AAOOOSC! Future!

When Sidney arrives at John’s house, he notices that it looks exactly the same as how it looked like in 2014: the pale yellow paint, red door, front porch, and the garden in front with a brick walkway that leads to the steps of the porch. The thing that changed is that the house appears more rundown: the paint is peeling off, the wooden railings and steps of the porch is being gnawed away, the grass of the garden is brown and the plants are wilting. It is a sad sight for Sidney to see.

“Aw…,” Sidney starts with a frown. “His house once looked so pretty.” He sombrely strolls down the pathway and up the stairs of the porch. He then halts in front of the door and knocks on it; there is a golden knocker installed there on it, but it is too high up for the Penguin to reach.

Sidney steps back and stares at the door eagerly, waiting for the door to open. He hears footsteps echoing from the other side; then a jumble of CLANKS! and CLINGS! join into the sounds.

The door is roughly opened slightly, letting Sidney only see a familiar eye peeking from the other side.

“Who’s around there?” John’s familiar voice grumbles from the door.

Sidney gasps and waves his hands in the air. “It’s me! It’s me! It’s me, Sid! Sidney Crosby!”

“Crosby?” John’s eyebrow knits with shock. “Is that really you?”

“Ummm...well…” The Penguin clasps his hands behind his back and down to his right. “...I’m from 2014...I time-travelled.”

The retired Islander lets in a sharp, short gasp. “Loiter here.” His eye disappears and the door is slam shut. More ruckus of clanks and clings sound and finally the door is open fully.

Standing in the doorway is John, who looks a lot like himself back in 2014. The difference is that his hair is much more messier and spikier, he gained more wrinkles, he is wearing glasses, and his facial hair has gotten much more thicker, almost forming into a beard.

“Wow, rocking that beard, John, eh?” Sidney exclaims, pointing at him.

“I misplaced my razor,” John mutters under his breath as he steps aside, parallel to the door, so that Sidney could enter. “Cross the threshold.”

The Penguin enters the house and the retired Islander closes the door behind him.

Sidney notices that the house also looks the same, but it is much more messier with newspapers and papers spewed all over the table tops as the most noticeable feature from the mess.

“Whoa, it looks like a paper bomb exploded in here,” Sidney comments as he hobbles into the living room. He found it odd that he is in the same exact room he was in not too long ago, but in the past. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the feeling.

“I am exerting myself on an experiment. Pardon my dust,” John says from behind him as he is working on latching the line of locks back in place on his door.

The Penguin grabs a pile of newspaper written in Greek from the sofa and tosses it aside. He then climbs onto the open space of the sofa and sits down on it, with his feet sticking out on the edge.

John saunters back into the living room. “You professed that you time-travelled from 2014?”

“Yup!” Sidney shoots him a smile and nods his head.

The retired Islander stands in front of him with his hands clasp in front of him. “How did you time-travel?”

“Well, Jonathan shot me into the future!” He signals what he is saying by flinging his hand across his upper body. “I think he used one of his powers that could time-travel other people into the future!”

“Ah, yes, I do in fact reminisce about that escapade,” John replies, gazing above to his left and nodding his head. “You never appeared back, unfortunately...until now.” He extends his hands toward him.

“Ta-dа!” Sidney throws his arms into the air, revealing his whole body in a showy fashion. “I’m HERE!”

John does not seem amused at his response.

The Penguin drops his hands and clears his throat. “But, can you send me back into the past? I would really like to go back to 2014, please.”

“Hmmm...my, my…” The retired Islander rubs his chin with inquisitiveness in his eyes. “I’ve never fashioned a time machine before…”

“Well, what’s all this you’re doing?!” Sidney picks up a stack up paper that is next to him.

John points to the paper. “Those are my diagrams for recreating almondade.”

“Why are you recreating almondade? It already exists, why make it again?” He places the papers back down in confusion.

“Because unfortunately, almondade has been discontinued...and I do dearly yearn for the nectarous, piquant savour of that beverage.” John gazes up at the ceiling longingly.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry.” The Penguin frowns with a sigh while looking down. He then lifts his eyes back up at the retired hockey player. “But can’t Jonathan bring me back to the past? I mean, if he was able to bring me to the future, he should be able to bring me back to the past…!”

“I am sorry, but Tazer boy is impotent to convey you back to the past,” John replies solemnly.

“How come?” He shoots him a concerned expression.

“That I must not disclose-- If I bestow the reason to you and you inform those of the past about that, it could distort the space-time continuum, which could cause the annihilation of the universe!” He throw his hands into the air. “That would be devastating.”

Sidney gives him a blank stare. “Oh, um, okay…didn’t know that…” His eyes trail off to the right.

John’s eyes darken with graveness. “How much do you know about 2029?”

“Well…” The Penguin rattles his mind to remember what Connor told him: “Connor is the captain of the Oilers, everyone drafted before 2010 are now retired, except for Jagr, of course, and--”

“Shhh!” The retired Islander snaps, causing Sidney to halt in his speaking. “Who apprised you this information?!”

“Connor McDavid! I met him and he told me that I was in the future!” Sidney smiles at the fact that the captain of the Oilers greeted him a nice way.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no-- fiddlesticks!” Filled with ire, John swung his arm out at the stacks of papers that are on the coffee table, wiping them off from the surface. He then madly places his hands against the table and leans forward, staring deep into his eyes. “You must not disclosed any information about 2029 to anyone, not even a living soul, when you get back to 2014. Do you fathom?” he spits out lowly with gritted teeth.

In fear, Sidney nods his head with wide eyes.

"And stay away from McDavid..." The retired Islander straightens up and says in his regular tone: “I enjoin that for the well-being of the time-space continuum and the means the world is suppose to operate in.” He pulls his glasses off from his nose and cleans them with a handkerchief.

“So...um...can you send me back to the past? I promise not to tell anyone about the future, not even Bubby and Bubby Jr.” The Penguin does the motions of zipping his lips, locking them with a key, and throwing the key out.

“Yes, I must convey you to the past.” John nods his head firmly. “The greater extent you linger here, the greater the likelihood of the time-space continuum becomes distorted and destroyed.”

“Oh, goodie!” Sidney claps his hand happily. “When will I be able to go back to the past?”

“Unfortunately, not any time soon.” The retired Islander purses his lips at his response. “But for now, you must lodge here, and only lodge at this very place.” He points to the floor.

The Penguin gazes to the right, then to the left, then back up at John. “But what if I’m hungry?”
“I have sufficient amounts of nourishment here.”

“Such as…” He tilts his head toward him.

“Well, there’s Taramasalata, Placki ziemniaczane, Moussaka, Rosół--”

“What on earth are those?!” Sidney cries out, gaping at him.

“They’re Greek and Polish dishes. Forgive me, but I consumed the last Mexican dish last night.” John shrugs with his hands behind his back.

“I don’t want Greek or Polish food!” The Penguin crosses his arms with a frown. “I want food that I can actually pronounce!”

“Well, I don’t attain any nourishment that you’d be accustomed to…” The Islander dips his head and rubs his chin with a frown.

“So can I go out to eat?” Sidney raises his eyebrows.

Out of the corner of his eye, John gazes at him.

“I promise not to get any information about the future,” the Penguin adds in matter-of-factly.

“But just merely going out will proffer you information about the future!” He exclaims, extending his left hand toward his front door.

“But I already went outside into the future already, right? And if I do gain more information about the future, I promise not to tell anyone about it in the past. Okay?”

John inhales deeply then exhales loudly. “Fine,” he says begrudgingly. “You may go. But you must make it back here in a jiffy. Understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Sidney jumps off from the sofa and lands on his feet. “Thank you! I’ll be back very in a jiffy…!” He then marches off to the door, but then halts when he sees the intimidating row of locks on the door’s right side. “Um, John?”

John lumbers over to the door, unlocks all the locks and chains, pushes the door open, and lets him out.

Sidney crosses over to the porch and turns around to face the veteran player. “Thank you, John! I’ll be back soon!” He then salutes him, turns around, and walks down the porch, walkway, and sidewalk until he disappears.

John sighs as he leans on the door jamb. “You better know what you’re doing, Tavares,” he mutters to himself.

Notes