When Gregson got back to the future, it felt like his body bounced back. He felt fat again, and it felt good.
“Here’s Dorian’s watch, sir—and the almanac.”
“Sweet Jesus, son—is that all you have for me?”
“And Hitler’s balls in Stanley’s vomit bag. He didn’t make it back.”
“You mean—you don’t know?”
“He almost became world dictator during World War II.”
“World War II?”
“This is a bit much for me, sir” Gregson said.
“Well—your psych profile told us you can handle the hurdles of time travel. By the way, what happened to Stanley’s watch?”
“I must’ve left it in the past, sir.”
“Nobody will know what it can do. Suite up, Gregson! You need to rejoin those women in the river! You’ve only been gone for 25 minutes.”
There was a POP, and a beautiful woman materialized.
“Who’s this?” Weathers asked.
“This is Hitler’s Pussy. Let me introduce you.”
“Pleased to meet you, mam. I’m Cornel Weathers.”
“How high of a ranking officer are you?” Pussy asked.
“High,” Weathers said. His shoulders snapped to attention.
“Well—I think time has stuck me to this one.”
“Do you know how to swim?”
“Sure, I do,” Pussy said. I even have a suit on, underneath my silks.”
“It doesn’t look like you have one on,” Gregson said.
“My birthday suit, silly.”
“Let’s go to the river, and I’ll drive.”
“So, do you have a girlfriend yet?” Pussy asked.
When they got there, they swam upstream to the campsite.
“Look what I caught!” Gregson said.
“Where have you been?” Murphy asked. “And who is that woman?”
“I prevented World War II, delivered Hitler’s balls in a to-go bag, and this is my Pussy.”
Murphy’s jaw dropped, and the girls were offended.