Frog Drinks Juice: The First Memoir of The Professional Time Traveler

memoirs.

1st Record: October 28th, 2012.

Once again, I awake to find myself studying the palms of my hands. The lines engraved in my flesh were only moving slightly. This one is going to be hard, not like the rest as the native foretold. No fate line, no life line, just heart and mind.

Sir? A man’s voice jolts into my ears tearing me away from my investigation.

Sir!? He yells a second time, insuring that my attention was caught this time. I figured it was my Qua.

Yes Corporal? I responded with a questioning voice as if I had no idea about where I was, which was true.

They are waiting for your orders…Sir. The corporal responded hesitantly.

How many counted? I questioned him with more awareness of my surroundings. Scanning the inner workings of my tent while rubbing the left over sleep out of my eyes corners seem to do the trick.

The whole garrison…Sir. He replied with the demeanor of a brave youth…but still hesitantly.

I sat up in my bed placing my feet on the cold ground, looking around at my tent, which seemed to be very old and decrepit. I could only imagine what the other troops tents must look like. I see that a uniform seems to have been laid out for me on the chair in the corner of my tent, assuming from last night. So sad I cannot remember last night for the life of me, as with many nights before, the same outcome and feeling of being lost was always there.

Have the Captain ready his men. Tell him to hold the line! I said as I was buttoning my uniform top up.

Yes Sir! He saluted and made his about face to exit my tent.

I finished dressing and proceeded out of the private quarters of my tent. According to the men, the ARMY has been stationed here for the last four months. A pleasant valley with good cover, plenty of water, and an abundance of wildlife and game nearby gave the men more food than they could eat. Spirits were high: I could feel it in the air. As for me… I just woke up here. How could I explain to these soldiers that they will probably die today and I will wake up in some other era and place. I thought to myself…..I can’t. Just play the part, was my second thought. Soon this will pass and you will be again, in a new understanding.

A young lieutenant maybe 23 years of age, was making his way through the quickly massing regiments preparing themselves for what could be their last moment to breath as free men of our great empire.

Sir! he shouted over the noise of the crowd, I have prepared a map of our position. He had arrived and saluted a brave and proud salute. Adjusting his helmet and glasses, he asked, What are your orders, sir?

Wha. Wha…What? I stuttered to get the words off of my tong and through my lips. Your orders sir? He impatiently asked as he flicked a speck of dust off his uniform. The situation of battle can allow for his impatience.

Yes, Orders. I finally spoke. Take on half of the cavalry to the east in hiding and wait for the signal. Infantry in the front full attack no prisoners, archers and musketeers in the rear. The rest of the cavalry move west and make it obvious to the enemy that we plan to flank from there and make sure to await my signal again. I have never led an army before this, but the orders I just gave sounded as if they came from a tried and tested battle commander. The need for strategy for this battle must have been the driving force for my decisions.

It will be done Sir! He saluted and scurried back to his captains. I buried my face in my hands again before I examine them…ok, the lines have stopped shifting… I should see it then. Where is it? Normally it’s on time. It must be waiting to be dramatic.

As I thought would happed, the enemy divided forces to the west and front line. The infantry has moved forward and the muskets behind continued marching. The archers were posting in anticipation behind the muskets. I signal for the men to begin their executions. The infantry lays flat and the muskets begin assaulting while the archers let loose an onslaught of arrows toward the center of their opposing foe…their foes, not mine… The cavalry from the east ambushing from the tree line, confusing the enemy and dividing their forces in half, trying to leave only one to slaughter. The forces that were driven west attempt to regroup as to support their original force. The archers and musketeers fire once more before the infantry raise up and attack, charging the enemy in a fashion as to encircle them. By this time my cavalry has met each other in the center with the infantry.

Almost too easy…almost like a dream in its movements’ conduction. I look down to the flowing creek beside my feet. My reflection…too slow I am…tackling me straight into the portal. Everything goes black again…floating alone except for that bastard of a demon in front of me…it’s horns made of obsidian, eyes of purple and silver, claws of a tiger, and it’s teeth gold and red, dripping as before. Smoke fills this void I have grown to loathe. I swing with everything time has taught me. It recoils and retaliates with a quickness that had slipped my mind. I dodge and return with a new teaching…nope. It was ineffective… A breath of green and silver fire melts into my abdomens midsection. Screaming in agony, gripping my belly in fear, believing if I let go even for a second my innards will release from my grip…again, it feels as though I fall asleep.

2nd Record: April 7th, 1890

I hate cooking. I mean, I love food and all; I just hate cooking, you know, for a full time job. Working in a kitchen is not a life I would pursue. I have a lot of respect for the chefs and cooks who do so though. But alas I come to… Awake from the void and my lurking enemy’s neon breath, and this time I have to cook for a while…

Is that damn sauce ready? A large, very fat man with a thickened city accent and the stains of good recipes upon his apron barked a question at me while staring from across a stainless steel table. As if I were an idiot or something, pointing his knife in my direction.

Sauce..? What Sauce…?" I probably shouldn’t have said that because I seriously didn’t know if the sauce was ready. I need to work on my awakening thoughts when this happens…

What sauce?! You day dreaming again? The chef asked with a chuckling surprise to his voice. The sauce you were supposed to be watching, damn it! He was cutting mushrooms and limes. What’s wrong with you? You stoned again? His questioning was slightly sarcastic but serious as he slammed his knife on the stainless table.

Yes…Yes. It’s all done chef! The flavor is perfect and crisp chef! I lied. I hadn’t even taken a taste or seen where the sauce was yet. I scurried quickly, grabbing noodles from the strainer, positioning it with the chicken, a little garnish over top, and finally, the sauce, which I had found quite quickly.

Looking at the clock I notice that it is half pas six in the evening. I approach the chef, wiping my hands clean with a nearby towel, and sheepishly I ask him, May I go on break Chef?

Make it fast… and don’t smoke and pot please. I need you on top of your game for tonight. He put his head back down to continue cutting the mushrooms and lime that left a radiant aromatic fragrance in the air.

I head to the restroom as to vomit… I am noxious… I can still smell the blasting powder from the era before this. The wailing and faint howls of that battle still echoing in my ears, like the rhythm of a thousand war drums being beaten in a horrid harmony. I finally make it to the restroom. My hands? What do my hands say? Looking at them I have some time, the lines are still shifting. I need to escape from this random realm. But how? I’ve shot myself, slit my wrists, even hung from a dozen trees by the noose of many threads. Nothing ends the turmoil and visions. I always pass out and reawake elsewhere and else when.

I ditch the cook’s apron and head for the restaurants front doors he sees me trying to dodge and races to confront me. Where are you going, your break is over! Get back in the kitchen, NOW! The chef demanded in his most upset city tone, pointing his knife at me like it was his finger. I quit. I said calmly. Like I had never said that before.

The outside air is cold as it hits my face when leaving the restaurant, must be fall or close to winter. Judging by the way everyone is dressed and the passing cars, it must be closer to the 1960’s, this could be good or bad, but bad is common. So I decided on getting out of the city and away from people. It would make to a better conclusion in the long run anyways.

Stepping out to the street and hailing a cab is fun in the big city. Taxi!! I yelled performing the cliché motion with my hand. The first cab in view stops with a slight squeak of the tires.

Where to buddy? The driver asked with sincerity in his voice.

Out of the city. Take me to the closest forest or woods please. I replied while noticing the seats were comfortable and well cleaned.

Uh…Okay guy. That’s going to be like $100 man. Big city and out of my territory. He said with sarcasm.

Thank you. I said politely as I pull some cash out of my pocket and pay him in advance. Where I got the money, I have no clue. The ride was long and smooth with the cabbies radio at a low but nice tune, somber and uplifting. We passed an outlook point where the driver stopped shortly after. I said nothing. Hoping he would get the hint to keep driving a little further. He did, I could see the city and smell the forest behind us eventually stopping the cab over in an emergency truck ram area.

Is this good? He asked.

Yes it is. I said as I exited the cab.

Excuse me mister… the driver stuttered slightly, it’s late and the woods aren’t really a safe place to be after dark. There was a bit of genuine concern in his voice.

I know. I replied while scanning my surroundings, I could not focus on him. He asked me with wonder,

Well what are you going to do out here? His car was not parked; he was just stepping on the brakes. I looked at him after deeming this a safe place,

Not sure yet…maybe try not to die. I said that more serious than I have said it before.

The cab driver let out a hysterical laugh, Are you bat shit crazy or something!? You can die out here man! I sink my head a little before I respond to his concern,

I wish that’s all it was buddy, I wish that’s all it was. The cabbie was silent, waiting for me to say something else, so I did. Do me a favor; tell no one you drove me here. Okay? I demanded as I walked away with my hands in my pockets, taking a deep breath afterward as to sigh.

Whatever buddy? Have a good night then! The driver said sarcastically as he peeled out of the emergency truck stop, tires squealing as to get as far away from me as quickly as possible.

I stepped off of the road into the thick of the woods. The moonlight provided enough light for me to see in front of me. I pulled my hands out of my pockets… The lines have stopped shifting now… It’s going to start again… Soon. I keep walking.

When trees are quiet…they speak the most. A shaman native said to me once. He tried to help me. Nothing has helped me though, only transitions remain. Transition from point to point on the nets and baskets of time. How many times have I actually slept or even woken up for that matter? I can’t really count. No matter what is done, my REM sleep is left way behind, nonexistent, somewhere lost and surpassed.

As I walked deeper into the woods, I heard a brook or creek nearby. I could hear it babbling at what seemed to be a rather uninhibited speed. Maybe seven or nine feet wide at my guess and smooth running. The water had no real obstructions that could be heard blocking its flow. Typical; the thoughts it uses to drag you and me to a remote area; an area that it can unleash any foe to badger anyone. Maybe I will gain a level tonight… HA! Maybe I will sleep for one night…. I am so tired… No, I wont be given that reward. More choice would be nice. After having no birth, no death, no beginning, and no end. No Alpha or Omega. Just what happens in between; the middle story, the juicy parts if you will. Only entertaining us all in the best of opinions.

I had finally reached the edge of the stream I had heard not too long ago. Not as wide as I had envisioned, six feet wide at best. No biggie… just a little hop and skip across. A small tree limb, approximately the same length as the stream made a perfect fathom marker. Five feet maybe four and a half feet in the center of the stream was the assumed depth. I back up; maybe thirty feet give or take to gain the necessary speed and momentum for the leap across.

Breathe in… Breathe out…Breathe in… Breathe out… Big breath. I inhale, sprawl back and load my body for this feat before me. 15 feet in the first three strides… Calculate now, concentrate… Empty my mind so all options are possible and visible. There are many options, many steps forward. Walking is a series of calculated falls theoretically; so running adds more choice of will to each decision made in each step… Last patch of land… I spring on both the balls of me feet, tucking my legs close to me, as if I were an eagle or any other bird for that matter. I envisioned landing gear. Whatever, didn’t really care, just did it. The other side of the stream shore was approaching…at about…NOW!! On the toes, then the balls of my feet, arch the heels in matching rhythm, bend at the ankles, then the knees. Hands forward and roll to the shoulder, the left shoulder would be best. Back on your feet…and walk around. Good job, good job indeed. I looked back to view my accomplishment. The creek had stopped it’s flow, and it’s babbling had become silent.

Now I see the wings rising from the water. Covered in soot and ash it has taken the form of the ancient Lamia. Beautiful red lust hair, smooth shoulders and supple breasts with coin sized nipples…hmm. The rest of her was a serpent, arms made from eagle talons dipped in silver. Complimentary feather wings and scaled lining. Simply put…she is made completely of crone. Did I mention she had fangs? Well she did. More rows of fangs than can be counted. Lunging back to collect my focus I throw…everything I have at her.

I have no weapons to fight her but my wits will guide me through this. Projecting my thoughts towards her wings I see a weak point. Her tail is long as a bus and stronger than an angry moose in heat. I have to get close to her. I have to get behind her. Her tail swings upward aiming for my head and shoulders. Ducking and rolling to dodge the attack makes a narrow window to my goal. I sprint back to the waters edge and jump once again, only to change direction midair. Grabbing a fistful of feathers to help my flight, now I am positioned where I want to be, on her back. With both hands clutching each wing at its base and my feet centered on her spine I pull and extend. Her arms are flailing and her screams are deafening. Thrashing about in pain I dare not let go. The red hair she bore whisked by my mouth so I took the opportunity to bite. I feel one wing snap and the other soon followed the first. She’s in pain. Spitting the hair from my mouth I reposition myself to sit on the top of her shoulders.

Enjoying yourself? Setting my hands around her head to finish this. One good twist and she will be dispatched. But her tail, her long fierce tail, turned the tide of battle as it struck me