“Ready?” I asked, looking over the group of Mes, thrown
together by the rift in time opened by Dr. Xenophant.
“Of course.” said Older Me, hefting his assault rifle
expertly.
“Word to your mother!” said Teenage Me, the shotgun in his
hands shaking with excitement.
“I guess…” said Child Me, hefting his bag of grenades nervously.
“Right then, so we go in and-“ I began, when Teen Me let out
a warcry and then charged at the door shoulder first. He bounced off, dropping
the shotgun, which discharged.
Right into Child Me’s face.
Luckily, the paradox ate Dr. Xenophant’s timeline.
(Thanks to Jason for the challenge!)
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