What did I tell you about that fucking Time Sheath?
“Nice cropping, man.”
Don’t change the subject. What are you doing in 1972?
I’m not in the mood for your charismatic bemusement.
“Ah, come on. Get off my back. I couldn’t find my briefcase, and for some reason, I thought I left it in on another continent in a different decade. Common mistake.”
Not at all.
“And I figured I might as well squeeze a show in while I’m here.”
Dammit, Garcia, the Time Sheath is not a toy. You can’t–
You lost your briefcase?
“Just disappeared. Checked Keith’s room, but he had already quit the band and died.”
“Well, hey, jackass: I’m not the one who made the universe where everything happens simultaneously. Misplacing things is a real bitch: you have to remember where you left it, and when you left it.”
We are talking about the Briefcase of Infinite Felonies, right? The magical bag of holding that contains all that was, is, and will ever be?
“Yeah, man. My briefcase.”
“My stash is in there.”
Everything’s in there! It can’t fall into the wrong hands!
“It already belonged to the Grateful Dead.”
“Keep yelling at me and Parish hits you.”
You brought Parish?
“Of course I…it’s like you never met me before.”