BILL & TED characters are trademarks of Nelson 1991 Inc. The motion picture BILL & TED'S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE & © 1989 Nelson Films Inc. All Rights Reserved. The motion picture BILL & TED'S BOGUS JOURNEY © 1991 Orion Pictures Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
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San Dimas, California, 1989
"Hey Bill, you know what day it is today?" Ted asked as they sat outside the circle K.
"Um... Wednesday?" Bill answered clueless.
"Well yeah but it's a special Wednesday," Ted continued. "It's the one year anniversary of when we traveled through time, met the babes and passed our history report."
"Dude, how do you remember that?" Bill asked surprised. Ted had a hard time recalling what he had for breakfast.
"I got the plane ticket from when I was supposed to go to Alaska. It's sort of a reminder about passing school." Ted shrugged.
"So it was about this time last year when Rufus came and told us----" a large howl of wind and a flash of lightning interrupted Bill's words. The booth fell from the sky as it had the previous year but with one difference. Rufus wasn't in it.
"Hey I wonder if it's lost?" Bill said as they looked inside it. Ted looked at the numbers on the phone; there was something different about them but he didn't know what.
The antenna on the booth rose and it began to dial itself.
"How about an anniversary travel?" Bill asked.
"Most Triumphant. I wonder where it's going to go?" The booth dropped through the ground and into the circuits of time.
The circuits were as normal until the booth went speeding through a hole and was suspended in complete darkness for a moment before jumping into a completely new circuit that didn't look anything like the one they were used to.
The booth landed and Bill and Ted walked out.
"It's my house," Bill said looking upon the familiar sight with suspicion. "Don't suppose the booth's broken?"
"Ah well, I didn't feel like walking home anyway." Ted strolled towards the garage and Bill followed. As it opened they got a huge shock.
"Bill, what is that?" Ted asked, looking dumbfounded.
"It's a car, Ted," Bill said. "What's a car doing in our garage?"
"Strange things are afoot, Bill," Ted decided.
"Bill, what are you doing here?" a cool female voice called. Bill turned to find a curly haired blonde in his face.
"I live here dude," Bill replied. "What's your excuse?"
She giggled. "I live here too." She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Are you clean?"
"Who are you?" Bill demanded. The girl groaned and hit her forehead.
"I knew it. You've been out with them again." She rubbed her temples in frustration. "I'm your sister Diane and I think you better come inside."
"Dude, you didn't tell me you had a sister," Ted whispered in his ear.
"I don't dude, this girl is a nut," Bill whispered back.
"And who are you?" Diane was staring daggers at Ted. "Bet you're not clean either, are you?"
"No dude, I am very clean as I had a shower," Ted replied.
"Bill, please come in the house before mom and dad get home, they'll throw you out if they see you like this!" She cried, pulling at Bill's arm.
"I think we should go, dude," Ted suggested.
"Yeah I think we should." He shrugged off Diane and they made a run for the booth.
Dialing any number they could think of, they were soon speeding off to some unknown destination.
"That was too weird, dude," Ted exclaimed as they flew through the strangely coloured circuits.
"Yeah, I have not and will never will do drugs," Bill said. "I want to be a rocker known for his music."
"Hey, there's that hole again," Ted remarked as they flew through the hole and were once again suspended in darkness.
"We have a problem most excellent ones."
The three most important ones looked down upon the young man who had spoken.
"What is it?"
"The experimental booth that jumps realities has been taken over," he said.
"By who?" they asked.
"The Great Ones."
(New portion added September 7, 2005)
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The booth hit the ground with a
"Where are we now?"
They peered through the glass and saw they were in what looked like a grubby warehouse.
"Do you think we're back in San Dimas?" Ted asked.
"I dunno," said Bill looking around.
Suddenly someone burst through the door and what looked like an older, scruffier and meaner looking Bill and Ted came into the room.
"Woah!" The alternate versions of themselves stopped. "What the hell are they?"
"Hello future versions of ourselves!" Ted waved to them.
Alternate Bill and Ted looked confused. "Do you think they are future version's of us?" Ted whispered.
"I dunno. What else could they be?"
"Hey dudes," Alternate Bill mimicked them. "Give us your money!"
"We're all out Future Bill," Ted answered.
"I don't think you understand little dudes," Alternate Ted pulled something out of his jacket. And the real Bill and Ted were face to face with the barrel of a gun. "Give us your money."
"Um... well dudes we gotta go." Bill raised his hands and began to slowly move backwards. Ted followed suit and they practically smashed the phone trying to dial it.
When the booth got moving they let out the breath they were unconsciously holding in.
"Was that... was that what the future is gonna be like if we don't make it?" Bill asked, more as a rhetorical question.
"I hope not! Did you see how mean we were?"
Bill nodded. "I don't think this is an ordinary booth."
"Okay dudes, here's the deal." Xero, the inventor of the
reality jump booth stood in front of the three most important people.
"The reality jump booth is programmed to come back here after one hundred
"And how many jumps has it had?"
"Well," Xero looked down at his palm where a small computer sat. "At the present moment, eighty eight." He looked back up. "That means they have to jump 12 more times before they come back."
"They'll be back very soon then?"
Xero looked uncomfortable. "There is one problem. The booth automatically dials after 7 minutes in one place."
"So if the great ones stay in one place more than 7 minutes then the booth disappears?"
"That's the general idea."
"Is there any way to make sure they stay in the booth?"
Xero scrunched his face in thought. "We could ring them."
"Then do it."
TO BE CONTINUED . . . .