LJ Idol, Week 9
“…and that was the most counterintuitive thing I ever ate.” There, that was it. That was the end of my entry as I had finally finished the damn thing. I spent way more time than necessary thinking about the prompt in which I had to base my writing on for this week. Why had I committed myself to this writing competition in the first place?
I did some copying and pasting and was about to hit the “enter” button to complete the process for yet another week when suddenly I heard the front door of my apartment opening. Who the hell was that? Everyone else who lived here should either be at work or school right now.
“Hello?” I called out. No answer.
I got out of my computer chair and ventured into the living room. There he was…some guy. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t describe how. He had a scruffy gray beard and scraggily hair that seemed to shoot out in every direction.
“Who are you? Also, why are you in my apartment?”
“You don’t recognize me?” he asked.
“Obviously not.”
“I’ve come to stop you,” he said. He reached into his pocket and was searching for something.
Oh great, I thought, a gun. I looked around quickly for something I could use as a weapon. The best I could do in such short notice was a candle that was sitting on the end table. It was one of those nice smelling ones that come in the glass jars with the lid. There may be a technical term for these types of candles, but I didn’t know what it was.
He was still searching for whatever it was that was in his jacket. If it was a gun, he was officially the world’s worst gun-concealer. Not wanting to wait and see if it was a gun or not, I threw the candle at him. It bounced off his head, cracking the glass, before it hit the ground.
“Ow!” he said loudly, pulling his hand from his jacket to hold his bruised forehead. “That really hurt, you dick! And was that…Sugar Cookie?”
It was, in fact, a sugar cookie scented candle.
“Well you aren’t going to be pulling any guns on me…dick!” I felt stupid for not coming up with an original name.
“I’m not looking for a gun! I don’t even own a gun!” he yelled. “I was looking for this!”
He tossed something to me. It was a CD.
“What is this? Like a mixtape or something?”
“No, it’s your entry for this week. For that writing competition.”
“What? No, man, I already have one. I was just about to post it when you came in…”
“You can’t use that entry,” he said to me angrily. He stormed past me, pushing me out of the way. I chased after him into the bedroom where he had already reached the computer. With a quick click, he deleted everything I had just written.
“What the hell? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been working on that?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. But I also know that it’s a terrible entry. If you post that entry, you’re going to get voted out. I know this to be a fact.”
“How? How do you know this.”
“Because I am you…from the future.”
I should’ve been more surprised by this, but I had long figured that if I was to ever go back in time, I’d visit myself. I knew that this moment was completely inevitable.
“Okay, fine. So then what am I supposed to write instead? I have a half an hour before the deadline!”
“I brought you the entry on that disc. That’s the one you should use.”
I nodded, trusting him. He was me, after all. I took the disc and put it into the computer. I then uploaded the file and copy and pasted its contents into my web browser and then hit “enter.”
“You’re not even going to read it?” asked Future Me.
“Nah. I trust you. I mean…me.”
“High-five!”
We slapped each other’s hands.
“Wait a second…” I said.
“What?”
“If you’re from the future…the future in which my original entry would’ve gotten me kicked out from this writing competition…how do I know that this entry you gave me is any better? I mean…if this entry is just as bad, I could still be getting kicked out. Don’t you think that’s a little…”
“…Counterintuitive?”
“Yeah.”
“I dunno. Anyways, I’m going back to the future. Peace out, Me.” He waved and then ran out of my house. I tried to follow him, but when I got outside, he was already gone.
Part of me wanted to go back and read what my entry was for this week. I decided against it. After all, if there was anybody I could trust, it was me. Right?
…Right?