The scene: Future Moose’s opulent (if virtual) bedchambers. Moose is there with Ballsofsteelandfury, who is in the virtual form of Future Clone Debbie Harry. Future Clone Lynda Carter is sitting on the bed, swinging a pillow and giggling.

Future Moose: So you’re sure the Man in Plaid is deactivated, Balls? Balls…? BALLS!

Debbie/Balls (looking up guiltily): What? What? I was listening!

Future Moose: You were not! You were checking out my wife’s rack again!

Debbie/Balls: Hey, you were the one who programmed the lacy lingerie!

Future Moose: Actually, that was Zymm, but…

Debbie/Balls: Uh-huh.

Future Moose: It was! I just gave her a few…suggestions. That’s all!

Debbie/Balls (firing a single, rather delicate, finger gun): You bet, big guy!

Future Clone Lynda Carter (stopping in mid-swing): Tee- … Whoa!

Debbie/Balls: Hold on. I recognize that glazed expression…

Future Moose: Oh, for… Marc! Is that you?

Future Clone Lynda Carter looks around blearily, then smiles when she sees Moose and Debbie/Balls.

Lynda/Marc: Whoa! Dudes! Like…whoa!

Future Moose: Marc, what the heck? How did you get in here?

Lynda/Marc: Like, I wanted to see if Balls would drive me downtown, man. I need some new glassware, and, like, I can’t find my van…

Future Moose: That’s because it’s lost in time, Marc.

Lynda/Marc: I don’t think so, man. Like, I think I’d remember that. But, like, I figured he was in Zymm’s lab since he wasn’t, like, in the kitchen, or on the couch, or on the roof, or…

Future Moose: Focus, Marc.

Lynda/Marc: Right, man! So, after looking, like, everywhere, man, I decided to check out the lab, and I found Balls on the floor, man. He had this cool helmet on, so I found another one so I could hang out with you guys, man.

Debbie/Balls: You were just rummaging around Zymm’s lab? She hates that.

Future Moose: Yeah, how come she didn’t kick you out?

Lynda/Marc: She, like, wasn’t there, man.

Future Moose: That’s strange…where could she be?

Cut to: Doktor Zymm at the In-N-Out across the street from the DFO clubhouse. She is carrying Man in Plaid #2’s head and glaring at the Iguana clerk.

Doktor Zymm: Don’t give me zat! I zaw ze delivery truck arrive. I know you have more ZPONCH!

Iguana Clerk (flaring his dewlaps): Thbpt.

Man in Plaid #2’s Head: Now, Doktor Zymm, there is no reason to get upset…

Cut to: Future Moose’s bedchambers again.

Future Moose (to Debbie/Balls): So anyway, this Man in Plaid is…wait, what’s that smell?

Moose and Debbie/Balls turn to look over at Lynda/Marc, who is happily blazing away.

Future Moose: What the…? How did you…

Lynda/Marc (taking a hit off of a yuuuge joint): I like your place, man. Like, we should all move in here.

Future Moose: Marc, how the hell did you find weed… in my virtual bedchamber?

Lynda/Marc: Oh, man, like, I leave bags of weed everywhere, man. Like, in cars, and under houses, and in shopping malls and…

Debbie/Balls: It’s true. I even found one of his stashes in a bag of elephant chow one time. Now puff, puff, pass, Marc.

Lynda/Marc (passing the joint to Balls): Bake sale, man! Let’s get fried and go swim with the seals!

Future Moose: Don’t do that. They might be virtual seals, but they’re still ten-ton killing machines.

Debbie/Balls (inhaling): Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask…how come seals in your time are these big-ass monsters?

Future Moose: Blame Zymm. About a hundred years from now she decides to save the seals by splicing their genetics with Orcas. It turns out seals are actually kind of dicks, and making them into huge monsters with razor-sharp teeth was like giving a machete to a psychotic chimpanzee.

Debbie/Balls (exhaling and passing the joint to Moose): Whoa!

Future Moose (taking a drag): Now that is some damn good virtual weed!

Lynda/Marc: Only the best, man!

Debbie/Balls: I’m getting the munchies. Are you guys getting hungry, too?

Lynda/Marc: Totally, man. Like, I could really hoover a couple of Diggler’s Donuts or a box of SPONCH!

Cut to: Doktor Zymm sitting on a bench outside the In-N-Out. She has a stack of SPONCH! boxes sitting on one side of her, and Man in Plaid #2’s head on the other.

Doktor Zymm (opening a box of SPONCH!): Would you like a cookie?

Man in Plaid #2’s Head (kind of wriggling his head so that he can look at Zymm): That is very kind of you. I have never had a cookie before.

Doktor Zymm (holding a SPONCH! cookie out for him): Unglaublich! Zen vat do you eat?

Man in Plaid #2 (taking a bite from the cookie): We primarily ingest a nutrient gel that aids in lubricating our coolant systems, and which provides our synthetic circulatory system with… Say!

Doktor Zymm: Das ist gut, ja?

Man in Plaid #2 (crunching): It certainly is! Why, I never even imagined…

Doktor Zymm (eating a SPOCH! cookie): Tell me…you zeem like a good zort. Vy vere you harassing ze DFOers mit ze zapguns?

Man in Plaid #2’s Head (crunching more cookie): Well, you see, we are guardians of the space-time continuum. We try to keep things nice and orderly. Unfortunately, your group seems to be a focal point for…disturbances.

Doktor Zymm (innocently): Disturbances? Us?

Man in Plaid #2’s Head: Yes. Your invention of the time machine has led to numerous new parallel dimensions. It is really quite a mess.

Doktor Zymm: But…my time machine is ztuck in ze past. Vat harm can it do now?

Cut to: Washington, D.C., 1865. The time-travelling DFOers are sitting in Doktor Zymm’s RV, staring in amazement at Abraham Lincoln, who is passed out on the laps of Future Clone Debbie Harry and PK.

Horatio Cornblower: Wow. Abraham Lincoln…

Moosemas Gorilla: Ook?

Horatio Cornblower: He’s one of our greatest presidents, that’s who he is!

Covalent Blonde: And he’s drunk as a skunk.

OSZ: Yeah. So, um…what do we do with him?

Covalent Blonde: Call him a cab? He’s in no condition to walk home.

[DOOR FLIES OPEN]

The theater door swings wide and Mary Todd Lincoln comes bustling out into the alley, a scowl on her face.

Mary Todd Lincoln: Abe! Where are you? If you’re off drinking with that Cookiethulhu person again, I’m going to be making a few proclamations of my own!

Brocky (looking out the front window of the RV): Wow, she looks pissed! Should we…I dunno…maybe toss him into the alley so she can find him?

Horatio Cornblower (shocked): What? We are not…I repeat, not…”tossing” the sixteenth president of the United States into an alley!

Mary Todd Lincoln spots the RV and briskly walks toward it.

Mary Todd Lincoln (approaching the RV): Abe! Are you in there?

Brocky: Uh-oh. We’ve been spotted, guys.

Covalent Blonde: That’s it. Who’s in favor of tossing Abe and making a break for it?

PK and Future Clone Debbie Harry raise their hands.

Horatio Cornblower (glaring): You guys don’t get votes! And I better not see anyone else raising a hand, either!

Brocky: OK, so what’s your plan…?

Mary Todd Lincoln (banging on the door): Abe! Open this door, mister!

RV Auto-Pilot: Code Yellow. Threat response initiated.

Horatio Cornblower: What? Brocky, what did you do?

Brocky: Me? Nothing! All these lights suddenly came on and…

Mary Todd Lincoln (banging on the door harder): I hear you in there! You are in such trouble…

RV Auto-Pilot: Defense system online.

Horatio Cornblower: Holy crap! OSZ, get us out of here before the RV nukes Mary Todd Lincoln!

OSZ (getting into the driver’s seat): I’m on it!

Covalent Blonde (petulantly): I could drive…

Moosemas Gorilla: Ook-ook.

Horatio Cornblower: He’s right. We’re trying to get out of here without causing any more damage.

Mary Todd Lincoln (swatting the RV with her umbrella): I am just so angry right now…

RV Auto-Pilot: Missiles locked.

OSZ (putting the RV into reverse): Hang on, guys!

Old School Zero hits the accelerator and the RV backs down the alley, accelerating quickly. A green glow suddenly surrounds it and then it disappears.

Mary Todd Lincoln (staring in amazement): Well, son of a…

To be continued…