Barbara time travels to the fall of 1962
August 5, 1962 Marilyn Monroe was found dead in her Brentwood, California home from an apparent overdose of drugs. We shall explore what really happened here…
Working on her PhD at the University of the Virgin Martyrs in a very blue state in 2016 Barbaria Moore summonsed to the University of the Virgin Martyrs’ Chairman-Emeritus Wragg’s office and is told to strip before she goes in. She really doesn’t understand why but this close to her doctorate she complies.
She is told new evidence has surfaced that Marilyn Monroe was murdered to cover up her affair with a recently-elected president and they want her to get to bottom of it and therefore they need her to go back in time adding it would help her chances getting her PhD. Barb can see such a trip could be informational but still asks “OK, but why must I be naked?”
His secretary Ulrika explains “THT Inc.’s time-travel machine is very sensitive and we have to be sure you are not wearing any jewelry or metal, including wads of aluminum foil stuffed in your cunt or ass!”
“Why the hell would I do that” Barb asks.
“Oh, Barb, soak it in warmed oil olive oil and twist it around! You’ll know” Ulrika says.
I decide to take her word for it and am strapped into the time-travel machine.
I am administered a drug and ask what it is. Ulrika says “You are time-traveling, not going to a parallel universe. There are things you cannot remember!”
I feel woozy…
Saturday, October 6, 1962
Though unknown to most of the world the Cuban missile crisis was already in a full boil when Barbara arrived in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts just 10 days before the Cuban Missile Crisis would become front page news.
She would be met by a secret operative who would only identify himself as ‘Tree’.
This place looks familiar yet I don’t remember being here. A brand new Corvair screeches to a stop next to me and a man jumps from the driver’s door and runs to me whispering “Damn, Barb, you look great!”
I look in a shop window and wonder what the hell happened to my hair. I look at him and say “Look, jerk, I will hit you with mace if you don’t get back!”
He looks at my tight red dress (and other tight little things) and says “You can’t hide a mace under that outfit! Barb, it’s me, Tree!”
My mind is really a mess so I say “OK, so you are ‘Tree’ whoever the fuck that is. Where am I and what is going on?”
“You’re in Hyannis Port and you have a late date with Jack, Bobby, and maybe Teddy. Come on, I’ll try to explain” he says. He drags me into some flea-bitten hotel and takes me to a second floor room and tells me to go take a shower. I am surprised the goon doesn’t try to ‘join’ me there. As the warm water flows over me my memories… or perhaps my imagination… fade but aren’t all gone. I am twenty-two years old and look out the window with this goon staring at me. I pull my hair up onto my head and think ‘Hyannis Port’. Why does that stick in my head? I ask “Is Jack, Bobby, and Teddy the Kennedy’s?”
“What other three would I be talking about?” he asks as he sticks a needle in my tight little.
“OW… what was that?” I demand!
“It’s something my sister made up. It will make the night more tolerable. Get some rest. You’ll need it tonight” Tree tells me. I feel a strange euphoria grow inside me and somehow want to go on this ‘date’.
I get dressed (the old fart won’t fuck me) and picked up by a chauffeured Rolls Royce. I arrive at the Hyannis Port compound and wonder what adventures lay ahead…
-Barbara Moore…
-Tree
August 5, 1962 Marilyn Monroe was found dead in her Brentwood, California home from an apparent overdose of drugs. We shall explore what really happened here…
Working on her PhD at the University of the Virgin Martyrs in a very blue state in 2016 Barbaria Moore summonsed to the University of the Virgin Martyrs’ Chairman-Emeritus Wragg’s office and is told to strip before she goes in. She really doesn’t understand why but this close to her doctorate she complies.
She is told new evidence has surfaced that Marilyn Monroe was murdered to cover up her affair with a recently-elected president and they want her to get to bottom of it and therefore they need her to go back in time adding it would help her chances getting her PhD. Barb can see such a trip could be informational but still asks “OK, but why must I be naked?”
His secretary Ulrika explains “THT Inc.’s time-travel machine is very sensitive and we have to be sure you are not wearing any jewelry or metal, including wads of aluminum foil stuffed in your cunt or ass!”
“Why the hell would I do that” Barb asks.
“Oh, Barb, soak it in warmed oil olive oil and twist it around! You’ll know” Ulrika says.
I decide to take her word for it and am strapped into the time-travel machine.
I am administered a drug and ask what it is. Ulrika says “You are time-traveling, not going to a parallel universe. There are things you cannot remember!”
I feel woozy…
Saturday, October 6, 1962
Though unknown to most of the world the Cuban missile crisis was already in a full boil when Barbara arrived in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts just 10 days before the Cuban Missile Crisis would become front page news.
She would be met by a secret operative who would only identify himself as ‘Tree’.
This place looks familiar yet I don’t remember being here. A brand new Corvair screeches to a stop next to me and a man jumps from the driver’s door and runs to me whispering “Damn, Barb, you look great!”
I look in a shop window and wonder what the hell happened to my hair. I look at him and say “Look, jerk, I will hit you with mace if you don’t get back!”
He looks at my tight red dress (and other tight little things) and says “You can’t hide a mace under that outfit! Barb, it’s me, Tree!”
My mind is really a mess so I say “OK, so you are ‘Tree’ whoever the fuck that is. Where am I and what is going on?”
“You’re in Hyannis Port and you have a late date with Jack, Bobby, and maybe Teddy. Come on, I’ll try to explain” he says. He drags me into some flea-bitten hotel and takes me to a second floor room and tells me to go take a shower. I am surprised the goon doesn’t try to ‘join’ me there. As the warm water flows over me my memories… or perhaps my imagination… fade but aren’t all gone. I am twenty-two years old and look out the window with this goon staring at me. I pull my hair up onto my head and think ‘Hyannis Port’. Why does that stick in my head? I ask “Is Jack, Bobby, and Teddy the Kennedy’s?”
“What other three would I be talking about?” he asks as he sticks a needle in my tight little.
“OW… what was that?” I demand!
“It’s something my sister made up. It will make the night more tolerable. Get some rest. You’ll need it tonight” Tree tells me. I feel a strange euphoria grow inside me and somehow want to go on this ‘date’.
I get dressed (the old fart won’t fuck me) and picked up by a chauffeured Rolls Royce. I arrive at the Hyannis Port compound and wonder what adventures lay ahead…
-Barbara Moore…
-Tree
