Sally picked up the gnome in frustration:
‘Well, guess what?! We’re not on vacation!
And I have a right mind to welt you again,
On the other side of that there noggin, and then–’
‘Patience, my dear, patience,’ Gurtrude budded in,
Gently taking the gnome from Sally with a grin,
Then proceeded to squeeze him some more,
And shook him frantically to the core:
‘VERE IS ZE SHIP!!! YOU VILL TELL US NOW!!!
TAKE US TO IT!!! TAKE US SOMEHOW!!!’
‘I-I-I-I w-w-w-would,’ TG managed to get out.
Having made him speak, Gurtrude stopped and didn’t shout,
‘But I need yo’ help–
Please don’t shout, please don’t yelp–
Fo’ I think if we worked togethe’,
We can figu’e out whethe’,
My ship is over the’e,
Or pe’haps the’e, that’s whe’e,
Or maybe the’e–yes, it’s the same direction,
But fu’the’ out, a much fa’the’ projection.
The point is, I’m sure we can figu’e it out,
But we have to work togethe’–not scream and shout–
I have to count on you, as you count on me.
Fo’ as Sally said, we’re in the same boat, you see.’
‘The gnome’s right,’ I concluded,
'No sense in sitting around feeling brooded,
We have to think of a way,
Hopefully before the end of the day,
Of finding out where TG’s ship is parked–’
When suddenly, in my mind, an idea was sparked,
'Say, Mr. Gnome, but didn’t you say,
That in your mind, there to stay,
Is the identity of your kidnapper, you know–
Namely, the carny we met a moment ago–
Well, if this is true, as you say,
Then that carny knows–he just may–
That is, where your ship is parked–
He must, of course, for it is marked,
Right in his memory of snatching you,
For if what you say is true,
He must remember where you were,
When he snatched you up, even in a blur,
And he must remember how he got back:
For those memories mark out our track.’
‘Are you suggesting,’ Bill piped in,
‘That we just need to ask where he’s been?
Where the carny was lurking about?
When, during a break, he found you out?’
Bill pointed to TG, and looked at him,
‘Well, I suppose,’ said the gnome looking grim,
'That could be a cou’se of action,
Thew I doubt it will bring much satisfaction.
I doubt he’d tell us even if we begged,
Fo’ I think I have him fai’ly well pegged:
I predict he’ll ask for a few bucks more,
Before he divulges information galore.’
‘And I got no more bucks,’ said Sir Marsian,
‘Spent all 9 on a game that was fun,
Out of my pocket, they were drawn,
And now they’re all but gone.’
‘Enough wiz ze speculation!’
Gurtrude explained with elation,
'Vy don’t ve just go and ask?
Is zat such a hard task?
If he vishes to charge us money,
Ve vill simply say: “Look honey,
Ve ain’t got no more cash,
Ve spent the last of our private stash.”
Und zen zat vill be it,
Ve vill just have to sit,
Back at square one, wouldn’t you agree?
Nossing gained, nossing lost, you see.’
‘Gurtrude’s right,’ I concluded,
‘Let’s go ask the carny to whom I alluded,
And get a simple yay or nay,
And that will be the end of the day.’
And so at the drop of a hat,
We did just that–
We went and asked that carny,
Trying our best to be blarney.
But just as TG predicted,
From his stand, we were evicted,
For he did ask for more money,
And we did say ‘Look honey…’
But it was in vain,
For it was such a pain,
To get information out of him;
It sure didn’t come at a whim.
Can you believe how much he wanted?
The hole in my wallet would leave me haunted!
Twenty bucks is what he asked for,
I had twenty cents, but no more.
In fact, even all together,
Despite the breezy weather,
We had diddly squat–
A wealthy bunch, we were not.
So we walked away,
And then by a clown did stay,
We all sat in the lotus position,
In a circle on the ground–as though fishin’,
Though without rods, or any bate–
No, instead we sat in a circle and did wait–
We waiting for another great idea–
An idea by which we could say ‘see ya,’
To Saturn and leave this place,
For the first idea was a disgrace–
The idea, that is, of asking the carny–
Even though we used so much blarney!
But it was a disgrace, a failure,
Despite that we put into it much valor,
But we just didn’t have the money,
And could do nothing but retreat like a bunny,
So that plan failed,
And from it we were derailed.
But here in a circle, we were sitting,
On dirty grounds–not so comforting–
But sitting nonetheless in thought,
As meticulously as a robot,
Like searching an encyclopedia,
Searching for the next best idea,
About how to get ourselves off Saturn,
And then suddenly, our ears did burn,
For a loud sound blasted from some speakers,
And then I saw: it was from a man in sneakers!
‘Step right up! Step right up!’
Said the man, our thoughts he did interrupt,
'Come all ye who dare to venture,
For I reveal my secret clincher:
I reveal… “The Time Machine,”
Polished up and squeaky clean.
For once you step inside,
You’re going for a wild ride.
It spins you 'round and 'round,
Where you’ll stop, you won’t be found,
For once you reach 88 miles per hour,
You’ll disappear, plucked like a flower,
Plucked from here, that is to say,
Plucked from now, from this very day,
For you will no longer be here,
Not in this place, not in this year,
For a reason is it called “The Time Machine,”
Running on fiery coal and steam,
For at 88 miles per hour,
The spacetime continuum will devour,
Both you and your friends,
And send you around the bends,
The bends of time, that is,
For that’s how it works in this biz,
The biz of time travel, I mean,
For you may be sent back to 1919,
If that is your choice,
But you do have a voice,
So use that voice to let me know,
To what year you wish to go,
Just give me the time and date,
And I’ll make sure you’re not late.’
‘Vell,’ Gurtrude said, ‘Zat vaz rude;
Interruptions put me in a bad mood;
But now zat it is over, let’s resume,
Solving ze problem zat over us does loom.’
‘Now, wait a minute, Gurtrude,’
I said, 'the problem to which you allude,
May just be solved by that very interruption,
For if we assume no corruption,
Within that man’s words–
That is, if like the birds–
He really can fly us back in time,
And he can stop us right on a dime,
At exactly the minute we choose,
Then certainly, we can’t lose–
For you see, all we have to do,
Is travel back a day or two,
And then go back to the carny’s stand,
And wait–which may be boring and bland–
For it won’t be exciting or a thrill–
But we wait–we wait and wait–until…
The moment is at hand–
That is, when he leaves his stand–
And that’s when we have to be clever,
For we must follow him to wherever–
Wherever it was that he went,
Wherever it was that he smelt your sent,
Mr. Gnome, where he knocked you out,
And snatched you up, the obnoxious lout.
For if what you say is true–
Like one and one being two–
Then wherever the carny leads us,
Your ship is parked, like a bus.’
‘My wo’d, young chap,’ TG said,
‘That’s brilliant, yew sma’ty head,
Fo’ you’ve even got it spot on,
It was about tew days o’ one,
When I, as a one man crew,
Flew in from yande’ blue,
And landed in a dark and shady place–
From which I’m still distraught–look at my face!!!’
‘Exactly!’, I exclaimed, 'A day or two!
For all we need to do,
Is hop aboard that “Time Machine”,
And force time to wean–
Stop time, that is, from moving forward,
And the past, force us to move toward,
And stop at that specific time,
Right before the carny committed his crime.’
‘I must admit, Hubert darling,’
Gurtruded replied, sounding charming,
‘Zat your plan is wors considering;
Let’s follow it instead of bickering.’
So we did–consider it, that is to say,
Not bicker over it, not on this day,
And all our considerations lasted a second,
For just doing it now was right, as Gurtrude reckoned.
We stepped right up to the Time Machine,
Just as the carny told us to, I mean,
And after waiting half an hour in line,
After listening to several kids wine,
About being hot, or bored, or sick,
Or the awful taste of a lollipop they did lick,
It was our turn to climb aboard,
Finally!–Thank the Lord!
‘Howdie strangers, Fred’s the name,
And travellin’ through time’s my game,’
Said the time travelling carny named Fred,
His neck, from the sun, burnt red,
‘So what time,’ Fred asked,
‘Is it my privileged task,
To send you guys back to,
1800 perhaps, or maybe 1992?’
‘No sir, my friend,’ I did reply,
‘We want to go back to a time very nigh,
Retrospectively, that is to say,
That is, two, or even just one day.’
'Back in time a couple days?
That I can do, without even a haze,
That is, without a mental blur,
For you’ll know when you’re there for sure.
For I have perfected my technology,
I’ve surpassed even Einstein’s psychology,
That is, his intelligence,
For I’m smarter than him, hence:
The Time Machine, my latest invention,
Polished up with a shiny complexion,
For Einstein could never have thought,
Of what, to the world, I have brought.
Einstein knew that time could bend,
Stretch, compress, and rend,
But was it possible? Time travel?
He knew that the future could unravel,
For time can be sped up, he knew,
From one o’clock to a quarter to two,
You can get in a matter of seconds,
That’s right, seconds, not minutes, as I reckons.
For to get from one to two,
Takes a full hour, it’s true,
But what Einstein figured out,
Is that, without a doubt,
The faster you go, the faster time goes too,
It speeds up, like a bullet out of the blue,
So if you go fast enough, then even you,
In only seconds, can get to a quarter to two.
But that’s not the question,
For if I may make a suggestion,
I’d say that travel to the past,
Is finally possible, at last.
Thanks to my latest invention, I say,
For it is the leading proof today,
That I figured out what Einstein could not,
Though a genius he was in thought:
How to travel to the past,
How to make a single day last,
If one were only to repeat it,
Over and over–who could beat it?
Who could top my invention, that is,
For a leader am I in this time travel biz,
Surpassing Einstein and Steven Hawking,
Even the invention of the nylon stocking!’
‘Well,’ I said with a dose of skepticism,
'I know physics, Einstein and Time-Travelism.
And what you say defies all logic,
In fact, it sounds like magic,
For there was a reason Einstein did doubt,
That which you praise and shout,
For if the faster you go,
The more time goes not so slow,
Then how is it possible, good sir,
To reverse time in a blur?
For even when standing still,
Time moves forward, if you will.’
‘Not at 88 miles per hour,’ Fred replied,
'For this is my secret, what I have spied,
For under a microscope did I view time,
And what did I discover, friends of mine?
An infinitesimal hole, a rip in time,
Too small to see with your eyes or mine,
But it’s there, my friends, trust me;
Without a microscope, your notice will it flee,
And if you accelerate past it–
88 miles per hour that is–even a bit–
Say, for example, from 87 to 89,
Being careful not to get a speeding fine,
You’ll skip right over it,
Like a pot hole that on the road does sit,
But if you stop precisely on that spot,
Staying at 88 miles per hour and budging not,
Then my friends, the magic will happen,
For you’ll find, even if rappin’,
Along with your favorite hip hop tune,
That very quickly, very soon,
Time will reverse, time will go back–
That’s the point at which time does lack–
That is, doesn’t exist, the rip I spoke of,
The hole so infinitesimal, fleeting like a dove.
But trust me my friends,
Once around the bends,
Does my invention take you,
Round and round 'till you turn blue,
You will hit 88 miles per hour,
And that’s when it will devour,
You and everyone else aboard,
Like a heavy eater who does hoard,
All the food at the buffet,
Except that on this day,
You’re the buffet and time is the eater,
Don’t resist, for you can’t beat 'er.
Just let the rip suck you in,
And you’ll go where you’ve already been–
Some time before, that is,
For that’s the way in this time travelin’ biz.’
‘Oh, what are we waiting for,’ Sally urged,
‘On one carny we’ve already splurged,
Why not on this one too?
Let’s travel back a day or two!’
‘Splurge indeed we did,’ Bill inserted,
‘On that carny with which we flirted,
But with what are we going splurge now,
For if this is a free ride, I’ll say WOW!’
‘Free? Are you kidding?’ said the carny,
'If this ride’s free, then my names Barney,
And since it’s not, then by Modus Tollens,
We can conclude this ride would’ve been stolens.
That is, you will have ripped me off,
Gettin’ a free ride without having did cough–
Cough up the cash, that is,
To earn a seat on this ride–like, gee whiz!’
‘Well, we certainly don’t want to rip you off,’
I said, clearing my throat with a cough,
'But we’ve got nothing to our name,
We’ve got neither fortune nor fame.
But maybe we can make an arrangement–
Something to commence this engagement–
This engagement of time travel, I mean;
Let’s work out something like a team.’
An awkward silence followed that point,
Making me wish we could escape the joint,
For none of us could think of an arrangement,
To commence, like I said, this engagement.
I thought, Sally thought, and we all thought,
Even the carny thought… we thought a lot.
But none of us could think of anything,
No ideas to the table could we bring.
‘Oh, fiddle-dee-bugs!’ TG did exclaim,
‘To give this up would be such a shame–
This comb, I mean, so exquisite,
But maybe I could part with it.’
‘Well,’ Fred the carny did reply,
‘Allow me to inspect it with my eye,
For if it’s exquisite as you say,
I may consider it your due pay.’
So TG handed over the comb,
Looking rather sad for a gnome,
And indeed Fred inspected it,
While in his chair he did sit.
‘It’s not so exquisite, friends of mine,
…it’s absolutely and utterly divine!
Where did you get such a fine gem,
Are there more? Where can I get them?’
‘I got it from my mom,’ Sir Martian said,
‘Works quite well with the hair on my head;
I think she got it at Wall Mart,
You can try there for a start.’
‘Indeed I may,’ Fred did say,
‘But this comb will suffice for today.
You may hop aboard this ride–
Don’t be shy–step inside!’
So step inside we did,
To see what secrets it hid;
It was like a flying saucer,
Round on all sides of 'er,
But flat on top and bottom;
Colored like the leaves of Autumn,
It was splashed from head to toe,
With red, orange, and yellow.
The inside wasn’t much different,
Inside The Time Machine, where we went,
For there too was a mix of colors,
Red, orange, yellow, and many others.
Against the walls, round like a ring,
Were straps which, onto us, would cling,
For it was clear from the looks of it,
That that’s where we were to sit.
Well, not sit–we’d have to stand,
We’d lean back against the wall and,
Buckle our seat belts, strap ourselves in,
And soon after, we started to spin.
It was rather slow at first,
Which would make this ride the worst,
If that’s the fastest it ever got,
But was it the fastest? I think not.
For we could feel the acceleration,
And I could see the anticipation,
In the kids’ eyes–that is, other riders–
Anticipation and fear–like they’d seen spiders;
But it’s a fun kind of fear,
The kind that makes you scream and cheer,
The kind that feels more like a rush,
Like holding someone on whom you have a crush,
While watching a scary movie on a date–
That’s something you can’t really hate–
For when the show’s over at a quarter to ten,
You kiss her goodbye and say ‘Let’s do it again.’
Indeed the ride sped up,
With his hands, Sir Marsian formed a cup,
And with them, covered his face,
Wishing he could get out of this place,
TG too, sitting in Sir Martian’s back pack,
For it felt rather squishy to be in that sack,
Not only pressed up against the wall,
But squished by Sir Martian and all.
But most everyone else was having fun,
I certainly wasn’t the only one,
But soon the ride got intense,
And it kept me in suspense,
For I knew we were going fast,
But how much longer would this ride last,
Before 88 miles per hour was reached,
For I couldn’t tell which speeds we’d breached,
What speed were we at? What mile per hour?
We must have used up enough power,
To be going at least 44,
And probably a little bit more.
For I could feel the inertia on my back,
And my vision almost went black,
From the blood rushing from my head,
I thought I might pass out, as if dead.
But the deafening screams from the other kids,
Kept me awake, from closing my eye lids.
A couple looked ill, and one barfed,
Cotton candy which he previously snarfed.
And soon it happened, at least I thought,
For in some strange vortex were we caught–
A swirl in space, I mean to say,
As if space and time gave way,
To some kind of warping,
A kind of bending and forking,
For things seemed to twist and stretch,
Like the soul of a horrible wretch,
People’s faces seemed long and thin,
I couldn’t tell a frown from a grin,
The whole room was like a hall of mirrors,
The kind that distort your mouth, nose, and ears.
And just as I no longer recognized the place,
Just as I couldn’t make out a single face,
Just as I thought I was going crazy,
The ride started to become lazy–
That is, it began to slow down,
And I slowly came back from crazy town,
I slowly regained my senses,
And began to let down my defenses,
For I started to feel relaxed,
Our speed no longer waxed,
It now began to wane,
And soon, so did my pain.
The room was still spinning,
And my ears started ringing,
When the ride finally stopped,
And off it, we could have hopped,
Except I just couldn’t tell,
At least, not very well,
Whether the spinning was the ride,
Or my dizzy head–so I sighed.
But then the door did open–
A sight for which I was hopin’–
And in poked a familiar head–
The one belonging to Fred.
‘Two days ago!’ he said to the crowd,
‘That’s us!’ Sally said out loud,
‘Let’s get off, gang,
Let’s not stay here and hang!’
We unbuckled ourselves, we did,
And tried to stand like a 1 year old kid,
Wobbling a bit and almost falling,
But ardently following Fred’s calling.
Before we stepped off, I looked back,
Into the room almost pitch black,
And I noticed no one else getting off,
To which I almost did scoff.
‘What? Did y’all pay for two rides?’
I questioned the people on all sides,
‘Na,’ said an old woman near the door,
‘We’re just going back to 1934.’