Meet Jake, cont.

Damn it's cold.

A little too cold to be out in my hut, y'know?
I mean it's nothing I couldn't handle.  The trick is to get inside your bunk just as the sun goes down and keep heated stones on each of your pulse points.  You should be warm the whole night through (but only if you start at the beginning of the night, otherwise you'll never build up enough body heat.)

So why freeze my ass off when I can stay at my writer's house?

That's a story for another time.  First, I gots to finish the one I already started.  Sheesh, this writing stuff is hard.

Anyways, I asked to meet Nichols at McDonald's.  Not only was it close by, but I could feast on a delicacy long since gone in my time: the McRib.  See, that "nanny state" guvmint, started by Michelle Obama and her "health food" kick, has made the glorious McRib illegal in the future.  Hell, you can barely eat red meat.  So this was HUGE, man...I bought like bought like three or four of those babies and inhaled them like the sweet nectar of the gods they are.

Then Nichols walks in.

He's just like I imagined and told you about before.  Bookish.  Skinny and fat in all the wrong places.  Hesitant, gawky, looks a little to like that guy who fronted Talking Heads?  I dunno, they all look the same to me.  Anyways, he sits down after I yell over to him.  Guy ordered salad and coffee at McDonald's?  When he could have the McRib?  Shows you how little he values America.  This sammich is a gift from God and he passes it up.  Me?  I'm droolin' like Pee Wee Herman in a porno theater.

Sos I tell him about my situation.  I'm a soldier.  I'm from the future.  I'm here to stop a war before it starts.  To do that, I need to tell my story.  Because, y'know, I'm not good with words and all that shit.

What's he do?  Nichols starts jabbing at me about time travel.  Wanting to know how I did it.  "Was it a TARDIS or a DeLorean?" and all that geek shit.  Between his attitude and his dissing of the McRib, I'd had just about enough.  I pulled my kabar and got the point in the sweet spot underneath his chin.  He quieted down real quick after that.  Back to business then.

I go into the future I'm trying to fight.  Trying to describe to him how awful it is (even though being without the McRib SHOULD be enough to convince anybody decent.)  I tell him about an America ruled by a dictatorship that threw our Constitution in the shitter.  I tell him about a society of surveillance cameras, facial recognition software, and x-ray machines at every turn.  Big Brother and Big Guvmint all in one.

What's he do?  He doubts me.  He DOUBTS me.  Me, JAKE TIMBER?

So I gots to explain to this liberal college egghead that he already lives in a country where 50% of the citizens feel entitled to everything for free and the NSA spies on 100% of everyone.  SEE MY POINT?

I'll tell you more later.  I'm sick of writing.
Maybe I've still got another McRib in his freezer.