"Mwahahahaha!"
Crouching down in Jack's van, Mark asked, "Didja hear that weird laugh?"
"Sh. Yeah. Let me check the chronovac cam. The minicam is up on the dash monitoring the kids entering the school. The chronivac has been storing the data and should show on playback any chronivacic activity...Whoa! Look at this--oh, sorry, Jack. I'll describe it," said Eric.
"See these three big guys in Letterman jackets? Well, now look at them! Hehe, ew? Funny and tragic like what he's been doing to us."
"Yeah, the go from being buff jocks, now that I see them, it's weird, I've got two sets of memories. In the true set, it's Bill Hoover, Vic Harding, and "Woody" Wilson, our star football players, they're going to high school next year. In the revised version, they're names are the same, except for Woody, he's Leslie, maybe that's his real name, I dunno. But they're the geekiest three guys in the school. And talk about micro dicks, I doubt combined they total 4 inches. I remember seeing them in the locker room, but I couldn't have--could I?" stammered Mark.
"Notice this black SUV in the faculty lot, the chronovacic cam shows a purple aura indicating the source of the chronovac radiation is inside that vehicle," explained Eric. Jeff nodded.
"That's Principal Dunsmore's car!" gasped Mark.
"I'm going to focus the cam and mic on the suv to see what we can learn," Eric whispered.
The audio boomed over the speakers, "Note to self: Bet on West High next year, since all the kids coming from my school will be going to East High. Ignoring the true handicaps, I'd say my brother Stewart should have about the biggest mix of freaks, geeks, and unatheletic students in a long while. And I'll point out that during my tenure, GPA's rose, and we won the state Football championship. Obviously, I'm the better principal, since he took my champions and turned them into losers. Oh, if he only knew! That arrogant "Woody" Wilson had the nerve to fool around with Miss Elkins, before I increased her weight by 100 lbs, it's about time he learned some compassion for the less athletically inclined. I'll teach them all a lesson. Yes, I think I'll entitle this chapter of my memoirs "Compassion 101". After all, that's what I'm doing, making them less perfect so they learn humility. Now let me play that back, and see how it sounds," said the principal. The sound of a squeaky tape player rewinding could be heard.
"Got a lock on him?"
"Not yet," Jeff said adjusting the chronivac, "Something's interfering."
"Maybe we should just call the Chronivac people and let them fix it?"