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May
18

Nap Lapkin: Terminated (part 9)

As the helicopter made the short trip to D.C. its three passengers attempted to put their situation in some sort of context they could grasp. And failed.

Present Day Nap took a positive approach. “So you’re saying that this Kris guy impregnated Madonna then died trying to protect her against the cyborg. Madonna then raised the kid to be a total bad-ass and he grew up to lead the rebellion against the machines.”

“Yes… that’s what was supposed to happen” answered Future Nap.

“So what’s the problem?” shrugged Present Nap. “All we have to do is knock up Madonna, my DNA has to be better than this Kris guy. All we did was improve things. Steve 2.0.”

Finally it was time for Madonna to pipe up. “How can you show such a profound disrespect for destiny? You can’t just plug in someone new in such a delicate situation.”

“Speaking of plugging … who’s going to be the one to impregnate Madonna?” asked one of the Lapkins, which was is sort of irrelevant.

“Well … I did come back in time for her” said Future Nap… making my last sentence completely inaccurate. Damn those Lapkins.

“Yes, but you’re old as hell. I bet your sperm doesn’t even work anymore” rebutted Present Nap.

Madonna put her head in her hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“I didn’t even have the balls to admit how I felt about her. I did!” said an animated Future Nap.

“I who? I me or I you?” said a confused Present Nap.

“Both.” Said Future Nap and left it at that.

The three sat in silence until the copter had reached a park near Madonna’s townhouse.

“We’ll pick you up in the morning” said Present Nap. “I have an idea who might be able to give us some insight into this whole mess.”

“If you say Jeff Goldblum I swear I’ll shoot you right now” said Madonna.

“Of course not” Nap said with a hurt look on his face. “How could you think I would turn to an actor on matters of time travel?”

“I’m sorry Nap. It’s been a long night” Madonna said. “Who did you have in mind?”

“Apology accepted. Dress nicely tomorrow … I’m going to get us a meeting with James Cameron. He’ll know what to do.”

“That’s exactly who I was thinking of” echoed Future Nap.

The thought that there was the possibility that one of these ignoramuses was going to have to be the father of her child ran through her mind as she stepped from the helicopter. If morning sickness was anything like this she did not look forward to pregnancy.

 

Future Nap walked through Present Day Nap’s apartment like he was strolling through a museum. He was smiling a lot and touching things and sighing. Present Nap asked if he wanted the bed to which he declined. He’d had a busy day and was certain the couch would be more than comfortable enough. He remembered falling asleep on it countless times when he was younger.

After making a few phone calls Present Nap walked in and sat down next to him.

“So many questions. Where to begin.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ve screwed up the future already so I’m not sure I can tell you much of what’s going to happen from here on out” Future Nap began. “I’ll just tell you what happened in my future.

To begin with, when we’ve sorted out this Madonna stuff I’m going to have to go and kill all the pasty white late night talk show hosts and their writers.”

Present Nap laughed and waited. Apparently Future Nap was anticipating shock or at least a question. Finally Present Nap added “Go on. Remember, you’re me so I’m assuming you have a completely rational reason for a killing spree.”

“Alright then. Well, after Trump was re-elected humor as you know it now was forever altered. The goal was no longer to be funny. Comedy was strictly to feel superior to people who didn’t share your political views. These late night writers simply bashed conservatives and their audiences clapped and hooted like something amusing had been said. It was the death of wit.

Furthermore, this allowed the politically correct crowd to go after anyone who actually tried to say something funny. Everyone knows the only thing that makes people laugh is making fun of people less fortunate then themselves. The PC folks started arresting comedians for hate speech.

The future became a horribly unfun place. You could even make the argument that when machines became self aware that some people were glad it was all going to end … if only to see all the talk show hosts lined up and shot.”

Present Nap soaked it all in. “So you’re going to cut to the chase and do it yourself in the hopes of saving humor?”

“Yes” replied Future Nap.

“Alright. I’m in” said Present Nap. “Anything else I should look out for?”

“Hmmmm. Oh… in five years most of America will stop watching the NFL when a large percentage of a team refused to play for a white coach. Hockey became our national pastime, which really pissed off Canada. Bowling also saw a bump in ratings. Like I said, the future became a pretty unfun place.”

“Wow. I guess we should get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

“Ok. Goodnight past me.”

“Goodnight future me.”

 

After a few late-night calls from high-ranking government officials the social calendar of one James Cameron was cleared and, as luck would have it, he was in New York to discuss financial details for his upcoming Terminator reboots so Nap, Nap and Madonna had only a short helicopter ride to meet with him.

The group walked into the reception area and were greeted by a stern middle-aged woman. Future Nap whispered to Present Nap “This takes me back. In the future no man would dare to have a female receptionist.”

“Mr. Cameron will see you now. The other member of your party has already arrived” said the woman sternly. Nobody was surprised by her tone. I think everyone would have been surprised by any other tone, that’s how stern she appeared.

“Our other member?” said a confused Madonna.

With that the receptionist swung open the door to an office revealing James Cameron seated behind a large ornate wood desk and, seated in front of him in a large ornate wood side chair, another older Nap Lapkin.

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