Where the damn hell am I? What the damn hell is this? The last thing I remember was fighting the dreaded Ratzis in France and ohhhh… Yeah, there was an explosion, followed by some crazy glowing dame taking me by the hand and yanking me into a freaking time portal. There’s my where and when, but what? What the damn hell is this?
Fred mumbled and grumbled as he tapped the spoon against the hard-boiled pterodactyl egg in front of him. His toe was still red and throbbing. “Damn newspaper boy and all the news fit to print on a stone tablet rassafrass, too old for this.” As he stretched, every bone in his body creaked. He slept on the front porch again last night, while the cat slept at the foot of the bed. His throat was sore from screaming Wilma all night. Apparently, Wilma is a sound sleeper. One day, he will figure it out, and save his voice.