The Decameron 2.0

Day 7.2 Humor - A DEADBEAT'S GUIDE TO TIME TRAVEL masheena

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There was a sunlit park balanced on the hills of San Francisco. It was a long-time hangout for people like Elise, who spent the day there drinking rum from coconuts sold by the guy with dreads and a cooler, eating drug-filled candy passed out by strangers, and sleeping in the sun. Her hair was naturally a dark brown, but she'd dyed it a dirty blond color that swung from shoulder-to-shoulder in rhythm with the pink hula hoop at her waist. The constant swinging and the random hair twirls didn't really fit the tune of the reggae coming out of the stereo she'd brought, but she hummed along anyway and pretended it did. The sun burned down, tanning her shoulders quite effectively.

The hula hoop dropped from Elise's waist. Pretending she was a ballerina, she stood on her toes, wobbled wildly, and then jumped out of the hoop. She picked up a paintbrush resting on the easel in front of her and drew red grass at the bottom of her painting. Why? She didn't know. But they'd call it art one day.

When she looked up and saw the deranged-looking man standing behind the easel, she yelled out and dropped the paintbrush.

"What do you want?" she asked, snatching up the hula hoop and raising it in front of her like a weapon. It swung down sadly to her side.

The man had wires in his hair, which was tousled in every direction imaginable. Unfocused eyes tried to fix on her, but kept sliding toward the grass and the view of the city and the bay in the distance. He burped, took a deep breath, and said, "Danielle! What are you doing in this hoodlum's park?"

Elise raised an eyebrow and looked from side-to-side, but no one was coming to her rescue. Shielding her eyes from the sun as if she'd only just noticed it was really bright, she said, "I'm Elise."

The man's mouth drooped into a frown. "My daughter."

"Look, buddy, if you're trying to get me to go in your creepy white van, try a different approach than calling me your kid. Honestly, candy might work with me."

The stranger's shoulders fell to match the curve of his frown. "I thought you were her."

Elise nodded slowly, then decided it might be time to pack up her things and move to another side of the park.

"Will you help me find her?"

Frowning, Elise tried a more direct approach. "Do you have candy?"

When the man shook his head, a bit of wire falling to hang in front of his unfocused eyes, Elise sighed and reached forward to fold-up her easel.

But as her hand landed on it, he grabbed her wrist.

"Hey, let go of me!" she called out, yanking away from him. But his grip was surprisingly strong. Suspended in a strange tug-of-war, Elise and the weird man stared at each other. The sun nearly blinded them both.

"Just listen to what I'm saying, I beg you, or I'll...I'll throw you in the time travel machine and send you to a time where they're weren't any hula hoops and you'd actually have to work for a living!"

A gasp escaped Elise's lips. "You wouldn't. Who do you think you are, Paul Scranton?"

He chuckled derisively. "All I want is to find my daughter and have a chance to talk to her. Please."

Chewing on her tongue for a moment, which was currently bright green from a jolly-rancher, she considered her choices. Option one was to go to a waitress job interview she'd snagged by selling adderall to the manager. Option two was to help this crazy middle-aged man find his daughter since he seemed to have misplaced her.

"Sure, I suppose I'll help. What's your name? I'm Elise."

"Paul Scranton," he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. "You really think you can help?"