The scene: The DFO clubhouse. Doktor Zymm has a panel in Moose’s head open and is doing some rewiring while Old School Zero and Marc Trestmans Windowless Van watch TV with Moosemas Gorilla and Horatio Cornblower.

Doktor Zymm: It vould be easier to do zis in my lab, you know.

Future Moose: !yaw oN .sneppah dab gnihtemos ,ereht ni m’I emit yrevE

Doktor Zymm: Fine, fine…I am almost done, in any event.

Doktor Zymm makes a few more adjustments.

Doktor Zymm: Zere! How is zat?

Future Moose: 01001001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110010 01100101 00101110 00101110 00101110 01101000 01100101 01111001 00100001 00100000 01010100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001 01110011 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01110010 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 00101110 00101110 00101110

Doktor Zymm: Oops! Zorry about zat! I forgot to adjust ze binary converter…

Doktor Zymm flips a switch in Moose’s head, then closes the panel.

Doktor Zymm: All gut now?

Future Moose: I think so…hey! I’m back to normal! Thanks, Doc!

Doktor Zymm: It vas nothing. Just be sure to take it easy for a few days. You are running on lithium batteries in zis body, rather than the fission vones you are used to.

Future Moose: Aw, Doc, always the buzzkill. How long do you think it’ll take to get my old future body up and running?

Doktor Zymm: Vell…unfortunately ve do not have the technology to replicate your fission batteries, zo I vill have to try und repair ze old vones. It may take zome time.

Future Moose: I got faith in you, Doc. Even in the future, when you’re a B.I.T.C.H., you always come through.

OSZ: Whoa, what?

Horatio Cornblower: Moose!  What the heck, man?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (spelling out the letters in the air): Bee…eye…tee..

Future Moose: What? Oh, right…sorry. That stands for Bio-Integrated Technocratic Cybernetic Hardware. Hey, she came up with it herself.

Doktor Zymm (nodding): Ja, it ist true…I am nicht so gut mit ze acronyms. I vonce created ze Primary Enhancement Node for Integrated Security.

Moosemas Gorilla: Ook!

OSZ: Yeah, that is pretty bad…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (spelling in the air again): Pee…eee…

Doktor Zymm (opening the secret door to her lab): Vell, I have a few ideaz to vork on…

Horatio Cornblower: As long as those ideas don’t involve us travelling through time. Or breaking into high-security buildings.  Or fighting a giant amoeba in the Arctic.

Doktor Zymm (closing the door): No promizes!

Marc Trestamsn Windowless Van (grinning): Penis! I get it, man.

Moosemas Gorilla: Ook.

Horatio Cornblower (climbing onto Moosemas Gorilla’s shoulder): We’re off to the convenience store.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Dude, get me some Doritos! Like, I’m Jonesing, man.

OSZ: And a Chili & Cheesedog!

Horatio Cornblower: That barely qualifies as food.

OSZ: I know, but I think my body’s still absorbing all the alcohol from Moosemas.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: That sounds good, man. Get me a couple of those, too. And, like, Doritos, man.

Horatio Cornblower (leaving with Moosemas Gorilla): OK, but don’t blame me when your arteries explode.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: And don’t forget the Doritos, man!

OSZ (turning to Future Moose): OK, so in the future Doktor Zymm is…a B.I.T.C.H.

Future Moose: More like the B.I.T.C.H. She doesn’t like competition.

OSZ: All right, but what about the rest of us? Are we still around?

Future Moose (looking uncomfortable): Well…I mean, it is a long time from now.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: So, like, the 21^st century, man?

OSZ: Marc…we’re in the 21^st century.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (eyes wide): Whoa! So do we have, like, a flying car, man?

OSZ: I think Sill does, actually. So in your time we’re already…dead, Moose?

Future Moose: Well… Look, there are rules about this sort of stuff. I’m really not supposed to talk about the future to you Pasties, because you might do something to screw it up.

OSZ: Pasties?

Future Moose: It’s just a term we use in the future. No offense.

OSZ: C’mon, Moose…spill. You can never keep a secret. How you started out as security software, I’l never know.

Future Moose: If I tell you guys anything, you might end up doing something to alter the future and then it’s really gonna hit the fan.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: C’mon, man…just tell me something about, like…Woody Harrelson, man! Like, does he ever become like, a Saint or something?

Future Moose: Well…

Cut to: Just outside the edge of town. In an empty field a glowing globe appears, growing large and bright before dissipating and leaving two people behind. The man is dressed in a futuristic silver jumpsuit. The woman looks like this:

Future Clone Debbie Harry: So, this is the 21^st century. I can’t say I’m impressed.

Low Commander of the Super Soldiers: No, Empress.

Future Clone Debbie Harry: It smells like carbon fuels, garbage dumps and desperation. No wonder we alternative life forms had to fix things. These humans are a messy bunch.

Low Commander of the Super Soldiers: Yes, Empress.

Future Clone Debbie Harry: Well, we’re here on a mission. Time to track down my errant husband and tie up a few loose ends. Now be a good Low Commander and get out your little doohickey and find him.

Low Commander of the Super Soldiers (getting a cool-looking techno-doohickey off of his belt): Yes, Empress. As Doktor Zymm predicted, we’re close.

Future Clone Debbie Harry: Excellent! Moose may have run from me, but he can’t hide…

To be continued…