BACK TO THE FUTURE IV

By Jeffrey Dean
Text Copyright © 2015 Jeffrey D. Dean, Sr.

Author's Introduction:

Back To The Future IV, the Sequel/Remake is designed as both a remake and a spinoff.
If it were ever produced as a movie, either the scenes from Back to the Future original used
in this story would have to be re-cast and reproduced (in which case it becomes a total
remake) or the scenes from the original movie can be incorporated into this story as
background.
This version follows the adventures of a completely different Marty McFly, the one who is
raised by the altered parents, George and Lorraine, after the Marty from the original movie
drastically changes them. This is the story of the Marty McFly who goes back to 1955 at the
end of the first movie.

faber est suae quisque fortunae

“every man is the artisan of his own fortune”
Jump to Scene
PROLOGUE:
1. JENNIFER LOVES MARTY
2. THINK BIFF, THINK!
3. YOU JUST DISINTEGRATED EINSTEIN!
4. PEABODY HAD A FARM EYI EYI OH!
5. ANOTHER MARTY
6. ANOTHER FAMILY
7. ANOTHER BIFF
8. ANOTHER GEORGE MCFLY
9. ANOTHER DRAG RACE
10. ANOTHER TRIP TO 1955
11. HILL VALLEY BLUES
12. READ MY MIND NO NEW TIME TRAVEL
13. ROCKY MCFLY
14. BOILING POINTS
15. A BRAND NEW GEORGE
16. MOVE LIKE A BUTTERLY EFFECT STING LIKE A MCFLY
17. HELP ME OBIWAN YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE
18. THE REVELATION
19. PLAY WITH PLUTONIUM YOU'RE GONNA GET BURNED
20. HEAD CASES
21. THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES
22. Biff's Revenge
EPILOGUE

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 PROLOGUE:
October 26, 1985 around 1:20 AM .The night is still and quiet over the sleepy little
California town of Hill Valley, somewhere in California not far from the Mojave Desert Region.
Red now sleeps near the court house in a tattered overcoat on a park bench. Old
newspapers his only blankets. A small portable radio plays at his feet. How have the mighty
fallen?
Like Red, Hill Valley has seen better days. Some of the businesses that thrived in the
square have long since been replaced by such “fine” establishments as, “Cupid's Adult
Bookstore,” and “Al's Tattoo Art.” The Essex Theater is now showing porn. The Old
Courthouse itself no longer serves it's distinguished purpose. It had long since become the
home of the “Department of Social Services.”
He was sleeping off another bender. This was far from a new thing. He and Hill Valley
have grown old together and the townsfolk pretty much leave him alone. Tonight; however,
his sleep would be disturbed by two things. First, a helicopter incessantly passed over the old
broken clock tower at the top of the courthouse for some inexplicable reason, periodically
shining it's light on the clock at the top of the tower, exposing the broken face of the ledge just
under the clock. It then flew off in a southerly direction. Red stirs a bit, but this does not even
come close to rising to enough of an irritant to wake him completely from his stupor. It almost
does though, several time.
He felt it first as a twinge at the back of his neck. An electric tingle that quickly builds to
a jolt. A strange and unreasonable hot gust of wind picked up, literally from everywhere and
from nowhere. His newspaper blankets were blown clean off and they bounced down the
empty street like tumbleweed. He bolted up at the flash of light down the street,
accompanied by an odd rushing sound, like a door opening, an inter-dimensional door.
Blue shafts of lightning streak out from the middle of the street.
Suddenly, it was there, where it wasn't before. A DeLorean DMC-12. The car was
made of unpainted, paneled and not brushed ss304 stainless steel. The stainless steel
panels were fixed to a glass reinforced plastic monocoque designed underbody, which was
then affixed to a double-Y frame chassis which the designer, John DeLorean, derived from the
Lotus Esprit platform. This particular DeLorean had been radically modified, especially in the
rear with what, at first glance, looked like a otherworldly jet pack.
He leaped up off the park bench, stymied and bleary eyed, just as the car jumped right
into the street amid the lightning and the wind. Its tires locked immediately and as if it were
possible, they literally “burned” rubber down the street, leaving an actual trail of rubber and
flames as it skidded and slid to the end of the block, straight into the old town theater which is
now a Pentecostal Church. With a loud crash the DeLorean smashed into the front of the
church and rested like a lukewarm parishioner, half in and half out of the church
The bewildered and befuddled old man danced and bounced next to his bed/bench
struggling to focus in the direction of the mayhem. As his eyes cleared he could see the tail
lights of the car backing out of the front of the Church and slowly turning around.
“Crazy drunk drivers!” He grumbled, taking a swig from a bottle with mysterious
contents obscured in a brown paper bag. The liquid slightly dribbled down his chin, across
his unkempt wild man appearance. He swiped it with a filthy sleeve and watched the
DeLorean maneuver around, facing his way.
 “Whiskey,” he mumbled to himself, “it's not just for breakfast anymore.”
He is wearing ear muffs, because fall at night around those parts can be unforgiving.
He just stood there, swigging and muttering curses under his breath. In his inebriated state,
the odd sight of a DeLorean, encrusted with ice, seemed perfectly normal. He'd once seen a
car drive by with a pink elephant driving it. Fog rolled off of this one strangely as it began to
move again, then stalled.
Red squinted to see the driver, who was feverishly trying to start it again.
These cars were known to be fraught with electrical problems, due to the rush John
DeLorean had placed on production. DeLoreans were equipped with “wing doors” that swung
upward when opened. The driver's side now did so and a young man quickly emerged.
Red knows he's seen him before and he might be able to place the face but he
suddenly got distracted by a burning in his throat that could only be quenched by another
swig.
Dressed in his red quilted winter vest and faded blue jeans, Marty McFly egressed the
DeLorean, hardly seeming to even notice Red, who is used to that, being that he has become
a unique part of the Hill Valley scenery. Like the broken ledge of the clock tower looming
behind him.
Marty looked around in amazement, not at where he was, but when he was. He
cannot contain his astonishment that 30 years has just gone by in the blink of an eye. As he
stood, gaping, a blue VW Microbus came racing around the corner from behind him with it's
headlights off. Picking up speed, it rushed past him.
His eyes narrowed in dismay as he could only helplessly he watch it disappear around the
corner, on its way to the Twin Pines Mall and its fateful confrontation with Doc Brown. Marty
McFly curses his life! Apparently, even when he has a 30 year head start to save Doc
Brown, he's still late!
Strickland would have nodded his agreement with that, if he were here, putting on his
familiar, “doesn't surprise me at all,” look he was so good at. Then he would have mumbled,
“slacker.”
Marty realized he had no choice but to run.
And run he did, right past Red, who shouts after him, “Crazy drunk joggers!”
It took him nearly the whole 10 minutes to run the distance from downtown Hill Valley
to the Twin Pines Mall. He arrived there completely out of breath and exhausted. He almost
stopped in his tracks when he read the mall sign. It's no longer “Twin Pines Mall,” but instead
reads “Lone Pine Mall.” Whatever changes he has just made to the past in 1955 have
already caught up with him here in 1985. He looked frantically at his watch as he ran toward
the mall sign. Sure enough, looking down at the scene below he realized that he has arrived
just before he makes the time jump to 1955. So, it's odd to him that the sign would already
be changed.
He watches in absolute horror as once again the Libyans emptied their clip into the
chest of his dear friend and mentor, Doctor Emmett Brown, the eminent scientist and recent
inventor of the DeLorean time machine conversion kit.
Marty then heard his own voice down there in the mayhem screaming, “no, you
bastards!” His eyes went wide at the sight of himself, dressed in the yellow radiation suit he
had donned to assist Doc in refilling the flux capacitor with plutonium only a week earlier. The
same yellow suit that was even now sitting in the trunk of his own Delorean. He watched in
amazement as his other self runs behind Doc Brown's moving van.
The hill on which rests the Lone Pine Mall sign is steep and in his rush to climb down
he tripped and fell, rolling down the hill to the parking lot pavement below. When he
recovered his legs, his eyes dart in amazement and terror as he watched the drama
replaying itself. It was surreal observing these events as an outsider looking in.
Marty's mind reeled. He was no expert on time travel, but it seemed to him, If the mall
sign was already changed, this would mean he's now in some“alternate 1985.” Was this
himself he's watching dive into the DeLorean and peel away from the Libyans, or was it
someone else? Another Marty McFly? His heart sank into his toes. Doc would know!
The DeLorean peeled away and the VW Microbus followed, it's occupants bouncing and
lurching, half in and half out of the sun roof, shooting at it wildly. The bullets seemed to just
bounce off the stainless steel of the car. The rifle jammed. It looked like the DeLorean
might be in the clear but the man sank back into the VW bus, then re-emerged with a
shoulder mounted rocket grenade launcher, aiming it at the DeLorean.
In a burst of speed it took off in the direction of the photo booth at the end of the
parking lot with the Libyans in the van not far behind. The car was engulfed in that ethereal
energy. When the DeLorean vanished, leaving behind that familiar fire trail, the shocked
Libyans lost control of their van and it crashed into the photo booth and rolled over on it's
side.
Marty now threw caution to the wind, not even knowing if the Libyans survived the
crash or not, (and not really caring at the moment) he ran to check on poor Doc who was still
lying motionless on the ground by his step van. He reaches Doc's side and the older man
stared blankly and lifeless into the night sky.
Devastated, Marty fell down next to his dear old friend, the inventor's dead body now
limp. Marty began to weep. He can't bear to look and turns away. The world fell away from
him for a while and he didn't even think about the burning van that once belonged to the
Libyans. He couldn't bear to look and turned his head.
The world fell away for a while and he didn't even think about the burning van that once
belonged to the Libyans. Finally, though he stood up and began to pace nervously. Einstein
barked at him from inside the work truck. He went and opened the door and the dog greeted
him happily, not realizing what has befallen his master.
Suddenly, Marty heard sirens in the distance.
“The time machine” he mutters, “the plutonium!”
He ran and grabbed the yellow case snapping it closed and looked back down the road
at the flashing lights of several police cars and fire trucks headed his way. Kneeling down,
Marty kissed the forehead of Doc Brown still lifeless there and took off, with Einstein following
closely on his heels.
Behind him, back at the carnage, the police arrived and swarmed around Doc's moving
van and the VW bus. Marty does not stop, nor does he look back. He's got a plan.
“We've got a time machine,” he tells Einstein, who is tagging reluctantly behind him, “we can
fix this!” He sprinted as fast as he could toward the direction of town and the waiting
DeLorean. Marty turned the corner near the now smashed church front and found it still
sitting there, where he left it, in the middle of the street. Red was also still there, and had
resumed his repose on the bench. He flipped over as Marty begins to maneuver to get back
into the car.
Red muttered his dislike of people who leave their cars in the middle of streets at all
hours.
Marty opened the trunk and was about to put the plutonium case in when a siren
wailed and several police cars rolled in fast from seemingly nowhere. They hit him with
spotlights and he put his hands up. Einstein too got up on his hind legs and put his paws up.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

1. JENNIFER LOVES MARTY

Marty McFly was excited for many reasons. Well, maybe excited was too weak of a word.
He felt like the song by Timbuk3, “my future's so bright, I have to wear shades.” It was
playing on his Sony Walkman right now as he skateboarded his way through oncoming traffic.
In fact, he was wearing shades too so the song fit perfectly. The traffic whizzed dangerously
around him, but there was nothing to be concerned about. He knew what he was doing.
This was old hat to him. He wasn't going to get hit by any cars.
The early morning sun seemed higher than usual, he chalked it off as the oncoming
winter and an earlier sunrise. He timed it just right so that he was able to grab the closed
tailgate of the passing gray Ford pickup. He felt the heavy vibration of the skateboard wheels
zinging on the blacktop below. He went through a lot of wheels doing this, but it was quicker
than pushing the darned thing around himself. He had been doing this so long, pushing the
skateboard around himself like prehistoric, like Fred Flintstone, using his feet to move his car
around.
He saw the Burger King up ahead and could smell the grease of the morning breakfast
wafting his way. It was odd to him how this smell always made him hungry and queasy at the
same time. Just past there was Doc Brown's workshop.
Doc hadn't been around much that week and it was starting to concern him. What crazy
experiment was he up to now? When Marty first agreed to clean up and run errands for him a
year and a half ago it was just a way to drum up a little gas money to take Jennifer out every
now and then, whenever his dad loaned him the BMW. Since that time, though, Marty and
Doc had become great friends. Doctor Emmett Brown was one of the coolest people Marty
ever knew! The guy was truly insane, but in a refreshingly good kind of way. The kind of
crazy that Marty always liked.
The sky was bright and blue, the air was fresh and crisp, and there was a winter chill in
the air. He wore his Shott Brothers Commemorative James Dean leather, designer acid-
washed jeans, and of course, his white high trainers. The blue sky and bright morning added
to his already high spirits. He was not a tall kid. About 5 foot 4 inches. Athletic in build but
not “stout.” His light brown hair parted on the side, not too long but not butch either. He was
an Alex P. Keaton type. A good looking conservative kid with a rebellious side.
Marty couldn't wait to tell Doc about the letter he got from the record company! This,
by itself, would be enough to brighten his entire year, but it wasn't all. Any day now he
expected delivery on his brand new jet black 4 x 4 Toyota pickup truck he'd been waiting for
since his mom and dad had ordered it for him on his birthday!
To top that off, he and Jennifer were finally going to get to go to the lake house for the
weekend. They'd made their plans before to go there but something always happened to ruin
them. The only real fly in the ointment was that he had hoped to have his new 4 x 4 by then
but that wasn't looking good. Still, there was no reason to think that anything would stop them
this time, his father had already pledged the use of the BMW!
He always smiled when he thought about Jennifer. She was the perfect girl, curly
reddish brown hair, dimples, beautiful lips, great body, and she was smart and supportive of
his dreams! Nope, he couldn't imagine that life for him could get any better. Everything was
going exactly as he always dreamed and planned it would.
He let go of the green pickup as it passed the Burger King and he commenced his coast into
the driveway of Doc Brown's workshop. He was pressed for time, he knew. He really couldn't
afford to be late for school again. This pit stop to Doc's place was risky but he just had to
know where Doc had been all week.
Marty approached the doorway, reached down and pulled the key out from under the
welcome mat. Inside he could hear all the clocks ticking. Going into the shop always
reminded him of the opening introduction from the song "Time" by Pink Floyd, which is the
fourth track on their 1973 album "Dark Side of the Moon."
He called out for "Doc" several times while he placed the keys back under the doormat,
opened the door and entered. Once inside, he called out again.
“Doc, hello!” He whistled and called for Einstein, Doc's best friend, some sort of sheep dog.
He never knew breed and never thought to ask, it was just “Einstein.” He looked around.
There were many clocks of various kinds and they all read the same time, 7:53. His
eyes fell on one particular clock that always fascinated him. It featured a man hanging from
the second hand. Doc had told him once that it was a tribute to the film “Safety Last” starring
Harold Lloyd. There were various antique clocks on shelves, hanging on the wall in several
different animal shapes. Doc brown had always been obsessed with clocks and with time
itself.
Also on the wall was a clip board, covered in glass. Hanging on its cork veneer below
the glass were several Newspaper articles. The Hill Valley Telegraph with headlines like
“BROWN MANSION DESTROYED” and “BROWN ESTATE SOLD TO DEVELOPERS.”
These all occurred a very long time ago, before Marty was even born. There were old photos
on the mantle below of what looked like Thomas Edison and Benjamin Franklin.
A clock radio had clicked on by a timer. It played a commercial about Statler Toyota.
An automated coffee pot was pouring coffee onto the hot plate where the carafe should be.
The liquid sizzled on the plate and was pouring onto the floor.
A television also automatically came on with a timer. On the morning news a female
talking head reported about a recent theft of a case of plutonium. The news piece showed a
picture of a yellow and black nuclear logo in the backdrop of the report. An automated toaster
burned the same two pieces of toast over and over again and an automated machine cracked
eggs which fell into a pan, where a burner came on.
A robotic can opener opened a can of Kal Kan dog food and emptied the contents into
a dog food bowl marked "Einstein." The dog food plopped with a sickening sound onto a
small mountain of spoiled food that was now overflowing in the bowl. The robot arm tossed
the can into a trash can that was almost full of empties. Marty gagged at the sight and smell
of the pile of dog food.
“That's disgusting,” he grumbled as he walked past.
“He put down his skateboard and kicked it across the floor. He didn't notice where it
rolled. It came to a stop against a hidden yellow box with the nuclear logo on it. Near the box
was the only clock that showed a different time than the others. It read 8:20. He didn't notice
it either. His attention had focused on a huge amplifier with one of the biggest speakers one
might ever expect to see. He headed over to it.
He then found and picked up a beautiful banana colored "Erlewine Chiquita" electric
guitar from a corner, strapped it on, grabbed the chord and plugged it into the amp. Reaching
up, he flipped a switch marked CRM 114. In a succession of moves he quickly tripped a row
of circuit breakers and other switches. Then he turned a series of dials, one by one, as the
amp began to hum and crackle into overdrive. As he did so, the poor shielding in the guitar
causes a loud buzz to increase, menacingly.
Centering himself on the speaker, facing it, he paused, readying himself, and he then
strummed the instrument in a single power chord. The speaker literally exploded. The
concussion of that explosion was so powerful it lifted him right off his feet and sent him flying
backwards hard against a bookshelf. The book shelf fell on top of him, spilling its entire
contents over him, covering him in books and papers. Sitting up, he stared in awe at the
destruction. There were sparks flying from the speaker that now resembled an over inflated
balloon that had popped.
He lifted up his sunglasses and, impressed by the carnage he'd wrought with a single
power chord.
“Woah! Rock on!" He said.
Just then a fire alarm began ringing off the wall. It was actually a telephone rigged to
an alarm bell. He scrambled up quickly, searching for the phone in all that mess. He found it
by pulling the phone cord and letting that lead him to it.
“Hello,” he cheerily answered.
“Hey, Marty, it's me,” came Doc Brown's canny voice over the other phone. Characteristically
he spoke hastily, always getting right to the point. “I need you to meet me tonight at the Lone
Pine Mall at 1: 15 am sharp!”
Marty's was a bit surprised. “One fifteen in the morning? What's going on?”
Doc ignored the question completely and followed with his own. “Do you still have that
camera I loaned you several weeks ago?”
“Ya,” answered Marty.
“Well bring it along,” Doc orders, “with fresh tape and make sure the batteries are good
and charged this time, okay?”
 “Sure thing, Doc,” Marty agreed. “Hey, Doc where you been all week?”
“Working,” Doc quipped.
“Well, you left your equipment on,” said Marty, grimacing once again at the sight of the
pile of dog food on the floor.
Doc responded, “that reminds me, I wouldn't try to use the amplifier today there's a
slight possibility of overload."
Marty chuckled at this while glancing once again at the destroyed speaker and slyly
said, "I'll keep that in mind." Just then, all the clocks went off at once, chiming and ringing.
“Is that my alarm clocks?” Doc asked excitedly.
“Ya Doc, what do you think it is?” Marty chuckled to himself.
“What time is it?” Doc asked him abruptly.
Marty looked around the room at all the clocks, still not noticing the one oddball that
had a different time. “8:00 am,” he answered.
“Great! My experiment worked!” Doc sounds quite satisfied. “They are all exactly 25
minutes slow!”
The smile instantly dissolved from Marty's face.
“Wait a minute,” said Marty, with panic and irritation rising in his voice, “hold the phone,
Doc, are you telling me it's 8:25?”
“Ya,” Doc confirmed, “why?”
Marty, in complete frustration answers into the phone. "I'm late for school!"
He then slammed down the receiver, grabbed his skateboard once more and rushed
out. Back outside he latched onto the first pickup he saw coming out of the Burger King drive
through. Once again he was back in traffic on his skateboard, using the various vehicles
passing by through town to tow him to school. The drivers all seemed as though this was all
par for the course here in town. As if they were used to Marty, or many of the kids in town,
getting around this way. Out of habit he put on his Walkman and the song “Power of Love” By
Huey Lewis And The News was playing.
Passing from vehicle after vehicle, like a baton in a race, Marty made his way to school
on his skateboard to the sound of “... and with a little help from above, you feel the power of
love.”
Hill Valley High school was a boxy, two story, white cement structure that looked more
like a prison than a school It was built 40 to 50 years earlier. At one time it was probably a
magnificent structure, like some ancient school of higher learning. Now it was old, run down,
almost neglected. It had large steps that ascended regally to the huge front entrance.
Marty skated up to it in a hurry and jumped off the skateboard. He stomped down on
one end and it flew up into his waiting hand. He ran up the steps, his red backpack he'd
been carrying in one hand and the skateboard in the other. He was met and waylaid by a girl,
who warned him off. His girl. Jennifer Parker.
“Marty don't go this way Strickland's looking for you,” she warned him. She grabbed
him by the arm and practically dragged him back down the stairs, heading for the side
entrance. “If you get caught it will be 4 tardies in a row.” She said as she ushered him
forward. Warily they made their way into the school with her at the lead using the other
entrance. She peeked around corners, looking all directions down every hallway.
Marty admired her as she did this. She was dressed in a pink soft leather jacket, tiny floral
pattern blouse, acid washed designer jeans like Marty, and carried a light brown leather
purse. When she decided the coast was clear she stepped into the main hallway and looked
back at him. “Okay, c'mon” she said, signaling.
Marty joined her in the corridor, and they began to walk softly and slowly. In a low tone
he explained to her why he was late. “You know this time it wasn't my fault,” he said in a tone
that suggested that she wouldn't believe him.
She gave him a playful look, as if to say, “oh really?” Then she smiled.
They slunk down the empty school hallways that once were paved with white and black
checkered marble floors but had long since been covered up by ugly linoleum tiles that
caused your feet to make loud pitter pattering. The stone walls made their voices echoe far
more loudly than they liked.
“Doc set all his clocks 25 minutes slow,” he finished, bitterly.
“Doc?” A gruff voice barked.
A balding man with a hawkish face and wearing a cheap brown suit, white shirt,
with matching brown bow tie stepped out from the shadows of an adjacent corridor. The
ambush was perfectly timed. He'd been doing this for years. Around his neck he was
wearing a whistle. He lunged out at the them grabbing Marty by the jacket, right between the
shoulder blades, and he pulled them to a stop.
Marty closed his eyes and grimaced. Jennifer put her hand to her chin and looked
straight ahead. They were busted! Marty's face had drooped at the sound of Strickland's
voice.
“Hey, Mr. Strickland,” said Marty, turning to face him and jerking the man's hand loose
from his jacket at the same time, “fancy meeting you here.”
“Am I to understand that...” Strickland interrogated, as he reached with the other hand
and adjusted Marty's jacket collar, “...you're still hanging around with Doctor Emmett Brown,
McFly?” His voice dripped with disdain as he said the name of Marty's older friend.
Marty just looked away, holding his tongue. He never understood what Strickland had
against the Doc!
Strickland glared at him meanly for another second, then released his collar and turned
his attention to Jennifer. He ripped a tardy slip away from it's pad and handed it to her. “Tardy
slip for you Ms. Parker,” he said, his tone softening.
She took it, smiling, without a word.
Strickland then looked down at his pad of tardy slips dramatically and said, “...and one
for you Mr. McFly.” He slowly ripped one off, handing it to Marty as if handing out awards for
student of the year.
Marty took it with a petulant look.
“That makes four in a row,” said Strickland, sounding pleased with the idea.
He then wrapped his arm around Marty's shoulders, almost fatherly and started leading
him down the hall toward his classroom, with Jennifer trailing slightly behind, almost giggling.
“Let me give you a nickel's worth of free advice, young man.”
Marty just stared down at his shoes, not knowing how to respond, while he
apathetically stuffed the tardy slip in his inner jacket pocket.
“This so called Doctor Brown is dangerous,” warned Strickland. “He's a real nut case.
If you keep hanging around with him you're going to get in BIG trouble!”
“Oh, yesssir,” said Marty his tone dripping with sarcasm.
The principal grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face him. “You've got a
real attitude problem McFly,” he growled, while poking his finger at the youth.
Marty's expression was blank.
“Your a SLACKER!” Strickland accused.
In the short moment of silence that followed, the two teens just stared at Strickland.
Jennifer's expression was mixed, both worried and amused at the same time.
Strickland was over middle aged, perhaps in his mid 60's. Not a large man but very
formidable in appearance. His completely bald, wrinkly head, coupled with a hawk like nose
lent him a trollish visage. The wrinkles extended from his forehead to the crown of his head
and then downward to the base of his skull.
He lowered his voice, hissing like a viper. “You're a disgrace, McFly! You're not even
half the man you're old man was when he went here.”
“Ya I know,” says Marty rolling his eyes, he'd heard this lecture before. “Valedictorian,
president of his class, a real pleasure to teach, bla bla, you've told me.” Marty looked at
Jennifer. “You know, Jennifer,” he said to her sardonically, “I think Mr. Strickland might
secretly have a man crush on my father!”
Strickland balls up his fist as if to hit him.
Marty straightened himself and glared at him defiantly.
Strickland stiffened, then regains his composure.
“Can I go now Mr. Strickland?” Asked Marty, in disdain.
Strickland leaned his head back, reached out and grabbed Marty with both hands by
his jacket lapels and pulls him in closer. Marty Winced. It was almost as if Strickland knew
he had dragon breath and used it as a torture device. Living up to his name “strict” land (as
the kids called him) he had a way of shouting without raising his voice hardly at all. He had
honed it over decades of overseeing the education of countless teenagers.
"I saw your band is on the auditions roster for the school dance,” said Strickland.
“Why even bother McFly? You don't have a chance!”
Indignantly Marty answers, “oh, I think I have some chance,” Marty disagreed.
“Keep dreaming,” Strickland continued, “you're nothing like your old man! Even if you
managed, by some miracle, to win the audition...”
Strickland leans in, his nose is almost touching Marty's nose.
“I predict history will record Marty McFly as the first McFly in the history of Hill Valley to
never amount to anything!”
Marty stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather and said defiantly, "Ya well, we
make our own history.”

* * * * * * * * * *
That afternoon Marty entered the gymnasium with Jennifer at his side, looking
confident as ever. A band was just finishing their audition. Four judges sat together on chairs
in an otherwise empty room facing the stage. Lifting a megaphone, a geeky looking man in a
ridiculous plaid suit and huge horned rim glasses shouted into it. “NEXT, PLEASE!”
Marty and his band walked up on stage taking their places at the waiting instruments.
Marty plugged his guitar in. He stepped to the microphone while still strapping on his guitar.
Nervously, he introduced the band.
“Hi,” he stammered, “we're called The Pinheads.”
The panel of judges, looking unimpressed at what Marty considered a very clever
name, all simultaneously make notations on their clip boards.
Marty swallowed hard at their reaction to the band's name.
The band readied itself and Marty turned to them, whispering encouragement.
“Remember what we talked about,” he coached, “this is a High School dance, keep the
volume down to a dull roar will ya?"
With that they launched into the the first few bars of “Power of Love” by Hewey Louis
and the News. Marty wailed out an intro and pushed down hard on his dive bomb tremolo.
Jennifer giggled with glee, her hands to her mouth, and her hips swaying lightly to the beat.
She clearly loved their music. The other bands were looking up in amazement, obviously
impressed by their unique sound, maybe even a bit intimidated. The pinheads had the
attention of everyone in the room but the judges.
The panel of judges, however just looked at one another, leaning in to each other and
shouting in each others' ears. Several just sat there, their hands clasped tightly in their laps,
on their clip boards. The man with the megaphone looked at the man to his right. A younger
man who was not only frowning but looked like someone was boring a drill into his skull.
Megaphone man's expression seemed to say, “okay, I've heard enough.” They hadn't gone
much more than a minute into the first tune when megaphone man stood. He placed the
huge megaphone to his mouth quickly.
“Okay, thank you.” He shouted into the megaphone, barely being heard over the din of
the music.
They kept right on playing, too into their music that was so loud you could barely hear
the megaphone.
Megaphone man looked at the megaphone as if to say, “what's wrong with this thing.”
He then cranked it's volume (looking quite irritated).
This time he also shouted into the megaphone. “Hold it, now, hold it, that's enough,
thank you, thank you!”
They stopped playing.
The man stopped yelling, but almost facetiously continued to speak into the blasting
megaphone even though it was now deadly silent in the gymnasium. “I'm afraid you're just
too darned loud!" He said. The band heard that. Probably everyone in Hill Valley heard it.
The only thing louder than Marty's band had been were those words echoing
throughout the entire school. Marty's countenance fell. His band members were downcast
and downtrodden as well, but Marty quickly recovered. He turned to them.
“Don't sweat it guys, what do they know anyway? He motioned for them to follow and
they did. As they stepped off the stage the other bands were leering at them.
“Pinheads huh,” said a big haired glamour rock dude in spandex, “way to live up to
your name.” The other guys with him chuckled.
“You're just jealous,” said Marty and just kept walking.

* * * * * * * * * *

Not much later, he and Jennifer walked past the old courthouse. A huge brick structure
with high roman columns that went straight up to a large clock tower at the top. It was no
longer a courthouse, however, having long ago been converted into the Social Services
Office.
A white van drove around the square painted with campaign slogans. “RE-ELECT
GOLDIE WILSON.” The smiling profile of the beloved mayor of Hill Valley plastered all over
the side and back of the van. Band music played from a loud speaker mounted on the top of
the van (Blues Brother's style).
“Re-elect Mayor Goldie Wilson,” a recording blared, “progress is his middle name.”
Marty had forgotten all about their disappointment at the audition. As they made their
way into the village square, which was once a plush grassy park, but was now just a parking
lot, he excitedly read from a letter he had just received.
“Dear Mr. McFly,” the letter began, “thank you for your submission. “We were very
pleased with what we heard...” Marty's voice raised with excitement as he read the word
“pleased.”
Jennifer squeezed his arm, looking thrilled.
He continued reading. “...and we believe that your band has great potential.” He
stopped and looked into Jennifer's eyes.
“Told you,” she said gleefully.
They continued to walk across the square as he read.
“...you definitely could have a bright future. We'd like to be a part of it. Give us a call at
the number below when you have the dates of your next engagement. We'd like to send a
man out to hear you live and in person.
Sincerely, Daddy Records.”
He slapped the letter and stopped reading. “Hear that Jennifer, the bands got a bright
future if they could just land a gig somewhere.”
 Jennifer hugged his arm again. "Aren't you glad I convinced you to send that demo to
a record company?”
He smiled, putting the letter away. “Ya, they are definitely interested in us but we're
never going to get to play for anyone at this rate.”
“Hey I have an idea” said Jennifer cheerfully, “maybe we could throw our own party,
invite all of our friends and the band can play. You can invite Daddy Music.”
“I don't know what I'd ever do without you?” He sounded almost facetious.
She squeezes harder on his arm. "You better remember that mister! When your
famous some day and you start to think you don't need me anymore!"
Marty stopped and looked deeply into her eyes, and in a most sincere tone said, “that's
NEVER gonna happen." They walked together some more.
“Just don't you forget me,” said Jennifer, “you have all those groupies hanging around.”
He scoffed. “There's more of a chance of you forgetting me!”
“Nonsense!” She said, pouting.
“You're going to make it, and then no one in Hill Valley will forget your name, not ever!”
She held both his hands and said, "It's like you always told me, what Doc Brown says, that
you can accomplish...”
He finishes her sentence, "...anything if you just put your mind to it, ya...”
As he said this, two pretty women dressed in tights and workout clothes head past
them on their way to the aerobics studio, which used to be Lou's Diner. Marty's head is
turned by this as he finishes Jennifer's sentence. His gaze continued to follow them.
Jennifer reached up and firmly grabbed his chin, pulling his head, she steered it away
from the girls. Through almost clenched teeth she said, “that's good advice MARTY!”
“Ya, ya,” he replied, embarrassed, “but he also says never count your chickens before
they hatch.” Suddenly it dawned on him how that must sound in light of what just happened.
He looked at her nervously.
Her eye brows are knit together.
“...Because...” he tried to recover, “the future is not written yet and anything can
happen.”
Jennifer's eyes go wide. “OH really?”
He looked extremely uncomfortable now, realizing he only made things worse.
"Doc Brown isn't right about everything," she quipped.
He frowned and looked deep in thought, almost distantly. "Ya, well, actually he is,,”
replied Marty, “or sometimes it seems like he is. It's uncanny. He always seems to know
what's going to happen before it even happens. He's like some crazy wizard.”
She laughed. "A crazy white haired wizard... sounds familiar.”
Marty chuckled. "He's Gandalf, I get it."
She laughed. “I guess that makes you Frodo!” She again and squeezed his arm as
they walked.
 "Ya?" He asked incredulously. "Thanks a lot!"
As he said this his attention was drawn away yet again. This time to across the street.
He climbed up on the park bench to get a better look.
“Check it out, my 4 X 4!”
He gestured to where a red 4 X 4 Toyota pickup was being pulled in on a trailer at the
Texaco Station. It had a banner on the side that read, “ANOTHER CUSTOM 4 X 4 from
STATLER MOTORS.”
Jennifer squinted at the truck. "Someone else ordered the same truck as yours?
Marty nods. “Only it's a red one.” He appeared upset. “That sucks!" He looked
down.
Jennifer is confused. “What, that someone else has the same truck as you? That was
bound to happen Marty.'
“No!” He responded. “I wonder why mine hasn't been delivered yet? I was hoping we
could take it to the lake. He pulled her up to stand with him on the bench.
“There's still time,” she offered.
“Wouldn't it be great?” He asks her coyly, pulling her in closer, wrapping his arms
around her waist. “Take that truck up to the lake?”
She blushed a little.
“Throw a couple of sleeping bags in the back...”
He sat down and pulled her onto his lap and ran his hand across her abdomen.
She looked away, smiling in embarrassment then grabbed his hand and pushed it away.
“Stop it!” She scolded.
“What?” He asked, feigning innocence. “I guess we'll have to settle for my dad's
BMW.” he sighs. “At least they already gave me permission to take it, in case the truck
doesn't come on time.” He looked wistfully in the direction of Statler Motors, as if he might
see his truck now, being pulled into the lot.
Jennifer looked a bit worried. “You told your parents? About the lake? That means
your mother knows?”
Seeing her terrified expression he tried not to chuckle. “Relax! Don't worry about it,"
he assured her, “I told you, my Mom's cool! “
He squeezed her arm the way she always squeezed his and she leaned in. “She
thinks you're a "peach,” he said, exaggerating the word for effect while pinching her left
cheek.
She pulled her head away, slowly, and smiled wickedly. “That's because she sees me
as respectable."
Smiling wickedly, Marty said, "well, we better make sure she never finds out the truth
then!"
Jennifer giggled and punched him on the arm with a grin.
They were about to kiss when they were rudely interrupted by a UNICEF style donation
can being shoved in between their faces and rattled by an older woman with her hair in a tight
bun, wearing large square rimmed glasses. “Save the clock tower! Save the clock tower!"
The woman shouted at them as if they were across the square from her. “Mayor Wilson is
sponsoring an initiative to replace that clock tower!” She gestured behind them toward the
court house and the ancient clock.
They turned, following her gesture with their gaze and looked at the clock tower while
she continued with her pitch. Marty stared at the damaged ledge.
“Thirty years ago,” the woman continued indignantly, “lightning struck that clock tower
and the clock hasn't run since.”
Marty turned back toward Jennifer, grimacing and biting his lip. He wondered why she
thought that they would care about some broken old clock tower.
Almost as if reading his mind she defended, speaking in a tone that suggested she was
talking about saving a living thing from being executed. “We at the Hill Valley preservation
society think it should be preserved exactly the way it is, as part of our history and heritage!”
Marty commented. “At least he could fix that broken ledge!”
She shook her head as if he were suggesting something unthinkable.
“What happened there anyway?” He asked. “Lightning didn't do that to the ledge!”
“It happened the same night,” she said in hushed tones, as if telling a ghost story
around a campfire. “No one knows for sure how it happened, but some say that crazy Doc
Brown was lurking around the clock tower that night, performing some weird weather
experiments.” She wrinkled her nose. “He's always lurking around in parking lots and such in
the middle of the night doing God knows what!"
Marty's eyes grew dark at this. "Listen, you don't know what you're talking about, Doc's
not like that!"
She faltered, seeming at a loss to know how to respond.
He angrily put a penny in the UNICEF can to emphasize his point. “Don't spend it all in
one place,” he said sardonically.
"Thanks a lot," she replied dryly, handing him a flier that says “Save the Clock Tower.”
She then ran off to find more reasonable prospects, other unsuspecting potential donors who
might be passing by.
“Ya, go find another sucker to prey on ya hag,” Marty said under his breath.
Jennifer was chuckling at the penny stunt. “That was kind of mean” she said.
He looked at her defensively.
“But justified,” she added.
“Where were we?” Marty asked.
“Right about here...” she said warmly, leaning in to kiss him.
Again they were interrupted. This time by the beep of a horn. It was Jennifer's father
in an AMC Eagle station wagon. He had arrived to pick her up.
“I'll call you later,” said Marty as she headed off.
She stopped and turned. “Oh, I'll be at my grandma's.” She ran back and grabbed the
flier from him and used the folder she'd been carrying to write down her grandmother's phone
number.
He stares at her hair while she was doing it, looking disgusted, thinking about the kiss
he just missed out on... twice in a row. When she was done, she handed him the flier and
said, “bye.” Then she leaned in and they kissed.
The horn honks again, a bit more forefully. She turned and ran once again toward her
father's car, who is now glaring at Marty with the look that can kill. Marty watched her leave
then lifted up the flier and read the number she wrote. Below the phone number it read, “I
love you.” He smiled and sighed in satisfaction. He stared at the note a few more seconds,
looked up and watched as Jennifer and her dad drove away. As they passed Marty the father
took his two fingers of his right hand, pointed at his own eyes, then pointed menacingly at
Marty with those same two fingers in a “I'm watching you,” gesture.
Marty waved back at him while he stuffed the treasure in his pocket.
He sees a police car trailing the Jennifer's dad. “Better watch the road pal,” he
muttered, “someone's watching you.” He got back on his skateboard and ran toward the
passing cop car, keeping low. He grabbed its bumper and hitched a ride.

2. THINK BIFF, THINK!

As dusk fell like a reverse dawn, Marty skated past the entrance to the run down
suburb of Lyon Estates subdivision where he lived. The stone pillars on each side of the
street were marred by time, neglect, and graffiti. He grabbed the back of a green car as it
passed him and was towed all the way to his house. When he arrived, he let go and coasted
toward his driveway.
His house is a modest ranch style home, one of the oldest models here. His parents
could have purchased a newer and much nicer home long ago, with his father's very
successful writing career, but his parents claimed there were just too many fond memories
there. Even though it's one of the oldest houses in the neighborhood it's still one of the finest
and best maintained. His dad's BMW was in the garage, immaculate as ever.
But what caught Marty's attention was the brand new 4 X 4 pickup truck someone had
just let down from a tow vehicle. He was elated. "It's here!" He exclaimed in excitement,
spreading his hands across the tailgate as if hugging it. "I can't wait to take this baby out to
the lake!" Suddenly he noticed a pasty faced man with slick oily hair and a 5 o' clock shadow
who was feverishly rubbing hard on it in one spot with rubbing compound. He looked like a
homeless bum cleaning windshields for money and mumbling to himself.
Angry voices started to waft out from in the house, but he was too busy glaring now where the
man was working. It was a huge scratch! “What happened to my new truck?" He demanded.
The man responded curtly, “I'm not sure, I just work here.” There was alcohol on the man's
breath.
An outraged Marty took on an accusatory air. “That looks deliberate! Like someone
keyed it!!! " He turned and jogged toward the house, calling out as he did.
"DAD!"
 As he got to the screen door he could see his father, George McFly, who stood in the
doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the threshold, wearing a nice plush smoking jacket with a
college emblem on it, well pressed khaki pants, and high end leather loafers. Not a hair was
out of place, as usual.
George was not your typical man in his late forties. Life and the advantages of
success had been good to him. He was slim, trim, athletic. Tall, dark and handsome with
chiseled features and soft soulful eyes. There was just the slight trace of acne scarring from
his younger years but it was hardly noticeable.
Biff, their auto detail guy, was there in the kitchen with George, he looked like a
scolded dog. He was wearing his usual loose running suit. Tonight it was gray. Biff was once
taller than George, now he walked around hunched over. His hair was graying. He had a
paunch as well. He just reminded Marty of a big white haired orangutan.
As Marty burst in through the door to interrupt them his father held up a hand to silence
him.
"Dad, I think you better come out here and take a look at this, someone..."
His father didn't say anything, just turned back to Biff.
“I'm really sorry for this, Mr. McFly," Biff blustered what sounded like a completely
insincere apology. "I swear it was an accident, I never noticed that tow truck had a blind spot
before now."
"A blind spot?" George McFly scoffs. "Biff, are you kidding me, that's the best you can
do?"
Marty slapped his hands on the counter nearby and turned back to look out the screen
door in disbelief at his damaged brand new truck he has never even driven yet.
George continued ripping into Biff. "You've always got some story Biff, it's been that
way since High School!"
"I swear it's true” said Biff, insincerely, (or so it seemed to Marty, anyway).
"Now Biff," George changed to his “let's talk business” tone as he moved closer to Biff
while pointing out at the direction of the front door and the damaged truck outside. "Can I
assume that your company is going to pay for these damages?"
"I thought Marty's insurance would cover it?"
George grew irritated. "Hello! He exclaimed in sarcastic tones. "Think Biff! Think! if I
claim this on Marty's insurance his rates will go through the roof, they might even cancel him
on the policy, you wouldn't want that to happen just to save yourself a few bucks, would you?"
There's a pause, as Biff appears to weigh his answer. The big man gave Marty a sly
sideways glance and Marty stiffened.
George became just a bit more forceful. "Well, would you?"
Biff stammered, "well, now, of course not, Mr. McFly, you know I wouldn't want that to
happen!"
Marty scowled at this middle aged weasel.
George didn't let him off the hook that easily. "Well you know this is no laughing matter,
Biff, I paid a fortune for that vehicle and Lorraine and I wanted it to be perfect for Marty!"
 Biff looked truly remorseful now and said to Marty, "I'm really sorry, Marty."
Marty folded his arms and said nothing, leaning against the wall. He suspected Biff
missed his calling as an actor.
Biff said, "I have my best body man out there right now!"
Marty scoffed. "Rubbing compound? That's not going help that gouge in the paint!"
"I know it's not" he started to growl, then checked himself. He turned to George again.
"Mr. McFly let me take it back to the shop tonight. We'll work on it all night if we have to and I
swear it will be right as rain by tomorrow morning."
He looked at Marty. "Just in time for your trip to the lake!"
Marty is skeptical. "I don't know, I don't trust your friends, Larry, Mo, and Curly" he said
finally.
Biff frowns. “Those buttheads couldn't fix a race if they were running it themselves!”
No, I mean that my best mechanic is out there right now and he can do it, I swear!“
George looked at Marty quizzically. “It sounds like a good plan, son?"
Marty is still not convinced, "ya but Dad, my new truck!"
George tried to placate him further. "I know son, but Biff says he'll have it fixed by
tomorrow so you can go to the lake. You want it to be perfect right? For Jennifer?"
Biff waited with baited breath for Marty's approval as George advocated for him.
Marty thought it over some more. Then, reluctantly shrugged in agreement. “What
real choice do I have?” He asked, despondently.
Biff smiled, almost apish.
“Okay, Biff but this seems like it's worth six months free wash and wax for both our
vehicles for all of our trouble!” George told him flatly.
Looking downward submissively Biff agrees. "Sure thing, Mr. McFly, whatever you
think is fair.”
George followed Biff's gaze to the floor then pointed and said, "hey Biff, your shoe's
untied!
Biff looked down. "So it is, thanks." He bent down to tie his shoe.
“Don't be so careless Biff,” George lectured him, “you could fall and break your neck! “
Then to Marty. “When we were kids Biff was always getting into accidents. “ He turned back
to Biff. “How many times did you crash your car into a manure truck in High School, Biff?”
Biff stopped tying his shoe, remembering bitterly. "Once.”
George frowned. "I could have sworn it was two times!"
As Biff was finishing tying his shoes, he just sort of glared at Marty with almost an
accusatory expression. Marty shifted uncomfortably.
Then he quietly appealed to George. "Dad, he's giving me that creepy look again."
His shoe now tied, Biff jumped up, embarrassed. "Oh, I wasn't looking at you? I was
just deep in thought about something else, sorry. "
 Marty frowned.
George made a "let it go" gesture with his right hand at Marty and shook his head.
Biff headed out the door, saying goodbye as he went He bounced past Marty, and as
he did, he said to him, nonchalantly. “Hey Marty, say hello to your mom for me.” He then ran
out the door.
George stared after him with a look that seems to say, "pitiful.” After he left, George
closed the front door while shaking his head. He saw his son's still angry stare. You'll have to
excuse him," George actually apologized for Biff. “He had that head injury when we were
young.”
“Ya, I know in the fire, I remember you told me.”
George continued to defend him, emphatically. “Ya in the fire and he also had other
accidents.” They stood there watching Biff leave.
He gave his mechanic a smack across the back of the head. Then they both climbed
into the tow truck.
Looking out at them George said, sadly. “He's never been completely right in the head
even before he wasn't 'right in the head.'
Marty frowns. "He's an asshole dad!"
George couldn't deny it. He nodded, then smiled, ruffling Marty's hair. "Well, when
you're right, you're right son." He looked over to see Lorraine standing in the other doorway
leading to the living room.
Lorraine was a bouncy brunette, same age as George, but also like George she did not
look her age. Her hair was a bit darker than Marty's hair. She wore it short. They say that
boys somehow end up dating girls that are like their mother and in this case they would never
know how true it was. Lorraine and Jennifer Parker had many things in common physically.
They could have been mother and daughter. Lorraine was slim and athletic just like George.
They often played Tennis together at the country club and even played golf on couple's
weekends. She was normally cheery. She just lit up a room whenever she was there.
“Well, he's right!” Said George to Lorraine.
She nodded. “Biff's a butthead!”
Marty and George share a look and Marty raises his eyebrows.
“Dinner's ready,” Lorraine announced, “so go wash up, both of you.”

* * * * * * * * * *

That evening the family sat down for dinner - George, his wife Lorraine, and their
children Marty, Dave, and Linda.
Dave was tall and dashing, like George. He was about 5 years older than Marty. He
was a certified accountant at a major firm. He managed the northern California branch. He
was still wearing his tie, but he had hung his tweed suit coat in the closet when he came in.
His hair was always perfect, like George.
 Linda was a computer programmer for IBM. She was on the fast track. She looked
like Lorraine, but had George's square jaw. She was well built for a woman. Marty often
thought his sister reminded him of Ricki Lake. He would only tell her that when he wanted to
tick her off, though, she hated being compared to her. She was a serious business woman
and future entrepreneur. She was very popular with the men, however, and had made no
apologies for it.
The family dining room was gorgeous. Beautifully decorated with great lighting. There
is a white piano behind them against the wall. At the table, Marty sat fidgeting with Doc's
portable VHS recorder.
“What are you doing with that?” Linda inquired, a bit irritated.
“I'm going to use it later,” he replied, still playing with it. “Maybe make some movie magic.”
He holds up the camera as if shooting, pointing it at her.
She didn't appear amused. “Okay, Spielberg!”
Marty put it down, instead turning his attention to his mother as she walked into the
room from the kitchen carrying a cake. Sadly she plops it down on the table in front of them.
The writing on the cake reads: 'Welcome Home, Joey,” next to a picture of a bird flying out of
jail. "You children might as well enjoy this cake for dessert," Lorraine said, woefully, "your
uncle Joey won't be joining us tonight after all.”
"I thought he was acquitted of all those charges!” Said Marty.
George chimed in. "Of course he was acquitted! It cost me a fortune for that shyster
lawyer, the best criminal defense attorney in California! What went wrong this time?”
Lorraine patted George's hand. "He was released, dear, but then he went out to
celebrate and punched a cop in a bar room brawl.”
George shook his head in total disgust and then went back to watching an old rerun of
“The Honeymooners” on a huge console television set. Dave was also watching.
Marty, talking with his mouth full noted, “Geez mom, you'd think he liked it behind
bars!"
"Don't be silly" she replied. But then, thinking about it, she lowered her head and
nodded.
“He's such an embarrassment,” Linda complained.
Lorraine continued to make excuses for her jail bird brother but Marty wasn't listening,
he was watching his father.
Dave and George were both laughing together at the screen. George had a distinctive
“nerdy” laugh where he would suck in air like he was choking. Marty marveled how
incongruous this laugh was with the rest of his dad's personality. He had a silly side for sure.
The normally suave, debonair George McFly, pointing and laughing like a nerd. It's was so
odd, in fact, that Marty decided to film it.
As he did, Linda suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, by the way Marty, while you were pouting over your truck, Jennifer Parker called
two times.”
Lorraine smiled at the mention of Marty's girlfriend. "I really do like that girl. She's got
moxy, like I did when I was her age ... although,” she reconsiders, “I wouldn't have chased
boys.” She then looked quizzically at Linda, who was now glaring at her and added, “but that
was a different time!”
“I don't know how you ever met boys or went out on dates if you never called boys.”
Lorraine stared adoringly at George who was still half watching the TV show and eating
at the same time. "It was just destiny." She said dreamily.
"That was so stupid!" Linda objects. "Dad beat up poor Biff because he pushed you
down or something and you both ended up falling in “love.” The word “love” drips with
mocking sarcasm.
Lorraine stared at George adoringly, who is still snorting at the TV show with Dave and
doesn't seem to notice her look at all. "Your father was like a knight in shining armor that
night. “
Marty was still periodically picking up the camera and filming.
“So,” Linda continued her critique, “dad ends up beating up poor Biff, who never hurt
anyone, at the “Fish Under the Sea Dance, and you are so turned on by this you ask him to
dance!”
Dave corrected her, "Enchantment Under the Sea Dance, you NINNY!"
"Ya, whatever," she said, taking a bite of cake.
“Watch your mouth” Lorraine warned Dave, “don't talk to your sister like that.”
“Whatever,” Dave muttered, turning back to the television.
Linda continued her rant, “...and then a month later dad saved someone from some big
huge fire and got a medal or something, and from that day he was your hero.” The word hero
drips sarcastically off her tongue.
Lorraine interjected at this point. “He was a lot of people's hero young lady and it was
the key to the city, not a medal.” She stopped, remembering.
Then, to George she said, “although I never got a straight answer what you were doing
that far out of town that night. How did you ever see that fire and run in and save everyone? “
She waits for an answer.
He ignored her, still watching the show.
“George?”
George still doesn't seem to hear her.
“George?” She asked a bit louder.
He turned to her, “hmm, what was that?” (It was almost as though he were pretending
not to hear the question).
“Never mind,” she said, “it doesn't matter.
Then she turned back to Linda. “Once I saw what a true hero your father was I knew
this was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.”
Linda rolls her eyes. “That doesn't sound like destiny, it sounds more like "dense-ity!"
George and Lorraine stared into each others' eyes romantically .
 George chimed in on the story, dreamily, still looking into his wife's beautiful eyes. “You
should have seen your mother at the dance! (Not realizing they had moved on from the
dance and were discussing what happened afterward, or, he was trying to steer the subject
away from that) “Every guy there was jealous of me because I was with the most beautiful
girl in Hill Valley. They kept trying to cut in but I wouldn't share her."
Lorraine smiled, remembering the scene.
George got up and moved over to her and she jumped up to him. They began to
passionately kiss.
The kids all practically choked.
Dave complained. "We're still trying to eat here." He quickly looked at the clock and
and his eyes went wide. He jumped up and announced that he's got a hot date, as he moved
around the table, squeezing past his dad, and kissing Lorraine on the forehead. He
whispered, "maybe next year, mom.," (gesturing at the cake).
She lovingly patted him on the arm.
Then he looked at George with raised eyebrows. "Really Dad, you two should go get a
room or something!"
George looked quickly at Dave like he said something unexpected and very clever. He
started to laugh that same nerdy laugh again.
As Dave walked toward the door George is still pointing and laughing. "Go get a
room!" George echoes. "You go get a room!"
Reaching into the closet to get his suit jacket, Dave turned around and slyly said, "I
intend to,” he raised his eyebrows a couple of times as he put his jacket on.
George laughed even harder at this as Dave walks out the door.
Marty, once again, was filming.

3. YOU JUST DISINTEGRATED EINSTEIN!

Marty was asleep in his cluttered room later that evening when he was awakened by
the phone ringing. “Hello,” Marty answered, groggily.
“Marty, you didn't fall asleep, did you?” It was the voice of Doc Brown.
Marty jumped up and looked at the clock wondering if he missed his appointment at the
Mall. “No, no, Doc I was just getting ready to go,” he lied.
“Marty,” Said Doc, knowingly, “don't forget to bring that camera with you, it's vitally
important!”
“Sure thing, Doc,” replied Marty. “I'm on my way.” He hung up and jumped out of bed,
pulling up his suspenders. He grabbed the camera and his skateboard,, threw on his leather
jacket, and scurried out of his bedroom window. So as not to wake anyone.
Not long afterward Marty showed up at the Lone Pine Mall on his skateboard carrying the
camera. It was beautiful night. The stars were out but it was a bit chilly. The parking lot
below the mall sign was pretty much deserted. There was never anyone around this early in
the morning. Which is probably why the Doc chose this location. He skated past the sign and
stared down the hill into the parking lot. There was a large moving van and a truck in the
parking lot below. He made his way down there and approached, almost cautiously.. Einstein
ran up to him. “Einstein,” Marty happily patted the dog on the head, “hey Einstein, where's the
Doc, boy, huh?”
Just then, the back of the step van opened slowly. An eerie fog rolled out of the truck
and out of the fog came what appeared to be a souped up DeLorean DMC-12. It backed
down the ramp seemingly on it's own, then the driver's side wing door opened and out
stepped Doc dressed in some khakis and an Hawaiian shirt, covered by a white jump suit.
Doc brown was tall and lanky, especially standing next to Marty. He was a quite a bit
older than Marty's parents, perhaps in his 70's. He had wild hair. Pure white and shooting
out in all directions, like Einstein's. Not Einstein the sheep dog, but Einstein the scientist after
whom the sheep dog was named. Doc had a crooked nose, straight long face, jutting
forehead, and deep penetrating eyes.
“Marty you made it!” He said, excitedly. As if there really was some doubt of it.
“Ya,” Marty responded, almost in an agreeable tone.
“Welcome to my experiment,” he gushed, "this is it, the big one, the one I've been
waiting for all my life.”
“Um, well is that a De....?” Marty gestures at the car.
“Never mind that now, never mind that now.” Doc cut him off rudely. Then, he
softened, apologetically. “Bare with me, Marty, all of your questions will be answered in due
time.” He made a rolling sign with his hands. “Roll tape, we'll proceed.”
Marty puts the camera to his face and focuses. “Alright, I'm ready.”
Looking quickly at his watch Doc begins. “Good evening, I'm Doctor Emmett Brown.
I'm standing on the parking lot of The Lone Pine Mall. It's Saturday morning, October 26,
1985, 1:18 a.m. and this is temporal experiment number one. “ Doc calls to Einstein and the
pooch runs happily to him.
“C'mon, Einy,” Doc coaxed the dog into the DeLorean, “hey hey boy, get in there, that a
boy, in you go, get down,” he sat the dog in the driver's seat, “that's it.”

In a completely unexpected move, Doc placed the dog, Einstein, into the driver's seat
of the DeLorean and buckled him in.
Marty, a bit taken aback commented, “whoa, whoa, okay,” he said, I don't think Einstein
can drive Doc.”
Doc ignored him completely and lifted up a watch that was hanging on a chain around
the dog's neck and held up a similar watch. “Please note,” Doc continued in his official tone,
“that Einstein's clock is in complete synchronization with my control watch.”
“Check,” said Marty.
Doc strapped the dog into the seat belt. “Good. Have a good trip Einstein, watch your
head,” he closed the wing door.
 Then he whipped out a remote control from seemingly nowhere.
Marty was once again taken aback. “Did you hook that up to the car?”
Doc only nodded, then used the remote control to drive the car across the parking lot
some distance away. When it reached the end of the lot, he spun the car around to face them
and locked the front breaks on the vehicle. With another flip of a switch the back tires begin
to spin faster and faster as they squeal and the rubber burns in place on the asphalt.
“Watch this.” Said Doc, excitedly.
Marty was getting visibly nervous, obviously worried that Doc was about to do
something really stupid with that car, with Einstein still in it. His camera drifted to film Doc
again but Doc interjected.
“Not me, the car, the car.”
Marty quickly turned the camera back to the DeLorean.
If my calculations are correct...” Doc said intensely, staring down at the remote, and
continuing to play with switches. He looked up at Marty dramatically. “When this baby hits 88
miles per hour... we're going to see some serious shit!"
He switched off the brakes!
Free now, the DeLorean excelled rapidly, right toward them!
Marty tried to inch his way out of the car's path but Doc gave him a disapproving look
and he sheepishly and reluctantly rejoined him, right in the path of the careening DeLorean.
He clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes tightly shut, turning his head, bracing for the
impact.
Instead, however, a bright light quickly emanated from deep within the center of the
DeLorean, spreading outward like colorful lightning, surrounding the vehicle and engulfing it.
Before the car could hit them, it flashed like the sun then... it vanished in an instant, leaving
nothing but two burning fire trails on either side of them where the tires would have traveled
had the vehicle not vanished.
Standing in the midst of the fire trails, Marty looked back behind them, gaping in
amazement and horror. Where the DeLorean should be, all that was left was the license
plate which ironically read "outatime.” It was spinning there in the center of the car's fiery
wake. The plate fell to the ground with a series of clanks.
Doc cheered like a madman! “What did I tell you? EIGHTY EIGHT MILES PER
HOUR!!! He was shaking the remote into the air with each word. Grinning and dancing
around he stared at his watch again. “The temporal displacement occurred at exactly 1:20
a.m. and zero seconds!” He sounded truly pleased with himself.
Marty just stared in horror. He can't believe his ears nor his eyes. He stared at Doc in
utter dismay. “Hot Jesus Christ, Doc, you just disintegrated Einstein!”
“Calm down Marty,” Doc said, reassuring him, “no one disintegrated anyone! The
molecular structure of Einstein and the car are completely intact.”
Marty, exhausted, looked back in the direction where the car should be. Dumbfounded
he asked, “Where the hell are they?”
Doc began to explain like a professor giving a lecture to a student. “The appropriate
question is, where in the hell are they? Einstein has just become the world's first time traveler.
I sent him into the future. One minute into the future to be exact. And at exactly 1:21 a.m. we
should catch up with him and the time machine.”
Again Marty appeared to not be able to process what he was hearing. The look on his
face was telling. He started to think how right Principal Strickland might have been in his
prediction about Doc Brown being "dangerous."
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, Doc, you expect me to believe that you built a time
machine out of a Deloreon?” Marty asks incredulously.
Doc nodded his head.
“Why not? The way I see it, he explained, “if you're gonna build a time machine into a
car why not do it with some style. Besides, the stainless, steel construction made the perfect
conductor for the flux dispersal...“ he looks suddenly down at his watch then shouts. “Look
out!”
He shoved Marty out of the way just in time as the DeLorean reappeared with a flash
and with a small explosion. It came in at the exact spot it had disappeared only a moment
earlier. Doc manipulated the remote control and brought the car to a screeching halt, then he
approached it cautiously.
It appeared to be encrusted with something, like ice. Smoke or steam was pouring off
of it. As he came near, air and steam released from the exhaust vents to the rear of the
vehicle, making Doc jump. He then moved even slower. Even more cautiously still he
reached out to touch the door handle and recoiled in pain.
“ What, What, is it hot?” Asked Marty.
“No, it's COLD. Damned Cold!”
The DeLorean was indeed encrusted with ice. The Doc had to use his foot to open the
door. There, inside, was Einstein, safe and sound, still strapped in, looking warm and cozy
and happy to have taken a ride in the car.
“Ha, ha, Einstein,” Doc laughed, “you little devil.”
Once more Einstein's watch is lifted and placed next to Doc's control watch, the two
watches are now exactly one minute apart. “Einstein's clock is exactly one minute behind
mine, it's still ticking,” Doc notes, thrilled.
Still more worried about the dog than the experiment Marty asked, “is he alright?”
“He's fine,” Doc assured him again, “and he's completely unaware that anything has
happened. As far as he's concerned the trip was instantaneous. That's why Einstein's watch
is exactly one minute behind mine. He skipped over that minute,” (Doc gestures with his hand
in an arcing motion) “to instantly arrive at this moment in time.”
Marty has still been rolling the camera during this explanation.
Doc waves him closer. “Come here, I'll show you how it works.” Doc pulled Marty over to the
DeLorean/ time machine and he got inside and began to give him a tour. Where a gear shift
would normally be, on the center console, Doc reached down and grabbed a lever.
“First, you turn the time circuits on.” Doc flips the lever toward him like a circuit
breaker switch. An LED display array Doc has mounted to the dash board came to life.
Below it a set of meters Doc has installed provide the following readings. “Primary, Percent
Power, and Plutonium Charge.”
“This read out tells you where you are going,” explained Doc while pointing to the top
dates on the display that read OCT 26 1985 01:21 in red-letter. He then points to the middle
display that is in green-letter and has the date OCT 26 1985 01:22. “This one tells you where
you've been.” Doc then quickly points to the bottom read out which is in yellow-letter and has
the date OCT 26 1985 01:20. “This one tells you where you've been.”
Marty,still rolling the camera, just grunts. “uh huh.”
He glances at Marty like a kid showing someone his favorite video game. “You input
your destination on this keypad. Say you want to see the signing of the Declaration of
Independence.” There are three lit buttons on the keypad corresponding to the colors of each
display. Doc presses red button and types on the keypad and presses enter. A white light
glows below the three green buttons on the pad and the date on the display changed to JULY
04 1776.
“Or say you want to witness the birth of Christ,” Doc continued his demonstration by
pressing the red button again, typing in the date DEC 25 0001. (There is no such thing as a
year 0000). The display changed to read the new date.
Doc then begins to type in another date. “Here's a red-letter date in the history of
science, November fifth nineteen fifty fi...” Doc stopped short, considering his actions
carefully as the date he typed in changes on the display to November 5, 1955. He smiled to
himself, as if reaching some epiphany. “Yes, of course, November 5, 1955!” He pauses and
stares off into space deep in thought then he smirked at Marty, shifting uncomfortably as if
unsure of what to say.
Marty put down the camera and stopped filming. Looking totally confused. “What?”
He asks eagerly, “I don't get what happened.”
Doc threw back his head and slapped his palm to his forehead, in some sort of eureka
moment chuckling. “Ha, ha, of course!” Then, to Marty he explains, “that was the day I
invented time travel.”
Marty hung on his every word in amazement, an expression on his fact that suggested
he was wondering why he'd never heard this story before. “ I remember it vividly,” Doc goes
on, “I was standing on the edge of my toilet hanging a clock, the porcelain was wet, I slipped,
hit my head on the edge of the sink. And when I came to I had a revelation, a vision! A picture
in my head, a picture of this” He turned and pointed to the back of the cab of the vehicle, at a
triangular shaped flashing object held inside a glass casing. “This is what makes time travel
possible. The flux capacitor.” Doc says it's name with awe in his voice.
“The flux capacitor?” Marty echoes incredulously, while still filming. “This is good stuff
Doc, keep going!”
“It's taken me almost 30 years and my entire family fortune to realize the vision of that
day,” Doc continued. He stops, his eyes stare wildly. “My GOD has it been that long?” He
exclaims in dismay.
Doc stopped talking, as if fighting some inner struggle and he looked at Marty with an
odd expression. Then he laughed and and shook his head as if waking from a dream. He
turned and tapped another date into the display, speaking as he does so, uttering each word
as he taps a key stroke. “Or... it... could... just... be... any... random... date...” He smiles at
Marty. “If you just feel like taking a little joy ride through time.” He winked at Marty then
swung his legs back out of the vehicle and sat, half in and half out, talking dreamily.
“Things have certainly changed around here,” he reflected thoughtfully as he climbed
out of the DeLorean, waving his hands in all directions. “I remember when this was all
farmland as far as the eye could see. Old man Peabody, owned all of this. He had this crazy
idea about breeding pine trees.” Doc looked around, as if still lost in the past.
Marty continued to film the inside of the DeLorean, thinking about what Doc just said
with a weird look on his face. He started filming the gauges inside the vehicle and the first
time he notices the word plutonium on one of them. He dropped the camera down to his side
in confusion. “With a lone pine?” Marty scoffs. “How does that work?”
Doc shakes his head with another strange look.
“This is uh, this is heavy duty, Doc, this is great.” Marty is practically speechless as he
continues to film the Doc, who is now donning some protective suit. Marty now starts to
sound a bit nervous all over again. He doesn't like the thought that just popped into his head.
“Uh, does it run like on uh regular unleaded gasoline?”
“Yes and no” says Doc. Unfortunately, I needed something with a little more kick.
There's a pause, then, as if he's talking about ice cream, or bubble gum, or some other
harmless substance he states flatly.... “plutonium.”
Marty's heart jumped into his throat and his voice went up a few notches. “Uh, wait a
minute, wait a minute,” he says, looking back at the vehicle, then back at the Doc with a deep
look of concern. “Doc are you telling me that this sucker's nuclear?”
Doc, who has been kneeling down at his tool box, looks back and saw Marty is no
longer filming. He jumped up, waving his arm in a circle motion and moved back toward
Marty. “Hey, hey,” he ordered, “keep rolling there!”
Marty is struggling with the camera now and with what he's just been told. His face
contorted and his eyes were squinting. “Doc!” He exclaims in outrage! But he raises the
camera up again and films as Doc continues.
“No, this sucker's electrical, but I need a nuclear reaction to generate the one point
twenty-one gigawatts of electricity that I need.”
“Doc,” Marty said balefully, “you don't just walk into a store and ask for plutonium!”
Marty protests. He can hardly believe what he's hearing. Suddenly he stops and, almost
whispering he asks Doc the question that he already knows the answer to. "Did you rip that
off?" He started looking from side to side, as if the mall had eyes and ears.
Doc turns and walks swiftly back to Marty, moving his hands back and forth as if to say
“cut, cut,” and shaking his head as if to say no.
But when he got right up to the camera lens he said, “Of course, I stole it. From a
group of Libyan Nationalists. They wanted me to build them a bomb, so I took their plutonium
and in turn gave them a shoddy bomb casing full of used pinball machine parts.” Doc grins at
his clever ruse.
Marty's eyes bugged out and he dropped the camera back to his side. “Jeez....” was
all he could muster to say to this.
“Let's get you into a radiation suit, we need to reload.”” Doc suggested, as if it's all of
no consequence now.
 Doc has already donned a special radiation hood and mask, and his breathing sounds
like Darth Vader. He pulled out the yellow box with the nuclear logo on it, opened it, reached
in and wearing special gloves, and using a pair of tongs, slowly, delicately pulled out a round
vial of a reddish brown liquid suspended in some kind of clear liquid. He stood there, holding
the vial of plutonium up to his face, examining it.
Marty has already moved over to Doc's position, and realized there is a suit just like the
one Doc is wearing, only yellow, ready and waiting for him. He put it on and, reluctantly,
unable to believe what he has now got himself into, and under Doc's guidance and direction,
he learns how to reload a makeshift nuclear reactor with one of the most volatile compounds
on the face of the earth. The whole time Mr. Strickland's words were echoing in his brain,
“This so called Doctor Brown is dangerous. He's a real nut case. You hang around with him
you're going to get in BIG trouble!”
Marty just stood there in his yellow radiation suit, shaking and trying hard to steady the
camera while he filmed Doc showing how to insert the vial and turn it so that the plutonium
dropped safely into the reactor chamber he has built on the back of the DeLorean.
Doc removed the empty vial, twisted the cap back onto the reactor's round radiator chamber,
and then pulled his head covering down. “Safe now, Doc said, “everything's lead lined.” Doc
gestured at the camera as Marty also lowered his head covering, still looking like he's about
to shit gold (or plutonium) bricks
Tearing off his helmet, Doc hurried to the plutonium case, and kicked it back open with
his foot. “Don't you lose those tapes now,” he said as he haphazardly placed the empty vial
back in it's place, “history will need a record,” he said, “for posterity's sake. He closed the
plutonium case and threw down his head covering and tore off his gloves.
He then carried the case and his luggage to the front of the car and began placing
them in the trunk. While he did it he mumbled. “I can't forget my luggage. I mean who knows
if they've got cotton underwear in the future. I'm allergic to all synthetics.” He paused as he
was placing them in. As if contemplating whether he's doing the right thing. Finally, he shook
his head and put the case in there first.
Quietly he muttered to himself. "I'm taking way too many risks!"
“That's an understatement!” Marty said, thinking Doc was referring to the stealing of
plutonium from dangerous terrorists and promising to build them a nuclear bomb, but then
double crossing them. “So, the future, that's where you're going?” Asked Marty.
The Doctor nodded. “That's right, twenty five years into the future. He gazes off, as if
seeing something afar. “I've always dreamed on seeing the future, looking beyond my years,
seeing the progress of mankind. I'll also be able to see who wins the next twenty-five world
series.
“Uh, Doc,” Marty says.
“Huh?”
“Uh, look me up when you get there?”
“Sure thing” Doc replied warmly.
Then, as if remembering something dangerous, a very serious look clouds over on his
face. “Marty, there's something I need to tell you and it's important you listen carefully.”
Marty stops recording.
 “Actually roll the camera, record it.” Doc instructed.
Marty resumed filming.
“Listen Marty,” he begins, “on the off chance, however unlikely, that something were to
ever happen to me and it is within your power to destroy this time machine I don't want you to
hesitate.”
Stunned, Marty stopped filming. “Doc, what's going to happen?”
“Keep filming” says Doc urgently.
Marty points the camera again.
“I don't know, I'm just speaking hypothetically here,” explained Doc. “If some day you
were to say, find yourself in the future or the past with this machine you have to PROMISE me
you will not interact with ANYONE, not even me, ESPECIALLY not me.”
Marty is totally confused. He keeps rolling but he has a lot of questions. “Doc, how the
heck am I ever going to use the time machine?”
Doc looked nervous. “There's no time to explain, just promise me if it ever does
happen you'll follow this one rule, don't interact with anyone in the past OR the future, just do
what you can to get this time machine home and if I'm dead or missing, destroy it! In fact, if
you can't get the time machine home, destroy it. You'll just have to accept your fate and
remain wherever or whenever you are. Can you promise me?”
Now Marty is really nervous. He reluctantly agrees. “Sure Doc, I promise!” Marty is
used to this sort of melodrama from the Doc, but something in his voice tells Marty that the
Doc is hiding more than a few things.
Looking satisfied, Doc Brown leaned onto the doorway. Leaning on the car, Doc began
a farewell address. "I'm about to embark on an historic journey, he started, “this will be the
day long remembered. Every great adventure begins with a single step. If Neil Armstrong
took a giant leap forward for mankind... this will be considered a pole vault." He stopped, mid
sentence as Einstein, who is back in the mobile command post, began to bark crazily in
warning of something or someone approaching. Doc looked in the direction the dog is
barking. “What is it Einy?” He sees headlights come on in the distance across the parking lot
near the entrance. He cries out in dismay, "it's too late, they found me, I don't know how, I
took every precaution this time but somehow they STILL found me.. again!”
Marty asks, "who found you?"
Doc replied, "who do you think? " He pointed in the direction of the entrance to the
parking lot and screamed, "the LIBYANS!"
Marty looked in the direction he was pointing his eyes growing wide with terror. A VW
microbus raced toward them across the parking lot. A man popped out of the top hatch, or
sun roof (Marty didn't know which it was) with an M-16 automatic rifle.
“Holy SHIT!” Screamed Marty.
The man began shooting .
“Run Marty,” Doc yelled as he waved him away, “get the hell out of here, I'll hold them
off.” Doc ran for an open tool box near the command post and produced a pistol, but it was
too late, the VW bus was on him.
 Instead of running, Marty just stood there, frozen in fear, like a deer trapped in the
headlights.
Doc tried to shoot but the pistol just clicked. Evidently it was not loaded. In surrender,
Doc tossed the pistol away. It clattered limply to the pavement as he put his hands up.
There is a brief pause.
Marty watched from near the DeLorean, a look of hope on his face. Maybe they just
want their plutonium back. Then, the man opened fire on Doc, riddling his body with bullet
holes. Doc brown's entire body is nearly picked up off the ground by the impacts.
Marty screamed at the Libyans, "NO! You bastards!"
Hearing Marty's screams, the terrorist turned his gun on the teenager, but he dodged
and hid on the other side of the work truck. The van tried to go around Doc's large moving
van to get at him from the other side, and when Marty sees this he leaped into the DeLorean
head first. Slamming the door behind him, he took off in it.
They chased him relentlessly through the parking lot. Bullets were just bouncing off
the stainless steel frame and body of the DeLorean. The rifle jammed. It looked like Marty
might be in the clear, but the man went back into the VW bus, then re-emerged with a
shoulder mounted grenade launcher, aiming it at the DeLorean.
Marty looked in the mirror at this sight and his eyes went wide. He dropped the shifter
into low gear and muttered, "let's see if that thing can do 90!” He sped away. When the
speedometer almost reached 88 mph, he had to swerve and it dropped back down again.
Still running from the terrorists who were still attempting to get a bead on him with their
grenade launcher.
He put the pedal to the medal again and picked up speed. He was so intent on
watching that maniac in his rear view mirror with the grenade launcher, he didn't realize that
he was headed straight toward the one hour photo processing booth near the exit.
Suddenly, the DeLorean lights up in that same ethereal energy he had witnessed
earlier. It was all around him. The air tingled and crackled making his hair stand on end. He
finally looked out and saw the looming photo booth just ahead. He started to veer away from
it but the car slowed when he did, so he locked his arms straight and leaned back into the
seat. It had finally dawned on him that the only escape from these Libyans was a time jump.
He NEEDED that 88 mph! He braced for impact with the photo booth.
Brillian light surrounded him. There was this terrible jolt of electricity all through his
body, then he felt nothing and it felt like he would black out.
Suddenly, the photo booth and the mall parking lot are replaced by a scare crow and it
was raced toward him. He screamed. The scarecrow bounced off the windshield. He pulled
the car's steering wheel hard to the right, as if he were still trying to avoid the photo booth.
He just barely missed a barn that also loomed up out of the middle of nowhere. He plowed
out into a nearby corn field and did not slow down for quite a few moments, cutting a
DeLorean sized swath through the crops.
When he finally stopped and pulled the helmet off his head (it has fallen over his face
in the landing). He looked down the swath he cut in the crops, behind him breathing hard
from all the excitement. “Thank the science gods that those Libyans couldn't follow me here,”
he muttered to himself. Then he stopped and looked to the dash with a stunned look on his
face. “Wherever... or whenever 'here' is!” He said sardonically. The time circuit read,
“November 14, 1955?” Marty just mumbled... “Heavy.”

4. PEABODY HAD A FARM EYI EYI OH!

Sitting there in the middle of the corn field in 1955, Marty was beside himself for a few
moments. It was an eerie silence accentuated by Marty's heavy breathing. He thought
about being back in time and it occurred to him, “how cool is that?” He could see how things
were done, he could observe great historical moments! His history teacher would LOVE him.
Yet, what historical event happened in 1955 besides the invention of the flux capacitor, and he
couldn't very well write a history paper about that, besides he'd missed that date. What kind
luck does he have? He is the first human time traveler and he is stuck in a crappy,
unimportant time in history. I mean, what, 1955, what's so special about it? It was the year
his parents met and fell in love...
That gave him pause. Maybe there WAS something interesting to “observe” in 1955.
His parents, in High School! He put it immediately out of his mind, it was replaced by the
thought of poor Doc Brown, lying dead on the concrete. A tear rolled down his face.
Back at the Peabody barn, the door had been boarded up. Having been damaged 9
days earlier by another DeLorean from 1985. Lights came up in the nearby farmhouse. A
spindly man emerged with his mousy wife, a daughter and a son around 9 or 10 years old.
They cautiously crept toward the barn, for the second time in a week.
“Gotdammit, not again!” Peabody grumbled. He noticed the path in the dirt the
DeLorean made going past the barn and his gaze with the flashlight followed the path out into
the corn field. The smell of crushed corn and soil and dust filled the air. His face went red
with age! “Those mutant bastards,” he exclaimed, “they killed my corn!”
The entire family went to the edge of the barn and stared in shock down this path and
the swath cut into the corn field.
Meanwhile, at the end of that path, Marty had opened his wing door, removed his
gloves and was in the trunk. He had the case to the spare plutonium open and as fast as he
could he was putting his helmet back on the radiation suit, in preparation to refuel the flux
capacitor and go back to the future.
Old man Otis Peabody stood near the corner of the barn, once again holding his
shotgun in the middle of the night. Next to him was his son Sherman, a boy of about 9 or 10.
Lagging behind them, looking terrified, were his wife Elsie and their daughter Martha.
“SONOFABITCH!” Old man Peabody exclaimed again. “What the HELL happened here?”
“Crazy drunk space aliens?” His son Sherman asked.
Peabody looked down at his son like he was stupid.
The son only lifted up a comic book he'd been reading.
Otis Peabody shined his flashlight on the cover, to see a drawing of a UFO crash
landing in a corn field, cutting a path of destruction in the crops and earth as it falls. The title
said “Crazy Drunk Space Aliens.”
Sherman looked at his father, who was staring at the comic in disbelief. “They're
back!”
“MUTATE BASTARD FIRST MY BARN, THEN MY PINE, NOW... MY CORN TOO!
Everyone back in the house!” He ordered. As they obeyed he shouted after them to his wife.
“...And Elsie, call the damned sheriff this time!” Peabody began to stomp his way toward the
path cut in his crops, his gun at the ready.
Elsie shouted after him, “you be careful Otis!”
He waved her off, facing the newly cut path in his field, determined to get to the bottom
of these shenanigans. As he cautiously approached the path a truck come pulling up fast. It
was another farmer, Bo Wilkins from down the road, his son, Kenny, riding shotgun, literally
with a shotgun. In the bed of the truck were two other men with rifles, Billy and Ted, other
neighbor farmers.
Bo rolled down his window and he half grins at Peabody. “What's all the ruckus?”
Peabody seemed hesitant to answer. When he does he spoke almost under his
breath. “I got me another one!” He gestured at the steaming path. “That a way. Just like
before!”
Bo backs up his truck, turning it at the same time to point its headlines at where
Peabody had gestured. He looks down the dark path in the corn field then, and whistled, not
even hiding his utter amusement. “You mean another one of them little green men?” He
asked, chiding the man.
Bill and Ted in the bed of the truck snickered. Ted struck Bill on the arm playfully. “Aliens...”
he said. They chuckled.
Kenny, in the passenger seat stares in the direction of the path in the corn field wide
eyed and nervous.
Peabody tried to ignore the chuckling fools in the back. “Not green,” he corrected
“some kinda critter in a yellow suit, but it looked human enough.”
The men in the back can't contain themselves and they start laughing out loud. Kenny
grimaced and looked even more uncomfortable, gripping his shotgun tighter.
Bo looks back at his friends Bill and Ted, and shouted. “Pipe down will ya?”
This wipes the shit eating grins off their faces but they still snicker back there.
Bo surveyed the path again, mulling things over. “Hop in,” he said to Peabody,
gesturing at the back of the truck. “Let's check it out!”
Peabody looked at the bed of the truck with the two snickering idiots in it and rolled his
eyes. Then he handed his shotgun to Bill, grabbed the side and leaped into the truck bed
with them. Bill handed his shotgun back to him and he returned a respectful nod to each of
them, even though they are huddling, almost like school girls, giggling at him.
Bo waited until Peabody settled in back there. He then threw the truck in gear abd ut
lurched forward, spinning it's tires. They headed for the corn field and the waiting mysterious
dark path. Bill and Ted stood up and started hooting and hollering. Peabody glared at them
with utter contempt.
“Idiots!” He growled low between clenched teeth.
Meanwhile, Marty had just finished refueling the fusion reactor in the DeLorean
machine. He pulled back his hood and stood there now as if considering something. He
picked up the empty plutonium vial and headed toward the trunk, at the front of the car. He
placed it into the case gingerly. “I gotta warn him!” He mumbled. He snapped the case
slowly and took off the gloves. He stopped, staring down into the trunk, thinking hard. He left
the trunk open and went to the driver's seat and sat down. Weighing his options. He could
hear Doc's voice echoing in his head.
“...If some day you were to say, find yourself in the future or the past with this machine
you have to PROMISE me you will not interact with ANYONE, not even me, especially not
me.”
“I can't leave him like that,” he said, speaking to the time circuit as if it were arguing
with him, “I have to go back early and warn him!” He started to input the date and time into
the destination display using the keypad. “Ten minutes ought to do it!” When he finished he
stared at the new destination date and time. “Sorry Doc,” he said, “I can't keep that promise,
guess you'll just have to sue me.”
He got out and tore off his gloves. He headed to the trunk to take the radiation suit off. “...
But at least you'll be alive!” He muttered as he went. As he neared the trunk, he heard the
not too distant roar of a truck engine and some hooting and hollering wafting down the
pathway he'd just cut in the corn field. The engine sound approached rapidly and he could
see lights down the path. Headlights.
“Shit!” He finished tearing off his gloves threw the in the trunk and began fumbling with
the helmet. “What now?” The light grew brighter down the path. “SHIT!” He exclaimed
again. “The Libyans?!” His face wrinkled. “That's impossible.” He started to fumble with the
helmet to take it off but he looked up and realized he did not have time, whoever was coming
down that path was almost on him. He let go of the hood and it fell back down over his head.
He slammed the trunk and rushed for the driver's seat.
Before he could reach it, however the pickup truck roared up behind the DeLorean and
slammed on its breaks just 5 feet down the path. The truck's bright lights blinded him. His
yellow radiation suit glowed like neon in the light. In the cab of the truck, Bo slammed on his
breaks fast as the DeLorean and Marty came into view. Kenny gasped in sheer terror. All of
the men's eyes were giant saucers of amazement, except Otis' this was now getting to be old
hat for him. His face only reflected determination to get his revenge on the space bastard that
killed his pine.
“Holy sheep shit!” Bo shouted.
Kenny started screaming like a girl.
Bill and Ted glared at the sight of this yellow space alien and his flying saucer, their
mouths were finally shut.
Peabody pulled up his shotgun and aimed. “CUT HIM DOWN BOYS BEFORE HE
MUTATES!” He shouted at the other men, almost proudly now that the sight of Marty has
vindicated him. He took a shot and it's almost like that shot woke the others from some
dream.
They also pulled up. Kenny hung out his passenger side window, still screaming like a
little girl, but he also took aim.
The first shot from Peabody truly took Marty off guard. It whizzed past his head,
dangerously close. A muffled scream emitted from inside the radiation hood. He dove into
the DeLorean, slamming the wing door shut behind him. The bullets really started to fly then,
some of them ricocheting off of the DeLorean as Marty fired it up and sped forward, cutting
more path in the corn ahead of him.
“Somebitch!” Shouts Peabody in outrage. “Don't let that pine killer get away!” He
continued to shoot feverishly. The others all shot wildly at the quickly departing time machine.
Bo threw his truck back into gear and gave chase.
Even with the advantage of the path the DeLorean is cutting for them, they still are no
match for a 1985 DeLorean. Marty begins to put distance between him and them. Marty was
bouncing up and down as the car went over the corn rows.
Bill, Ted, and Peabody were having a hard time staying afoot in the bed of the truck as
it bounced after Marty. The chase went on.
Marty kept plowing through the field until he hit a hard dirt road, then he turned quickly
and frantically to the right. He looked behind him and saw the men shooting at him through
the glint of the pickup truck headlights. “Those are no Libyans” he said, still in shock at being
shot at yet again. Twice in the space of an hour or two. (Or in the space of 3 decades,
depending on how you looked at things).
As he turned to the right onto the road a bullet entered the cab of the car and nearly
exploded the flux capacitor. Now he realized the danger he was in. He looked forward, down
the dirt road, his eyes determined. “Let's see if that bucket of bolts can do 88!” He stomped
on the gas pedal and, fish tailing, sped off with the pickup truck in hot pursuit. Bullets still cut
holes into the back of the car.
Still he was pulling away from them more and more.
Kenny stopped screaming like a little girl and was still hanging out the window
shooting. “He's getting away daddy, he's getting away,” he squealed in through the window.
Peabody beat on the top of the pickup, shouting. “Step on in Bo, DAMMIT, don't let the
mutate bastard get away again! “
Bo opened the sliding window in the back and shouted through it, “this is a hay truck, Otis, it
ain't no stock car! I've got the pedal to the metal boys, that's all ole Betsy's got!”
They all looked forward as the DeLorean began to move away.
Bo swore under his breath while the men in the bed of the truck kept frantically
shooting as fast as they could.
Marty came to a paved crossroad, slammed on the breaks, turned to the right,
slammed on the gas and peeled off again, really moving away on solid pavement. Behind
him, the pickup slammed to a halt and all the men in the back went flying toward the cab,
shouting angrily. There was no time to slow down gradually. The pickup spun to the right
trying to continue the chase but it was no good, the DeLorean's tail lights were becoming tiny
dots moving off in the distance.
Marty threw back his helmet. He was still visibly shaken but he looked back and
grinned, seeing the pickup's headlights fading away behind him. “I blew their doors off,” he
smiles. The speed of the DeLorean was now approaching 85. Marty braced himself and
made sure the time circuits were switched on. Out of nowhere, in front of him, blocking his
getaway was a black and white sheriff's car, it's lights came on and the siren began to wail.
This sheriff was trying to cut him off, but he did not know what he's dealing with. He
somehow took a calculated risk in his head that he was betting he would hit 88 mph just
before he hit that sheriff's car.
The sheriff, who looked exactly like the strange plaid suited judge at the dance
audition, right down to the same glasses, jumped out of his car and stood, gun raised,
shouting into his megaphone mic “pull it over!” The megaphone in the front of his car caused
his words to echo in the night. Then, the poor sheriff realized that this vehicle, whatever it
was, was not even slowing down. He faltered in uncertainty, looking at the oncoming thing,
then the side of the road, then the thing.
Marty put his arms outstretched and held his head back, praying he hasn't made a
huge mistake as he hurtled toward the police car. 86 mph. 87 mph. He was almost on the
sheriff.
Just as Marty hit 88 mph the sheriff thought better of his whole strategy and literally
jumped for the side of the road . The DeLorean lit up in its spectacular colors and then was
gone, just where it would have made impact with the police car.
The sheriff, his mind blown, got up from the side of the road and surveyed the fiery trail
left behind in Marty's wake. He whistled. Then the pickup truck raced up. The sheriff
holstered his gun as he realized who was approaching.
The pickup came to a stop right in front of the sheriff.
All the men in the truck stared, wide eyed at the Sheriff and at the fiery trail made by
the DeLorean.
The deputy sheriff looked down and shook his head.
 5. ANOTHER MARTY

Just a little under a mile from the Lone Pine Mall, on a deserted road, the silence of the
night was suddenly broken by a few flashes of light then the sound of small explosions. The
DeLorean appeared from nowhere and came to a quick stop in the road. It was covered in
ice. The wing door opened and Marty stepped out, looking around in amazement. He was
still dressed in the yellow suit. He looked at the time circuit and it read October 12, 1985 1:
23 AM. He grinned.
“Great! I still have time,” he said to himself as he started quickly ripping off his
radiation suit. He threw the suit in the passenger seat and jumped back in the DeLorean.
Slamming the door shut behind him. He turned the key and... click. NOTHING!
Flustered and frantic, he turned the key over and over. Still Nothing.
“Dammit,” he spewed, “Not now, any time but now.” He kept frantically turning the key
and simultaneously pumping the gas pedal (as if that will help). He threw his forehead on the
steering wheel in total frustration. Looking at the time he'd lost 2 minutes.
He threw open the wing door again, jumped out and pushed the car to the side of the
road, setting the emergency brake. Looking once again at the timer he muttered, “It's about
¾ of a mile in 7 minutes... I can make it!” He started running. The thought never occurred to
him until he got ½ mile away from the DeLorean he stopped, realizing his mistake.
“What am I doing? I'm an idiot?” He scolded himself. He looked back down the ½ mile
he'd just run. I've got a time machine, I've got all the time in the world! I can just fix that piece
of crap and go back in time even earlier.
Then something dawned on him. “...but what if there's no fixing it, what if it's broken for
good? What if all those bullets damaged the time machine? “ He shook his head then took off
again, running even harder now. Huffing and puffing. “Running... for... fun... “ complained,
“that's … so... dumb! He would give his eye teeth for his skateboard.
He ran hard until the Lone Pine Mall loomed into view a ways ahead of Marty as he
ran. Suddenly he heard distant gunshots and screaming!
“OH NO!” He started sprinting. “Why don't I ever go to the gym?” He ran up to the
sign and looked down in total dismay at the limp figure of Doc Brown lying on the pavement.
He looked toward the photo booth and saw the blue VW microbus lying on its side in the
wreckage, burning. He saw the now familiar fire trail of the DeLorean after it time jumped.
When he looked back at Doc he can't believe his eyes. A lone figure runs toward Doc.
It looked like... him. Another Marty McFly? “It's... me,” he muttered in disbelief, “but look at
me, I'm dressed like a dork.”
The Marty he sees is dressed in a reddish quilted vest and cheap jeans. “What's with
that vest?” He asked himself. “It looks like a life jacket.”
The other Marty now sat down next to Doc and turned away, obviously mourning the
loss of his friend.
He just kept staring down at the surreal scene in total shock and fascination tearing up
all over again.
The other Marty down in the parking lot turned away from the sight of Doc.
 “ Dammit Doc! What the hell is going on?” He sat down and watched the other Marty
below as the other Marty paced for a while. He heard the sirens approaching at the same
time as the other Marty did.
The other Marty then retrieved Einstein out of the van (who had been barking now for a
few minutes). The other Marty then grabbed the yellow case of plutonium, closed it and
picked it up. About 5 minutes had gone by now.
Our Marty stood up and determined to fix whatever was going on.
“I'll just get the time machine fixed,” he decided. “Then I'll go back again, maybe a day
or two earlier and make sure this disaster never happens!”
He looked once again down the road in the direction of the approaching sirens. Then
ducked behind the mall sign as numerous police cars and a fire engine come near. He
lwatched as the other Marty knelt down one last time and kissed the lifeless forehead of Doc
Brown and then he ran off, with Einstein following closely on his heels.
Our Marty got up and followed from a safe distance, keeping an eye on the new Marty,
and staying out of sight of the emergency vehicles so as not to be spotted. He looked behind
at the chaos in the mall parking lot. The police were arriving and swarming around Doc's
moving van and the VW bus. He stopped and watched for a few seconds making sure he did
not lose sight of the new Marty and Einstein. He wanted to learn the fate of the Libyans but
the other Marty was rapidly disappearing in the direction of town.
“Who are you?” He asked the other Marty running off into the night.
He ran after him.
When they reached town, the other Marty and Einstein appear from around a corner
with our Marty not far behind. He is stunned to see another DeLorean sitting in the middle of
town square. Obviously where the other Marty had left it. Red, the former Mayor turned
homeless guy, is standing near it, drinking from a paper bag and muttering to himself about
crazy drunk drivers leaving their cars in the middle of streets.
Our Marty held back, his eyes wide with amazement and perhaps some confusion.
The other Marty opened the trunk and was about to put the plutonium case in.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a siren wails and several police cars roll in fast . They hit the other
Marty with spotlights and he put his hands up. Einstein too got up on his hind legs and put his
paws up.
Marty high tailed it out of there before he too ended up in the back of a police car.
He made his way first for town and Doc's workshop. He needed money if he was
going to get the DeLorean fixed. At Doc's workshop, he went up to the doorway and sighed in
relief when he found the key under the mat. “Some things never change” he commented in
delight, flipping keys in his hand. He entered and looked around.
Marveling, he said, “it's exactly as I remember it!” He saw the dog food and waved his
hand in front of his nose. “Exactly!” He went to the phone and grabbed a nearby phone
book, thumbing through it. He then dialed.
“Frank's towing,” a voice on the receiver said.
“Oh good, you're open.”
“24 hour towing service,” the voice said, sounding irritated. “What can I do you for?”
 “I need a tow,” said Marty.
“Go figure,” said the voice sarcastically.
Marty gave the man on the phone directions to where the DeLorean was. He told him
he thought there might be something wrong with the starter. There's a pause.
“Cash or credit,” the man asked.
“Hang on” he said into the phone. Running back to a desk drawer across the room, he
rifled through it and produced a credit card. It had Doc's name on it and a yellow sticky that
said “For emergencies only.”
“I think this qualifies, Doc!” He muttered
He ran back to the phone and gave them the man the number. Waiting a few moments
while he ran it.
“Good to go,” said the man, “you're pre approved for our VIP service.”
Marty frowned, not knowing if the guy was joking or not.
“Oh, can you come pick me up,” asked Marty, before you go out there to get my car?”
There was a pause.
“Since I'm pre-approved for your VIP service,” Marty added.
The man said, “sure thing, kid,” I'll give you the VIP discount, that will be another 50.”
“Of course,” said Marty, “I'm at 1646 Riverside Drive.”
“Old man Brown's place,” said the man on the phone. “I know it.”
“Of course you do,” Marty said, exhausted.

* * * * * * * * * *

The old Texaco Star is a gas station, convenience store, and above the old garage is a
sign that reads, “FRANK'S COMPLETE AUTO CARE AND TOWING.” A tow truck pulled up
with the DeLorean in tow and Marty, sitting silently in the front passenger seat. The truck
stopped and Marty got out.
Leaning in he asked the guy, “how long will it take before you know what's wrong with
it?”
The guy shrugged. “We'll call ya.”
“Okay,” said Marty, disappointed that he didn't get at least a time estimate.
“Listen,” said Frank, “Let me drop this heap off and I'll run ya home, kid, the sun's
coming up soon.”
Marty thought about it then sighed and nodded. “I am pretty tired, it feels like I haven't
slept in decades.
 6. ANOTHER FAMILY

The sun was just beginning to light up the edge of the horizon when the tow truck
pulled up at the end of the driveway of the McFly residence. Marty opened the door and
climbed out saying his thanks and his goodbyes. As he did so, he reached in the cab and
yanked out the plutonium case and turned, looking around nervously, he set it on the ground,.
He then took his leather coat off and wrapped it around the case. When he finished he
tucked it under his arm and ran toward the back of the house, fast as he could, staying in the
shadows like a prowler. The truck driver watched him go, shaking his head, until the boy was
gone. He then pulled out and away.
Marty snuck in through his window the way he always did and in no time he was
crashed in his bed.
When the sun was fully up, the radio came on playing the song “I Can't Drive 55” by
Sammy Hagar. He got up and looked around. His room was a mess. Not a good sign. He
frowns at it. He always left his room cluttered, but clean.
“What a nightmare,” he said, referring to last night's events. But looking around he
notices just how bad his room looked. “It looks like a bomb went off in here,” he mumbled in
disapproval. As he got up his foot kicked the case of plutonium. He bent down, and his eyes
went wide when he saw it. Then he appeared totally downcast that it was not, after all, just a
nightmare.
He slid the case under the bed, and made his bed quickly, using the bedspread to hide
the case. He walked out toward the kitchen yawning. He heard the voice of his mother and
his sister Linda. They were discussing something. He made out a few words about a lawyer,
and jail and as he moved closer he heard Lorraine talking about Doc Brown.
“I never liked him hanging around with that crazy wild eyed old man to begin with. Now
I hear he might have been some sort of terrorist!”
Marty stepped out into view, angry. “Doc's no terrorist, mom, don't believe everything
you heee....” His jaw dropped. What he saw he could not believe.
His mother was a mess. Her hair was crazy, she looked like she slept in her clothes,
her mascara was old and running from crying. Linda looked frumpy, not dressed in her usual
80's businesswoman look and she was wearing glasses. Linda HATED glasses.
Dave and his father weren't there.
The two women look at him in total surprise.
“Marty!” They both exclaimed together.
Lorraine squealed with joy and ran to him with her arms out. “Oh my GAWD! You're
here, you're okay!”
Linda got up and, placing her hands on her hips disapprovingly, glared at him.
He was confused for a second. “Well, ya, why wouldn't I?”
Lorraine stopped and stared at him angrily. “When we got the call at 2:30 in the
morning that you've been arrested we thought the worst!
Linda sat down and just went back to her breakfast as Lorraine continued to fawn over
him. “We thought we were going to have to bail you out again. “ Said Lorraine, running her
hand through Marty's hair.
Marty couldn't help but notice that his mother had alcohol breath. She'd either been
drinking already this morning, or had been drinking heavily the evening before. Or both.
“Arrested.. again,” added Linda dryly, “you're a total embarrassment.”
Lorraine continued her fawning over Marty, ushering him to the breakfast table. “You're
father and Dave are out there right now trying to get you out of JAIL! I was just about to call
the lawyer to find out what the hold up is.”
The light bulb went on in his head. The other Marty was arrested. They think HE was
arrested.
Linda, who had been seething during this entire display of her mother's affection for
Marty, staring into her breakfast, Linda piped up. “I knew you would find a way to weasle out
of whatever trouble you got into... you always do!”
Marty now looked around the house. It was dingy, not well lit, and the furniture was all
old and cheap looking. The grand piano was missing. The living room looked like someone
from hee haw decorated it. He started to panic a little.
“What's going on?” Is all he could say.
Lorraine stared at her daughter with a frown. They both ignored Marty's heartfelt
dismay.
“Of course he's not in trouble,” Lorraine responded, “I'm sure it was all a complete
misunderstanding. I blame that crazy old man.” She then look at Marty who was still looking
around the house, disoriented and mistook his disorientation for grief. “Oh, I'm sorry Marty,”
she apologized, “I know how much you cared about him.”
He just stared at the two of them blankly, his mouth almost hanging open.
Lorraine put her hand on his head, “oh, you poor dear, were you hurt during the
incident?”
Marty put his head down actually feeling the grief of losing Doc again. How could he
have almost forgotten about the image of poor old Doc lying there on the cold hard pavement
staring blankly into the sky?
“I am gonna miss him,” he said with meaning.
“I know, son, I know” she patted him on the hand.
But also, Marty was even more so upset about somehow losing his family. He didn't
know this family. He wanted his REAL family back. He couldn't for the life of him make sense
of who these people were! Just then Dave came in through the front door. He was pushing
George McFly... in a wheel chair!
Marty, when he saw this, stood up, and shouted “Dad, what happened?” Then he fell
over on the floor.
His mother rushed to his side and helped him get back up.
George wheeled himself over to Marty, very concerned. Dave and Linda both held
back, indifferent, glaring down at Marty coldly.
 “He's faking” said Linda.
Lorraine helped Marty back to his feet.
“Son,” George said in a soft, whiney voice, looking at him worriedly. “Are you alright?”
Marty, nodded, brushing himself off. “I'm okay Dad.... what happened to you?
George gives him a confused look. “I see they didn't hold you very long.” He turned
to Dave, “I told you he wasn't involved!” Dave just made a face and headed to the breakfast
table. He and Linda shared a disapproving look at each other and never even spoke.
“Oh, Marty, you must have hit your head or something, last night,” Lorraine bewailed as
she helped her younger son sit back down in his chair. She felt his head again.
George said to Lorraine, “when we got to the police station, no one would tell us
anything. There were FBI crawling all over the place and they refused to even acknowledge
that Marty was in custody! Something about National Security!
Lorraine looked horrified.
Dave and Linda shared a “uh, huh, thought so,” look.
“National Security?” Lorraine echoed incredulously. “OUR MARTY?”
Marty was just staring in shock at the sight of his father in a wheel chair. George's legs
looked, odd, sort of twisted, like he didn't even have use of them.
“Hey Marty,” Dave demanded, “what the hell went on last night? We heard the mall
was attacked by terrorists and you were one of them!”
“Don't be ridiculous David,” Lorraine chimed.
Linda was nodding in the background, sipping her coffee.
Marty ignored Dave. His attention still on his father.
“Dad, what happened to you?”
Everyone looked at Marty oddly now. The room went quiet.
George seemed confused by the question more than anyone else. “What happened to
me? “ He echoed. “Nothing son, what happened to you? What happened to Doc Brown?”
Marty realized that whatever this condition is that put George in the wheel chair, it's
nothing new to any of them except him! He must sound like a lunatic asking him that
question. He though of a way of covering for himself.
“... I just meant you look really.. GREAT this morning.” He lies, balling up his fist and
chucks his father lightly.
George gave him a halfhearted smile then wheeled himself into the kitchen. “Well,
thanks son,” he says as he goes. “I've been working out.”
Dave is leering at Marty.
Marty's countenance falls. This whole thing was breaking his heart. What happened to
his family?
For breakfast, everyone ate in relative silence. Marty looked around the table
periodically. Eyeing each person with growing alarm. They are literally strangers to him.
Dave and Linda kept just glaring at Marty while he tried to eat.
 Dave finally placed his fork down abruptly. “Alright,” he said, abruptly, “no one else is
talking about this so I will,” he grumbled. “Marty, you gave us one helluva scare last night and
now someone is dead and you seem to be involved in some way. I...” he stops, then rewords
it, “We demand an explanation!”
Marty shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I really don't want to talk about it right now,
Dave.”
“That's not good enough Marty,” Dave insists, “You're always getting into some sort of
trouble. Where did you get those clothes? They look like they cost a fortune. What do you
do late at night when you sneak out that window?”
George just sat there, eating, saying nothing. Lorraine stared sadly and silently down
into her plate. Linda joined Dave in glaring at Marty.
Marty looked around for an ally but found none.
Finally Lorraine sheepishly said, “Dave, that's enough.”
Dave frowned deeply at his mother.
“He's obviously been through some sort of ordeal,” she defended, “and we need to give
him some space and support.”
Dave snorts and shot up from his chair. “That's total bullshit mom! He gets away with
murder around here!”
George's eyes spark and flash. “Hey, hey, watch your language in my house.”
Dave stormed off.
For the first time Marty realized how different this family really was. It actually wasn't
even until then that he notices Dave's UPS uniform. Without thinking he blurted out, “Dave,
when did you start working for UPS?'
Dave spins around angrily. “See? Mom? Dad? He's on drugs or something.” Then to
Marty. “Working for the UPS is a perfectly respectable job. At least I contribute around here!
Unlike SOME PEOPLE!”
George scoffs. “Drugs? C'mon Dave, now you're getting carried away.”
Dave's face went red.
Linda gaped in amazement at Marty, her fork held in front of her open mouth as if he
were some sort of alien creature.
Dave stormed away, blustering now. “He's following in uncle Joey's footsteps!” He
stomped out the front door.
Lorraine reached over and rubs Marty's head again. “Oh dear, did someone do
something... bad.. to you in jail?”
“No, mom,” Marty said, gently pushing her hand away, sounding irritated. “I, I, just don't
feel good, I've had a rough day.”
Linda put her plate in the sink and quietly left, giving Marty backwards glances.
“Mom, Dad,” Marty finally said, “I think I need to talk to Dad alone.”
 * * * * * * * * * *

Lorraine pushed George into Marty's room and Marty followed. She kissed his father
on the forehead. Marty was glad to see that one thing hadn't changed, they were obviously
still very much in love. He was truly relieved. She lingered in the doorway for a second or
two, as if wondering what they might have to talk about.
George and Marty both stared at her. Respecting their privacy she left, closing the door
softly behind her, but she stayed, leaning up against the door, placing her ear against it to
listen in.
Marty sat down on his bed.
George looked at him, puzzled. “Well son,” he asked, breaking the awkward silence,
“what can I do for you?”
Marty searched for words and didn't seem to find them. Finally, after another awkward
silence he attempted it. “Dad, I need to ask you some questions that might seem really really
strange to you, please don't think I'm crazy.”
“No Marty,” George assured him, “I don't think you're crazy.”
“Wait,” said Marty, “You haven't heard the questions yet.” He chuckled nervously.
George waited patiently.
“Okay, here it goes...” He takes a deep breath. “Dad, how did you end up in a wheel
chair?”
George's face goes white and he looks mortified. “Son, you know...”
Marty interrupts him, apologetically, “I've been having some memory issues lately so
please forgive me, I'm confused.”
“...You know I don't like to talk about that,” George continues, ignoring Marty, “but since
you've never asked me like this before, I have to assume it's important...” said George.
Marty nodded.
George eyed his son strangely. “Okay, well then,” here goes.” Marty's father shifts
uncomfortably in his chair. “Son, this is not a pretty story and it's embarrassing. I've never
told anyone the truth about what happened, not even your mother, but I think she's
suspected.” George paused for a second, took a deep breath of his own, then came out with
it. “Biff and his friends did this to me.”
“Biff?” Marty can't believe his ears. “Biff TANNEN?”
George nods.
Marty shakes his head. The Biff Tannen he knows was a marshmallow.
“How is that possible Dad?”
“I know, I know,” George cut in, mistaking Marty's tone for disapproval. “I should have
reported it, I should have had him put in prison, but I was afraid of the repercussions if he
managed to beat the charges, which he always seemed to to do!”
 “But, wait, hold on, Dad, Biff? Biff Tannen put you in a wheel chair? How? Was it
some sort of accident?”
“No,” said George, “it was no accident! He hit me with his car and then he and his
friends kicked me and beat the crap out of me until I was unconscious, I think they left me for
dead.”
Marty sat back on his bed, devastated by this bit of news. What kind of topsy-turvy
world had he found himself in? Where Biff and his stupid friends could get the jump on
George McFly this way?
“A few days earlier, at the big dance,” George continued, “there was a conflict in the
parking lot and Biff was being rough with your mother. I couldn't stand for that so I decked
him.”
“ Ya, I remember that part,” Marty blurted out.
George stopped and stared at him. “Did your mother tell you about that?”
Marty thinks fast. “Ya, she did, a while back.” It didn't feel right lying to any George
McFly, even this stranger, one who was obviously and technically not the father Marty
remembered.
Seeming to accept that answer George went on.
“After the dance I heard that Biff and his gang were looking for me, something about a
kid named Calvin Klein and something that he took from Biff. It sounded bad, and I couldn't
understand what that kid had to do with me, I barely knew him. Anyway, I managed to avoid
them for a few days but they finally caught up with me.”
He sat back and thought about those long gone days, then began to recount the
events. “I was riding my bike to go see Lorraine and they hit me by surprise, from behind,
with their car, knocking me off. Then, I was injured and couldn't get up to defend myself and
Biff and his gang started kicking me, demanding I tell them where Calvin Klein is. They were
crazy. How would I know where he was? I barely knew the kid. Biff kept going on about how
this Klein kid stole a book from him.”
Marty frowned. “A book?”
George confirmed, “A book.”
“Dad, what sort of book? I didn't even know Biff read books.”
George nodded. “Me either, but I think he said it was some kind of book about sports
scores and gambling. “
Marty nodded back, that made more sense.
“Anyway, I ended up in the hospital, and in this wheel chair ever since. You're mother
has taken care of me all these years.” He stared off into the distance, thinking of Lorraine.
“Poor woman, she's had it rough.”
“Poor woman,” Marty repeats, “Dad, you're in a wheel chair. Can you use your legs at
all?”
George is shocked by Marty's candor. “You've asked me that before and we discussed
it, son, what's going on with you?”
“I don't know!” Marty says in exasperated honesty. “I really don't!”
 Unexpectedly, Lorraine burst in, her eyes full of fire and tears, like wet hornets. “All
these years and you never told me! “ She exclaimed in outrage. “That bastard Tannen did
this to you? On purpose???”
George dropped his head, ashamed. “I never wanted you to know.”
Lorraine is furious. “Why didn't you want me to know, really? Is it because you knew
I'd take a gun and put a bullet in that bastard?”
“Mom!” Marty exclaimed shocked.
George threw his hands up, “Well ya!:” He sighed. “That's one good reason!”
Lorraine's eyes filled with tears. “You told me it was a hit and run driver. You lied to me
all these years, George, and meanwhile we've put up with that animal's shit and now I find
out, he's responsible for this...” she points at his wheel chair, “and all of.. THIS!” She
gestures at the house. She stormed out, crying.
“I'm sorry,” Marty apologized.
“It's okay, son, the truth had to come out some day, but I don't understand why you are
asking me this now.”
“I can't say just yet,” said Marty, “but I need to know one more thing, and this is
important.”
“Okay,” George agreed, looking more uncomfortable, wondering what Marty might ask
now.
“I need to know the exact location, date and time this happened.”

7. ANOTHER BIFF

Inside the Texaco Marty stood at the counter and handed Frank the credit card he
borrowed from Doc. Outside the Texaco, a mechanic pulled the DeLorean up to the front
entrance.
“That car has some interesting modifications.” Frank said, almost with suspicion as he
rang up the transaction.
“Ya,” Marty admitted, elusively, “they're mostly for looks though,” he lied.
“Looks?” Frank gave him a sideways glance. “It's seen some action too, found some
bullet holes, some buck shot.” He drops the buck shot on the counter. It clatters and rolls off
the counter onto Marty's feet. “And what's that contraption mounted to the back, if I didn't
know better I'd think it was a fusion reactor, and those interesting displays with the dates? ”
Marty laughed, a forced laugh, a nervous laugh. “Reactor? No..”
Suddenly, Marty sees Jennifer walking past the Texaco with a girl friend.
“Hey, hold that thought Frank,” he said as he darted for the door.
As he swung the door open and ran outside Jennifer glanced at him then went back to
her conversation.
“Jennifer!” Marty shouted.
 Both girls stopped and spun around. Surprised. Jennifer frowns and tenses up.
“Oh, man, Jennifer,” Marty said in relief as he ran up to her and tried to move close.
“Are you a sight for sore eyes.”
Jennifer stiffened more and backed up as he invades her private space for a hug.
He stopped in his tracks, seeing her demeanor.
“Wait,” Jennifer said, “I know you!”
Her friend looks at Jennifer as if she's crazy.
“You're that kid in that band?” Jennifer said. “The one that called themselves- what
was it?” There's an awkward pause.
Her friends eyes light up and she points, “the Spinwheels!”
Jennifer frowns. “No, that's not it. It's the Pinheads.”
“Ya, you know, it's me, Jennifer, it's my your... Marty.”
“My Marty?” Jennifer blushed and tries not to chuckle. “Since when?”
“In your dreams creep!” The girl with Jennifer has had enough. “Leave us alone!”
She grabbed Jennifer by the arm and dragged her away.
Marty stares after them, crestfallen.
Jennifer turns around, kind of smiling at him as her friend urged her onward.
“But.. we were supposed to go to the lake...” Marty mumbled sadly. “I can't believe you
could just forget me Jennifer.” His heart is broken. Of all the terrible things about this strange
new reality he had fallen into, this one was the worst. Jennifer didn't even know him. He
turned, and like a whipped puppy shuffled his feet back into the Texaco where Frank was
looking sympathetic.
“Struck out, huh kid?” Asked Frank as he entered.
Marty just nodded.
“Sorry, 'bout that, but hey, such is life, right.” “Women, can't live with 'em, pass the
beer nuts,” the mechanic said, handing him back his credit card and the receipt. “Heard that
one on cheers the other night.” He pointed to the receipt. “Sign here.”
“That car of yours looks like something out of a science fiction movie.” Frank said
bluntly.
Marty signed then said, “Look, I'm not supposed to say anything but I work for a movie
studio part time and that car is a prop for a movie... about time travel.” He chuckled nervously.
“I knew it!” Said Frank. “Who's movie? Is it Spielberg?”
Marty doesn't answer.
“It's gotta be Spielberg!”
“Look Frank,” Marty said, “I gotta get this thing back to the studio lot, I'm kind of in a
hurry.
Frank smiled. “Ya, I hear ya, there never seems to be enough hours in a day does
there?”
 Marty nodded wholeheartedly. “You have NO idea, “ he said. “Now, I trust this whole
thing about a movie and Spielberg is our little secret right? I mean, Frank, I could get fired.”
“Absolutely!” Frank agreed shaking his hand. “If you see Spielberg tell him I can do
mechanic work for him, if he ever needs it.”
“I'll try to remember.”
“I also do some acting on the side and I can do stunts and special effects,” the
mechanic added.
“I had NO idea,” said Marty, feigning to be impressed. “Great to know,” he said, as he
took the keys from Frank and hurried for the door. As he went out the front door he heard a
familiar voice.
“Hey BUTTHEAD!” He stopped in his tracks and sneered. It was Biff's voice... ?”
Marty turned toward the sound, a look of indignation on his face. “Are you talking to m...”
His sentence was cut off by the sight of Biff approaching on the sidewalk but it wasn't
the the Biff Marty knew. This Biff looked confident to the point of, well, like he owned
everything. He seemed as though he might spend most of his time in the gym too. His huge
frame was pumped with rippling muscle. He was dressed in a Magnum P.I./Miami Vice cross
look. Wool sport coat, Levi 501s, and a Hawaiian pattern t-shirt. The giant man stomped up
and towered over him.
“What's this I hear you and Doc Brown got something going on in my territory?”
Marty's eyes shift and narrow. “Your... territory?”
Biff grabs his shirt. “That's what I said, dumb ass, MY territory.”
Marty squares off.
“Woah, what's this?” He looked at Frank who had come out of the shop. Biff grins,
“Little upstart going to get physical with me? You want a piece of me little runt?”
Marty is too shocked by this new Biff to respond, he just stands there, holding his fist,
hesitating. “No I want the whole thing.” Marty said.
Biff squeezed the kid's shirt tightly, drew his huge fist up higher. Just then he sees a
cop approaching on the sidewalk. He relaxed his grip on Marty and just sort of smooths
Marty's shirt out as the cop walks past, looking. Biff smiles at the cop nervously.
The cop looks at Marty, who nods. “Hello officer.”
“Ya, hello officer,” said Biff as the cop continued to walk down the sidewalk.
Biff watched Marty's fist open and relax. “I didn't think so.” He said.
“Listen twerp, you know nothing happens in Hill Valley that I don't know about and I
know about everything! So, I hear Doc bought it last night. Messed with the wrong people.
Well the same thing is going to happen to you if you don't stay off my turf.”
Marty is confused. It sounded like Biff thought he was some sort of gangster movie.
Biff looked over at the DeLorean and sneered. What's that piece of shit, is that a
DeLorean?”
“No, it's a volkswagon,” Marty replied, curtly.
 “Don't get smart with me.” Biff warned. “I don't want no DeLoreans in Hill Valley, that
butthole Jack DeLorean owes me money, freakin' coke head.” A white 1985 Rolls Royce
pulls up and the passenger side doors open. There are three men dressed in 3 piece suits
wearing sunglasses. He recognizes them even though they are almost unrecognizable
dressed this way. It's Biff's henchmen. One of them is on an expensive looking car phone.
“Hey, Boss,” one of them says, “we got a situation down at the warehouse.”
“Give me a minute!” Biff snapped. He looked at Marty menacingly. “You're lucky, runt,
I have bigger fish to fry and you're just a tadpole.”
“Actually, Biff, a tadpole is a frog not a fish.”
“I don't need a chemistry lesson from a guppy.” Biff growled, pointing at Marty as he
walked away. “I'll break you in half.” Biff stomped over to his car. He stopped before getting
in. “Stay out of my territory punk, or else.”
He looks at the DeLorean again. “...And I don't want to see that piece of crap around
here again.”
Marty just stares at him, not intimidated.
“Oh,” Biff said as he jumps into the back of the car without opening the door, “and, say
hello to your mom for me, give her a big kiss from uncle Biff, will ya?”
They all laugh and drive off with Marty staring after them, dazed.
Frank came up to Marty and whispered. “That guy is bad news, kid, you need to stay
away from him.”
Marty scoffed. “Who, him? He's an asshole.”
Frank looks at Marty gravely, “That may be so, but that guy is serious trouble. He runs
Hill Valley! Some say he's more dangerous than Al Capone!”
“Capone?” Marty scoffs again. “Tannen?”
Frank shakes his head. “Be careful kid, that guy will bury you in the desert in a
heartbeat.”
Marty looked down the street as Biff and his henchmen slowed down to hoot and holler
at a beautiful woman crossing the street in her aerobics uniform on her way to Lou's Aerobic
Studio. He shook his head. “Thanks for the advice,” he said to Frank as he moved to the
driver's side of the DeLorean, keys in hand. “But if I have my way, in a few hours THAT guy
won't be around anymore.”
Frank shook his head as Marty pulled away. “Poor kid,” he said to himself, “thinks he's
in a movie.”

8. ANOTHER GEORGE MCFLY

Marty pulled into the driveway of the McFly residence in the DeLorean. He stopped,
got out, opened the garage door, and pulled the DeLorean in. He then closed the door behind
him, flipping on the light. He stared at it.
“Okay, Doc, I'm coming. It's another promise to you I can't seem to keep.”
He reached in the trunk and pulled out the radiation suit and donned it. He went to the
back of the garage, reached down and moved some old boxes. Buried there underneath is
the plutonium case. He dragged it out gently and opened it. Then he took a plutonium vial
from the case and loaded it into the fusion chamber. When he finished he took the suit off
and stood there looking at the DeLorean.
“Something tells me if I do this, I could be destroying the galaxy, or universe, or
something like that, but my universe is already destroyed.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The front door to the McFly residence opened and Marty wheeled George out toward
the garage.
“I don't know what this is all about, but you're starting to scare me,” said George as his
son pushed him along hurriedly.
“I'll explain it all in a minute,” Marty said.
When they got to the open garage door, George saw the DeLorean and he looked
surprised.
“A DeLorean?”
“Not just any DeLorean.”
“Is it Doc's?”
“Uh huh.”
“How does it drive?” Asked George excitedly. He looked wistfully at the car. “I never
got to drive, that's one of my biggest regrets.”
Marty pushed George into the garage.
“Dad, listen, I don't have much time... well actually I have as much time as I want,”
Marty corrected himself, “maybe I have too much time.”
George laughed, “you're starting to sound like Doc Brown now.”
“Listen, Dad,” Marty got in front of George, knelt down and grabbed his father by both
arms, “what I'm about to tell you is going to sound crazy, but I swear it's all true.”
George truly looked nervous, but he waited, as Marty braced himself.
“I'm a time traveler and that,” he points at the car, “is my time machine.”
George stared at his son with growing eyes. He stared at the DeLorean, taking it in as
if for the first time as well. The light of understanding was clearly dawning. He said not a
word. Just stared from Marty, to the car, back and forth.
“I don't know what to say about that,” said George
“I know,” Marty said, “It sounds ridiculous, but I swear Dad!”
“You didn't let me finish, said George. “I don't know what to say about that,” he
repeated but then he added, “except, I know!”
Marty was taken aback. He stopped and stared at George the way George had been
staring at him a few moments ago.
“You know?” Echoed Marty in amazement. “But how?”
George shook his head. “I never could put my finger on it before. I thought I was losing
my mind but as you grew into a teenager you started to look familiar to me and I couldn't quite
place it but then, one day I saw an old newspaper article from 1955 about the dance and it
had a picture of a kid I knew once, that Calvin Klein kid I told you about that Biff was looking
for.”
Marty stood back, still in shock, beginning to grasp everything George was saying.
“I know it was you Marty. I guess maybe I've always known, but I didn't know how.”
“Who Dad?” Marty asks totally confused. “Who was me?”
“You know...” says George slyly, “Calvin Klein.” He laughs. “That kid... “ He pauses,
“...YOU... were always a little strange and he, you, seemed to have this obsession about me
and your mother. I can't forget his... YOU'RE face! I thought I was losing my mind but you
look just like him, and he insisted on being called 'Marty, too!” George looked away, distant.
“It explains so much.
He looked back at his son. “Actually, it explains everything.”
Marty shook his head. “Dad, that doesn't make any sense, if I'm that guy, that Calvin
guy, don't you think I'd remember?”
“I don't know how it works, son,” George said, wheeling over to him, “Maybe time travel
messes with your head a little, screws up your memory, I have no idea, but I remember you in
1955, you were there!”
Marty looks away in complete helplessness. “If only Doc were here, he might be able
to explain all this.”
George thought about this more. “I almost accused your mother once of staying in
touch with that Calvin kid.” He chuckled nervously. “When you looked so much like him.”
“I thought maybe you were his kid.”
“Dad!” Marty gasped.
“I know, I sure as hell am glad I didn't accuse her of that!”
“Dad,” Marty jumped in, “it doesn't matter anyway. I need to tell you the rest. You're
not supposed to be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like this!” Marty gestured at the wheel chair. “In my reality you play tennis, you are a
golfer, hell, you almost went pro!”
George looked at him disbelieving.
Marty got an idea. He went to the DeLorean and pulled out the JVC GR-C1U Movie
Recorder he always borrowed from Doc Brown. “I can prove it to you,” he said, as he looked
at the pop out electronic viewfinder display. He began rewinding to the dinner the night
before. “I have it on film. You... the other you, the you not in a wheel chair.”
When he got to the spot on the recording where is the McFly family dinner he couldn't
believe his eyes. The film was changed. The dinner appeared to have been going on
exactly as it did before, except George is in a wheel chair, Lorraine is in a bath robe at the
dinner table, looking depressed, Dave is in a UPS uniform, and the house looked the same as
it did now. Marty was beside himself.
He snapped the viewfinder back, frustrated. “I HAD it on film” he said sadly, putting the
camera down in the DeLorean.
He started to pace. “I was only in 1955 for a few minutes,” he rambled on quickly. You
couldn't have met me there. Still, somehow, despite all that, I changed things back there, in
1955. I don't know how it could happen. I went back there, came right straight home,
immediately, just like Doc told me to do if I ever got stuck in the time machine somewhere, or
some when. After I got back, though, I found you like this. In my world you write short
stories, articles, NOVELS!”
George seemed to be having trouble processing this.
“Dad, in my world you're a damned hero, everyone in Hill Valley loves you! And Biff,
well Biff isn't a thug where I come from, he's a marshmallow!”
George shook his head. “That sounds too good to be true, son, you're not pulling my
leg?” He smiled staring at his legs.
“ That's not funny, Dad,” Marty said exasperated.
“It's a little funny,” argued George.
“This is serious,” insisted Marty. “I don't know how the HELL everything got so messed
up, but listen, I'm going back there, I swear to you, I'll find out and I'll fix it. I'll fix everything. I
don't even know why I'm telling you this since, if I succeed in my plan I doubt you'll even be
here, at least not like this.” Marty kept talking a mile a minute. “I guess I just needed
someone to talk to, and maybe I'm only telling you all of this in case I don't succeed. In case I
fail and I never make it back. There's still TIME Dad, you can still write that first novel, you
can still make something of yourself. I know for a fact you got it in you!”
Still reeling from the part about if Marty succeeds George “won't be here,” George
didn't look like he approved. “Now wait a minute kid, I'm no expert on time travel but I've read
lots of science fiction on the subject. It seems to me you can't just go meddling around in the
space time continuum. You can't just go jumping around in the past in a time machine like it's
some kind of skateboard park. Changing the past to suit you.”
“I realize that Dad,” Marty said. He knelt again, putting his hand on his Dad's shoulder.
“Don't you think I know that? Doc warned me about all of this before he died, but I have to fix
this, I have to put this right. Somehow this is all my fault! He stopped, looking away distantly.
But I have no clue how.”
George grabbed his hand. “I am sorry, son, but you don't know that. Not for sure.”
“Okay,” Marty agreed, “but I'm pretty sure. It's the only thing that makes sense.
Something I did back in 1955 created this crazy upside down reality where Biff is Al Capone,
you're in a wheel chair, and Jennifer doesn't even know me!”
“Jennifer,” inquired George.
“Ya,” said Marty, “Jennifer Parker. In my world she's my girlfriend.
“Ah, Jennifer PARKER,” George seems impressed You've always had a secret crush
on her but you never had the balls to ask her out before!”
 “See what I mean, Dad?” Marty is exasperated. “I don't know for sure what I did, but I
have to fix this!”
George shook his head again, in objection. “So don't you think you should find out
before you go driving back into the past to poking around there blindly?”
Marty shook his head. “Yes, I probably should but I have no idea how to figure it out, I
need Doc Brown, and I need him ALIVE.”
George realized then what Marty was planning and he liked it even less. “Ah, now hold
on son, you're planning to go back and change what happened last night aren't you?”
“Well, technically it was this morning, but ya, I don't believe that Doc is supposed to be
dead!”
“Marty!” George said as if he saw Marty about to stick his hand in the cookie jar where it
doesn't belong.
“Dad, somehow his death is connected to the same events that led to this, nightmare
world where you're in a wheel chair and Biff is some sort of Mafioso running Hill Valley.”
“I can assure you, son, this is no nightmare world, it could be a lot worse!” George
objected again.
Marty shook his head. “Anyway, Dad, I'm going to go back to 1955 and find Doc.
Together I bet we can figure out what changed everything. While I'm there I'll warn him about
the Libyans, I can save him from being shot.”
George shook his had again. “I don't like this, Marty, it sounds like you are trying to
play God, trying to control the universe with this time machine of yours.”
“Not control, Dad, I'm only trying to fix what I broke.”
“You say tomato.. it sounds like you could make things even worse.”
“It's possible, but I can't just leave you here like this!”
George looked at Marty. “Son, I'm okay, things didn't turn out too bad, I still have your
mother and you kids and this wheel chair, it's a minor inconvenience, but the ladies DIG it,” he
smiled facetiously, “and I can still kick the crap out of you in a tennis match.”
Marty laughs. “Ya, I bet, with that unfair advantage of those wheels.”
They laughed together.
“There's no way I can talk you out of this?” George asked.
Marty shook his head. “It's the only way. I won't let what Biff did to you stand, I'm
going to fix it, and I'm going to fix that sonofabitch once and for all if I get a chance.”
George looked horrified. “Don't start taking things into your own hands, son, violence
never solved anything!”
Marty patted him on the hand. “I'm not talking about violence,” he assured his father,
“I'm just talking about a good ole fashioned butt whooping.”
George frowned.
Marty continued, “I'm just going to try and set things back the way they were, as much
as I can remember about how you and mom TOLD me the way things were, anyway. If I
succeed, you'll be back to normal and this conversation will never have happened. You won't
remember it.”
George eyed his son. “I can see you're growing up to be your own man. I can't help
but be proud of you son! Even though, I'm quite certain that has to be a law against time
traveling and changing the past to suit yourself.”
“Doubt it dad,” said Marty, since technically time travel was just invented early this
morning.”
“Well, maybe there should be a law against it,” George said. “But still, I am proud.”
“Thanks Dad,” said Marty. He hugged George. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Well it's true,” says George.
“Now push me back in, it's getting hot out here.” George ordered.
Marty started pushing George back to the house.
“Oh, and Dad,” he said hesitantly, as he did , “I kind of forgot something. There's
another me here in 1985.”
“Another you?” George echoed.
“Ya he's the one that got arrested. He might be the Marty you know, the Marty you
raised and I'm sure he's wondering why you guys haven't rescued him from the FBI yet or at
least haven't tried to contact him .”
George slammed on his brake. “So you're saying that you're not the Marty I raised and
my real son is in jail? You tell me this now, after I hugged you and everything?”:
Marty looks at him then realizes he's messing with him. George grins slyly.
“Dad, it's not that simple but it is simple at the same time. I'm your son but I was raised
by the other George McFly, the author!”
“Oh, ya, simple,” George said sarcastically.
Marty looked at him, and realized the man was just messing with him again.
“Not funny... George.”
“Oh, so now it's George and not DAD. I KNEW IT.” George chuckled.
Marty released the brake and started pushing him again.
“So what happens to me if you do all this changing in the past? Do I disappear?”
“No Dad!.. Well, I don't know!”
“Well that really sucks!”
“I know!” Said Marty as he backed George into the house. “I'm sorry. Maybe you
don't disappear, maybe this is some sort of alternate reality and when I change things back to
the way they are I return to my reality and this one just goes on as it is. Maybe the Marty here
belongs here. I don't know. I hope Doc can clear things up.”
“Okay,” said George shaking his hand, “Good luck to you. I guess. And I hope I don't
erase yourself or something once you leave here in that machine.”
“Me too,” agrees Marty, “I kinda like this George McFly.” They shared one last long
look before Marty turned away and left.
 George watched him from the screen door as he sprinted to the DeLorean.
In the garage, Marty got in, closed the wing door, pulled out and took off down the
road, without looking back.
George still watched, half expecting to see the DeLorean suddenly disappear into a
cloud of smoke or something. He had no idea how that time machine worked.
“Bye Calvin.” George muttered as the DeLorean drove away.
Then he turned around and shouted to Lorraine. “Call the lawyer, Marty's in jail again.”
“What?” Lorraine yelled from somewhere in the house.
“Just like Uncle JOEY!” Dave's voice could be heard saying from another part of the
house.
“Shut up, Dave!” Both George and Lorraine yelled in unison.
 9. ANOTHER DRAG RACE

Marty pulled up to an intersection, in front of the Hilldale housing development. His

intention was to get far out of town before he made the time jump. However, as he sat there
looking at Hilldale, a truck pulled up to the left of him. Marty looked over and it was Needles
and his gang driving a red, souped up Ford pickup. They motioned for him to roll down the
window. He did.
“Nice WHEELS, McFly,” said Needles. Where'd you get them?”
“It's borrowed,” replied Marty.
Needles looked back at the fusion generator modifications. “It looks like you've done
some things to it!”
“Not me, someone else.”
“Is it fast?”
“It's faster than the speed of light,” Marty doesn't lie.
Needles revved his engine. “Put your money where your mouth is McFly, let's see
what she can do!”
Marty rolls his eyes, “No thanks, I've got somewhere to be.”
“What are you, McFly, chicken?” Asks Needles.
Marty got mad. Really mad. No one calls him chicken.
“Okay, but I get the outside.”
Marty threw the DeLorean into reverse, burned rubber, whipped back and then around
the truck ending up on the left side of the truck. He wasn't even sure why he did it, he just
thought it would look cool.
Needles and his gang were hooting and jumping around and Needles revved his
engine again. The truck obviously had some real power because it rocked left to right as
Needles power breaked.
Marty revved the DeLorean and it sounded, well, sad in comparison. They laughed
harder.
The light changed and they were off. Marty dropped down in low and surprisingly the
car kept up rather well for a few feet but then the more powerful truck easily pulled away with
them laughing hysterically. He continued to accelerate, knowing that they are in for a real
shock when he hit 88 mph.
As they raced, Marty input the destination into the keypad. The display destination
changed to November 14, 1955.
By now, the truck had blown way past Marty. As he looked up from inputting the
destination, his mouth dropped from a smile to a look of fear. A white Rolls Royce was pulling
out from the next intersection, right into the path of Needles' truck. It was Biff Tannen's Rolls
Royce.
Needles, unable to react in time, t-boned the Rolls Royce.
 Marty didn't slow down, he kept accelerating and as he passed the accident he looked
over to see that Biff appeared to have been driving this time and he was screaming angrily.
Apparently unharmed. Everyone seemed to be okay, except Needles, who was slumped over
the steering wheel, apparently, unconscious.
Both vehicles, however, were obviously totaled.
Marty blew past them and a few moments later he hit 88 mph. He was gone, his tires
leaving the familiar flame trails. He knew he shouldn't have done the time jump in front of
those idiots but who would believe them anyway? Besides, he was going to change all this
and none of this will have happened... he hoped.
“I hope I succeed,” he said to himself as he time jumped, “I have to succeed.”

10. ANOTHER TRIP TO 1955

In 1955 on the Hill Valley paved roads on the outskirts of the town they were largely
viewed as “highways.” They were built and maintained by the State, to further commerce.
Most of the time they sat empty. Which was good for Marty.
On one of these quiet, rarely frequented roads there was silence except the sounds of
birds chirping and crickets. There was nothing on either side of this road but an occasional
tree. Suddenly there were a few small explosions and flashes and the DeLorean appeared,
breaking the silence. It screeched to a halt in the middle of the road.
Marty made himself relax. This was his third jump and they were always nerve
racking. The time circuit was blinking. He looked around outside and was happy to see that
he was right in choosing this particular road for his jump.
“There's nothing here yet,” he congratulated himself. He glanced at the time.
“I've got 24 hours to prepare, he told himself. First, I have an old friend to visit.”
The thought had originally occurred to him that all he really had to do was arrive early
enough on the night Doc died to warn him in advance, but after giving that a lot of thought he
realized he would be interacting with Doc right before Doc actually tested the time machine,
which would have ruined the need to test the time machine. Marty's mind reeled at the
paradoxes this would create. Plus, he also knew that Doc would not approve of his coming
back here to 1955 to stop his father from ending up in a wheel chair.
No, this was the only possible way Marty could think of to fix everything.
He threw the car in gear and took off. In his eagerness the tires squealed a little. The
DeLorean sped down the road towards town. There's something Marty didn't know about
1955, however. Because vehicles were not as fast in that time period, speed limits were
lower. He also didn't know that most outlying roads were speed traps. If he had known these
things he might have watched his speed a little closer.
He crossed an intersection and a moment later a police car pulled out from behind a
group of bushes. It's lights flashing. It gave chase.
Marty looked behind him and saw the police car. “Oh SHIT! What now?”
He considered running.
 “I wonder if that cop cars could do 90 in 1955?” He wondered out loud.
Not knowing the capabilities of a 1955 police car Marty opted to try and con his way
through this. He slowed down and pulled over, with the police car coming up behind. He put
his head on the steering wheel, with a deep sigh.
He sat there inside the DeLorean, with the cop car, lights still flashing, sitting directly
behind him for what seemed like an eternity. The officer in the car did not get out. He looked
at the display. Time was a ticking.
“What is he DOING?” Marty grumbled.
Then, it dawned on him that this might just be the same officer who witnessed his
earlier time jump, when he was being chased by the gun toting locals. He began to get more
and more nervous the more time went on.
He also realized that the officer may be using his radio to call in the license plates. The
1985 license plates.
“This was a really bad idea,” he scolded himself.
A voice emitted from the police car, over it's megaphone. “Turn off the vehicle.”
Marty started to sweat. If he ran this could turn into a big ordeal with numerous cop
cars chasing a time machine through Hill Valley. He was certain Doc would not want that.
He still grappled with the desire to just throw the DeLorean in gear and run. How was
he going to talk himself out of this? He finally sighed and the law abiding citizen in him won
over. He turned off the engine.
“Step out of your vehicle with your hands up,” the tinny voice over the microphone said.
Crestfallen and defeated, Marty opened the wing doors, wondering what the officer
back there would do when he saw the door swing up instead of out like every car in existence
in 1955. The door hissed open, otherworldly.
Marty stepped out, his hands in the air, trying his best to look as harmless as possible.
There was another few awkward moments as the officer looked Marty over.
“Probably looking for antenna, or tentacles on me” Marty mumbled to himself.
Finally the officer opened his car door and stepped out with his weapon drawn.
“Is that necessary?” Marty called out to the policeman.
Then, he heard sirens in the distance, approaching. The officer had called for backup.
“Backup,” Marty mumbled, “of course he called for backup... great, just perfect!”
“I'm not an alien!” He called to the policeman.
“ Just stay right there,” the officer warned, “don't you move a muscle.”
 11. HILL VALLEY BLUES

The Hill Valley police station in 1955 looked like something right out of the Andy Griffith
show. It was a red brick building with a dispatch office for a lobby and past that, inside the
facility an open office with three desks, one for the sheriff and one each for his two deputies.
At the aft of the facility were the two holding cells adjacent to each other and the rest room
facilities.
Deputy Sheriff Bill McCallister sat at his desk typing with two fingers on an old
keyboard, his tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
Another deputy, Ray Benson, approached Bill's desk carrying something, and Bill
doesn't look up, as if almost he can't be interrupted from the grueling job of typing 5 words
per minute.
“I don't understand kids these days,” said Deputy Benson, “this one has a fake I.D.
that says he isn't even born yet.” He threw the license on the desk in front of Deputy
McCallister face up, we see it's Marty's I.D.
“You were there when we arrested him, he said he works for a movie studio and it's a
prop.” McCallster reminded Benson without even looking up from his typewriter.
“Yes, and I called the Studio,” Benson said with a slight hint of irritation, “they never
heard of him!”
“Hmm, what a surprise.” Officer Bill picks it up and reads out loud. “Date of Birth
1968?” Tosses it back down. “Okay, so he's a time traveler, I wonder what the penalty is for
speeding and driving without a valid license in 1968?”
Benson, who is clearly the officer that Marty encountered that first night, when he was
being chased, continued to complain about him, “he told me at first he didn't even have a
license.”
McCallister chuckled, going back to his paperwork. “And he wasn't lying either, that
one is crap.”
Benson stared over at the cell where sat Marty on the bunk, head down, looking
despondent.
“What in the world is that kid up to?” Benson hissed. “Did you see that vehicle,” he
leaned forward on the desk, almost whispering to McCallister. “It's like something out of
science fiction theater?” Then he did whisper. “You weren't there that night Bill! That thing
came out of nowhere and then just flew off, leaving a trail of fire and smoke!”
McCallister glared at Benson coldly. “I thought you weren't smoking that stuff anymore,
you know it makes you paranoid, and kind of crazy. “ Then his gaze joined Benson's toward
Marty.
“I'll give him an A for originality anyway. McCallister remarked, “I don't know what he's
up to, but he's got imagination! Maybe it's some sort of prank. Half the county knows you
believe in little green men, maybe someone is messing with you.”
Ray frowned deeply at this. “I hope not,” he said, “for their sakes, cuz I might start
busting heads!”
 McCallister glared at him.
“You'll do no such thing. Don't you think you should get back out on patrol? I don't
think his time traveling friends are going to come any time soon to get him. Although, that
vehicle has a fake registration card in the glove box with the name of that crazy scientist
fellow out there past Maple Drive! Maybe HE invented it and it really IS a time machine.”
Ray laughed. “Ya, you're right, I'm not biting.” He stood, sniffed deeply, straightened
his holster, threw his shoulders back and walked out.
Marty had been watching them when they weren't looking. It was fascinating because
there was something about this duo that reminded him of Sheriff Taylor and Barney Fife.
“Great,” said Marty dryly, “I'm stuck in Mayberry.”
After a while McCallister left too, and Marty began pacing back and forth inside the cell.
After an hour or so, Bill McCallister entered the office again, and looked right at him. Marty
sat down and put his head down again. McCallister just frowned and came toward the cell.
“Okay, kid, so, you're license says you were born in 1968 and live on a street that doesn't
exist in a house that isn't built yet but is scheduled to be built next year. “
Marty get nervous, wondering how he knew that.
McCallister, reading Marty correctly explains, “I checked with the realty office.”
McCallister went over to his desk, grabbed his chair, and wheeled it over to the cell. “You're
license also says your name is McFly, not “Maxwell Smart” like you told my partner when he
pulled you over.
Marty tried not to chuckle at his own joke.
“We have a family by the name of McFly here in Hill Valley,” continued the deputy, “I
called them. They never heard of you, although they said they had an uncle by that name.”
“No relation” said Marty abruptly, nervously. “I'm not from around here.”
The Deputy looked him up and down, scrutinizing his odd apparel. “Ya, no kidding.”
“Don't I get a lawyer or a phone call or something?” Asked Marty.
Officer Bill stared at him in frustration.
“Okay, son, have it your own way. You get ONE phone call but I don't have to give it to
you right away. Someone's looking at your car right now, it's in impound, and somehow, I
have a feeling there's going to be more questions soon enough.” I can hold you for 48 hours
without charging you.” He tapped on the bars. “You better get used to these bars kid.”
“Please tell them to be careful with my car.” Marty pleaded. “It has some delicate
experimental equipment from Detroit on board.”
“You mean your DMC?”
“Yes, officer that's what I said, my car.”
“It's interesting, that car matches the description of an odd vehicle that crashed into the
old Peabody farm about a week ago and also early this morning. You wouldn't know anything
about that either, would you?”
Marty shakes his head.
 McCallister's eyes bored right through him as the tapped his pen on his clip board. “I
didn't think so,” He replied sarcastically. “IF and when you get out you can reclaim it as long
as you have the fine and the tow charge. I looked through your wallet, all I found was play
money with dates on them like 1980. I don't think ole Frank is going to take monopoly
money.”
“Frank?” The name surprised Marty. “Your tow truck driver's name is Frank?”
“Ya,” replied officer Bill, Frank Senior, “you know him?”
Marty shakes his head. “Not yet anyway.”
At that the deputy slightly turned his head and frowned. “You're a strange kid.”
“Thanks,” said Marty, facetiously. Which only made Bill McCallister frown harder.
The Deputy got up, spun his chair back to it's place behind the desk, gave Marty one
last long look, then turned and exited the office again, shaking his head as he went.
Marty sat back down on the bunk, pulled his legs up, wrapped his arms around his
them, then rested his head on his knees.

* * * * * * * * * *

Through the tiny window of the jail cell Marty could see that the sun was now setting.
He'd been in that cell all day. He was once again pacing, even more vigorously. He stopped
at the front bars. (Hollering) Hello! Is anyone out there? I still didn't get my phone call!
There's no response. The pacing started over. As he did he was wondering who he
would call anyway. Doc Brown? The Doc Brown in 1955 doesn't even know him.
A lonely train whistle was blowing and now moved off, fading into the distance. The
mournful sound cut right into Marty's heart and matched his mood. He sat down against the
wall under the window and began to hum. Then it turned into singing.
His own version of “Folsom Prison Blues.”
I hear the train a-comin, it's rolling 'round the bend
And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when
The folks in Hill Valley don't seem to know I'm here
That whistle seems to tell me, soon I'll disappear

He heard the entrance to the jail house open and he paused. He could hear some
voices in the dispatch area. He started his song again.

When I was just a baby my mama told me, Son,

When you're grown up I want you to have fun.
 But I got stuck in Hill Valley back in ole 1955
When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry

The door to the office opened and Benson emerged leading a drunken man all dressed
in black, carrying a guitar strapped to his back.

Marty kept singing. Somehow he couldn't help himself. He was on a roll.

see the rich folks eating in that fancy dining car
They're probably drinkin' coffee and eatin' caviar
Now I ain't crying envy and I ain't crying for me
It's just that I have seen things that they ain't never seen
If I owned that lonesome whistle, if that railroad train was mine
I bet I'd ride it on a little farther down the line
Far from Hill Valley that's where I need to stay
And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away

While Marty was singing the officer helped the man into his cell. His head was down
the whole time and a black cowboy hat obscured his face. He seemed drunk enough to
barely walk. The song echoed it's final notes in the walls as Benson helped the man take the
guitar off his back and lay down.
“I'll just set this right here, Johnny,” said Benson to the man as he propped the guitar
up in the corner.
Marty figured this guy must be a local, and probably well liked, if they were going to let
him keep his guitar in jail with him.
The man said nothing back. He just laid his head back and tilted his hat down over his
eyes.
Marty stared out the window into the darkness. Trying to see, what, he didn't know.
“Can you sing that little diddy for me again?” The man asked without moving.
It was dark in the cells now, the light from the office wasn't very strong back there.
Marty couldn't really see the guy well, even if he wasn't hiding his face in his hat, but still there
was something familiar about the voice and about the man. He moved closer to the man's
cell and peered in, straining his eyes.
The man rolled over, and pulled his hat back to reveal his features. “That sounded real
good, son, I'd like to hear it agin.”
Marty's eyes expanded to saucer size when he finally recognized the man in the cell
next to his. “You're... you're... you're JOHNNY CASH!” Marty gushed. He could see the man
better now and before him lay the youngest version of Johnny Cash he'd ever lain eyes on.
The man finally sat upright. Somewhat surprised himself.
 “Ya, that's my name, son, how'd you know that?”
“I, I, know you're music,” Marty said, instantly realizing he was messing up. He
shouldn't be there and certainly should not be interacting with Johnny freakin' Cash. Doc
would NOT approve. He decided to say no more and moved away, turning his back and
facing out the window again.
“You do?” The man sounded pleased. “I hadn't realized the young people still liked my
kinda sound, although, I do love the rhythm and blues. You're too young for the honky tonks,
so I guess you heard us at the County Fair?
He got up and grabbed his guitar from the corner, moved back to the bunk, sat down
and started strumming some 12 bar blues.
Marty couldn't believe the coincidence. He was singing Folsom Prison Blues and in
walked Johnny Cash himself.
“So, let's see,” Johnny was almost talking to himself, “how did that diddy go?” He
thought for a second then, slowly, one chord at a time, played the exact guitar hook intro for
the song Folsom Prison Blues, then started strumming the first E chord to the rhythm of the
song as Marty remembered it.
Marty couldn't help it, he turned away from the window and watched the great
legendary Johnny Cash as he wrote the music for Fulsom Prison Blues.
Johnny nodded at Marty. “Go ahead, belt it out.”
Marty shyly began to sing his version of the song, “Hill Valley Blues.” After the first
chorus, however, Johnny stopped playing.
“That's a good song but it sounds a bit familiar.” Johnny concentrated. “I think I heard
Gordon Jenkins and Beverly Mahr sing a blues song like that.” He considers this a while
longer. Then shook his head. “Doesn't matter, blues are the blues. I would sing it a bit
different though to make it more marketable.” He started to play it again, this time he
launched into the first verse, “I hear a train a comin' it's comin' round the bend, and I ain't
seen the sunshine since I don't know when, well I'm stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps
draggin' on...”
Marty was beside himself as Johnny worked out the material that will make him
famous. “I can't believe I'm watching Johnny Cash write Folsom Prison Blues” Marty
muttered, his eyes glittering with joy. “Gotta hand it to you Doc,” he said, whispering to the
air, “time travel is pretty damned cool!”
When Johnny got to the part where the solo would be he just played the rhythm
chords. Marty, in the moment, uses his voice to mimic the lead solo of the guitar, while air
guitaring, getting right into the moment.
Johnny Cash tapped his foot, nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear and continued
to play the rhythm.
Marty hummed out the entire lead solo of the song and Johnny stopped.
“That's pretty damned good ole son! You play?”
Marty, blushing, looked down. “I play a little.”
“We got to get together then, when we get outa here! “ Johnny told him with sincerity,
with enthusiasm. “You can show that little lick to my lead guitarist, if you don't mind?”
 “Oh,” said Marty, “I have a feeling he probably can come up with the same thing on his
own. I'm pretty sure about that.”
Johnny thought it through and then shrugged. “Maybe, does sort of sound along his
style.”
“You're amazing, kid,” said Cash. “What's your name?
“It's Mar...” he stopped, catching himself. “Just call me Mac.”
Johnny Cash got up and, still shaky on his feet, stumbled slightly over to Marty's side
of his cell. He reached his hands through the bars.
Marty shook his hand, with stars in his eyes
“Name's J.R.” said Johnny, “but, as you already know, my friends just can call me
“Johnny.”
McCallister entered the office, looking irritated.
“That sounded real sweet but I gotta take that guitar Mr. Cash, Benson never shoulda
let you keep it. The sheriff will have my ass if he catches you with it in there.”
Johnny frowned, looking down at his guitar.
The deputy opened the cell and reached out for it.
Johnny reluctantly handed it over, slowly. “Take good care of her, now, we go back a
ways, me an' Lucille. She's German royalty by descent so be a gentleman.”
“Will do,” said the deputy as he took Lucille, handling her with respect.
After the deputy was gone Johnny turned back to Marty.
“I'm going to get out of here any minute now, how 'bout you?”
“I don't know,” replied Marty, “I haven't even got my phone call.”
“You don't need one,” said Johnny, “you're with me now and I have some clout around
here.”
“Ya, I can see that,” Marty said, looking around him at the cells they were in. He just
couldn't help his sarcastic tone, even with someone like Johnny Cash.
Johnny laughed out loud. “You're funny kid, I like you!”

12. READ MY MIND NO NEW TIME TRAVEL

A line of three cars pulled up and stopped in front of a stately mansion, designed in the
classic California American Arts and Craftsman architecture. It was designed by brothers
Charles Sumner Greene and Henry Mather Greene of the architectural firm Greene and
Greene between the years of 1908–09 for the Von Braun's. It was now known as “the Brown
Estate.” Located at 1640 Riverside Drive, (Marty had got the address from the phone book at
Lou's diner), it was a three story home, built using traditional Japanese asthetics.
There were a few lights on in the mansion and a light glowed on the front porch.
The three vehicles came to a stop and the rear passenger door of the lead vehicle
opened. Marty stepped out.
Johnny Cash poked his head out, then his arm, and shook Marty's hand. “You got my
number now,” Johnny said as he did so.
Marty nodded.
“Don't hesitate to call me son, if you change your mind about going out on the road
with us.”
“You haven't even heard me play” Marty smiled.
Johnny shook his head. “Don't need to, I got a feel for this. You're destined for great
things kid!”
Marty smiled a sad smile, doubting it now, considering his current predicament.
“Thanks,” he said, nonetheless.
Johnny nodded back and then ducked back into his car and closed the door behind
him.
Marty stood and watched as the cars circled around the drive and pulled away.
Everyone in all three vehicles rolled down their windows and waved at him and he
waved back. They all looked very familiar to Marty.
As they drove away, Marty turned and headed for the front door of the Brown Estate.
“I gotta hurry,” Marty said to himself, “I don't have much time and now I don't have a
time machine either.”
Marty walked up and knocked on the front door. He waited for what seems like a very
long time. To the left he saw a curtain rustle, as if someone peeked out. Then without
warning the door swung swiftly open wide and a very young looking Doc Brown appeared.
His expression could be described as furious. On his head was some sort of contraption. A
sort of metal half sphere with what looked like Christmas tree lights decorating it.
Doc Brown glared at him in a most ugly fashion.
“Marty!” Doc asked him, in a scolding tone, “what are you doing here?”
Marty was taken aback, shocked.
“You know me?”
Doc looked around outside, as if to make sure no one was watching. He saw the tail
lights of the Cash entourage down near the end of his driveway and looked even more upset.
“Did someone follow you here?”
Marty followed his gaze down the driveway.
“No, that was my ride.”
Doc frowned deeply, then dragged Marty into the house and closed the door behind
them.
This was the first time Marty had actually seen the Brown estate except in the
newspaper articles from 1962 that hung on the wall in Doc's workshop, which recounted the
fire of 1955 which had destroyed it.
 The interior rooms were built using multiple types of wood, including teak, maple, oak,
and mahogany. There was a wooden panel in the entry hall which Doc had once mentioned
led to the kitchen. Doc had described this place so many times Marty felt at home there. He
knew there was a main staircase, and just before that another panel, adorned with ebony
keys that opened to closet space Doc had said the rooms had a low horizontal shape which,
because of the natural light that filtered through the art glass windows made the entire interior
glow a reddish gold.
Doc had often said, quite fondly that the Estate commanded a “grand and stately, yet
earthy presence.” Marty could now see that he hadn't been exaggerating at all! It really was
quite impressive and Marty found himself saddened to know it was going to be destroyed, and
this very year.
“Of course I KNOW YOU, what kind of question is that?” Doc unstrapped the
contraption on his head and pulled it off.
“What the hell was that on your head?” Marty couldn't help but ask.
Doc stared at him like he had lost his mind. “That's my thought reader, Marty, we've
had this conversation before!” Doc then moved his face closer to Marty as if examining his
pupils. “What's going on with you Marty, are you messing with me?”
“A thought reader?” Marty is startled. “So that's how you know who I am, you invented
a thought reader?”
Doc scoffed and shook his head. “That's not funny, Marty.” He turned away and
placed the gaudy contraption on his work bench.
“Marty, I have no idea what you are doing here this time,” Doc scolded him some more,
“but you can forget it, I'm done helping you out of these time jams!”
Marty is once again stunned. “This time? Doc, what are you talking about, this is my
first time, it's not like I have a time travel hobby or something!”
Doc Brown stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Marty hard again, then he realized
this Marty was telling the truth!
“GREAT SSSSSCOTT!” He hissed.
Doc backed away from Marty like he was contagious.
“So you're not the Marty McFly who was here just yesterday, the one I sent back to
1885? Or the one that was here before that?”
Marty can't believe his ears. “1885?” He exclaimed in amazement. “No, Doc, I came
here in a time machine you built, I need your help...”
“To get back to the year 1985,” Doc interrupted him, sitting down on the couch, staring
blankly at nothing.
“No! Not that, I need your help to figure out what happened to my future.”
Doc looked at him hopefully. “So, you're not stranded here in 1955?”
Marty shook his head no, “I have PLENTY of plutonium! You put a whole case of it in
the DeLorean before I … left, well,not you, but the older, 1985 you!” Marty looks exhausted.
“Can I sit down? It's been a long day!”
Doc Brown looked somewhat relieved and apologetically motioned for him to sit next to
him on the lounger.
As Marty did so, worry creased Doc's forehead again. “Okay, so now you said there's
something wrong with your future? Even if that were so what in blue blazes am I going to do
about it?”
Marty, looking exasperated. “That's what I've been trying to tell you Doc. “I need a
chance to explain.”
“Okay Marty,” Doc gave in, but first a few ground rules.”
Marty nodded in agreement.
“DO NOT tell me ANYTHING about my own future, aside from the fact that I built that
infernal time contraption.” Doc began.
Marty nodded again.
“That's imperative!” Doc said gravely waving a finger. “I especially don't want to hear
anything about any disasters that might befall me on the night you came back to 1955, got it?”
Marty hesitated.
Doc glared at him waiting for him to agree.
“Okay,” Marty finally, and reluctantly gave in, “I think I can explain without telling you
what happened to you the morning I came back here.” Marty chose his words wisely.
“Wait,” Doc said holding up his hands. “I'm going to need some tea, I'm getting a
headache.”
When dock had finished with his tea he emerged through the hidden panel leading to
the kitchen. Marty had moved to the lounge chair. Doc set his tea on the coffee table after
taking one more sip, glaring at Marty like he was a ghost. He sat down on the couch, then he
laid down, placing on his forehead a cold compress he had brought with him. He listened,
seemingly in agony as Marty began his story.

* * * * * * * * * *

Some time later Marty drew near to the end of his tale he had told, leaving off the
important details of the Libyans and Doc's unfortunate demise. “So, then I came back here,
to 1955, but I got arrested and they put me in jail with Johnny Cash, and he got me out of jail
because he liked my guitar playing... which he never heard before... but anyway he drove me
here.”
Marty stopped, awaiting Doc's response. There was a few moments of silence.
Doc sat up suddenly, tossing the cold rag aside. “Wait a minute, go back.. you got
ARRESTED? And put in JAIL?”
“Yes, Doc, but it's no big deal.”
“Here, in 1955, in Hill Valley? And the time machine is here in Hill Valley now?”
Marty nodded sadly.
 “Where's the time machine now?” Doc's voice took on a tone of urgency that startled
Marty.
“That's one of my problems,” says Marty, “they impounded it!”
Doc's eyes bug out. “What!?” He jumped up and pulled on his hair. “IMPOUNDED?”
Marty was confused. “Ya, Doc but I can get it back... I just need to borrow 100 dollars
from you.”
Doc leaned forward as if to faint. Exasperated.
“Hohhhhh!” He breathed out, then looked at Marty like he was an idiot. “Marty!” Doc
began to pace. “Are you even listening to yourself?
Marty stated blankly at him, confused.
“This is disastrous!” Exclaimed the Doc. “You're telling me that a time machine built in
the year 1985, full of weapons grade plutonium from 1985, a substance that is not even
readily available in this time frame, and an extra case of which now sits in the trunk, is now in
the hands of the local constabulary? Here in 1955?”
“Well, when you say it like that,” says Marty, “it sounds really bad.”
Doc threw up his hands. “Bah” he shouted in exasperation. “A time machine or pure
plutonium,” Doc continued, still pacing, “in the hands of local municipalities. I can think of
many scenarios, either one of which could be a disaster of galactic proportions.” He stopped
pacing, facing Marty. “If they turn those things over to the State or worse, FEDERAL
authorities!”
Marty stands up in horror. “Great Scott!”
Doc nodded, running his hands through his hair.
Doc put his hands on Marty's shoulders. “Kid, do you realize what could happen if
weaponry from 1985 made its way into the hands of the 1955 military? We have to get that
time machine and that plutonium back right away, that is now our first important priority.
Failure to do so could have most dire consequences.”
“Nuclear holocaust.” Marty hissed.
Doc nodded, his eyes going wide. “The four horsemen of the apocalypse.”
Marty nodded then looked down. “You warned me about all this.”
Doc stopped and looks at him. “I did?”
“Ya, back in 1985,” Marty explained, “you told me there could be an off chance I'd end
up with the time machine and warned me not to interact with anyone if I go back into the past
of into the future, especially you.”
“That was good advice Marty!”
Marty was thinking out loud. “You must have somehow known ahead of time about
Libyans, you gave me that warning just before they shot you!”
Doc who was taking a sip of his tea, lurches forward and spits. “Shot me? MARTY!”
Marty said “ya, well, you're dead in 1985 Doc, that's one of the reasons I came back, to
warn you!”
 Doc, gagging, stands up and puts his hands over his ears. “Marty, I told you not to
reveal to me anything about my direct future beyond the building of the TIME MACHINE!” He
yelled.
Marty looked only partly ashamed. “Oh, ya, my bad, I forgot.” Seeing Doc's infuriated
stare, he looked genuinely sorry, but not really. “It slipped out, I'm sorry!”
Doc thought about something for a while, his hands on his hips. Then he went to a
drawer and pulled out some torn paper. An envelope. He started laying the pieces out on the
table like a puzzle.
Marty approached and watched him in curiosity.
When Doc was done Marty could make out the words on the envelope.
“Do Not Open Until 1985.”
Marty seemed again surprised, he recognized his own handwriting when he saw it.
“Who gave you that?”
“You did,” replied Doc, “well the other you, the one who was here before... twice.”
“Twice?” Marty repeated. “You said that before but I don't get it!”
“Never mind about all this,” Doc said, putting a large book over the envelope, “we can
deal with it later, right now our first priority is to get that time machine!” He looked at his
watch. “It's almost dawn, I want to be waiting there for him when he opens at 7:00.”
“Ya, well, Doc, I still have a lot of questions and not only that I have to be somewhere
around 8:30 this morning.”
Doc eyed him with suspicion. “You have an appointment? In 1955? With whom?”
“With destiny Doc.”
“Marty!” Doc gave him that same warning tone. “You aren't planning to interact with
anyone here are you?”
“Interact, no” Marty replied, sheepishly, “I just wanted to see something.”
Sensing a fib, Doc responded forcefully, “Marty, I don't like that idea, even just your
presence here in 1955 could have serious repercussions.”
“Ya, tell me about it,” said Marty.
 13. ROCKY MCFLY

The impound lot for Hill Valley was actually the local junk yard, and it was also owned
by Frank, who happened to own the towing company and the Texaco. It was off to the left of
the junk yard, sharing a high, 7 foot chain link fence with barbed wire angled outward at the
top In the front was extra privacy, with large plank boards covering the chain link. This was
located just on the edge of town, a source of contention to many who did not like the eyesore.
Bright and early, Doc Brown backed a tow vehicle in through the now open gate. Marty
rode shotgun. They stopped just inside the gate and climbed out. They were in a fenced in
court yard with a single shack at the center. Marty looked around for the DeLorean through
the fencing but didn't see it.
“Wait here,” said Doc, I'll go pay the fine.
Marty leaned up against the bumper of the rented tow vehicle while Doc made his way
into the attendant shack.
About 10 minutes later Doc emerged, and the attendant followed locking the door
behind him.
“I'll be right back with your car... or whatever the heck that thing is.” The crew cut
heavy set attendant told them.
Marty straightened. “Your driving it?” He shouted out to the attendant.
He nodded. “Company policy,” he said, “I can't let anyone back there.”
“Well, can you tow it then?”
He shook his head, looking confused and just a little bit irritated. “I know how to drive!'
“Ya, I'm sure you do,” responded Marty, “but as you may or may not know that is a
highly valuable prop from MGM studios and I'd rather you didn't drive it.
“Well,” said the attendant, “I don't have a tow vehicle here, and I'd have to charge you
for another tow.
Doc reached into his pocket, looking down in annoyance, he pulled out the keys to his
tow truck and tossed them at the attendant. “You can use mine.”
The guy caught it and smiled. “I'll still have to charge you for the tow.”
Doc and Marty both glared at him.
He started laughing. “I'm just foolin', man you two need to lighten up.” The attendant
ran past them, jumped in the truck and started it up. Then he drove it to the back of the court
yard, jumped out, unlocked the inner gate and swung it open, then jumped back into the truck,
tearing out, and throwing gravel as he entered.
“What a lunatic,” remarked the Doc.
“Ya, that seems to be a common theme here in Hill Valley circa 1955,” Marty retorted.
Doc looked at him funny.
“I didn't mean you.” He assured the older man.
“I wouldn't think so,” said Doc. Doc looked away, then gave Marty a quick sideways
glance.
As they waited Marty continued an older conversation they were having on the way
over. “Doc I told you we don't have to tow it back to your house, it runs good, I just had it
tuned up.”
“And I told YOU, Marty” objected Doc, “I can't have you driving a 1985 time around
1955 Hill Valley.”
Marty looked around. “Okay, whatever you say, you're the Doc, Doc.”
Not very long went by and the tow truck reappeared with the DeLorean. The attendant
pulled it right up next to them. Immediately they both grabbed the canvas tarp they had
brought with them, and before the driver even got out, they were covering the DeLorean.
“Okay,” said the attendant as they ignored him completely, “I guess that's it.”
“Ya, thanks” said Doc, tying the tarp down feverishly.
“The keys are in the truck,” the attendant told them as he walked back to his shack,
fascinated by how seriously they covered the vehicle.
Marty looked at his watch. “Doc! We have to get going, that thing I told you about.”
“Marty, I”m not going to say this again,” said Doc, again annoyed at his persistence,
“we are not sure exactly what you did to alter your future, you coming back here and snooping
around in the past can only lead to disaster!”
“I hear ya, Doc, but it's on the way home anyway. Didn't you say we have to take the
back streets to keep from being seen as much as possible?”
Doc nodded.
“Well, I know a short cut and it just so happens what I wanted to see is right along the
way.”
Doc mulled it over. “Then maybe we should take another route.” He decided. “What
street did you say this thing happens on?”
“Never mind,” Marty said, giving up. In the back of his mind he realized that as long as
he had plutonium he had all the time in the world to stop George McFly from being put in a
wheel chair.
Doc finished checking the last tie down on the tarp, then leaned on the tow truck
fender, as if exhausted by this tug and pull battle with Marty. “I can't imagine what I was
thinking,” he remarked almost to himself, “involving a teenager in time travel experiments! I
must be out of my mind in 1985.”
Marty ignored him, jumping into the passenger side of the truck.
Doc Brown moved toward the driver's side door of the tow truck staring into the sky in
lament. He climbed in and Marty climbed in. Doc then started the truck in silence and pulled
away with Marty looking apprehensively at his watch.
Doc eyed him out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. He hid his watch and
pretended it meant nothing to him.
 * * * * * * * * * *

The old neighborhood, as Marty knew it, in Hill Valley, in 1955 was not so old. It was a
vibrant suburban environment. Little pink and white houses, lined up like monopoly pieces.
Freshly trimmed lawns. The neighborhood always had a lawn mower going somewhere and
it smelled of fresh cut grass and shrubbery almost year round. People walked their dogs
leisurely and chatted, waving friendly waves at one another and shouting happy greetings. It
was a Norman Rockwell world. The paperboy was just finishing his rounds, two cloth
satchels, one on either side of his luggage rack behind the seat. He would reach back and
with the expertise of a major league pitcher toss each paper onto everyone's porch.
A milk man stopped at almost every house, running up to the door with his load,
grabbing the empties and replacing them with fresh Vitamin D milk. A diaper service was
making its rounds as well.
George McFly was in a hurry, pedaling his bicycle down the street like a madman. He
was heading to her house. Lorraine Baines. His new sweetheart. He was dressed in a
brown suit coat, matching pants and a white shirt with a thin black tie. This was George's
idea of a “courting” outfit. It had only been two days since his fateful encounter with Biff in the
parking lot of the school and he was still very much the nerd he had always been.
As he approached an intersection and began to cross it, a large black sedan that had
been lying in wait in a nearby driveway pulled out, tires squealing and accelerated right
toward him. Inside were Biff and his 3 henchmen. They were headed right straight for
George as he finished crossing the intersection.
Seconds before Biff's car crossed the intersection and would have rammed into
George, coming from the other direction was a tow truck. Doc's tow truck. Marty saw what
was about to go down and reached over with his foot and stomped on the accelerator.
Doc let out a yell. But before he could stop, the truck rolled into the intersection,
cutting Biff off from his target.
Biff also slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt.
Doc was now yelling at Marty, but he didn't listen. He smiled, satisfied. It couldn't have
worked out better if he'd tried to arrange this. Fate was on his side.
The top was down on Biff's 1946 Ford Super De Luxe. He was furious. He jumped up
and started yelling. “What the HELL is wrong with you?” He shouted at Doc's tow truck,
“You MORON?”
Doc Brown looked out the window at Biff, then, over at George McFly on his bike, who
had stopped and turned to see what was going on himself. Then he glared at Marty, who
smiled apologetically and innocently at him.
“Wasn't my idea to go this way, remember?” Said Marty innocently.
George laid his bike down and out of curiosity began to walk around the tow truck to
see what Biff was yelling at.
Marty saw this and acted fast, opening the truck door and jumping out, stepping in front
of a startled George.
“Hey Dad... daddy-o,” Marty said warmly.
 George stared at him in complete surprise.
“Calvin?”
Marty jumped in surprise. George of 1985 was right, Calvin was him, or, the other him
anyway. “Hey, George buddy, where ya going?” He asked his father.
George pointed at the noise on the other side.
Doc had got out and was apologizing profusely to a Biff who was growing angrier and
angrier that he would not move the truck.
George attempted to croon his neck around and see.
“Move this bucket of bolts right now old man or I'll move it for you!” Threatened Biff.
“Well, I'm sorry sir,” said Doc, “but I must have flooded it as I entered the intersection,
she might take a few minutes for the extra fuel to evaporate.”
On the other side of the truck Marty was almost shoving George away, back toward his
bike. “Listen, George,” said Marty urgently, “you gotta go right now, take my word for it, you
don't want to stick around.”
George was still trying to find out what was going on with Biff.
Marty ushered him to his bike and picked it up for him, practically forcing him onto it.
“I'm telling you George,” he said, “take my word for it and trust me, you need to split right
now!”
George, looking at Marty's face, realized that maybe he was right.
“Okay, well, then” says George, “I was supposed to walk Lorraine to school but I'm
late!”
“You can't miss that!” Said Marty practically giving him a shove on the bike. “I'll talk to
you later!” George started slowly pedaling away, looking back at Marty and the tow truck in
complete confusion.
Biff was in his car again and he was honking at Doc.
Doc was sitting in the truck pretending to try and start it. He held up his hands in a
helpless gesture.
Biff laid on the horn hard.
“Dammit, what a dumbass,” he shouted.
Suddenly Marty walked deliberately around the front of the truck, rolling his sleeves up
as he went, looking totally unintimidated. His stride was confident and meaningful.
Biff, saw him and laid off the horn, unable to believe his eyes!
He hopped out of the convertible again, without opening the door.
“Well, looky who we have here!” He almost sang the words. He henchmen looked,
and also exited the vehicle, their heads down.
“KLEIN,” Biff screamed pointing at Marty. “You little SHIT, you got something that
belongs to me and I want it back!”
“I don't know what you're talking about, BIFF,” Marty denied, spitting out the young
man's name like it was a swear word, an insult.
 Biff looked like he was going to kill Marty. He quickly stomped over to the much
smaller kid. He stopped just short of slamming his chest into Marty's face, as he saw Doc
getting out of the truck, as if seeing him for the first time.
Suddenly, Doc didn't look like some helpless stupid old codger anymore.
Biff pointed at Doc and shouted, “You had something to do with all this I'm betting!”
Doc looked at him innocently, like he's insane, pointing at himself and innocently
shrugging. “Who me?”
“I'll deal with you later old man!”
Biff turned his attention back to Marty and shoved him hard. He stumbled backwards
but never lost his balance and never fell.
A few other people from the immediate block were beginning to come out of their
houses and gather on the sidewalks.
Biff's henchmen began to circle Marty like a pack of laughing hyenas.
“That's real fair, four guys against ONE.” Said Marty.
“Ya, you punks” a large man in a white body shirt holding a wrench shouted, “why don't
you guys pick on someone your own size.”
Marty walked back over toward Biff, defiantly, unafraid.
They squared off face to face, or more accurately it was forehead to chin.
“Let's you and me settle this mono a mono,” suggested Marty.
“Mono what? I ain't got Mono!” Biff said, incredulously.
One of the henchmen punched his fist. “That's the kissing disease Biff, this queer
wants to kiss you.”
Marty explained to the big oaf. “That means just you and me man to man Biff, right
here right now!”
Biff smirked at the suggestion. His voice went low. “You mean man to dwarf,” said Biff.
His hencmen laughed. “Alright, twerp, you've been asking for this ever since I met you.”
“Ahem,” Doc cleared his throat.
Marty looked at Doc quizzically.
Doc waved him over to him.
Marty looked at Biff. “I'll be right back.”
“Ya, sure you will.” Biff laughed, then the smile dropped to a menacing frown. “You
BETTER!”
Marty went over to Doc.
Doc whispered, “Marty are you sure you know what you're doing fighting that animal? .
Plus, think of what you could be doing to the timeline!”
“Yes, Doc, I'm sure, and believe me, that's exactly what I'm thinking about.
Doc looks at Biff again uncertainly.
 Marty leaned in and whispered, “Doc, my dad had money. Boxing lessons twice a
week for 6 years, junior varsity boxing champion 3 years in a row.”
Doc looked completely impressed but unyielding in his objections.
“No one has ever put this asshole in his place,” Marty said, defiantly, “it's high time he
had a good ass whoopin, and I believe I'm the one to do it!
Doc looked over at Biff once again.
“C'mon runt, let's get to it.” Biff taunted. “What are you chicken?”
The color drained from Marty's face.
Doc looked back at Marty who was now seething. He nodded and made a gesture as
if to say, “be my guest.” “Knock his block off!” Doc told him.
Marty hiked up his already rolled sleeves even further, turned and approached Biff
boldly.
Biff just smirked and ripped his shirt off, handing it to one of his henchmen.
A small crowd was now gathered in a small circle around Biff and Marty.
The guy in the body shirt shouted to Doc, “I got 20 says the little guy gets creamed.”
Doc looked at him then said, “you got a bet, mister.” The man stepped over and he
and Doc shook on the bet, while Marty and Biff were squaring off, moving around each other
in a circle. .
Marty was dancing now in a typical boxing stance. “Move like a butterfly, sting like a
bee.” He said outloud.
Biff just looked irritated.
One of his henchmen heard Marty and laughed, “hear that Biff, told you the kid was a
fairy, talking about butterflies and bees...”
Biff didn't look away, he just got madder and madder as Marty kept dancing around
him.
“Stand still, runt, so I can finish you!” Biff spewed in anger.
Marty obliged him, stopping and holding his fists in block position. He took one hand
and made a “come get me” gesture to Biff.”
Biff moved incredibly fast for a lumbering ox. He was on Marty before the kid expected
it and hit him full force with a terrible right hook. Marty's head snapped back like a rag doll
and blood spurted out from his nose and his mouth. He flew backward from the impact,
falling right next to Doc.
Biff grinned from ear to ear and dropped his guard.
Doc leaned over a dazed Marty and helped him up.
“What are you doing?” Doc whispers.
“I'm wearing him down” Marty whispered back.
“Oh,” said Doc, “that's what you call it.”
Marty brushed himself off. “Okay, so I'm a bit out of practice.” He admitted.
 Biff is just stood there, arms outstretched, laughing and turning in a circle, looking at
everyone as if to say “see.”
His typical gloating, he was used to winning his fights with one punch.
“Well, I'd suggest you get IN practice” Doc suggested, “and fast.”
Marty nodded. “I think your right.” “he put up his dukes again.
“Hey!” He yelled at Biff. The big man's back was to him, as if he were leaving.
Biff stopped and slowly turned around with a menacing glare.
“We aren't done yet!” Said Marty. “I'd say this party is just getting started!”
“Well bring it on butt wipe!” Said Biff as he moved in, fists at the ready.
This time Marty doesn't just stand there and get hit.
Biff tried to deck him straight on but Marty dodged the blow easily, coming back with a
right cross that connected surprisingly hard for a little guy.
Biff actually staggered back.
The crowd murmured. The henchmen started to also move in on Marty, but a couple of
large burly men, including the guy in the body shirt, held out their arms to block their path, a
look of warning on their faces.
Biff took a wild jab at Marty with his left and this was a huge mistake because Marty
took advantage of his greater height and ducked down, moved in under the swing and
delivered a left and a right to his chin then a quick left, right left to his abdomen.
Biff crumpled over and Marty stepped back, just in time because Biff reached out with
his mighty right arm and almost clocked him.
Marty danced to the left of Biff then almost got behind him, completely disorienting the
big lout.
As Biff swung around to face him and take another poke, Marty did a little jig, which
confuses Biff just long enough for him to deliver five more devastating blows.
Now Marty was dancing around Biff and the big man just looked awkward, like a
clumsy oaf swinging wildly and missing.
Biff never connected another blow. Marty was just too damned fast.
In the end Marty backed up, surveying the bloody face of Biff Tannen, who'd finally met
his match and was standing there, dazed, confused, panting hard with exhaustion trying to
keep up with this little dynamo.
“Had enough?” Marty asked.
“Biff, bloody and battered wiped his face and scowled.” Then he put his head down
and charged Marty like a bull.
But Marty was ready for that. He dodged to the side and gave the big man a shove
with his right arm. This threw Biff off balance and he ran, headlong, into the side of the tow
truck.
The crowd moaned and Doc and Marty winced.
Marty too winced.
 Even the henchmen winced.
“That's gonna leave a mark,” Marty said, as Biff fell, flat on his face, unconscious.
The crowd cheered and Marty ate it up.
Doc and the body shirt man settled up on their bet, then Doc stepped forward and held
Marty's hand up like a champion at the end of a title match.
Marty looked around at the crowd and saw George and Lorraine standing there.
Lorrain was clapping wildly with the rest of the crowd, but George was not clapping very
enthusiastically.
Lorrain shouted. “Yay! Calvin Klein!” She turned to another girl nearby. “That's Calvin
Klein, I told you he's a dream boat.” She had to say this loud enough to be heard over the
cheers but just as she shouted it, the cheering stopped and everyone heard.
The girl only smiled and nodded in agreement and then giggled, looking around at the
people who are now looking at them because of Lorraine's remark. Lorraine blushed then
hungrily stared at Marty.
Marty dropped his arms confused and concerned.
Doc and Marty share a look, and Doc raised his eyebrows.
“Not again,” Said Doc.
“Not again, what?” A confused Marty asked.
George stopped clapping the moment he heard Lorraine's remark and he now stared
down at the ground with a deep expression of defeat and sadness.
Marty give George an apologetic look but Doc leaned in and whispered. “We have to
get out of here before you end up back in jail,” then added, “or married to your own mother!”
Marty blankly stared at Doc as if coming out of a dream. “Ya, right.”
As they climbed into the tow truck, Lorraine hurriedly left George gawking on the
sidewalk and chased after Marty.
“Hi Calvin... Marty,” she said, “it's good to see you again.”
“I gotta go,” Marty said.
“”Okay,” she looked down a bit disappointed. “When will I see you again?”
“I'm not sure,” he sincerely replied.
Doc cleared his throat and Marty looked at him. “I'll see you around sometime.” He
told her, and closed the door.
Doc glared at him. “You know, she's never going to give up now, you're her
'dreamboat.”
Marty's eyes grew wide, it was now dawning on him what he had done. He looked out
the window as Doc pulled away. George and Lorraine were walking together and he could tell
that she was gushing on and on, not about George.
His heart sank into his stomach.
“What have I done?” He asked.
Doc glared at him and nodded as they drove away.
 14. BOILING POINTS

Marty looked Doc's garage over with some interest. This was the same building
that, in 1985 was Doc's home and workshop. It was hard to fathom that in just 30 years a
Burger King would sit, just a few feet away from where they now stood. There were no
shelves in there, no clocks, no crazy gadgets. It was just a typical garage.
The DeLorean was parked and still covered. Marty sat in a lawn chair, holding the
“Save the clock tower flyer” and looking longingly at Jennifer's note. It seemed like a lifetime
away.
Doc was tinkering behind him on something.
“Doc, isn't it strange that when I went back to 1985, Jennifer didn't even really know
me? I was just some kid in a band.”
“It's probably for the best. You might have discovered that she and you don't have any
chemistry in this reality. Maybe she's dating your worst enemy.”
“I don't have any enemies, “ Marty said.
“Well you might in this timeline!”
“Oh!” It was all he could say to that, still staring at the flier.
“Okay,” said Doc, straightening up. “I'm finished.”
Marty got up and went over to the bench. Doc had taken the pieces of the letter out of
the mysterious envelope with Marty's handwriting on it, and he had taped them together so
that the letter was now readable.
Doc said, “if I'm right about this, this letter will warn me about being shot in 1985!”
Marty still didn't understand. “Okay, Doc but what will that prove?”
“Nothing really, but it might suggest that had you never come back here and spilled the
beans about it I might not have ever read this letter.”
“Okay,” Marty said sarcastically, shrugging.
“Marty, don't you see?” Doc explained patiently. “I know for a fact that I survived in
1985 because I go to 2015, the time machine is stolen from me, we get it back, we and the
other Marty came back here to 1955 to get a book away from Biff.
“The same book he's still looking for?”
“Precisely. Once you got the book back,, the other you, I got struck, the other me got
struck by lightning and went to 1885.”
“Oh, okay,” said Marty, beginning to see. “So, you're saying that none of that would
have happened if you didn't survive, so you were SUPPOSED to read this letter, if it warns
you about the Libyans.”
Doc nods. But I assure you Marty, I had no intention of ever reading this letter, until
you came along!
“Heavy!” Marty exclaimed, finally getting the picture.
Doc picked up his magnifying glass and began to read.
 “Dear Doctor Brown, on the night I go back in time at 1:30 am you will be shot by
terrorists. Please take whatever precautions are necessary to prevent this terrible disaster.
You're friend, Marty.”
“Doc that's my handwriting, woah.”
“Yes and it is proof of my theory.”
“Which is?”
Doc frowned. “Try to pay attention Marty.
Marty nods.
Doc continued, “just like you said, I was meant to read this letter, I was not supposed to
read this letter and I wouldn't have until you let is slip about the Libyans. You're indiscretion
rendered my reading of the letter moot.”
“If you weren't going to ever read it,” Marty inquired, “why did you keep it?”
“Keepsake,” replied Doc. “I was going to press it into my scrap book and include it in
my memoirs some day.”
Marty shook his head. “I sort of get it Doc, but not really, sorry.”
“It suggests, my boy, that at least in another reality you did come here, just like you're
doing now, and let it slip.”
“Okay, ” Marty acknowledged, feigning comprehension. “But how does that get us any
closer to knowing how I changed things so drastically by just coming back here for a few
minutes.
Doc sighed. “Marty, I believe that is precisely why things changed for you. You came
back immediately.”
Marty looked hopelessly confused.
Doc was a born teacher, and he led Marty along in his theory with the patience of a
saint. “Since you proceeded back to the future immediately,' Doc further explained, “you
never came here, told me about the terrorists and had me read the letter. So, when you got
back there I was dead! If I'm right, when you go back now, I will have taken some sort of
precautions to prevent being killed that night.”
“You would do that?” Marty seemed honestly surprised, “after all that talk about not
messing with the space time continuum?”
“What, you think I am going to let myself get shot?” Doc asked. “Marty you must know
me better than that by now!”
“So you buy a bullet proof vest some day, that's all” Marty blurts.
“Armor? I don't think so, too heavy and bulky.” Doc dismissed the suggestion.
“No, Doc” Marty explained, “in 1985 they have lightweight vests, light as a regular
jacket but they stop bullets, you can even wear them under your shirt.”
Doc's eyes lit up. “Everyone has bullet proof vests... makes sense, with all the
rampant crime.”
Doc's eyes lit up. “Everyone has bullet proof vests... makes sense, with all the
rampant crime.”
 Marty let that go, with a shake of the head. “So, what you're saying is that I'm not
messing with the timeline, by coming back here, I'm supposed to be here!” Marty asked in
amazement.
“That's not exactly right, ” Doc said dryly, “it's a bit more complicated than that.”
“But whatever happened to my Dad and the rest of my family happened because I
wasn't here to STOP it!” Marty was excited now. I might have fixed everything already!”
Doc shook his head. “Don't jump to conclusions. A theory was beginning to form in
Doc's head but he needed to be sure. “The other Marty had a family photo.”
Marty nods, “so do I.”
“Let me see it.”
Marty pulled out his wallet and handed over the Disney Land photo of he and his
siblings.
When Doc inspected it under the light with his magnifier he hissed, shook his head,
and exclaimed, “Damn!”
Marty, alarmed, grabbed the picture back and the magnifier and looked at it himself.
“It's just as I suspected,” said Doc, wandering off, his hands on his hips, deeply
disturbed.
“Wait a minute Doc,” said Marty in alarm, “my brother Dave's head is starting to
disappear in the picture!”
Doc Brown slapped his hands to his sides. “Of course it is” he said in frustration.
Marty approached him, and in desperation asked, “what does it mean, Doc?”
“It means,” Doc said moanfully, “just as I predicted, you made matters worse, now your
brother and sister are being erased from the family photo and if we don't repair the damage
eventually you'll be erased... from EXISTENCE!”
“Woah, now wait a minute Doc.” Marty followed Doc who is just wandering aimlessly
around the garage now. “How is that possible I haven't done anything!”
He stopped and Doc turned, glaring at him. “Oh no... ROCKY?”
Marty is shocked. “You know about the Rocky movies?”
Doc shakes his head in irritation. “Marty focus, never mind all that.”
He nods. “So how did my beating up Biff cause me to be erased in the future? It
makes no sense.”
Doc paces angrily. “It makes perfect sense Marty, your mother was amorously
infatuated with the other Marty, he barely got your parents back together I told you this entire
story.”
“Ya, ya, the dance and dad decking Biff, but those things still happened right?”
“Yes,” Doc is trying not to lose his patience, “we haven't changed the past Marty, we've
altered the future even more. You saw how your mother reacted to your victory, I'm afraid
she's forgetting all about poor meek George McFly, she's found a Knight in shining armor who
can 'protect the woman he loves.” Doc slaps his sides again and sits down. Glaring at Marty
in total frustration.
 “Woah, this is heavy Doc, you're saying my mom has the hots for me.”
“Yes, yes, we've had this conversation before,” Doc is peeved now, “we have to figure
out a way to fix this Marty, or the future that we've already seen, the future that the original
Marty experienced is going to go away and maybe he might even be erased! Who knows
what repercussions can come of this one tiny change to the timeline. Like when a butterfly's
wings fluttering results in a huge storm some day.”
“The butterfly effect, ya, you spoke of that before,” Marty says, “the other you back in
1985.”
“Marty, I'm afraid you haven't fixed a thing. You are going to have to figure a way to get
your mother to fall in love with your father all over again, she needs to forget about you and
see only him!”
“So, I'll just disappear. I'll go away and never come back.”
Doc shakes his head. “That won't work, Marty, if that could work your plans to go immediately
back to the future from here would have fixed the problem.”
“Wow, this time travel stuff is hard to understand.”
“So what do I do?” Asks Marty helplessly.
“Marty, I'm afraid you're stuck here for the time being. I don't know how long you have
until you vanish completely from the timeline. You are going to have to use that time here to
work to get your parents back together and get your mother to forget all about you as a
potential mate!”
“Don't say it like that Doc” protests Marty, “it's really creepy!”
“Well, that's the truth as I see it! There has to be a pivotal moment, a boiling point as
you will,” Doc is thinking out loud.
“A boiling point?” Marty echoes in confusion.
“Yes, a significant event in both your parent's relationship when your mother fully
commits to being with your father for the rest of her life!”
“OH!” Says Marty, the light finally coming on in his head. “Like the FIRE!”
Doc looks at him, worried. “The fire?”
“Ya, Doc, listen, in about a month or so my dad saves a bunch of people from a fire
and becomes the town hero! My mom always said she was having cold feet until that
moment then she knew that my dad was the man for her.”
“Hmmm,” Doc thinks about this. “Do you know the circumstances of this fire?”
“NO! Dad would never talk about it.” Marty sits down, sad that he doesn't know more.
Suddenly Marty remembers something and his eyes light up. “Doc, wait, I have an
idea.” He runs to the Delorean and unties the tarp lifting it up enough to open the door. He
climbs half in and when he re-emerges he has the JVC GR-C1U Movie Recorder in his hand.
When he approaches Doc, the scientist puts up his hand.
“Don't bother with that” says Doc.
Marty doesn't listen. “No!” Says Marty, I recorded my parents before I got sent back to
1955! My whole family is on here, Doc, and the last time I looked on this tape my father was
in a wheel chair, everything was all wrong. It was like the changes that got made in the future
were overwritten on the tape somehow.
“That's the ripple effect,” Doc says, just as your siblings are disappearing from your
family photo, any change you make back here now will be overwritten in the future. All
because of a quantum entanglement.”
“So,” said Marty, lifting the camera up and looking through the electronic viewfinder
display. He rewinds it with one hand without looking. What he sees is nonsensical. It's like
two different movies double exposed over each other. “I can't make sense of this,” he says, I
see my dad and he's not in a wheel chair anymore, I see me, my mom is barely visible, fading
out, my brother, with the top of his head gone, and my sister, but my dad is acting like no one
is in the room with him.” Marty stops and stares at Doc in confusion.
Doc, without looking in the camera, moves away and leans on the work bench.
Sounding exhausted he explains. “Of course your father is not in a wheel chair because
we're past that boiling point in time. It's been overwritten. Your family members are fading
because we haven't yet reached the boiling point of when your parents finally commit to each
other. You are still caught in the quantum entanglement created by Biff getting his hands on
that book!”
Marty stops and stares at Doc like he's speaking in latin.
Doc sighed again. “It means your mother and your father never end up together in this
new timeline, you've permanently damaged their future together. They probably don't even
speak!
Doc goes over to him and puts both hands on his shoulders. “Marty you have to face
facts, your entire family's future depends on what you do here in 1955 now.” Doc stopped, his
eyes bulge and he has a “eureka” moment.
“Great SCOTT, that's IT!” Doc exclaimed as he dropped his arms and paced again.
“All of the changes that have occurred since you came here the first time have happened, not
because of something you did in the past, but because of something you didn't do! You didn't
come tell me about the Libyans, and I was shot by the Libyans. You didn't go stop George
from being hit by Biff's car, so George ended up in a wheel chair.”
“Wait a minute Doc. Are you saying that I am SUPPOSED to be here in 1955, that my
future depends on it?”
“Precisely.”
Marty looked at the DeLorean then the camera. “Woah, that's....”
“Heavy,” Doc finished his sentence, “ya I know.”
“Doc, how is that even possible, isn't that sort of like some kind of destiny?”
“It's actually a major paradox caused by a quantum entanglement, said Doc, but you
don't need to understand all that.”
“I don't speak science geek, Doc!”
Doc grabbed a chalk board and wheeled it over. Like a professor he began a short
lesson on the subject. He drew a line.
“This is the original timeline, from which the original Marty came.” Doc expounded.
He tapped on the end of the line with his chalk. “This is the present.” He waved the chalk
 around at the empty space beyond the line. “This empty space ahead of the line is the
future, it's a “blank slate.” As each decision is made and each event occurs, another possible
future springs forth from the present. “Doc began making numerous other lines that spread
off from the end of the first line in a fan shape. “Each one of these possible futures exists
separately, and each event sequence creates “another world” within the universe, all of these
possible worlds and future timelines co-exist with each other, separately.”
Marty stood in awe of Doc's knowledge on this subject. “So, I come from another
“world” than the first Marty who came here, but his actions effected me and my future world, I
don't understand how that works.”
Doc tapped the end of the single line again where the other lines fan off. “This present
represents the point in time after the first Marty's interference, and after George decks Biff at
the dance. Because of where your future sprang from, of course your history includes the
events created by the original Marty, you are a PRODUCT of the quantum entanglement.
Even though it has since been corrected, you are still caught in it's ripple effect! You're future
sprang forth from the moment in time somewhere AFTER you go back to 1955 the first time.”
Doc took a different colored chalk and drew another line. “You and the family you know
are on a timeline that was started AFTER the events that are happening now. When you went
back to 1955 the first time you proceeded to the most logical and probable of futures from
THAT moment in time.”
“OH!” Marty almost begins to understand now.
“It doesn't matter,” said Doc, “you may not understand it fully, heck, I'm not even sure
that I do. All you need to know is that if you want to get back to the future you remember (or
one identical to it) you have to recreate the circumstances that created your reality and then
you can proceed down that path to it's logical conclusion.”
“So, you're saying that even though I wasn't born yet I created my own future here in
1955?”
“That's an oversimplification,” Doc protests, “but close enough.”
Doc put down the chalk. “There's just one problem now, Marty,” he looked at the young
man with sympathy, “I believe your rash decision to confront Biff the way you did has created
an entirely new future, you've somehow interfered with the natural course of your parents'
relationship. This fire of which you speak, it sounds like that was a pivotal moment in your
parents' lives and led to their long happy marriage, evidently that never happens now
because of your fight with Biff. We need to know more.”
“So why don't I just use the time machine to go back in time and stop myself from
making this mistake, save George some other way?”
“Absolutely not!” Doc glared at him. “Marty, have you learned nothing yet? More time
travel to fix the problems of time travel will only result in further pollution of the time stream.
You could end up recreating the quantum entanglement that got us both here, tearing a rift in
the space/time continuum.”
“I could go to the future in the time machine and find out what happens.” Marty
suggested hopefully.
“It won't work,” Doc tells him flatly. “Any future you go to from here is a future where
those events didn't happen, and where you don't exist.”
 “Right!” Marty nods as if understanding what Doc just said.
“Besides,” Doc added, “since you don't exist in the future if you go there now chances
are you will jump past the boiling point in which case all you have done is fast forward to a
moment when you don't exist. You'll vanish instantly. You can't exist past the critical moment
in which your fate is decided.”
“But you could probably go, right? Asks Marty and you could find out what actually
happens, or doesn't happen, you can find out why I don't exist.”
“No, Marty because the future is not written yet. If I go into the time machine and
proceed to the future I only go to the most probable extrapolation of events from the very
moment I leave to go forward.”
“Ya” said Marty almost sarcastically, “that pesky probable extrapolation thing.”
Doc finished, “Anything I see in the future will be purely theoretical and based only on
what is happening now.”
“So how do we find out about the fire?” Marty is totally frustrated.
“We don't!” Doc said flatly.
“So we're screwed! I destroyed my whole family!”
“No, Marty, you just can't bank on making the fire happen. Besides, even if you did
know the exact circumstances, what would you do, light a fire somewhere, put people's lives
at risk, hope your father saves them?”
“I see,” said Marty, “so I'm just going to have to forget about that fire and find some new
way to make my mother look at my father like some sort of hero.”
“Exactly!” Doc agreed, happy that Marty finally got it. “You're going to have to go back
to High School,” Doc informs him flatly, “thankfully, you're technically already enrolled as my
nephew, Calvin Martin Klein.”
“I'm going to go to High School in 1955?”
“Yep,” Doc confirmed.
“For how long?”
“For however long it takes Marty!”
“I'll graduate 12 years before I'm even born! That's going to be hard to explain on a
resume' Doc!”
Doc nods at this. “Of course, that's assuming you aren't erased before that.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“You're welcome.”
 15. A BRAND NEW GEORGE

It was a bright and sunny day in Hill Valley. The birds were singing in the town square,
squirrels ran across the lawn. People were out shopping and going in and out of Lou's Diner.
George and Marty walked together down the sidewalk, past the Diner, to a small shop called
“Ruth's Frock Shop.”
As they approach the entrance George stopped at the doorway as if afraid of it.
“I don't understand what we're doing here,” complained George.
“Listen, George,” replied Marty, “I already told you, I came into some extra money recently
and I want to spend it on my bud.”
He slapped his hand on George's shoulder, who flinched then shook his head. “But I don't
understand why you want to buy me clothes. What's wrong with mine?”
Marty looks at his clothes, frowning, then, realizes he's offending his young father.
“Nothing, nothing at all George, but there's always room for improvement, right? He took his
father by the arm and began to usher him into the store. “Wouldn't you like to have some
really great threads to wear, so you can impress Lorraine with them.”
“Clothes don't make the man,” George said with conviction. “Besides, If Lorraine isn't
impressed with me, she's not going to be impressed with my clothes,” He pontificated. “You
can never judge a book by it's cover.”
“Ya, ya,” Marty said practically dragging him into the store, “you're a walking encyclopedia
of warn out cliche's George. “If you keep believing that you'll never get anywhere in life.
George haven't you ever heard the saying 'dress for success?”
That caught George's interest, “no, I haven't, where did you hear that, is that Dale
Carnegie?”
“Sure, it's whoever you want it to be,” said Marty.
“Dress for success” George repeated as Marty led him over to the men's section of the
store. He pulled out his little black book and jotted it down for future reference. “Dress for
success.” That's really good Marty.
“Ya, ya... it's Hemmingway.
“I thought you said it was Carnagie.”
“Nevermind that George,” Marty said, trying not to get flustered. “Now remember what I
said. Money is no object buddy, pick out whatever you like, the sky's the limit.”
George looked around. “I don't know, nothing looks like it's in my size.” He started to walk
away.
Just then a slick salesman stepped up (having heard Marty say something about money
being no object).
“Nonsense!” Said the salesman, sizing George up and down. He smelled a big fish.
“We've got plenty of duds in your size.”
“I don't wear duds,” said George, “I like comfortable clothes.”
“These are VERY comfortable” Marty assured him.
“Well, do you want me to dress like you or something?” Asked George?
 Marty hesitated. “Well, no George, that would just be weird now wouldn't it?”
“This whole thing is weird if you ask me,” George grumbled.
The salesman looked at Marty's attire and laughed, then said to George, “No, no, that will
never do for you!” He coaxed George away from Marty. “You're much too distinguished and
debonair to dress like that beatnick!”
“Hey, I'm debonair...” Marty objected.
The salesman looked back and made a shewing motion to him. Marty took the hint and let
the guy work his magic on George.
The salesman began to show him some really nice shoes. Marty called after the
salesman, “he needs the whole ball of wax and make him look hip.”
George doesn't like the sound of that. “I don't want to look, “hip...”
The salesman looked back at Marty questioningly and Marty mouths the word... “hip,” and
holds up a wad of cash. The salesman grinned wickedly then went to a pair of Sullivan slip
on boat shoes, white and brown.
Marty hung back for a while and began to browse a bit himself. He kind of tugged at a
dress, he recognized it as the same exact dress his mother always had hanging in her closet,
or it was just like it. He muttered. “My mom had one like this.” Looking up he sees a
woman shopping staring at him oddly.
“My mom has one just like it,” he explained in embarrassment.
The woman just said, “mm hmmm.”
He blushed, put his hands in his pockets, turned and walked outside. Standing there in
the doorway he looked around.
There were plenty of people hustling and bustling here and there in the late afternoon.
“Marty!” He heard a familiar voice and turned. His mother. She stepped right up to him,
looking at him like he was a movie star. The girl with her, Babs, was trying not to giggle and
she too is giving Marty quick short looks of admiration.
“Oh, Lorraine, hi,” Marty said nervously.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Oh, just hanging out.” Is all he could think to say.
“In front of a clothing store?”
“Well, ya, I was thinking of... buying some... clothes.”
“Well, that makes sense,” she said, but I think your clothes are just dreamy!”
She moved in closer and he blushed, backing up against the store window.
“I haven't seen you much in school.” She said, in a sultry voice.
“I've been busy.” Marty replied, taking a quick glance back in the store to make sure
George doesn't see him talking to Lorraine.
“We never got to finish our date.” Lorraine said, moving a bit closer and dropping her
voice low.
“Ya, well, I thought you and George were an item now.”
“Well, like I said, he's kind of cute and all, and he's very smart, but I like a man who can
handle himself in a jam. You know, protect the one he loves.”
 “George can handle himself!” Marty defended his future father. “Remember what he did
to Biff at the dance.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Lorraine, “and I do appreciate it, but I think maybe that was just a
lucky punch.”
Marty was visibly uncomfortable.
“You fight like a professional boxer.” Lorraine moved closer. “I like strong...” closer she
moved as Marty squeezed himself further back against the glass, “...athletic...” even closer
“...men.”
“I never knew that about you,” he said, pinned up and turning beet red.
“There's a lot you don't know about me Calvin Marty Klein!”
“Ya, well, I thought you kinda thought of me as more like a brother, remember?”
“Well, brothers and sisters don't date each other at school dances, and make out in the
parking lot, silly,” said Lorraine, backing off and looking a bit miffed. “That would be gross.”
“Really gross,” babs chimed in, glaring at Marty with some disgust.
“Oh,” he laughed nervously, “I guess you have a point there, but we really didn't make out,
did we?” Marty countered.
“There's plenty of time for that,” said Lorraine, as she pulled some lipstick out of her purse
and a mirror and began freshening up, as if in preparation.
Babs stood there giggling.
Marty looked into the shop and saw that it's possible George may be finished. The
salesman was putting stuff in boxes and he waved at Marty to come in.
“Listen,” he said, inching past her toward the door, “I really gotta go but I'll see ya in school
okay?”
She looked totally disappointed and confused by his avoidance. “Sure! We can sit
together in the lunch room if you want.”
He nodded and ducked back into the store.
Lorraine and Babs continue walking. “I never seen a boy play so hard to get before,” said
Lorraine in frustration.
“Ya, but it's kind of, sexy...” Babs remarked.
Lorraine giggled. “Yes, it is, very. He's so shy, it drives me crazy! But I can work with
that!”
“I know you CAN,” said Babs.
They both laughed together as they walked away.
Luckily, George was around a corner from the cash register and from his angle he could
not see the provocative exchange between Marty and Lorraine.

* * * * * * * * * *

Most Americans who attended public schools know what a school cafeteria looks like. If
you've seen one, you've seen them all. They usually double as the gymnasium and have the
fold out bleachers lining the walls, and a stage at one end. The Hill Valley High school was no
different, and it hadn't changed in 30 years. It was just as Marty had always known it.
Attending Hill Valley High school over 12 years before he was born was a mind bender, to
be sure. Not only were the styles different, the language was different, the customs were
different, it was literally a “whole new world.” He'd been there almost a week now, and it was
getting increasingly harder to fend off his mother's advances. He would sometimes sit in the
cafeteria, staring at that stage, trying to fathom how, 30 years from now, he'd be standing on
that stage playing a form of rock and roll that wouldn't even be invented for another 20 years
or so.
On this particular day, Marty walked with George through the cafeteria (as he did most
days). He was sticking to his dad just like glue. This seemed to wear on George with each
passing day though. Doc's plan just wasn't working.
They both carried trays. George was finally dressed to the hilt in his new clothes but
people don't even seem to notice him. A couple of guys came up and tried to talk to Marty.
“Hey, we heard what you did to Biff last week there Klein, way to go!”
“Thanks,” said Marty, halfheartedly, “but it was nothing, not like what George did at the
dance.”
George kept walking to his seat, saying nothing to the two boys who just sort of waylaid
Marty.
“That's not what I heard,” said the one kid, “I heard you mopped the floor with him like
some kind of Rocky Marciano.”
Marty stared at him oddly, looked over at George and absent mindedly corrected the boy.
“You mean Rocky Balboa.”
The kid stared at him oddly. Marty walked away, heading for where George was.
The kid turned to his friend who looked equally as confused. “Who the hell is Rocky
Balboa?” The other kid shrugged.
George always sat at the same damned table.
The kid called after Marty. “You should think about running for class President!”
George just kept eating as Marty sat down.
Marty slowly started to eat. “Hey, George,” Marty broke up the silence, “you really need to
ask Lorraine out on another date.”
“Why?” George asked dryly. “Why would she want to go out with me?”
“Because you're George Mcfly, dammit,” Marty said with conviction.
“Well, I think she'd rather go out with someone else.” George said.
“Who?” Marty asked in confusion.
Without looking up from his food he pointed. “With you.”
“Me?” Marty repeated, startled. Just then Lorraine and Babs joined them at the table.
Lorraine on one side of Marty, Babs on the other. He was sandwiched between them. He
hung his head in frustration.
“Hi Marty.” Lorraine bubbled.
Marty looks at her, then Babs. “Ladies,” is all he could say.
“George,” Marty growled at him.
 “Hi Lorraine, hi Babs,” George finally said, reluctantly.
They barely acknowledged him. Keeping their attention mainly on Marty.
“So, Marty,” said Lorraine after a minute or so went by, “we should finish our conversation.”
“Ya, well, maybe later,” Marty answered her, “right now George and I were just talking
about his up and coming novel. Weren't we George?”
“I don't have an up and coming novel,” George denied.
“George is writer.” Marty told them, “Did you know that?”
“Mmm,” she said, looking at George for a second then turning back to Marty. “I'm more of
a movie buff. I like James Dean movies! How 'bout you?”
Marty knew she was hinting around for him to ask her to the movies. He'd heard about
the new James Dean movie coming soon.
“You remind me of James Dean” offered Babs.
Marty scoffed, still wearing his 1985 commemorative James Dean leather. He looked
down at it and swallowed hard, cursing his stupidity. He knew his mother LOVED James
Dean! What the hell was he thinking? It was becoming painfully and uncomfortably hard to
deny that his own mother was deeply attracted to his “bad boy” image.
“Ya, you do remind me of James Dean,” agreed Lorraine, putting her elbows on the table
and resting her chin in her hands, dreamy eyed, “only more handsome!”
“I read he's got a new movie coming out next year called “Giant.” Said Babs.
“Ya, well, I think George here is more like James Dean than I am.” Marty offered, a bit
lame.
“Be serious,” says Lorraine.
George looks up and glares.
“Oh, not that you aren't cool in your own way,” Lorraine added, feeling the heat of his
stare. “I like the new clothes by the way.”
“Ya,” said Babs, “you look like the cat's meow George.”
“They're hot and uncomfortable.” George said coldly and got up, taking his tray and
heading for the dish line.
`“Okay, ladies,” Marty said, getting up to follow, “it's been nice talking to you, see you
around.”
The ladies stare after Marty sadly as he tagged along behind an unhappy George.
“Are you going to follow me to the bathroom too?” George demanded as he put his tray
on the dirty dish line.
“Naw,” replied Marty, sadly, “I just still need to talk to you about this Lorraine thing is all.”
“There's nothing to talk about,” he stomped off, “it's obvious she likes you better, I hope
you two are very happy together.”
“No, George,” Marty protested loudly practically running to keep up with him, “that's where
you're wrong, buddy, I know for a fact she's crazy about you. She's just playing it, cool.”
“Cold, is more like it.” George remarked as he exited the lunchroom.
Marty stopped to take one last look at Lorraine and sure enough she was still watching
him. She waved and he nervously smiled and nodded back. Suddenly, from out in the
hallway, he heard a familiar voice where George had retreated.
“Hey MCFLY!”
Marty rolled his eyes. “Biff!” He moaned the name.
He hurried out into the hallway and there Biff was, stepping up to George who had put his
head down submissively.
“You got a knuckle sandwich coming after that sucker punch the other night!” Biff said,
sporting the black eye and a huge red lump on his forehead he still had from last week's
unfortunate encounter with Rocky Mcfly. He also had a scabbed over lip.
When Marty emerges from the swinging door of the cafeteria, fists clenched, Biff didn't see
him. “Hey, BUTTHEAD,” shouted Marty. “I guess you didn't learn your lesson the other
day?”
Biff immediately backed off of George.
“Mind your own business KLEIN,” Biff retorted weakly, still backing up, his tone not so
menacing anymore. “This is between me and Mcfly.”
“Ya, well, anything you have to say to my friend George, here, you have to say to ME.”
Said Marty, stepping between George and Biff.
George rolled his eyes and his face turned red.
“What, are you his mommy or something?” Biff laughed and his henchmen laughed with
him. In fact, the small crowd that was gathering now in the hallway, eager to see for
themselves more “Rocky” Mcfly action, also laughed.
“I'm warning you right now, Tannen,” Marty squared off with Biff yet again, “stay away from
George Mcfly. I'm not playing around!”
“Ooooh,” Biff said, mocking him. But still he backed up yet a few more steps when Marty
lurched toward him. He was wary. “I'm not afraid of you Klein.”
“Well then you're as dumb as you are ugly,” Marty said.
The growing crowd in the hallway laughed again.
Biff didn't know how to respond. “I'm not ugly,” is all he could think to say.
The henchmen look at Biff in amazement and dismay, realizing this runt of a new kid has
got Biff spooked for the first time in history.
“Oh, but you ARE stupid?” Marty took another step toward him.
Biff took another step back, appearing more and more uncertain of himself.
“C'mon BIFF,” one of his henchmen said, “we got better things to do.”
Biff, actually looked grateful for the save. He slunk away and, pushed past the crowd of
people holding open the cafeteria doors, with Lorraine in the front, staring at Marty, her heart
in her eyes.
She and Marty shared a look, then Marty turned and saw that George was nowhere in
sight anymore. “Dammit, George” he muttered, “you are one slippery eel.” He headed down
the black and white checkered marble hallway looking for his father.
 16. MOVE LIKE A BUTTERLY EFFECT STING LIKE A MCFLY

Marty sat with Doc at the dinner table. Neither one of them spoke much as they ate
meatloaf. Marty was never crazy about meatloaf, but he had to admit, Doc Brown had a
secret talent, he could actually cook. Who knew? The only sound was the clanking of forks
against plates. It had been almost 2 weeks since Marty started going to Hill Valley High
School and he was still trying to figure out how to get his mother interested in his father again.
Finally, Doc broke the awkward silence.
“Marty, whatever it is your doing down at that school is just not working!” He told his
young friend.
“I know, I know,” Marty admitted. “Doc, I'm pulling my hair out here. She won't even
look at my old man anymore, she just follows me around and the more I ignore her the more
she seems to be interested in me! I've never seen anything like it!
“Marty, Marty,” said Doc, this is typical female behavior.
“It is?” Marty was stunned. This was really news.
“Yes, Marty! No wonder you only ever had one girlfriend. It drives women crazy when
you make yourself unavailable! They will hunt you! It's in their nature.”
“Get outa town, Doc!” Marty couldn't believe his ears. “Are you telling me you know
about women too?
Doc put down his fork in disgust. “Marty, I'm not a eunuch. I have had a few romances
in my life. But in point of fact no one knows about women, they are the universe's greatest
mystery.”
Marty truly was surprised, this was a side of Doc Brown Marty had never seen.
“What kind of women have you dated, Doc?”
“Never mind that, we need to talk about your failure to get your mother to lose interest
in you and your failure to figure out how to make your father more appealing to her.
“I just can't figure this out Doc,” replied Marty, “I suck at matchmaking.”
“They're your parents,” Doc exclaimed in frustration, “and you barely know them!”
“Doc,” Marty said, “these two are nothing like my parents, they look like my parents,
they sound like my parents, and now they both dress like my parents, but trust me, they are
NOT my parents.”
Doc stopped mid bite. “What did you just say?”
Marty shrugged. “I said trust me, they are not my parents.”
“No before that,” Doc said urgently, “what was that you said before?”
Confused Marty thought back. “I said they look like my parents, they sound like my
parents, and now they both dress like my parents...”
“That's it!” Doc said, excitedly. “Why do you say NOW they both dress like your
parents?”
“Because,” explained Marty, “before George was dressing like some kind of revenge of
the nerds, until I took him to the store. He walked out of there looking like my father....” Marty
stopped, his eyes lighting up when he saw where Doc was going.
“So, you are the one who taught your father how...”
“How to dress!” Marty finished his sentence, straightening in his chair. My dad got his
style from me? Doc, that's crazy! How is that even possible? As far back as I can remember
my father liked the same style clothes, a bit outdated but he wore them well!”
“From all that I understand about the universe,” said Doc ominously, “it shouldn't be
possible!”
Marty swallowed hard.
“Ya, Doc, but what does it mean?”
“I don't know,” the Doc told him, “I need time to think about this.”
Marty looked up at the calendar on the wall behind Doc. “Well, you've got about 13
more days to figure it out Doc. I'm dying here. I'm out of ideas.
There was another 30 minutes of silence and more clanking on plates with forks as
they finished their dinner, both of them trying to figure out the significance of this new
revelation. They cleaned up together, still not saying much.
As Marty was drying the dishes and handing them to the Doc, who then put them away,
Doc brown suddenly stopped in his tracks and smiled at Marty.
“What?” Asked Marty.
“I think I have it,” the Doc replied, “but I need to know more about your father to be
sure.”
“Well, I'll tell you what I can,” said Marty.
“What did you and your father do together growing up?”
“Well, lots of things. He taught me golf, tennis, racket ball, he even taught me to
skateboard, he was really good.”
“Marty I don't see any of that helping, your mother is not going to be impressed with
racket ball.”
“My dad got me started in boxing,” Marty blurted out. “He said he “dabbled' a little in
High School. A friend got him interested in it!”
Doc Brown pointed at Marty, an intense look of satisfaction all over his face.
Marty smiled. “I get it Doc. I got this!”

* * * * * * * * * *

George McFly's garage was small and dark and extremely cluttered. It didn't look like
a car had parked in there in years. Marty and George were both dressed in athletic wear.
Marty finished hanging a boxing speed bag from a low hanging rafter near the far wall.
George was taking halfhearted pokes at a nearby punching bag. Marty let the speed bag
hang and began to hit it in a perfect rhythm. George watched him intently.
 When he was done George took a hard poke at the 60 pounder.
“You expect me to do that sort of stuff?” George protested. “I'm not very athletic.”
“No, George, I know for a FACT that you ARE.” Said Marty. He walked over to him
while taking off his boxing gloves, then steered him to the speed bag . “You can accomplish
anything if you put your mind to it.”
George half heartedly banged on the speed bag with his closed fists and quickly lost
rhythm as it swung around wildly in a circle.
“No,” Marty instructed him gently, “you have to open your hands, don't make a fist.” He
demonstrated, starting slowly. “Hit in small circles and count to yourself like your marching,
left, left, left, right, left.”
George stepped up and tried it again. He got a bit of a rhythm going for a few seconds,
not very fast then it went wildly in a circle again.
George, frustrated, glared at Marty.
“You're getting it,” Marty assured him.
George frowned, skeptically.
“Here put your gloves back on,” Marty said, handing them to him.
He complied.
“Let's try the punching bag.”
Marty moved to the 60 pounder and hugged it. “Okay, George, now come over here
and hit this thing as hard as you can hit it.”
George was now quite irritated and he took it out on the punching bag. Marty was
actually knocked back a bit.
“Woah!” Marty exclaimed, impressed. “You have a helluva left! I can see how you
decked Biff in one punch.”
George looked down, almost ashamed. “I only did what I had to do.”
“No, George, don't apologize, dammit!” Marty went over to him and grabbed his arms.
“Don't ever apologize for sticking up for yourself, or the woman you love.” George blushed
and looked down again.
“I hardly know her,” said George sheepishly.
“Okay, the woman you WANT to love.” Marty corrected himself.
George blushed even harder.
“Listen, George, I don't know how much time I have here so we have got to really
concentrate on this stuff.” Marty put on his own gloves. “Okay, George show me the fighting
stance I taught you.”
George lifted up his arms and and slightly spread his legs apart awkwardly. Attempting
to balance himself the way Marty showed him earlier.
Marty stopped, put his arms down and moved toward George, looking down. He took
his left foot and guided George's feet into a better stance. Then he backed up, rubbed his
glove against the side of his nose, and got back into boxing stance.
 “Okay, George,” Marty said, “moment of truth. I want you to come at me.”
“What,” George sounded nervous, “you want me to just punch you?”
“George, I want you to try to knock my block off!” Replied Marty emphatically. “You
know you want to. Hit me George! Hit me McFly!”
George hesitated.
“Hey McFly,” Marty does his best Biff impression, “I thought I told you never to come in
here!”
George rolled his eyes.
Marty put his gloves down. “George, you gotta take this seriously if you're going to
learn to fight.”
“That's just it,” says George, “maybe I don't want to learn to fight. Maybe I don't have
to fight to be a man! MAYBE, it takes a bigger man to WALK AWAY!”
“Ya, but George, you gotta be able to defend yourself. Your life just might depend on it
some day. Heck, maybe someday Lorraine's life might depend on it. Or even...” he hesitated
to say it, “even mine!”
George picked up his gloves again, reluctantly, and the two young men circled each
other. He took a few half hearted stabs at him.
Marty blocked and dodged them easily. But he smiled. “Good,” Marty encouraged
him, “real good George, you're a natural, it's probably in your blood! Go ahead, try to breach
my defenses.”
George was hesitating again as Marty danced around him, poking at him with half jabs.
“Mfly!” Marty did Biff again.
George suddenly looked determined. He took a few more determined swings and
Marty blocked again.
“C'mon George,” Marty egged him on, ““Hello, McFly! Think McFly.. think, I gotta have
time to recopy...”
A look resignation came over George.
Marty was almost taken aback by it.
Suddenly like greased lightning George reached out and knocked Marty right on his
ass before he could react!
George looked mortified.
Blood was gushing from Marty's nose.
“I'm sorry!” George comes over. “Are you okay?”
Marty sat there on the ground wiping his nose, looking real pleased.
“George, I'm more than okay, buddy, that was GREAT!”
He sprung to his feet. “That's what I'm talking about, George, you could be a great
fighter!”
“Ya, but I'm a lover not a fighter,” said George.
 Marty puts his arm on his shoulder. “Women dig both.” Marty said matter of factly. “Or
at least one woman I know does.”
George moved away toward the exit at this. “You're always trying to push her on me,
why is that?”
“Because, I guess I'm a hopeless romantic, George,” said Marty, “and I think you two
kids belong together. I think you two have a real future together!”
“Well, that's not really your decision is it?” Objected George as he turned and stomped
out of the garage toward the house.
“George, where ya going?” Marty called after him, then he followed, “we've got a lot of
work to do.”
“I'm going to watch my favorite show, Science Fiction Theater!” Said George. Then he
turned around. “No one is in charge of my destiny, except me,” George pointed , “Not you,
nor anyone else on this planet can decide my future.” George stormed off into the house.
Marty stared after him, thinking. “No one on this planet?” He muttered. Then he
smiled.
17. HELP ME OBIWAN YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE

That night Marty McFly slunk through his father's neighborhood like a cat burglar
carrying a stuffed backpack. He was desperate. He had tried for weeks to get his mother to
fall back in love with his father neither of them were cooperating. Desperate times call for
desperate measures, he'd heard once. It was just past midnight when he arrived, there. He
went through the back yard. Several dogs were barking in the distance, but other than that
nothing was stirring in this part of Hill Valley this late at night.
Marty stopped at the back door, praying that his grandparents hadn't changed much
over the years. There was a large white rock to the left of the back door. “Bingo,” Marty
whispered to himself. He lifted the rock and there it was, the spare house key. “Thank God
that old habits die hard in the McFly family.” He said to himself.
He then set the backpack on the ground and began laying out the contents. First, his
yellow radiation suit, then an electric hair dryer taken from 1985 Doc Brown's suitcase. A
Walkman radio with headphones. Check. An Edward VanHalen Cassette. Check. He was
ready.
George was sleeping soundly in his bed when Marty crept in and made his way to the
foot of the bed, towering above in his yellow suit. He had wrapped his belt around his waist
and tucked the hair dryer under it like a holster. He took out the Walkman. It was difficult to
insert the VanHalen cassette in wearing the heavy radiation gloves but he finally managed it.
Marty took the headphones, plugged them into the Walkman, went over to the side of
the bed, and gently placed them over the ears of the sleeping George. Readying himself, he
cranked the volume on the Walkman and then hit play.
A thunderous noise of heavy drums and screeching distorted electric guitar woke
George out of a sound sleep with a start. George bolted upright in the bed, backed himself
against the headboard, disoriented and trying to focus on the yellow figure once again
standing before him. Marty turned the tape off. George was still groggy but starting to look
alert.
“You again!” George shouted, pointing.
Marty almost dropped the Walkman, this wasn't the reaction he expected.
“Who the HELL are you?” George demanded, reaching up and grabbing at the
headphones.
Marty hit play again and the music didn't seem to startle George, it only appeared to
make him more angry.
Marty hit stop. “Silence EARTHLING,” Marty said, trying to keep up the facade. “I am
Darth Vader of the Planet Tattooine!”
George ripped the headphones off of his head and jumped out of bed. “The LAST time
you said you were from the planet Vulcan!” He screamed, lunging at Marty. In doing so he
knocked the walkman right from his hand.
The two boys started wrestling.
Marty began to regret giving George boxing lessons because the kid could hit hard.
He was feeling his punches right through the protective helmet.
George somehow got a good grip on the head covering and ripped it right off of Marty's
head. His father stepped backward gaping at him in shock and outrage. “YOU!” He wailed.
“IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG!”
Marty stammered, searching for words.
“You're crazy,” George pointed an accusatory finger at Marty, “you're completely
INSANE!”
“George, please,” Marty pleaded, “let me explain.”
“Just take that... thing,” George pointed at the walkman and the headphones,
“whatever the hell that thing is, and get the HELL out of my house before I call the police!”
Marty could hear his grandfather scrambling for the gun case down the hall. His
grandmother was shouting something about the phone.
Marty reached down, grabbed his Walkman and jumped out the second story window,
feet first. He landed and did a roll. His Walkman and the hair dryer went flying across the
lawn. He stumbled up and scrambled to gather them up. Inside he could see the lights going
on inside and hear his father explaining to his grandparents that he was just having another
nightmare.
“No more Science Fiction Theater for you!” Shouted Marty's grandmother as Marty
scurried off and away from the house. “It's still giving you nightmares!”

* * * * * * * * * *

Back at the Brown Estate, Marty came in, confused and upset, still wearing the suit,
with the hood under his arm. Doc was waiting there in the workshop/garage. He was holding
a magnifying glass staring at something. He looked up at Marty, quizzically.
 “Where have you been dressed like that?” He asked.
“It's a long story Doc,” Marty replied abruptly, “needless to say, I think I really blew it
this time with my Dad. I bet he never talks to me again.”
“That's truly unfortunate Marty,” said Doc, handing him the magnifying glass and his
family photo,” “because look!”
Marty looked and his brother Dave was completely gone. “Holy shit!” Marty
exclaimed.
Doc nodded. “By my calculations, at the rate your siblings are disappearing in the
photo you had exactly one month to the day from the moment you had the fist fight with Biff.
That's the date of the boiling point.”
“The date of the fire!” Marty added.
“It's been almost three weeks now since the fight with Biff and you've made no
progress at all getting your parents to interact in a meaningful way!”
“I know, “ Marty shook his head, “you don't have to remind me. In fact, I think I might
be making things worse.”
Doc nodded again in agreement.
“It appears to me, Marty, that your only chance now may be to see to it that the future
unfolds exactly the way it did before.”
“I told you, Doc, I don't have a clue about the fire,” Marty said, moving away and
resting on the DeLorean. “My parents would never talk about it in detail.”
“You don't even know the location?”
“No!”
Doc shook his head, frustrated. “Well then, you may have to pick a place, start a fire
yourself, and arrange for your father to be there.”
“What Doc?” Marty was shocked at the suggestion. “I can't believe you're suggesting
that! I can't do that!
“Barring that,” Doc said, ignoring Marty's surprise, “the best you can do is keep up with
your efforts.”
“I told you Doc,” said Marty, “I seriously screwed up tonight, I doubt my Dad is going to
ever talk to Calvin Klein again!”
“Then you have to concentrate your efforts on your mother.”
“My mom? Doc, are you crazy, my mom is all over me every time I turn around, I can't
encourage her, you said so yourself!”
“I didn't say encourage her,” Doc explained gravely, “you might have to discourage
her.”
Marty straightened at what Doc seemed to be suggesting. “Are you saying I need to
be mean to my mother?”
“Not mean,” Doc suggested, “not necessarily mean, just, well, maybe not at first, but
you have to show her that you're a complete loser and that compared to George you are a
bad seed.”
 “Doc, I don't know if that's going to work, I'm starting to think that my mom goes for the
bad boys.”
Doc thinks this over. “It's Hollywood! They glorify rebels. The James Dean syndrome,
I call it.”
“Ya,” Marty agreed, “Doc she told me that James Dean is her favorite actor.”
“Then you have to be less James Dean and more James Cagney. “
“Doc I don't even know who that is,” Marty lamented.
“Marty,” Doc said ominously, “the way I see it you have about a week to get your
mother to respect your father and forget about Calvin Klein, or your entire future is history!”

18. THE REVELATION

The next day at school, Marty approached George boldly, but cautiously at his locker.
George had gone back to wearing his old dull and boring outfits, instead of wearing the
clothes Marty bought for him.
“Hey, George,” Marty said. “Nice threads.”
“Leave me ALONE psycho!” George snapped as he slammed his locker and stomped
away.
“I'm sorry, George, I got carried away,” Marty apologized, following his father down the
hall, “it won't happen again.”
“Stay AWAY from me and QUIT FOLLOWING ME AROUND!” George shouted without
turning around, his back to Marty. Marty stopped and stared after, looking very much like a
kid being rejected by his own father.
Down the hall, another kid walked past George and with an evil grin slapped him on the
back and said, “Hey McFly how's it goin?”
Marty started to move forward, seeing the kid has just put a “kick me” sign on George's
back, but before he could say or do anything, George McFly grabbed the sign off his back and
pinned it to the kid's chest. “You leave me alone too, I'm sick of these juvenile pranks.”
Marty stopped again, his eyes glowing with pride. It dawned on him that George was
transforming himself. He was no longer the sniveling coward, the brunt of all the other kid's
jokes.
“Maybe there's hope for you yet George McFly,” Marty muttered.
“Hello Marty.” He heard a sweet voice behind him. His head dropped and he turned
around. It was, of course, Lorraine.
His eyes narrowed. She was smiling up at him so sweetly. This was going to be
difficult but it had to be done. He sighed, took a deep breath, then steeled himself.
“Get lost,” he said to Lorraine and stomped away himself leaving her looking confused
and crushed.
For the next few days Marty continued to attempt to intervene on George's behalf, all
the while he was just as rude as he could be to Lorraine.
Once, in the gymnasium, Marty made the team captain pick George for their team (who
was just standing there with 3 other nerdy kids). George glared at Marty and then left the
Gym floor, heading for the lockers.
In the cafeteria, Biff once stomped over toward where George was sitting and Marty
stepped in between them.
Biff slunk away trying to act like he was just walking past anyway.
One day after school, as Marty walked down the steps, Lorraine and a friend approach
him. He glares at her, turned, and walked the other way. She stopped, looks puzzled, then,
embarrassed she walked another direction.
At the lockers one morning, Marty stepped up and tried to talk to George, he walked
away. As he stared after him Lorraine and Babs walk by, she didn't even acknowledge his
existence anymore. Marty sighed with relief, then looked at his family photo and ran his
hands through his hair worriedly.
Again the cafeteria, Marty tried to sit next to George for lunch. George picked up his
tray and moved to another table. Marty dropped his head sadly. The time of the fire, the
“boiling point” as Doc referred to it, was fast approaching and Marty was failing miserably. It
was taking it's toll on him.
Early one morning Doc Brown came out of the front door of his mansion, followed by
Marty. Doc was taking him to school.
“Marty, you're going about this all wrong.” Said Doc. “Maybe you should just talk to
Lorraine. Try to reason with her. Tell her that she's selling George short.”
Marty looked skeptical.
“Put your cards on the table,” said Doc as he unlocked the door to his car.
Marty was not sold on this idea. “I don't know Doc, it sounds unlikely she'll listen.”
“May I remind you,” said Doc, “that your family has almost vanished from that
photograph, which means, the date of this supposed fire could be any time now. It could be
today!”
“I know,” said Marty, leaning on the car, emotionally exhausted. “I'm gong to go hang
out at the Diner after school, maybe I'll talk to her about it then.”
They get in the car.
Not far away, Biff lurked in the shadows watching them get in the car and leave. He
waited until the car was out of sight then he ran, half crouching, toward the garage. He tried
the door and it was unlocked. He smiled evilly to himself and entered. Immediately he saw
the canvas covered DeLorean. He walked over to it and lifted up one end of the canvas.
Biff marvels. “What have we here?” He asked himself. Then he frowned. “Hey,
there's something familiar about this thing.” He let go of the canvas and walked over to the
now dismantled scale model of Hill Valley Square that Doc had built for the first Marty to
demonstrate how he would send him back to the future.
“What's this?” He stood there for a second holding the tiny model car, it still had words
written on it. He read it aloud.
 “Time machine?” He frowned.
“He looked over and saw the JVC camera.” Dropping the car. “What the HELL?”
He walked over to it and picked it up. Looking it over.
“Some kind of instant camera.” He muttered in amazement. He put it to his face and
tried to look through the viewfinder. “Doesn't work! Some inventor you are Brown!” He
noticed a button marked “PLAY” and pressed it. Then he saw movement in the view finder.
He looked into it again and saw a much older Doc Brown.
“Old man is RIGHT!” He commented.
He watched as Doc explained the time circuits and watched as Doc announced he was
about to embark on an historic journey. Now his attention was fixed. He looked and found a
button marked “rewind” and pressed it. After he heard it stop whining he put it to his face
again and started watching. He watched the entire film.
Glued to the view finder, Biff saw as Doc put Einstein in the DeLorean. He watched
Doc yell, “What did I tell you, eighty eight miles per hour.” He watched as Marty said, “you
built a time machine out of a DeLorean.”
Biff put the camera down and stared at the tarp with an intently evil look on his face.
“So... Doc Brown invented a time machine!” He smiled. “So that's where that old codger got
that book! It came from the FUTURE!” He watched the movie until it got to the part where
Marty asked Doc if it runs on gasoline and Doc talk about the plutonium. He watched as they
refilled the chamber.
Biff heard a noise, looked up, and realized someone was coming. He put the camera
back on the work bench and ducked down just as Doc hurried into the garage.
Doc stopped and notices a corner of the tarp on the DeLorean was out of place. He
stared at it hard, then he put it back where it belonged, looking around nervously. His spidey
senses were on high alert. Something was not right.
He slowly moved toward the work bench where Biff was now hiding.
Biff scooted around to the other side avoiding being seen.
Doc walked up to the camera and stared at it. His eyes shift back and forth,
suspicious. He picked up the camera and carried it with him across the garage and into the
main house.
Biff quietly and snuck back out of the garage.

* * * * * * * * * *

Marty liked Lou's Diner as it was in 1955. It always made him sad that it had been
converted into an aerobics studio in his time. He loved the atmosphere, the old juke box, the
food. They didn't have anything like this place in his time and in the month he'd spent in 1955
he was truly wondering why not.
He'd seen pictures of old diners like this one before. They were always the same.
Long and narrow, a bar, padded stools, linoleum floors, tiny booths along the window side. A
juke box at one end. Behind the bar soda and coffee machines. And the shakes at Lou's
Diner were to die for. Marty thought if he had to stay here, he was going to end up fat.
He now sat at the end of the bar trying to figure out how to talk to Lorraine, who was
also sitting at the bar, all the way down at the other end. Seemingly ignoring him now. He
gave her several glances, but she did not return them. George McFly was walking past the
Diner and Marty saw him through the glass.
Then, he also saw Biff and his henchmen following George.
Marty jumped up immediately and ran out of the Diner.
“McFly!” Biff shouted after George, who turned, looked back, and then keeps walking.
“Hey, McFly, I'm talking to you, you Irish worm,” Biff hollered after him, “you been
ducking me for weeks and I'm sick of it!”
George kept walking and Biff and his gang started to trot after him. Suddenly Biff was
struck full force from behind and he stumbled, almost falling. Fuming, he turned and saw
Marty standing there.
George, hearing the commotion behind him, stopped too, looked behind him. He was
not happy to see Marty.
Once again, Marty squared off with Biff. “Look, ass hole,” Marty said, “are you deaf or
just stupid? I told you to lay off George!”
Biff actually seemed a little nervous.
To be fair, so did Marty. He looked around at the henchmen and realized he was
outnumbered and there were no bystanders this time to keep things fair.
One of the henchmen stepped up this time. “Listen, fruit cake, you can't take all four of
us.”
“Are you sure about that?” Asked Marty, putting on his best brave face.
The henchman moved closer, followed by the other two, and Biff. “I'm positive, four
against one, butthole, that's not good odds for you.”
Goldie and three of his friends had stepped out of the diner and when they overheard
this, they stepped forward to Marty's side. “It will be four against five!”
Biff and his thugs backed off, looking somewhat upset.
“Hey, what's it to you anyway?” Biff whined. “This is between me and McFly!”
He turned back around and George, to his surprise, had not run off, but had came back
and was standing directly behind Biff. “I want a rematch, McFly.”
Marty started to roll up his sleeves. “You got it,” he said!
Biff turned and looked at him like he was crazy. “I said McFly, moron!”
Then he turned back to George. “You sucker punched me at that dance and I deserve
a chance to set the record straight! What'you say? Me and you, at the ball park, tonight what
was that term?”
He looked at his henchman. “Monny Monny?”
The henchman kind of whispers, “I think it's Mono E Mono.”
 “Mono E Mono,” Biff said as if he knew it all along.
George looked at Biff as if he was actually considering the challenge.
Marty noticed that Lorraine was now out there on the sidewalk, looking at George
again, for the first time in weeks perhaps. He ran past Biff and the henchmen straight to
George.
George ignored Marty for now. He looked up from staring at the pavement thoughtfully.
“No Biff,” he said, “I'm not going to fight you!”
Biff sneered and there was actual disappointed muttering from the crowd that was
gathering.
“George!” Marty whispered, “you have to stand up for yourself.”
“I didn't think you would!” Biff says loudly. “You're nothing but a big, skinny, mealy
mouthed chicken!”
Marty leaned in toward George. “George, Lorraine is watching, you can't let him get
away with calling you chicken.”
George's face went beet red but his anger was not turned toward Biff.
“You just shut up, you!” He screamed at Marty in absolute rage. “I'm sick of you
following me around, telling me what to do, sticking your nose into where it doesn't belong,
SNEAKING INTO MY BEDROOM!”
There was a hissing from the crowd.
Marty looked around embarrassed. “That sounds worse than it is!” Marty explained to
everyone, “it was a prank.” He said. “He's talking about a prank I played.” Then he pulled
George by the arm backward a few paces.
Before he could say anything, however, George laid into him again.
“How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone? You keep wanting me to
fight and you call that standing up for yourself, but it takes a bigger man to walk away from a
fight!”
Marty looked at Lorraine and she appeared conflicted.
“In fact,” continued George, “I'd rather fight YOU than Biff.” He shoved hard and Marty
fell back flat on his ass.
The crowd murmured.
George turned around and stomped off.
Biff was gloating at Marty and he started to laugh. Then he shouted past Marty, toward
the rapidly departing McFly, “this ain't over yet McFly! I owe you a knuckle sandwich.”
“Stuff it!” George told Biff without even turning around.
Goldie and his group started to walk toward Biff and his henchmen menacingly.
“Us spooks owe you peckerwoods a knuckle sandwich,” said Marvin Berry, one of
Goldie's friends, “don't think we don't remember you from the other night at the dance!”
Biff and his henchmen took off, trying to appear casual.
“That sonofabitch Klein” Biff sputtered, “I'm sick of his interference, and he took
something from me that I am going to get back.”
“What was it again, Biff” asked one of the henchmen as they walked toward Biff's car.
“It was a family heirloom!” Biff glared at him. “Something a distant relative gave me. Never
mind what it was, it's none of your business, you just be ready because I have a plan to get it
back.”
They jumped in the convertible.
Back on the sidewalk, in front of the Diner several people had helped a shocked Marty
get up and he was brushing himself off. Lorraine approached him and when he saw her he
rolled his eyes and hung his head in complete frustration.
“Marty,” said Lorraine, “are you alright? I can't believe what George just said to you.”
Marty glared at her in anger. “Lorraine, has it ever occurred to you that George McFly
might be too good for YOU?”
She looked at him in utter shock.
“Lorraine,” Marty said, “when are you going to realize that life isn't a Hollywood movie?
I'm not James Dean just because I lose my temper and end up settling things with my fists.
George is right! It does take a bigger man to walk away from a fight, especially when you
know everyone will look at you as a coward. George is TEN TIMES the man I will ever be. If
you can't see that, then, he's too good for you!”
Lorraine's eyes welled up with tears. “Calvin Klein!” She wailed. “You're a
MONSTER!” She turned and ran off. Babs stepped up to Marty, glared at him and kicked him
in the shin.
He bent over, grabbing his leg. “OW!”
She stomped away as well.
Marty pulled out his family photo and looked. All that was left of his sister is her feet.
“Ya, well monsters have a way of disappearing on their own sometimes.” He muttered
to himself.
Just then Doc Brown pulled up behind Marty in his car. Marty looked over as he
jumped out and rushed up to him.
“Marty,” Doc said sounding a bit upset, “we have a problem.”
“Doc, can't this wait I'm trying to work on this problem with Lorraine.”
“We need to talk, Marty,” Doc leaned in and whispered, “someone was in my garage, I
think they saw the time machine and looked at your camera!”
Marty's eyes narrowed. “That's not good Doc!”
“Indeed!” Doc agreed. “We have got to secure the DeLorean and everything else
related to time travel, my garage is compromised.”
“But Doc,” objected Marty, “don't you remember, this is the night of the fire, I have to
find George and stick with him like glue, we agreed!”
Doc ushered Marty toward the car against his objections, looking around as if they
might be followed. “Marty, if the time machine were to fall into the wrong hands, the
consequences for the entire universe could be disastrous!”
 “Okay, Doc,” Marty agreed, opening the passenger door, “but let's hurry so I can find
George, I want to be there in case he comes across a fire and decides to run the other way.”
“He would do that?” Doc seemed shocked.
“I don't know what he'd do,” Marty said in complete frustration, as he sat in Doc's car
and closed the door.
Doc started the car.
“He's my father,” Marty continued, “but I barely know him.”
“I can relate, said Doc, “my father was like an alien from another planet to me.”
Marty nodded. “Exactly. Like Darth Vader from Vulcan.”
Doc gave him an odd look.
“Never mind,” said Marty, “inside joke.”
Doc shrugged and they pulled away.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a pleasant and beautiful late afternoon. An early winter chill was lurking, just
below the senses. The front door to the McFly residence opened. George emerged from the
house, stopped, looking around. He breathed in the fresh air and shouted inward into the
house.
“I'm off to the Library Mom.”
The faded voice of his mother called out from within the house somewhere.
“Don't be late for dinner.”
George shouldered a small book bag and headed for his bicycle. He rode away on the
sidewalk, which was an extremely rebel move for George. He knew riding on the sidewalk
was illegal and he no longer cared. What was happening to him, he wondered? He was
moving along at a decent pace.
Suddenly, in front of him loomed Biff's convertible. It cut him off and he slammed on
his brakes.
Biff jumped out. “Okay, McFly,” he said, “where's your body guard, Klein?”
“I don't need Klein to fight my battles for me,” George snapped.
The two young men stare hard at each other.
“Excuse me,” George politely said as he attempted to pedal around Biff. The
Henchmen jumped out hooting and hollering at him. They all grabbed him and yanked him
right off his bike.
George put up a struggle but it was 4 against one.
Biff looked around, nervously, holding his hand over George's mouth. “Not here, I have
plans, tie him up and stow him.”
As George continued to struggle the three henchmen quickly wrapped rope around his
hands and tightened.
“What are you doing?” George yelled. “What do you want with me?”
They shoved a rag in his mouth, picked him up, and tossed him unceremoniously into
the trunk of the Ford like a sack of garbage. They jumped in, Biff in the driver's seat.
“What now?” Asked his right hand man.
“Now, we have a meeting, with Klein.” Biff reached over to his glove box and pulled out
a pistol. A small 38 special. In another lifetime, another universe, a much older Biff might use
this same gun to try and shoot a time travelling Marty McFly on the roof of “Biff's Pleasure
Palace.”
The henchmen, all three, went a bit white when they saw the gun Fun and games is
one thing, but they didn't look too enthused about being a part of anything involving a gun. It
was now obvious to them that Biff was off balance and they were getting in too deep.
Biff stuffed the pistol between his legs and did a quick you turn, and sped off. No one
in the car but he knew the ultimate destination or purpose.

* * * * * * * * * *

Doc and Marty were rushing, scrambling to secure the DeLorean after Doc had
discovered someone had been in his garage. The tow truck pulled up to the garage, then
turned and backed up to the DeLorean.
“We must get the time machine to a more secure location until this is over,” Doc was
explaining. “The time machine and everything you brought with you, especially that camera
and the plutonium!” Doc gasped. “Great Scott, I shutter to think what would happen if that fell
into the wrong hands!”
“Doc, are you sure that storage barn is going to be a safer place for the DeLorean?”
“Affirmative, no one knows about it,” replied Doc, “at least it's highly unlikely the person
who was snooping around in my workshop earlier knows about it. I will feel a lot better once
it's not in my garage anymore.”
Marty got out of the truck, went to the back, and marshalled Doc with hand signals
back to where he could hook up to the DeLorean. He started working on the cables.
Doc threw it in park and jumped out, joining Marty as he continued talking. “I can't
believe I didn't secure it sooner. I already have all the plans and drawings for the flux
capacitor as well as your,” he stopped, and shook his head, “the other Marty's letter and my
memoirs in a safe deposit box.”
Doc looked around the perimeter. “Are you sure you checked behind every bush and
tree?” He asked Marty.
“Ya, Doc,” Marty assured him. “There's no one out there watching. Or at least there
wasn't before.
That made Doc look around even more intently.
“Relax Doc,” Marty said, we'll just make sure no one follows us to the barn.”
 Marty's watch beeped and he looked at it.
Doc frowned. “Marty, I thought I told you not to wear that 1985 time piece, it's going to
cause suspicion.”
“Suspicion of what?” Marty scoffed. “Suspicion that I'm a time traveler? Who's going
to suspect that?”
“You never know,” Doc said moving toward the house, “maybe the person who was in
my garage today.”
“Good point,” Marty admitted begrudgingly. “Listen Doc, I'm really sorry but can you
handle all the rest of this on your own?”
Doc scoffed and slapped his hands as if to say, “it figures.”
“I gotta go find my Dad, can I borrow your car?”
Doc does not like it, but he tossed him the keys anyway. “Good luck, I guess,” he said.
“Hey, listen Doc, if I fail I might be gone by tomorrow.”
Doc stopped and slowly turned around, sadly.
“Don't worry about it, Marty, chances are everything is going to work out fine!” Doc lied.
He knew the chances were more probable at this point Marty was going to vanish before too
long.
“I hope so,” Marty said, “but in case not, it was great knowing you!”
Doc smiled, “likewise.” He came back over to Marty and they hugged warmly. Doc
backed up and slapped him on both shoulders. “Now go get him!”
Marty quickly jumped in Doc's car and sped away.
It was dusk when Marty pulled Doc Brown's car up into the driveway of the home of his father,
the home of his grandparents. He got out and ran with abandon to the front door and banged
on it, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.
A person opened the door but Marty couldn't see them through the outer screen. Just
a silhouette. The person sounded very irritated. “What do you want?” Marty was taken aback
by the gruff sound of his own grandfather.
“Um,” he stammered, “can I speak to George?
“He's not here, he went to the Library,” the mysterious silhouette said, then slammed
the front door closed.
Marty ran back to the car, muttering, “I just spoke to my dead grandfather. He didn't
even recognize me! Time travel really messes with your head.' He jumped back into the car
and started it. “The library! I could have guessed that!” He stopped and thought about it. “I
wonder if the library burns down tonight?” With a new sense of urgency he put the car in
reverse and almost burned rubber getting out of the driveway.
Marty pulled up in front of the Hill Valley public library moments later, jumped out and
ran in. A spinster looking librarian with a bun in her hair and a sour look glared at him as he
entered.
“We're closing in five minutes!”
“I won't be longer than two,” he said.
 He looked everywhere, starting in the science fiction section. Nothing.
He looked in the rest room.
There was no one in the library but the old woman.
No George. He looked again all over the entire library. In complete disappointment he
approached the librarian again.
“Can I help you with something young man? It doesn't appear you're looking for books
today.”
Marty was surprised, she actually sounded sweet and nice.
“I'm looking for my fa...” he stopped himself, “my friend George.”
“George McFly?” Asked the Librarian.
“Ya, him!”
“HE is no longer here.” She said dryly.
“I can see that,” replied Marty, “but was he here?”
“Well, I don't really know you, so I'm not sure if I should say.”
“Please say,” he begged her, “it could be a matter of life and death.”
Hesitantly she answered him. “No, I haven't seen him all day.”
Marty turned around, leaning on the librarians desk, looking trapped. This was not like
George to say he was at the library but not to be at the library.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Asked the librarian, looking up at the
clock.
“No, thanks anyway,” said Marty, “I don't think anyone can help men now.” He ran for
the exit.
After he was gone, the librarian got up, quietly closed and locked the door behind him.
“Putz,” she said. Then she sat down at her desk, opened a drawer, pulled out a bottle of
scotch, tore it open, and took a deep swig. “It's the only way I can put up with these little
shits,” she said to herself, wiping her mouth.
Marty jumped back in Doc's car and sat there at a loss. “Now what?” He asks himself.
He looked at his watch, then pulled out his wallet and looked at the family photo. There was
nothing left of his sister. It was just he, alone standing in front of the well. “C'mon George,
where can you be?”

19. PLAY WITH PLUTONIUM YOU'RE GONNA GET BURNED

Biff's car approached the end of Doc Brown's driveway slowly, headlights off. The top
up. He turned off the engine and coasted to a stop a few hundred yards away. The garage
door was open and a tow truck was backed up to the DeLorean.
“They're trying to move it!” He said.
 Doc Brown was pacing. “I know I'm forgetting something,” he moaned. I just know it.
He looked at his wrist watch.
“Damn!” He exclaimed.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. “DAMN! DAMN! Where the
hell is that kid?”
The wing door was open and inside, on the passenger seat sat the camera and the
radiation suit. Doc went to the trunk, which was also open and peered in at his 1985 older
counterpart's suitcase, then laughed at his stupidity. “What was I thinking? I'm an idiot.”
He then went to a special storage locker at the other end of the garage, stumbling for
his keys. Stenciled on the door of the locker were the words “HAZARDOUS MATERIALS.
He opened it, reached in, and gingerly pulled out the plutonium case out. Carried it carefully
to the trunk and gently set it in. Then closed the trunk.
Biff and his three henchmen slunk toward the garage, bent down, moving cautiously.
Doc looked around him after closing the trunk. His spidey senses were tingling. “I
think that's all of it,” he muttered in satisfaction.
Suddenly he heard a sound out there in the dark on the other side of the tow truck.
Biff slapped one of his henchmen in the head. He had accidentally bumped into the
front of the tow truck. They ducked down, by the front grill.
Doc Brown warily poked out from behind the tow truck inside the garage. He didn't see
them. But, still sensing something was up he went to a corner and grabbed an old golf club.
Holding it high he moved around the passenger side of the tow vehicle.
“I have a gun!” He warned whoever was out there, “and I know how to use it!”
As he slowly approached the front of the tow truck, Biff appeared in front of him,
pointing his pistol.
“What a coincidence,” said Biff, “so do I and mine shoots real bullets!”
Doc stopped in his tracks and dropped his golf club, throwing his hands up in the air.

* * * * * * * * * *

The town was slowing down, getting ready to call it a night. Marty slowly rolled past
Lou's Diner and looked in. No one could be seen in there except Goldie, slowly sweeping the
floor, mumbling something about, “Mayor Wilson.”
“Dammit George!” Marty grumbled. “Where the hell did you go?
Doc backed up, hands in the air and Biff herded him past the DeLorean. The
henchmen skulked behind Biff taking in the sight of the uncovered time machine with
amazement.
“Going on a little trip?” Biff asked?
“I have to get this back to the movie studio,” Doc said, “I don't get paid if I don't deliver
this prop to them by tonight.”
 “Wow, cool, movie props,” said one of the henchmen. All three moved closer to the
DeLorean staring in awe. Biff looked at them like they were idiots.
“Prop?” Biff scoffed at him. “This is no prop old man, I KNOW what this is! I've seen
the film on that newfangled camera of yours.”
“Camera?” Doc played innocent. “OH! You mean the rehearsal tape?”
Biff started to look a little less sure of himself. “Rehearsal?” He repeated.
Doc kept backing up with his hands in the air. “That was a special new movie camera,
all the studios have them. They let me keep it because it has footage from the dry run of the
movie this machine was made for. It's about a time traveling space ship from Venus.”
Biff pointed his gun at Doc in a menacing manner. “Cut the crap old man, you must
think I'm an idiot, but I know what is going on, you see I got it all figured out!”
Doc shook his head. “I don't know what you think, Biff, but I can assure you....”
“Shut up!” Biff yelled.

* * * * * * * * * *

Marty reluctantly pulled up to Lorraine's house and parked. He took a deep breath,
preparing himself for an encounter with yet another pair of grandparents. He got out and
approached the front door. He knew it was a long shot. “George, please be in here,” he
muttered.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Where's Klein?” Biff demanded.

“He's not here,” replied Doc, “he's out on a date.”
Thinking about it, and looking around to see Doc's car was gone, Biff relaxed. “Well,
we can wait,” he said, “meanwhile, you can go get my BOOK!”
Doc feigned confusion.
“Don't play stupid old man, the book from the future you and that little runt stole from
me!”
Doc's eyes popped open as if he thought Biff had lost his mind.
Biff's henchmen stopped their gawking at the time machine to stare at Biff. One of
them mouthed the words “time machine” to the other who raised his eyebrows in concern.
“Book from the future?” Doc repeated, humoring him.
One of his henchmen was touching the fusion generator fuel port. Doc noticed it.
“ Excuse me son,” Doc said to the lad, “but you shouldn't fool with that, it is not quite
stable yet.”
Biff glared at him evilly. “Not stable? I thought you said this is just a movie prop?”
“It is,” Doc tried to cover for the mistake, “but it has highly specialized pyrotechnics built
in. If you mess with the wrong thing we could all go up like a roman candle.”
Biff looked back at his henchmen. “Why don't you go make yourself useful and get that
Irish bug from the trunk?” They turned and started to run back to Biff's car. “And hide the car
will you, if that Klein kid shows up I don't want him to have a heads up!”
The henchmen knew better than to dally when Biff gave them an order, they turned and
dashed back down Doc Brown's driveway to Biff's car.
Biff motioned with his gun for Doc to back up toward the work bench.
“Now you listen, old man, I know you and that snot nose little weasal are messing with
time travel. I also know that I end up with this time machine sometime in the future, when I
am an old man. I know, because I met myself, my older self. He came and gave me a Gray's
Sports Almanac that had the sports scores for every game until the end of the century!”
Doc backed up, continuing to stare wildly at Biff like he was completely insane.
“Don't try to deny it! I'm not as dumb as I look.” Biff stopped, thinking that over, “as
you might THINK I look.” He revised.
“I never said you look dumb,” Doc tried to placate him.
“Stow it!” Biff thrust the gun his way again. “Now, either give me that book or I'll tear
this place apart looking for it. Then, if I don't find it, it won't matter because I have a time
machine here, I'll just go to the future and get another one!”
Doc shook his head. “This is no time machine it's a cheap Hollywood prop.”
“Bull shit!” Biff yelled. “I saw it fly, the night you and that punk took the book from me. I
know what it can do! I know it's a real time machine and now, it's mine! I know how to use it
too because I watched the movie on that camera box thingy. I saw you explain it. Not you,
though, an older you! I also know that Calvin Klein is really Marty McFly, the future kid of
George McFly!
Doc looked at him with pity and raised eyebrows.
That's when the the henchmen returned, dragging poor George along.
Biff motioned to the far left wall. “Put him over there,” he said, “and that one too.”
One of the henchmen shoved George over to the wall and pushed him down. Another
one grabbed Doc and led him over there too. Biff's eyes narrowed. “Tie him up first!” He
said to the one leading Doc.
The henchman stopped and looked at Biff nervously. “But we used all the rope on
McFly!”
“Then find something in here!” He barked.

* * * * * * * * * *
 Marty closed his eyes as the Baines' front door slammed in his face.
“I told you, the kid is an idiot...” he heard Lorraine's father's muffled voice from
somewhere inside the house.
He turned around and slowly made his way back to Doc's car, looking downcast and
out of ideas. He stopped and in the light of the street lamp he took out the family photo and
stared at it. There was no change. He couldn't say if that was good or bad. He wondered if
his body parts started disappearing in the photo, would they disappear in real life? He hoped
not!
He threw his hands down to his sides, exasperated. “George!” You're literally KILLING
me!”
He climbed back in the car, sat there for a few more minutes, a look of desperation on
his face. Then he started and pulled out. He drove around aimlessly for a while just hoping
to see George, somewhere, anywhere.
He stopped again, on the side of the road, put the car in park and sat there, helplessly.
He wiped his forehead that was dripping in sweat, despite how cool it was. “I don't feel good,”
he realized. “I think I'm coming down with a cold or something.”
Then, fear gripped him. He quickly takes out the picture. Still no body parts erasing.
“Ya!” He said. “I think it's starting. I'm next! I need Doc's help with this,” he decided.
He threw the car into gear and turned it around, pointing toward the Brown Mansion.
As he drove memories started to flood his mind. First, memories of Jennifer, her
beautiful smile haunting him. Then he had memories of his mom and dad, Dave and Linda.
Their family vacation. Their dinners every night. The endless conversations.
“Oh no,” he thought, “my life is flashing before my eyes.” He wiped his forehead with
his sleeve, it was drenched. He put the pedal down harder.
An inexplicable memory popped into his head, from several years back when he first
started working for the Doc, cleaning up his workshop. It was a conversation between
George and Lorraine. They were unaware that he had overheard it.
“You know I don't want him hanging around with the crazy old man, George,” his mom
was saying adamantly. “He gives me the heebee jeebees.”
“I know,” George said, “but he really is harmless.”
“Harmless?” Lorraine repeated, incensed. “One of his crazy experiments nearly killed
you, George, you were lucky to get out of that fire alive, much less saving everyone else that
was in there.”
“Now, Lorraine, you're exaggerating, it wasn't an experiment it was just a regular house
fire.”
“You KNOW that's not true, you suffered serious memory loss from whatever that mad
scientist was cooking up in his laboratories! We were lucky your exposure was minimal,
remember what the doctor said. Poor Biff, what about him? He's never been right in the
head since!”
“I still think Biff was the cause of that fire, Lorraine! I could never prove it but you
remember what he was like?”
“Well, still,” Lorraine said, “I just don't think it's healthy the way Marty follows that crazy
inventor around hanging on his every word!”
Marty shook his head in total surprise at this sudden childhood memory that he had
somehow suppressed!
“OMG, the FIRE!”
Now he could remember the news articles in Doc Brown's workshop about how the
Brown Estate property had been sold in 1962. When it was sold they did an historical article
about how the original mansion had burned down years earlier, in a mysterious “laboratory”
accident. In his memory he could see the date reported in the article. December 12, 1955.”
“December twelve 1955! I'm such an IDIOT!” He put the pedal to the floor.
“Hang on Doc, I'm on my way!

* * * * * * * * * *

Doc was now tied up with some electrical chord and gagged, he and George, together.
Biff had the camera out of the DeLorean and he was watching the film again, paying close
attention to each component's operation as it was demonstrated. Rewinding here and there.
During the short section of the film which showed Doc from 1985 in full radiation suit, fueling
the fusion reactor, Biff sat down the camera and stomped over to Doc.
He pulled the gag down off Doc's mouth. “Where is this pink stuff? This plutonite or
whatever?” Biff demanded.
“I told you, it's just a movie.” Doc said.
Biff took the pistol and waved it in Doc's face. “If you don't start talking you're going to
have an extra blow hole.”
“Go ahead,” Doc said with a complete look of defiance. “I'd rather be dead than help
you.”
Biff grinned menacingly. “Okay, have it your way.” He pointed the barrel at Doc.
Doc turned away, squinting and braced himself. Then, Biff got an idea.
He moved to George now.
“I bet you care about your worm, here, Mr. Bigshot's old man.”
He put the gun to George's temple. George didn't even look scared. His eyes
narrowed in anger.
The henchmen, who were supposed to be looking out for Marty's arrival, were now all
three watching Biff, looking more scared than Doc.
“You just don't LISTEN, butthole!” Marty stepped out from behind the tow truck. “I told
you to leave George McFly alone.” Marty was holding the hair dryer from Doc's suitcase, the
one he once used to try and convince George he was a space alien. He walked forward
pointing it at them.
 The three henchmen back away from him with their hands up.
“What the HELL is that supposed to be?” Biff asked, pointing his pistol at Marty now.
I'm a time traveler,” Marty informed him, “and this is a high intensity phaser pistol from
the future. I can disintegrate your entire body with one shot.” Marty stepped closer.
The henchmen were now laughing at Marty's claim of time travel until they saw Biff's
reaction.
Biff looked at the strange “weapon” and hesitated. When Marty came closer, he
actually backed away. Which wiped the smiles right from the faces of his 3 friends.
“Now drop your primitive pistol before I vaporize you.” Marty said boldly.
Biff thought it over for a moment, “okay,” he said. He looked like he was going to put
his gun down but then, with an almost sly look, he lifted the gun again. “But first, shoot
something.”
“What?”
“I said, show me, butt wipe. I want to see this ray gun in action.”
Marty's eyes dropped.
You see, punk, I play poker and I'm real good at it.” Explained Biff. “I say you're
bluffing and that's not even a gun. Show me! I call. Vaporize....” he looks around for
something, “....that ladder.” He pointed at the ladder in the back of the garage.
“I'm not vaporizing a perfectly good ladder?” Marty replied lamely.
Biff pointed his pistol menacingly at George again. “Do it punk,” Biff said, “or I'll blow
your DAD'S head off.”
Biff's 3 companions' mouths gaped open stupidly when Biff called George Marty's
father.
Marty looked at George who's eyes were steady and almost menacing. This time full
of understanding George remembered that “laser” gun from before and he's betting in his
own mind that it was no more a laser gun that Marty was Darth Vader from the planet
whatever.
A look of defeat came over Marty. He dropped the “laser gun,” the way he had seen
Doc drop his pistol for the Libyans. It clattered to the floor and literally broke in half.
Biff started laughing.
“Okay, Biff,” he said, “you got me.” He put up his hands. “I was bluffing.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Marty had donned the radiation suit the whole time Biff was holding the gun on George.
He now stood, fully covered, labored breathing, as if waiting for further instructions.
“Don't just do it,” Biff said, “walk me through it so I know how to do it next time.” He
looked at his henchmen like they were idiots. (Which they technically were, but no more so
than Biff). “Don't just stand there, unhook that damned thing.” He barked, pointing at the tow
cable connected to the DeLorean.
“You have to wear this radiation suit every time you fuel the fusion generator.” Marty's
muffled voice came through the radiation helmet, but stalling, for what purpose he didn't know.
“This stuff is highly radioactive.”
“ No shit sherbet! Biff said, “I got that part.” Then, thinking it over a bit he backtracked,
“What kind of radiation?”
Marty looked over at Doc who was struggling to speak with the gag on him. “That's his
department,” said Marty flatly.
No one noticed George McFly anymore, who was just ever so slightly squirming where
he sat with his hands tied behind his back.
Doc's restraints were still holding good, but all this time George had been working on
his restraints, which hadn't been tied that well to begin with. He was just about free.
Biff moved over to Doc, warily, keeping one eye on Marty and the gun pointed at
George. He reached and pulled down the gag from Doc's mouth.
“I'm not helping you,” said Doc defiantly.
Biff's eyebrows grew together, then he jabbed the pistol in George's direction.
“Please Doc,” Marty pleaded.
Dock rolled his eyes and sighed. “It emits a large amount of thermal energy” Doc said
matter of factly, as if lecturing a class, “with low levels of both gamma rays and spontaneous
neutron rays... it's also an alpha emitter.”
“And that suit will protect me from that?” Biff asked skeptically. “It looks like it's made
out of paper.”
Doc shook his head, “it's not paper, but if it were it would be enough. This type of
isotope combines high energy radiation with low penetration.”
Biff's blank stare told Doc everything.
Doc looked at Marty. “We cannot let this technology fall into the hands of this
neanderthal!
Biff back handed Doc. Surprisingly, it didn't even phase him.
“Doc,” pleaded Marty again, “we have no choice.”
Biff went closer to George, who, no one noticed had been squirming and now had
stopped.
Doc sighed in frustration again. “It requires minimal shielding,” he said abruptly.
Biff still looked confused.
“A sheet of paper can be used to shield against the alpha particles,” Doc simplified it.
“Oh, why didn't you just say that,” Biff demanded angrily.
Doc glared at him then continued.
“Without shielding, however, and without the proper container, you're looking at major
radiation damage to your cells and even chemical burn. One kilogram of the isotope can
generate about 570 watts of heat!”
 “Okay, so it's safe as long as it's in the container and I'm wearing the suit?”
“Well, yes,” replied Doc, 'but should you drop or break its glass container or get it
directly on your skin you will suffer immediate radiation burns. Even if you just breath in the
fumes of it you can suffer permanent brain damage!”
Biff was looking at Marty. “Quit stalling, get going, Doc here can fill me in on the rest as
I watch you.”
Marty moved to the trunk, opening the plutonium case. With the henchmen hovering
over him, like little kids.
“If you ever expose it to air,” Doc was still saying, “and it oxidizes, it can become a
powerful type of fuel. The resulting fire and explosion can burn through 2 feet of stainless
steel.”
“So... you could use it to get into a safe or even a bank vault?” Biff said. “Interesting.”
“I wouldn't try that if I were you,” Doc warned him, you might get in but you won't be around
very long to spend whatever you got out of it!”
“Oh, because of the radiation?”
Doc looked at him like the dullard he is, raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“Well, I'll just have to make sure I'm wearing that suit when I do it,” Biff figured that all
out on his own.
Doc just rolled his eyes.
Marty had taken out a vial of plutonium with the special forceps and was moving to
place it in the fusion chamber. Suddenly he stopped and keeled over in pain.
Biff jumped up in anger. “Hey, butt hole, quit fooling around!”
Marty groaned loudly seeming to barely be able to hold on to the plutonium.
“Quit trying to scare me!” Biff shouted, pointing the gun at George who's eyes were
narrowing angrily.
Marty tried to get up again, but collapsed onto one knee, the plutonium nearly slipping
out of the tool in his hand this time.
At first Doc thought Marty was pulling some kind of ruse, but now he began to realize
what was happening. He could see a finger on Marty's hand flickering, as if fading in and out
of existence.
“He's not faking!” Doc shouted, there must be something wrong with the radiation suit!
Or the container holding the plutonium might be unstable.
Biff seemed unsure. He looked from Marty to Doc, then back. He didn't know what to
believe.
Marty groaned again and this time dropped to both his knees, bent over in agony. The
hand holding the vial began to shake.
“Well HURRY UP THEN!” Biff shouts at Marty.
“Someone has to get the vial from him before he drops it!” Doc screamed now, and it
was for certain from his tone that this was for real.
 “What, with my bare hands?” Biff asked.
“Well, I'd do it myself by mine are TIED!” Doc screamed.
They all looked at Marty in dismay, who is coughing now and not able to get up from a
kneeling position. Suddenly, his hand holding the vial began to shimmer, then went
transparent.
Everyone's eyes bulged.
George's eyes were showing total empathy for Marty.
The vial, as if in slow motion, now freed from the forceps, dropped to the floor and
shattered with a sickening ring!
Doc's draw dropped open and he half screamed and half gasped. “Great SCOTT!”
Biff had been kneeling next to Marty, wrapping a rag around his hand in preparation to
grab the forceps from Marty. Now he jumped to his feet in a panic.
Marty fell backwards, his entire arm disintegrating.
“HOLY SHIT BIFF!” One of the henchmen screamed. “Look at his arm. It's
disappearing!”
The plutonium instantly crystallized on the cement next to Marty, into a grayish metal
that begin jumping around like a jumping bean and arcing in all directions. It gave off a
greenish smoke that filled the room almost instantly.
After one whiff of that smoke, Biff and his henchmen dropped to the floor instantly
unconscious.
Doc too succumbed and was out.
Marty rolled around on the floor in agony, safe from the smoke because of the radiation
suit.
George, who had freed himself from his restraints quite a while back, reached up and
tore the gag from his mouth. Then, thought better of it and used it to cover both his mouth
and his nose. It was a brilliant move on his part, keeping him from breathing in too much of
the fumes.
The metal jumping bean flashed into a bright flame that literally caught the cement floor
of the garage on fire, barely missing Marty.
His arm was completely gone and his agony was crippling.
Everyone was now helpless or unconscious except George McFly. He sprang
immediately into action, untying his feet and jumping to his feet. The gag was still tightly
wrapped around his mouth and nose. George grabbed Marty to drag him from the garage.
“No, no!” Marty protested through the helmet, “Doc, help Doc!”
George hesitated, then ran over and grabbed Doc, dragging him from the garage out
into the lawn, away from the fumes. He then ran back in and started to grab Marty again.
“No, No!” Marty was trying to drag himself out of the garage with one arm, unable to
stand. “Get the others first.” Said Marty.
Again, George hesitated, then he began to drag the others from the garage, laying
them down next to the Doc. He saved Biff for last.
 By this time Marty had managed to drag himself past the tow truck.
The plutonium, burning brightly with a white flame, turned into a grapefruit sized fire
brand and bounced under the DeLorean, then somehow caught the undercarriage on fire.
A thick, and no doubt highly toxic, black smoke began to pour out from under it.
Marty was now slipping into unconsciousness next to the front of the tow truck tire.
George ran to him and looked. Both arms were now gone! George couldn't believe his
eyes.
He grabbed Marty by his shoulders, where his arms should be, reluctantly, and then
dragged him to safety next to the others. The black smoke had filled the garage and in the
middle of it all white lightning bolts shot out. It looked like a terrible storm in the middle of Doc
Brown's garage.
George looked at Marty again and to his shock the kid's left leg was gone as well!
Panicking he looked at his own arms and legs, to make sure they weren't disappearing.
Marty's head popped up and he looked down in horror at his now vanishing legs, then
looked at his arms. “But the fire!” Marty screamed through his helmet! “I don't understand,
it's the fire, I thought that was supposed to fix it all!”
Then he realized what was wrong. He rolled over to George who now lay there
unconscious.
The fire had now lit up the night sky and Marty heard the distant approach of fire
trucks. He finally made it to George's side and began tapping his father in the face with his
helmet.
“Wake up dad!” He screamed! “Wake up dammit!”
George's eyes fluttered. He awakened and looked at Marty.
“Who are you?” Asked George, completely disoriented.
“It's me, your son, Marty,” he replied through the helmet.
“Who?” George was totally out of it.
“Never mind,” said Marty, “I need you to listen. You're a hero George!”
“I am?” He asked in confusion, then he noticed the flames and the lightning bolts and
the cloud of thick smoke and crawled backwards in terror.
“Yes, yes!” Marty screamed. “It's YOU, you saved all these people!” He waves at the
bodies laying there! Then, realized his arms were back! He laughed for joy!
“I did?” George asked in amazement!
“Yes, you did!” Marty looked down and saw that he had two legs now. He jumped up,
grabbed George by the shoulders and shook him! “You, George McFly are like some kind of
SUPERHERO or something, I never saw anything like it.”
George looked at Marty and asked, “are you okay? What are you wearing?”
Marty ripped his helmet off. “It's me, Marty!”
George was surprised and half smiled. “From the dance, right?
“You're going to be okay! George!” Marty shouted with joy! “You did it!”
 “I did?” George asked.
Marty looked down the driveway the fire trucks had rounded the corner and were
racing up. Followed closely by ambulances and police cars.
George was still completely disoriented but he stood as the first fireman ran up.
“You boys okay?” Asked the fire chief. Two other firemen ran to the lifeless bodies of
Doc and the others.
Marty stood with George and nodded. “YES!” He shouted. Thanks to this guy! Thanks
to George McFly. He saved everyone!”
George shook his head.
“Don't be modest!”
Marty told the fireman, “He should get the key to the city or something, he ran right in
that blaze and dragged us all out!”
He pats George on the back.
The fireman grinned. “Great work son, people will hear about this!” He went back to
helping pull out the hoses on the fire truck.
Ambulance workers were now attending to Doc and the others.
George stood there in a daze looking at the fire and wondering how he got there.
Marty took one last look at Doc, and the fire, and Biff and the others, then, another long
look at George who was starting to smile in relief and amazement. Then he took off running
toward the edge of the estate and the waiting woods.
George shouted after him. “Wait! Where are you going? You have to wait for the
ambulance.” Marty just kept right on running, disappearing into the darkness and the woods
beyond the estate.

20. HEAD CASES

The Mercy General Hospital was a tiny little place, by comparison to other hospitals. It
had recently just been built. Before that people had to go many a mile for their medical
emergencies. Marty walked through the halls marveling at the nurses pointy caps, that
looked almost like what nuns would wear. The doctors were all men. Aside from that it was a
hospital, not much different than the ones in 1985.
Marty found Doc Brown lying in his bed hooked up to an IV. He was half asleep when
Marty entered the room.
“Hey Doc,” he said, happy to see his old friend alive and well. “How ya feeling?”
Doc looked over at him with a blank look. “Who are you?”
Marty stopped, not knowing what to say. “Uh, uh... you don't remember me?”
Doc looked sad. “Kid, I'm sorry but right now I don't remember much of anything that
has happened in the last 2 months or so. They tell me it's some form of amnesia. I have
short term memory problems! Are you someone important in my life?”
 Thinking about his answer carefully he lied. “No,” Marty said, “I'm just the kid that cuts
your grass, I heard you were in a fire and I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“Do I owe you any money?” Doc looked concerned.
“No,” Marty smiled sadly, “you don't owe me anything Doc, I owe you.”
He just stood there staring at Doc fondly, wondering if he would ever remember him.
Marty hadn't forgot what Doc had told Biff about brain damage from the plutonium fire. A
deep sense of sadness welled up within him. Followed by relief. Maybe it was a good thing
that Doc couldn't remember him, or remember about time travel right now.
“Oh, I've been to your house,” Marty said to Doc, “I found this in the driveway,” he lied
again.
He handed Doc a small key.
“What is it?” Doc asked.
“I think it's a key to a safe deposit box.”
Doc looked at it in amazement. “I don't even recall having one of those.”
“At least, that's what it LOOKS like,” Marty kept fibbing. “You might want to check it
out, could be something of value in there.”
Marty smiled to himself. He had rented another safe deposit box and in it he put the
key to Doc's original box, that held his memoirs and other important information about time
travel. Marty had put several letters he'd written in there, including a replica of the letter the
other Marty had written warning him about the Libyans, the original had burned up in the fire,
so Marty made a new one, ripped it up, then taped it back together and finally, laminated it. It
looked just like the original as far as he could remember it.
Doc smiled and nodded, putting the key on his night stand. “Thanks a lot! I will check
it out as soon as I'm better and they let me out of here.”
“Good,” said Marty.
“Who knows maybe there's something in there that will help me remember the last few
months.” Doc surmised.
“I'm sure it will be very helpful,” is all Marty said.
Marty stared at Doc for a good long minute or so in silence then backed out of the
room. “Well,” he said as he did so, “I better be going, I've got lots of lawns to cut.”
“Strange,” Doc muttered as Marty leaves, “I seem to recall cutting my own grass.” He
shrugged.
As Marty made his way down the hall he saw Lorraine sitting by George's bedside.
She saw him at the same time.
“Marty!” She called to him.
Quickly she bent down, kissed the sleeping George's hand and got up. Lorraine came
out into the hall.
“Marty, did you hear George saved people from a terrible fire!”
“Ya, I heard,” he said, he's a real hero! Saved four people.”
 “It was FIVE,” Lorraine says proudly but one person took off. They think he might have
been the one responsible for the fire!”
“That's crazy,” said Marty.
“Listen, Marty,” Lorraine said, “I've been thinking about what you said the other night
and you're right. George McFly is no coward and this proves it! He just knows how to wisely
choose his battles! He's a wonderful man. I was wrong not to see that before.'
Marty smiled. “I knew you'd come around.” They smile at each other. “You know,”
Marty added, “I've always had feeling you two were meant for each other.”
She blushed and smiled.
Marty looked at his watch. “Oh, listen, I gotta run, sorry.”
She backed up. “Will we see you later? George doesn't remember much but the
doctor's say he wasn't exposed to whatever is affecting his memory long enough to do any
real permanent damage!”
Marty thought it over. “Not sure... we'll have to wait and see what the future holds.”
Lorraine leaned forward and pecked Marty on the cheek. “You're not a monster!”
“Thanks.” He said, “neither are you.”
She looked at him oddly and he laughed. She laughed too.
He turned and headed down the hall. As he turned a corner he heard yet another
familiar voice.
“Nurse,” the voice of Biff could be heard calling from a nearby room, “nurse.”
Biff's tone was so gentle and almost childlike that Marty got curious. He followed the
sound and then peeked into the room.
“Nurse, nurse!”
Biff saw Marty.
“Hey, kid!” Biff called to him in a friendly tone.
Marty reluctantly stepped forward into the room. He couldn't help himself. “Ya?” He
replied.
“Can you go find a nurse for me, pal?” Biff asked.
Marty stared in awe. This didn't sound like the same old Biff he'd come to know since
he made his first time jump. This sounded just like... the Biff Marty remembered, from before
the time jump.
“I need some more pillows,” Biff said, “my head and my neck are killing me.” Then Biff
looked at him in recognition. “Hey, you look familiar, do I know you?”
“Naw,” Marty lied, “you don't know me at all.”
“Nurse, nurse,” Biff started to whine again.
A Doctor came along and eyed Marty as he was leaving the room.
“Wow, you're the first visitor he's gotten so far.” The Doctor remarked. “You family?”
Marty shakes his head. “No, just passing by here, heard him asking for help.
 Then in a low tone he asked the Doctor, “Hey, Doc, what's wrong with him can you tell
me?”
“Well, not really, not unless you're a relative.”
Marty shook his head no.
“Well, let's just say he's been exposed to something highly toxic,” the Doctor violated
his own rule, “I think he may have permanent brain damage, but you didn't hear that from
me.”
“Of course not,” replied Marty. He left the room and headed back down the hallway. A
look of true understanding streaking across his face, and of sadness. He kind of felt sorry for
Biff.

* * * * * * * * * *

Marty sifted through the rubble at the burned out site of Doc Brown's estate. There
wasn't much left of the DeLorean, it's just a pile of twisted and melted metal, completely
unrecognizable as a vehicle of any kind. “It's all gone,” he muttered to himself. “The time
machine, the Plutonium, everything. I'm stuck here. In 1955, for the rest of my life!” He
looked up and stared around him, a deep sense of depression sinking in. “Jennifer.” He
whispered longingly with deep deep regret.

* * * * * * * * * *

Marty now stood in the phone booth at the back of Lou's Diner. He took a piece of
paper out of his wallet and read it. “JR Cash” it said, with a phone number. He picked up the
phone and dialed. A woman answered.
“Hello,” Marty said nervously, “is JR there?”
“Who is this,” the woman's voice on the other end asked.”
“Tell him it's Mac calling.”
 21. THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

Friday, October 26, 1985. 1:35 AM

A dark figure stood afar off from the Lone Pine Mall. He was far enough away not to be
seen, but he could still hear the sound of gunshots and Marty's voice distantly screaming “you
BASTARDS!” Rolling down the hill from the “Lone Pines Mall” sign was another figure,
dressed in his red quilted jacket vest. He got up and observed as the fateful events that
started this entire drama unfolded before his eyes. Just as it had been before.
The the Libyrans chased the DeLorean around the parking lot and toward the photo
booth. When the DeLorean vanished, the shocked Libyans lose control of their van and it
crashed into the photo booth and rolled over on it's side. Throwing caution to the wind, not
even knowing if the Libyans survived the crash or not, the figure ran down to check on poor
Doc.
This dark figure stood in the distance peering through binoculars.
Completely devastated the kid fell down next to the inventor's limp dead body and
began to mourn. He couldn't bear to look and turned his head. The figure off in the distance
and smiled as he saw the limp figure of Doc Brown sit straight up.
“Good for you Doc,” they mystery man muttered, “good for you.”
Down in the parking lot, Marty McFly was beside himself. "You're alive! But how?"
Without saying a word, and as if he's just remembering this for the first time himself, the Doc
opened his coveralls to reveal a bullet proof vest covered in flattened bullets.
Marty asked "how did you know?"
Doc reached in his top pocket and pulled out what looked like the letter he had slipped
him in 1955. It was taped back together and laminated to preserve it. But as Marty stared at
it something looked different to him. He couldn't place it. Marty demanded, "what about all
that talk about screwing up future events? The space time continuum?"
To which Doc merely replied, "well I figured, what the hell!"
The Dark figure continued to watch from his distance through the Binoculars. A much
older and worn Marty McFly. He looked to be about 47 to 50 years old. He watched until Doc
and Marty hurriedly packed up the moving truck before the police got there. He watched as
they departed, on their way to retrieve the DeLorean which he knew must be sitting in the
middle of town.
“You're lucky I don't steal that DeLorean from you,” he facetiously remarked to the
other Marty as he and Doc left the parking lot.
His binoculars went to the Libyans who never emerged again from the van. He
watched until the fire department showed up, then the police who bring out the bodies of the
Libyans with sheets covering them.
“Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of guys,” coldly remarked.
He put down the binoculars and sadly turned away.
 22. Biff's Revenge

Jennifer and Marty got out of the black 4 X 4 Pickup truck and walked silently together
down to the railroad tracks. Wreckage was strewn everywhere. They waded among the
debris. "You're right" she remarked, "there's not much left."
Sadly, he picked something up from the debris and looked at it. "Doc's never coming
back." He was holding a torn and burned piece of the old photo which showed Doc standing
alone by the clock tower and said, "I'm sure gonna miss him, Jennifer."
Suddenly, without warning there was a large FLASH and the familiar sound of a time
jump. Their hair was blown back and then they themselves fell backward as well, as a train
appeared on the tracks before them! It had the letters ELB embossed on its side.
The train had all kinds of futuristic accessories. It even had a wing door like the
DeLorean. It opened and Doc and Clara emerged. Marty was pleased, Jennifer was totally
stunned.
The Browns introduced their kids, both boys, Jules and Verne and Marty and Jennifer
to each other.
“Doc, I thought I'd never see you again.” A relieved Marty said.
Doc explained that he had to come back and get Einstein and that he didn't want Marty
to worry about him. He gave Marty a gift. It was the photograph they both took together at
the clock tower dedication ceremony in 1885.
Jennifer interrupted, holding the blank fax sheet out to Doc and asking him what it
meant.
Doc said, "it means your future isn't written yet, no one's is, your future is what you
make it, so make it a good one, both of you!"
He told his boys to buckle up and told Marty and Jennifer to stand back. They said
goodbye.
Marty asked him if he was going back to the future.
Doc shook his head. "Nope, already been there."
The train rose up into the air, hovering and it's wheels folded into the underside of the
train. It turned and moved away from them a bit as they watched. It then shot up and over
them, vanishing in a flash, leaving behind a flame trail.
Not far off, in someone's back yard, Biff stood with binoculars surveying the entire
scene. He'd been watching the whole thing.
“So,” he spoke to himself, “Doc Brown invented a time machine!” He stopped. “Wait a
minute, there's something familiar about that!”

* * * * * * * * * *

A Policeman got back into his cruiser after taking one last look around the wreckage at
the train crossing. Biff's detailing van pulled up and he and his crew jumped out dressed in
coveralls. The officer waved. Biff approached the cruiser and handed him a wad of bills
through the window.
“What do you think?” Biff asked the officer.
Counting his money the officer replied, “Go ahead, there's no casualties. Looks like
someone just parked a DeLorean on the tracks and then walked away. Witnesses say some
crazy kid in a cowboy suit was driving it right on the tracks but there's no sign of him.” He
held up a license plate that read “outatime.” “It's registered to an Emmett Brown.”
Biff nodded. “I know him.”
The officer chuckled. “Everyone knows that crazy old man. I'm off to talk to him right
now.”
Biff told the officer, “good luck, I bet you won't find him.”
The officer looked at him quizzically.
“... at home I mean.” Biff said.
“I'll let ya'll get to it,” said the Officer as he looked at the sky. “It'll be getting dark soon
so you best get a move on. I told the city that I'll take care of the debris here, I'll need some
of it to show for my effort.”
“No problem,” said Biff, “I'll get up with you later.”
They backed up and left.
Biff barked orders to his henchmen who were just kicking around the debris. “I want
every last nut and bolt!” He saw one of his crew reach down and unwrap a piece of a
streamer flag from an axle. His eyes widened and he hurried over there.
“Let me see that,” he ordered, snatching it out of the man's hand. He turned it over
and over, as if lost deep in a memory. It looked ancient and practically crumbled in his hand.
His memory from 1955 had never been the same since the accident, but there was one
night he never forgot. November 12, 1955. He thought of the tunnel chase, after Calvin Klein
stole the book for him. He could still remember the odd device the kid used, seeming to float
along above the highway. He remembered at the edge of the tunnel, some flying machine
swooped in with a multicolored streamer.
Biff looked at the piece of matching streamer in his hand, ancient and crumbling.
He remembered as Klein grabbed the streamer and just floated up in the air. In his
memory he could now see Doc Brown in the flying machine.
Doc yelled, "hang on Marty" and lifted the machine up, carrying Marty to safety.
“A flying DeLorean.” Biff muttered. Then his mind went to just a few hours earlier. He
came out of the house to show Marty McFly his new business matchbooks, just in time to see
a flying DeLorean take off and disappear in a fiery trail in the sky.
He remembered that night in 1955 again. He saw himself watching as Calvin Klein
floating away. When he looked back at where he was going, he was headed straight for a
manure truck. He spun sideways and clipped the truck, the same way he done a few days
earlier in front of the diner. Once again his car and even his mouth were filled with manure.
He spit manure out of his mouth and screamed, “MANURE! I HATE MANURE!"
 Biff just sat there, staring at the crumbling streamer. He clenched his fist and it turned
to dust.
The friend who found the streamer asked him, “what's that?”
Biff just scowled. “Never mind, just keep working!”
The man shrugged and went back to gathering parts up.
Biff stared at the string that held the streamer.
“Marty McFly...” he muttered, “or should I say CALVIN KLEIN? You cost me MILLIONS
OF DOLLARS, you sonofabitch, and now, I'm going to take it out of your ASS! “

EPILOGUE
Marty McFly stood on the dark stage in the spotlight, with a beautiful electric Gibson
SG, playing the opening notes to “Folsom Prison Blues.”

Johnny case began singing. He sang the first few verses as the song was known.
Then he stepped away from the microphone and motioned to Marty, who stepped up to the
microphone and began singing “Hill Valley Blues” as he had come up with it in the Hill Valley
Jail years earlier when he and Johnny had met.

“When I was just a baby my mama told me, Son,

When you're grown up I want you to have fun
But I got stuck in Hill Valley, in 1955
Marty looked Johnny's way and grinned when he sang the last verse:

When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry.

***************

In 1985, a much aged Marty McFly entered his office building and walked down the
hallway carrying a set of binoculars. He looked tired. It had been a long night. The walls in
the hallway were lined with gold records and photographs and news articles. They showed
him, Marty McFly, playing on stage with, not only Johnny Cash, but numerous famous artists.
There was photos of him playing at Woodstock. There was also news articles following the
glowing career of Arthur George Mac, whom everyone just called “Big Mac.” One of those
ironic names since he was so short.
He stopped at a door to an office. The door had large initials that read “BM.”
He entered and approached a cluttered desk. He sat down and looked at a copy of a
letter he'd recently mailed out.
Dear Mr. McFly, caught your show at the Palade last week. I liked what I heard. I
believe you definitely have a bright future and I'd like to be a part of it. Give me a call at the
number below and make an appointment.
Sincerely, Big Mac, President of Mac Daddy Records.