacement mechanism?
BS: Uh, yeah.
(from the transcripts of Buck Starkiller v. the People of Earth and Various Other Worlds)
Harlan Kendle Squib kicked kicked absently at his dog, Roentgen, as he contemplated the boredom which at the moment was threatening to turn his mind into egg custard. His parents were boring. His friends were boring. Frackville was boring. Roentgen was boring and possessed of hyperactive bowels. Life was boring. He wandered across the yellow lawn of his home, oblivious of the rather loud "Pop" in the air above him. Roentgen's barking pulled him from the depths of his stupor. "Shut up, dog," he mumbled as he turned...
And saw the man in the lime green chiffon dress laying on the grass which had been vacant a moment before. "Oh, great, another car salesman convention's in town" was his first thought. Then "But what if it's a pervert or a liberal or something?" He considered calling for his parents, but dismissed the idea as foolish. What could they do that any self-respecting twelve year old couldn't? They didn't even know all the words to the latest Bon Jovi release! God, parents were out of it.
The man in the dress stirred. "What a party," he moaned. Roentgen moved in cautiously for a closer look, and then relieved himself on the man's leg. The man sat up and spewed a series of obscenities at the dog which Harlan found very educating, if not anatomically impossible.
Then the man took notice of Harlan. "Hey, kid, when am I?"
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