Lawg nervously stood with his mouth open, fishing for good reasons to use as excuses, so as not to get killed in the next few seconds.

  “Mr. Big, sir.” He started. “We had no idea Duffy owed that much money to the Space Mafia. We can be held responsible for the actions one of my crew did before she was one of my crew.” he explained

  “You’ve been harboring a wanted felon.” Said the ten foot tall, morbidly obese mobster Don with purple skin and tentacle dreads protruding from behind his roaring-20’s, black and grey mobster hat. “I could turn you in to the authorities for that alone and get a reward, if you refuse. And I have connections in the clink, so you wouldn’t last long in there.” Said Mr. Big, as Greg shrugged casually.

  “He wouldn’t last long anyway, Lawg is soft and… kind of a man-boy-bitch.”

  “He’s not lying. I’m mostly just booze and organs.” Lawg muttered.

  “Then you have no choice but to comply. As a fellow collector of old Earth relics, you can appreciate my fine collection of property.” He smiled, as Lawg looked around.

  “This is a pretty great collector’s den; love the spears and the old Earth guns and the Roman statues. I personally might have skipped the human skin-rugs and the 50-shades bondage corner, but to each their own. So what item are we retrieving?” Lawg asked compliantly

  “The item is less important that the time. I want a relic from the early 20’s…but I want it new from the early 20’s.” He grinned with his overly salivated smile.

  “Not following.” Lawg admitted.

  “Time travel, dipshit.” Informed Marley.

  “Oh crap, I hate time travel.” Lawg whined.

  "We better not be going to the mid 1940's." Marley said, flipping through his tour guide. "That was the Manhattan project. Bad time to be Greg. Some PHD studying nuclear physics would have a heyday with an overpowered, big, blue, nuclear guy popping into existence randomly, first as a dismembered nervous system and then regenerating flesh into some kind of naked, glowing god. That's every Manhattan doctor's fantasy."

  "No, it's much earlier than that." Big smiled a big smile.

  "I dunno, first atomic bomb test, front row seats. I'd love to be sitting there in the radiation zone while everyone freaked out." Greg pondered.

  "You and your OP, badass invincibility." Lawg scoffed.

  “You sure you’re the captain?” asked Mr. Big.

  “Unfortunately, yes, he is.” Greg yawned.

  “You seem way more suited for leadership,” he said to Greg. “Why haven’t you just snapped this clown and taken over the crew?” he asked.

  “You know, I ask myself that all the time.” Greg grinned.

  “Loyalty.” said Lawg, with confidence.

  ‘No.” Greg chuckled. “That's not it. I’m loyal, but definitely not to him.”

  “It's Respect.” Lawg corrected.

  ‘That’s not even slightly accurate.” Greg replied.

  “PONY?” yelled Menace, munching on a house slipper.

  “I feel more confident giving this to you.” Mr. Big said, tossing a tablet to Greg with the mission objective on it. Greg smiled, looking entertained.

  “You realize I’m also the only one who isn’t intimidated by you, so what do I get out of this mission…monetarily.” Greg asked.

  “I could have you killed, like this.” He said napping his fingers.

  “No, no you can’t.” Greg laughed "Big purple baddy snapping his fingers never exactly caused a global catastrophe. I'm not impressed."

  “I could have your woman killed, or your captain.”

  “You could attempt that, and the results will vary. The only thing you could do worse than trying to kill me is trying to hurt Izzy. I would take that very personal and when I get personal, worlds tend to get very dead. You really don’t want me desperate and vengeful. ” He threatened, with supreme confidence. “Killing Lawg is between you guys, I have no investment in that.” He added.

  "Hey!" squeaked Lawg.

  “You’re a cocky bastard.” Mr. Big pondered. "I like that."

  “Thank you. I try.” Greg nodded, giving a slight bow.

  “I respect that. And because I’m in a generous mood I’ll give you this offer. Complete this mission, and I’ll give you 11,000 credits. Fail, and I kill your crew, run, and I kill your crew."

  “Let’s assume I don’t fail at anything.” Greg said looking at the tablet and smiling again. "I'll get this done, and Duffy's debt is square. Oh, and one more think, cupcake…If you ever wanna rumble man to man, I'm game…but If you ever threaten Izzy again, I will pull your spine out through your ass." Greg grinned, putting out his cigar.

  “I don’t like this.” Lawg said nervously to Duffy, in a whisper. “The bad guy and Greg are almost agreeing, kinda, and anything that makes Greg smile is always terrible in every way. I’m afraid to ask, but what is the objective?” he asked. Greg squinted and donned sunglasses as the camera zoomed in slow and dramatically to frame his face.

  "We're gonna steak the declaration of independence.” He said with a dry, monotone voice.

  “This is ridiculous and immoral!” Izzy insisted, as her other self limbered up, and Greg got his bearings in her secondary body again.

  “Obviously I can’t go as myself, you think the roaring 20’s had 8 foot tall aliens strolling around casually? Nope, let alone common enough to pass for non-suspicious in a high-security setting?” Greg asked, adjust his/her boobs as the Greg/Izzy body booted up.

  “It’s so confusing for us, even just what to call you, or me.” Izzy groaned.

  “That’s why I decided a minute ago that Izzy would stay behind and feed us intel, and you guys will just call me Greg as usual, despite the fact that I look and now sound like Izzy. Just keep in mind for this entire mission, that the Izzy you’re working with is me in her body, and I’ll be addressed simply as Greg.” He said peering up suspiciously at the audience. “Just so everyone knows what's going on, got it?” He said as everyone donned their white plastic armor that you need to have for time travel, because science.

  “God, this CG is itchy.” Lawg complained. Duffy adjusted herself as well.

  “You’d think it would be as comfortable as a lime-green spandex with some ping-pong balls glued to it, but it’s just not.” Said Duffy, bending awkwardly as the big sci-fi pad of mirrors tilted in place and began to spin.

  “Alright, here we go. Lawg, Duffy…myself…where the hell is Menace?” he asked.

  “PLAY!” yelled a voice from a floating taco hovering next to them, as a bite magically crunched out of it.

  “I guess her skin is close enough to the color of the green-screens that it just made her invisible. We can slather her in concealer when we get through.” Greg shrugged.

  “TACO?” said the disembodied voice, taking another bite and finishing it “…no taco.” said the sad nothingness of void, presumably pouting invisibly.

  “Damnit, now I want tacos.” Chick-Greg sighed as the machine glowed and fancy visual effects did their fancy things that time travel whatever blab la, and it looked extremely cinematic and awesome. Huge CG budget happening, be amazed.

  They arrived just outside the city limits in roaring 20’s attire. Duffy looked down to see a beige mechanic's outfit on herself.

  “Hey, why did we need the cool hologram armor if we were going to arrive in regular clothes?” asked Duffy. “And if we need them for some reason, how do we get them here before we go back?"

  “It’s fine.” Greg shrugged off

  “INDEPATION OF DECLARENDENCE!!” yelled Menace as Duffy applied copious makeup to her face and arms. Greg adjusted his/her hat to cover his/her pointy ears, and handed Duffy some sunglasses for Menace as he applied his own makeup.

  “How do I look?” Greg asked. Duffy weighed the answer with her hands. “Like a big-ass, very pale, very oddly styled human woman, well over 6 foot 6.” She said.

  Back in the ship, Izzy rolled her eyes as she watched the screen.

  “Ugh. Nobody can just say Oh, Izzy you look nice. Nope, gotta always be the big, huge, fat-ass chick.” Casually whined Izzy from her computer chair, stress-eating a bag of cookies. "At least I'm not bald."

  Greg looked in the hand-held makeup mirror. “I would definitely do me, even looking this human.” He shrugged. He looked over at Menace who looked almost human as well, except her very inhuman shaped, dark grey teeth.

  “Did they have braces back in the 20’s?” Greg asked.

  “No, but technically this is an alternate universe version of this new universe’s past, so things wont be exactly the same as ours.” Izzy informed. “So anything you notice that’s slightly off isn’t a plot-hole or lazy research, it's totally justified sci-fi changes that are one hundred percent intentional and stylized.” She added.

  “Good, I hated the 20’s.” Greg sighed, “Prohibition was a real drag. Believe me, I know about drag." He said adjusting his/her boobs in his/her dress. No irony there. "You think quality booze is expensive enough when you’re a 650 pound alcoholic with an insane metabolism, try adding the fact that alcohol is illegal and hard to find.” He yawned. Lawg’s eyes got very large.

  “The what, now?” he asked, looking horrified.

  “Oh right, did anyone bring Lawg any booze?” Duffy asked. Menace smiled and Greg looked indifferent.

  “Greg, I know you have booze, we have to share and ration it.” Lawg informed, holding out his hand for a nip. Greg handed him the flask and Lawg opened it, wincing back in horror at the smell. “Oh, what the crap?” he wheezed. “It smells like carb-cleaner.”

  “It’s about half carb-cleaner. Put the cap back on before it evaporates.” Greg yawned.

  “I can’t drink that, I would die!” he yelled.

  "I know that…that’s why I mix my emergency flask with carb-cleaner. It tastes terrible but the smell alone keeps you from drinking my emergency grain alcohol.” He chuckled. “Plus if you drink a bunch of it, colors get really vivid and that’s always fun.”

  “You do realize you’re in Izzy’s spare body. How does Izzy handle her alcohol and carb-cleaner? Can she drink carb-cleaner safely?” asked Duffy. Greg blinked.

  “Well… fuck.” He/She sighed. "I guess I'm getting hammered early."

  “So Lawg’s gonna die, right?” Izzy asked Marley.

  “Very possible.” Marley said munching on popcorn and passing the salt.

  “We can just clone him back again, it’s fine.” She shrugged.

  “About that....Are there any defects and quality loss when you do that a bunch, like when you burn a CD of a CD you burned off another CD and now all the snare drums sound like St. Anger?” Marley asked Izzy.

  “I’m not an expert, but I came out fine and I’m a copy of a copy of a chick that was copied 7 times from the original, hundreds of years ago. And I’m perfectly fine.” She shrugged.

  “You’re not really selling the assurance very well, you know. And your only other example is the schizophrenic, transgender demigod, who hears voices and forgets that he has tits half the time, because he doesn’t have tits the other half of the time…and that's your boyfriend.” Marley said with a mouth full of movie-pop.

  “Fair enough. It’s probably fine.” she waved, slurping her smoothie.

  The team made their way to the planned points, the girls on one team and the guys on another, so Duffy could watch Menace and Greg could make sure Lawg didn’t die. The guys, (one of them being an Izzy with a Greg in her brain) made their way to the back of the museum, waiting for the security guard to take a smoke-break. He lit up a fag and took a drag, looking around casually and spotting Greg, who seemed to be having difficulty with her heels. He strutted over to assist.

  "Hello there ma'am, you seem to be having difficulty.” the guard said kindly.

  "Greg, don’t kill the nice polite-man, especially with my spare set of hands.” Izzy whined.

  “Thank you, kind man, I’m just a ditsy women with an inability to take care of myself because I have no man in my life, tee-hee.” Greg said dramatically.

  “Maybe you just nee” he started as Lawg brick-whacked him in the head and they quickly stole his clothes and security card, scanning it with the hand scanner to print one with Izzy’s face.

  “Greg, you have to let Lawg use the ID. It’s the 20’s. Women didn’t generally have security positions. You gotta be Lawg’s plus-one.” She sighed.

  “What the ass?” Greg said, looking annoyed. “I’m a strong independent woman that doesn’t need no man…I'm also a strong independent man, Damnit!” He objected.

  “Nope, not right now you aren’t, you got tits and lipstick. You’re a culturally suppressed, 20th century slave, who nobody takes seriously because you left your wiener back on the ship, and it took another 80 plus years before women were on the same social tier as men.” Izzy chuckled.

  “Ha!” pointed Lawg. “You need my manly powers to be taken serious. I win!”

  "What happens if you go without alcohol for a full 24 hours, because I just get angry and headaches, and I’m already bitchy in these frigging heels.” Greg asked.

  “And I lost again.” Lawg said frowning sadly.

  Greg strolled into the back room, escorted by Lawg, and acting as the distraction. The men were too busy staring at the pasty Amazon to notice Lawg swiping the keys. Greg gave a slow-motion hair flip as he tuned, one ankle giving slightly and almost dropping him on Izzy’s ass.”

  “Oh, my damn. Who invented these shoes?” Greg complained. “Can we go back in time to that day, and let me kill that guy when we’re done?” he asked.

  “Maybe. But our ass does looks spectacular in my heels.” Izzy assured.

  “I don’t know if I feel empowered by my sexuality or degraded, maybe both, but I know I hate these shoes.” Greg muttered through his smile, waving playfully as Lawg gave the thumbs up that he got the keys.

  “Just steal the damn Declaration of Independence, it can’t be that hard if Nick Cage can do it, and we have advanced technology and historical foresight.” She said kicking her feet up.

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  Duffy leaned casually in the alley and laughed with a couple of mechanics, having a solid conversation.

  “Yea, so that’s how my car ended up in the ditch, and here we are.” She joked.

  "Sounds bad." said the driver "Could be a defective tranny."

  "Oh we definitely have a defective tranny problem, just maybe not in the car." snickered Duffy on the technicality.

  “I can give you a ride, no problem. Sorry about your sister too.” He said looking at Menace, who looked sad, her mouth was wrapped in gauze.

  “Yea that horse just went wild. Doctor said the fracture would heal with time, if she kept her mouth shut.” Duffy said glaring at her as if pointing her finger.

  “MMRRM!” she replied.

  “She’ll be fine as long as we can get her medicine before the store closes.” She nodded.

  “Hop in, I’ll take you there. Where are your friends meeting us?” he asked.

  “That was shockingly easy.” Yelled a sprinting chick-Greg, followed by Lawg.

  “We’re getting shot at! What’s easy about that?”

  “Half of us are bullet-resistant.” Greg replied, tripping on a broken heel and nailing a lamp-post face-first.

  “Which half…the lower half? That’s my best half.” Lawg asked. Greg got up and gave a very intense anger-throw, sending the shoes above the building.

  “I mean me, dingus, I'm half of us, as a team.” Greg said, as a 45 round bounced off his head and annoying him slightly. "And I'm bullet-proof. Nothing they had in the 20's can get through this biomech Osirian skin."

  “No fair. All I got are these dumb environmental boots, and they ran out of battery life ten minutes into the mission.” He barked.

  “HA!” Marley shouted at the screen. “That’s what it's like to have someone not charge the boots! Now who’s at risk because you can’t plug in a damn charger when you’re done? You did this to yourself! BOOM! Get pooped on!!!” Marley said getting aggressively ghetto. Izzy turned slowly, looking alarmed.

  “Wow.” She muttered.

  “It’s usually my furry-ass on the line with those damn boots when he doesn’t charge them, this feels very satisfying for me.” He smiled, opening a soda. "Stop judging me, you eat people."

  “Where are the girls?” Lawg yelled, trying to figure out how to load a tommy gun. Greg grabbed it and loaded it, handing it back and racking his dual 45’s.

  “They’re late, deal with it and shoot someone.” Greg snipped, firing a few cover rounds.

  “Is he a terrible shot, or is he trying to miss them?” asked Marley.

  “Greg doesn’t do guns. He’s generally more lethal with just melee weapons, so he doesn’t have much experience with handguns. Greg doesn’t love guns.” Izzy said finishing her popcorn and reaching for the jerky.

  “I LOVE GUNS!!!” Lawg laughed, spraying bullets wildly. He passed just beside Greg’s head and clipped an ear with his wild burst. Greg winced and stopped firing, turning slowly and looking livid. Lawg’s eyes widened as he may have peed a lil. “That guy just shot you.” Lawg lied in a high pitch voice.

  “We’re discussing that later.” Greg said, turning back and firing more. The car slid to a stop and spun, opening the passenger door facing the “boys”.

  “Wow, Duff can drive.” Greg nodded, a little impressed. Lawg took cover behind Greg. “Hey, what kind of man are you, hiding behind a woman for cover? You should be ashamed of yourself!” Greg barked. “Where is your dignity?”

  “I have no dignity, plus you are bullet resistant and I’m a pansy.” Lawg admitted.

  “Fair enough. It’s actually not that painful. Unless you're a bitch.” He yawned. A 30-06 round caught him in the right eye, dropping Greg to her knees in a silent look of agony. “WHY! Why always in the eyes!?” he growled, dropping the 45 and rubbing it furiously.

  “We have a mission, keep it together. Own the pain, make it your power!” Lawg said motivationally. Greg lightly gave him a sack-tap with the handle of the 45, dropping Lawg to his knees with a squeak.

  "Come on guys, stop playing monkey-tag and get in the stupid car!” yelled Duffy.

  “HAM AND CHEESE!” yelled Menace. The “boys” staggered to the car and got in, taking heavy fire.

  “You got it?” Duffy asked. Greg held up the tube and waved her on.

  “Hamn'cheese.” Whispered Menace, poking Lawg with a jar of bootleg moonshine in a brown paper bag.

  “Thanks, buddy.” He smiled, patting her head. He opened the jar and looked horrified. "Oh damnit, are you kidding?" he added.

  "Don’t be picky, Lawg, you need the booze to function."

  “She literally just crammed wet bread into a jar of bootleg hootch.”

  “I tried to stop her but it’s all we have. Bootleg moonshine, and you could use the carbs. Just drink your bread.” Duffy informed.

  “Ham.” She said authoritatively poking the jar. Lawg looked very sad as she sipped the contents. He looked even sadder when he realized it was kinda okay.

  Greg squinted with Izzy's eyes, and stared at the Declaration, as they evaded.

  "This isn't the freaking Declaration. It's a fake with a secret treasure map on the back of it, leading to the Declaration." he gasped. "That's just pointless."

  "How do you know that?" asked Duffy

  "It's labeled." He said tapping it with Izzy's finger.

  "It's just blank." Lawg objected, gagging as he sipped soggy bread-booze.

  "You guys can't see ultraviolet? Here, the sugar and the alcohol might react with the invisible ink." he said dipping his/her hand into the jar and rubbing the parchment.

  "Gross." Lawg sighed. "HEY! STOP!" he said yanking it away. "You can't contaminate the Declaration of Independence, what kind of historical collector are you?!"

  "Lawg…it’s a decoy. It's just a damn map to the real one." Duffy snipped.

  "But…" Lawg said looking embarrassed. "It's still really old, so it's got history, it's from the roaring 20's." he noted to Greg.

  "Technically it's brand new, we went back in time. This could have been printed yesterday and sold at the gift-shop, so no history." Greg informed.

  "Okay fine." Lawg said calming down. "Where do we need to go?"

  "I don’t know, it just says some obscure riddle with vague clues nobody on Earth could follow, let alone people who never been to this time, and my memory is dicked up." Said Greg, scanning the writing as Duffy failed to see anything. "Pastrami!" Greg said, causing Duffy to swerve and look for a road-sandwitch.

  "What?!" she asked.

  "Go to the nearest deli." Greg ordered.

  "You solved the riddle, and the answer is at a deli?" asked Lawg.

  "No, but this stain is Pastrami. Pastrami like this would go rancid pretty quick, so it means this was recently made and someone got pastrami on it." Greg said.

  "Greg…" Izzy scolded. "I swear if you are just craving pastrami and jerking us around…"

  "Like I don’t want reward money?" he scoffed. "Do you know how much pastrami I could buy with that mission money? I am absolutely buying pastrami now."

  "There is absolutely no way these clues could lead to anything." Duffy sighed.

  The guy at the deli looked confused.

  "You wanna know if someone carrying the declaration of independence sat down here and has a pastrami sandwich?" he asked.

  "Or a pita, salad, anything with pastrami." Greg informed, showing some cleavage for encouragement because he's a girl right now.

  "There was a guy about a week ago that had a tube like that on his back. He ordered pastrami on rye." the old man nodded.

  "That's the guy." Greg nodded. "I need his name and where he works.

  "I'm just a deli owner. I can tell you he comes in on most Fridays, and he likes sandwiches, that's about it. Also he dropped his pipe a week ago, didn’t have a chance to return it."

  "That's pretty convenient." Duffy muttered.

  "HAMSTER!" Menace yelled, hopping up and snagging a piece of meat from the counter, stuffing it in her mouth and pretending to have never moved as she froze with a look of guilt and chipmunk-cheek.

  "You need to get those teeth looked at." the owner said.

  Greg admired the elaborate pipe, taking a dramatic bite of his Ruben and adjusting his bra.

  "Whatcha got?" Lawg asked.

  "Aside from itchy-boob from this underwire, not much."

  "What if it's a clue?" Lawg asked. "Not the boob-itch, the pipe stem." he said taking the pipe and disconnecting it from the stem, rubbing it against the edge of a pencil he conveniently had, and then rolling it onto a piece of paper. As he rolled the stem, everyone looked down to see what it meant.

  "Yep…yea it's definitely a cylinder." he nodded. "Also this pipe wasn’t intended to come apart. Think I broke the pipe." he added with shame.

  "Okay, everyone. This right here is why we don’t let Lawg handle important things." said Duffy.

  "Candles?" muttered Menace.

  "That's not a bad idea. Granted her rambling was likely coincidence and in no way meant to be helpful. Maybe heat acts like a catalyst." Greg said warming it up in his hands, taking way longer than he remembered because he was using Izzy's hands. "Nope, this is crap." he said setting it down and seeing nothing.

  "I thought we were so close." Duffy said.

  "Why?" Greg asked. "Why would any of this work? Old clues and maps from way back when, things change and move, none of this would work. Plus why are we following clues? If someone wanted to hide something they wouldn’t leave clues unless it was intended to lead them AWAY from the thing they are hiding. Do you guys write down coded passwords on slips of paper and hide them to keep people out of your stuff? No! You just hide it. You don’t leave clues. If you want someone to find it, you just tell them where it's at. There is literally no reason at all to leave elaborate clues on things, leading to more clues, except to troll people or entertain someone for a few hours. It's probably just in a safe, back in the building we stole this from." Greg said tossing the paper in the fireplace. Lawg gasped.

  "NOOO00ooo, THE DECLARA-oh wait, it's fake." Lawg said going from horrified to completely calm. Suddenly the paper flashed and turned colors, mysteriously stifling the fire so they could see the clue.

  "Another clue!" gasped Lawg.

  "No, just more bullshit. It's just a scam. I'm going back to the place we came from and looking for a safe, y'all can chase clues. My big, pretty ass isn't going to go on another stupid adventure.

  "Oh come on." sighed Izzy dramatically. "Is my ass really that big?" she asked Marley. He froze and pondered.

  "I refuse to answer." he said crunching on some celery and peanut-butter.

  "You really are married, aren't you?" she nodded.

  "Anyway, I'm out. See you guys when you give up." Greg said, storming off.

  Hours passed without much success. The group ran out of ideas and headed back to the museum. The group shuffled to the meeting point, looking for Greg.

  "Maybe he found a clue and got lost." Lawg said, noticing a car driving really badly towards them. The car served like it was going to drift, suddenly flipping and rolling a few times, sliding to a stop next to them, upside down, as other cars approached with guns blazing.

  "Can't drive, can you?" Duffy asked Greg.

  "Never needed to. Looked easy…not used to Izzy's feet." Greg said hopping out and quickly flipping it on its tires, mostly flat. "You guys find anything?" (S)he asked.

  "Just a cool compass that doesn’t point north, this gold Egyptian puzzle-box that opens up like a flower and might be a key to something, half of a nifty silver triangle and a fancy high tech-wandy thing that makes a cool noise when you push the button and wave it." Duffy sighed.

  "So just garbage." Greg sighed, tossing the screwdriver-like device with the sonic oscillator, and admiring the triangle half. "I bet this would look cool if it had both halves…and this little bit in the middle that most people would notice is missing." he said tossing that aside.

  "Well, I'm keeping them." Lawg said "What did your adventure yield?" he said with an attitude.

  "Declaration of Independence." he shrugged, tossing the paper tube at Duffy, who looked shocked.

  "Wh-I…how? Where?" she asked.

  "Literally the next room in a big safe. Best place to hide something is in the same place as the clues that lead you somewhere else."

  "How'd you get it open…the pipe?" asked Lawg.

  "No, nipple-head, Izzy's body is Osirian too. I just gave it a good yank and broke the lock." She-Greg shrugged.

  "Didn’t turn off the alarms, hence the running getaway." Duffy nodded. "But it was in the next room, right where we were?"

  "Who in their right mind would go back after they stole the fake Declaration and try and steal another Declaration?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "…Cage?" Lawg guessed.

  "Probably, that man is nuts, but he's also brilliant. That man is national treasure." Greg nodded.

  "So we have it?" Duffy asked. "We won?" she asked as bullets flew by.

  "Quick, back to the time thingy!" Marley hollered, dumping his popcorn in excitement. "Oh man, this is a stupid mission, but it really does keep you on your edge and guessing." he added, passing some to Izzy. She waved it.

  "I'm watching my weight." she muttered. "Apparently, I'm enormous."

  Lawg grabbed a gun and began firing at the car.

  "Lawg, get in the car." Duffy yelled.

  "It's fine. If we die in the dream, we just wake up and we have the Declaration of Independence." he yelled fearlessly.

  "OH MY GOD, how are you this stupid?! Duffy said grabbing him by the shirt and giving him a brick-whack to knock him out.

  "Where are all these bricks coming from?" Marley asked.

  They all piled into the car and sped off, Duffy driving like a mad street-racer as Greg plugged in the time thingy.

  "We just gotta hit 88 MPH." Duffy informed.

  "WHAT?" Greg asked, looking concerned.

  "That's how this thing works. It’s a one-way thing with the big setup, then these watches keep us linked in somehow, and then you gotta hit 88MPH on the way back. Why aren't we going faster?" Duffy asked.

  "It's the 20's the average car had a top speed less than 80." Greg sighed.

  "Oh that blows." Duffy said with wide eyes.

  "So we're dead." Lawg said sipping his cocktail.

  "Not if we get some kind of boost." Duffy informed, waiting for ideas. "No I don’t have a solution I was just reminding everyone." Greg looked like she had an epiphany.

  "Flask!" Greg yelled grabbing it from his side-boob, and unscrewing the gas cap just outside the window. She jammed the neck into it and dumped a flask full of half grain alcohol and half carburetor cleaner into the tank. The engine made a horrid noise and started spitting fire from the exhaust.

  "Just a little more power." Duffy cringed, leveling at 86."

  "We just need one tiny little bit of speed before that horrid beverage burns the engine up." Lawg informed.

  "I basically just said that!" shouted Duffy.

  "Lemon." muttered Menace, casually tossing a grenade out the window and holding the pin with a smile.

  "Where did she get a grena-" asked Lawg as the explosion behind the car give it just enough extra nudge to ignite the Flux Continuum Transfunctionator coils and make the other thing do the time-thing, and then time-stuff happened and there were flashy lights. Still an impressive CG budget, so it was amazingly cinematic. Ironically, still more realistic than 26 percent of all time-travel films.

  Lawg opened his eyes and looked down at the bubbly water he was sitting in. They were all back in their CG time-suits and sitting in the hot tub in the Tast-E-Chill.

  "How did we end up in the hot tub?" Greg asked, still in Izzy's body.

  "That happens more often than you'd think actually." Duffy informed. "Nobody knows why but jacked-up time travel has about a 15 percent chance of ending up in a hot tub. Good thing we have a hot tub. God only knows where would end up otherwise. Anyone have the Declaration if Independence?" she asked.

  "Got it." yawned Lawg, holding the tube.

  "Well, that wrapped up conveniently well." Greg said opening the tube and looking worried. "Lawg…why is there a pastrami stain on the real Declaration?"

  "Oh I switched it with the fake, so if we got caught, we would give the bad guys the fake one and they wouldn’t get the real one."

  "You realize they would just take both." Greg asked. "Where is the real one?"

  Lawg looked a little lost.

  They all looked pant-shittingly nervous as they approached Mr. Big's throne room with the artifacts and the bondage corner. Greg seemed fine, as usual, twirling something in his hands as he strolled down the ridiculously long rug leading to the throne.

  Greg handed the tube to Mr. Big, and stepped back.

  "There it is…authentic Declaration of Independence like you wanted: Including the stain that John Hancock left with his famous pastrami sandwich while he was signing it." Greg said with a serious look and his original body back.

  "Very nice." nodded Big. Lawg snorted to himself. Duffy turned slowly to glare at him.

  "Really…Hancock?" she asked disappointedly.

  "Yea." he whispered.

  "Can you be any less mature?" she sighed.

  "So dept settled and you owe us money." Greg nodded.

  "It's already wired to your ship." Big waved.

  "That was anticlimactic as hell. No gold bars or briefcase full of cash?" Greg asked.

  "This is the future. We just wire your account. Check your phone, it's all there." Big assured.

  "Okay then. Have fun." Greg said turning and rushing out with the others.

  "So…did we basically just leave a mob boss with a fake thing and took his money anyway?" asked Marley.

  "Yep." nodded Greg.

  "So this whole thing is still unresolved and he could come back and be even more mad if he ever finds out it's fake?" Marley asked.

  "Yep." yawned Greg.

  "And we have enough money to survive, but only for just long enough to find another adventure and recoup or losses again." Marley asked.

  "Basically. Circle of life." Greg Yawned

  "That makes sense." he nodded. "Can I have the cool compass?" he asked.

  "Sure, it's already broken." Greg muttered, closing his eyes.

  "I thought so too, but it seems to always point to my weed stash no matter where I leave it. That's kinda fun. Thanks for the weed-compass, Greg." he said, as Nautical violin music followed the credits fade-in. Marley was a happy bunny in that moment, downright giddy as the music played him off-screen, as if to hint and signify that it may be important in the near future. Then again I may just be dicking with you, I'm prone to that. I'm random as hell. Here's some of these symbols to prove it {} Wham! Nobody knows what that's for anyway, and it makes no grammatical sense. It's pirate music, by the way. Episode 15 has pirates. You're welcome.