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Ernie 22

Where was I? Oh, yeah!

So, the two Ernie's and I are sitting in The Twenty-Second Club on 42nd Street (see appendix A for directions) drinking beers. We've downed quite a few. This whole Ernie/time-travel thing was just way too much for me to take.

Then, even in my drunken state, I had a sudden revelation. I say, "Ernie number one, there's definitely something wrong. I think we have a temporal paradox (for an understanding of temporal paradoxes, see appendix B) on our hands." I ask the bartender for a chart on alcohol blood level to determine which (if any) of us was legally sober to drive (see appendix C to determine your own level). It turned out Ernie number two was safe, so he drove.

On our way back to my apartment (for directions, see appendix D), we were pulled over by a cop. Ernie number two was tested and he was legal (for a complete police report, see appendix E). We arrived at my apartment, alive and intact.

I make a time-line on paper showing the time paths of Ernie and Ernie. Ernie number one was supposed to meet a man in Ernie's garage and travel back in time, thus becoming Ernie number two. Since Ernie number two waited in the garage and turned down the time-travel thing, there would be no Ernie traveling through time. So Ernie number one would never become Ernie number two and would never stop Ernie number one from traveling through time. This creates an endless loop, which is a temporal paradox (see appendix F for a complete time-line that was drawn to demonstrate all of the above).

We were awe struck at this and we just sat staring at each other for about ten minutes. Then this little Mexican boy came in and took Polaroids of us and charged ten bucks for the photos (see appendix G for the photos) (see appendix H on how you, too, can be an extra character in an Ernie story).

We all had some more beers and, by this time, were extremely drunk. Then Ernie (I forget which one) says, "One of us must be an imposter." I was drunk, so I agreed and passed out.

The next day, I awoke to the two Ernies peering over me, saying they needed me to be a witness.

We all went to the dentist office for X-rays of both Ernie's teeth, to see if they were the same. The dentist was a little shocked, but both of them matched Ernie's dental records (see appendix I for the X-rays and Ernie's dental records).

Next, we went to Ernie's doctor. Both were examined to see if they matched his medical records. Both had had their tonsils removed, identical blood types, everything matched (see appendix J for doctors records). We went back to my place to think this over.

Ernie says, "Maybe one of us isn't an imposter and I really did travel through time." By this time I had no idea which was which.

Then it hit me! The way to prove this was simple!

Ernie (the real one) and I shared a secret that the false Ernie wouldn't know. You see, Ernie had had trouble with his appendix. He had needed it removed, but couldn't afford it. So he bought this in-home operation kit through the mail. It gave complete instructions on how to remove an appendix (see appendix K on how to remove an appendix in your own home).

I told the two Ernie's to lift their shirts. Sure enough, only one of them had a scar from the appendix operation. The fake Ernie jumped up and went for the door. Fortunately, I'm a good tackler and I nabbed him before he reached it.

We called the police and they took him away. Ernie pressed charges for impersonation (whatever that means) and they put him in jail (appendix L contains a police report) (appendix M is the imposter's psychological examination) (appendix N contains his charges and sentencing).

Well, I never knew who that fake Ernie really was, but he must be really demented. This is such a happy ending to what might have been a tragic story. Goodnight (see appendix O for the epilogue).

-fin-



Editor's note:
Appendices A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, L, M, N and O have been removed due to space limitations in this publication.

APPENDICES
==================

APPENDIX K:
How to remove an appendix.

Hire an editor.


©1997, Merriel Patrick Ebright
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