Kennedy Crossover

The state of TIAH

November 3rd, 2006

Alternate Historian's Note: November is NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. In 2004, we produced our novel Warp, and last year we got a start on The Protocols Of The Elders Of Zion during this annual event. Both of these novels were based on timelines from TIAH – Warp was based on the Mlosh timeline, and Protocols on the Greater Zionist Resistance timeline. Although we posted numerous links to these novels on Lulu, TIAH didn't post any excerpts from them. We're going to do it a little differently this year. This year, the November posts on TIAH will be excerpts from the novel that is being written by us for NaNoWriMo. We will still have Guest Historian entries – Stephen Payne has some already written and waiting – so, if you want to make a Guest Post this month, go ahead and send it to us, and it will appear along with our novel post.

in 1969, Father Edward Moore Kennedy drives back to Lawrence Cottage in Chappaquiddick with older brother Jack and his two bodyguards in the car. Instead of a prayer meeting, he is shocked to find the most riotous cocktail party under way. Entering the Cottage, he collides with a doppelgänger, Senator Teddy Kennedy who is carrying an extra sixty pounds, heavily intoxicated with his arms around two girls in an advanced state of sexual arousal. Caught in a paradox of matter and space they fuse into a new god fearing Senator Edward Moore Kennedy. Underwater the passenger door in the 1967 Oldsmobile Delmont 88 swings open, and the young lady escapes to the riverbank of Poucha Pond where she collapses. As she awakens, a new day is dawning. -entry by Steve Payne from Counter History in Context - You're the Judge!-

Before (cont.)
When the hour she had been promised was up, Janice pulled her cell phone out and called up the auto service again. She was a little steamed, and let the poor customer service rep have it. “In my business, when I promise a customer something within the hour, I mean the hour we were currently talking in,” she spit at the young woman on the other end of the line.
“I do apologize, ma'am. It's been a busy morning for our - “
“I don't care about your problems. I care about mine. If I don't have some service this hour, I'm going to be taking my business elsewhere.”
“I'll do what I can, ma'am.”
Janice hung up and threw the cell back into her purse. A very small part of her felt bad about yelling at someone who was essentially powerless to do anything about her situation, but most of her felt better after venting the anger and frustration. The cat was back, purring and approaching her legs, and she dodged it before it could make her sneeze again. “Ha!” She taunted it with a leg, then withdrew the leg before it could reach her. It whipped its little white tail and crouched down to spring on her.
After a few minutes of cat and mouse, it gave up and moved down the street to find other prey. Janice went back to sitting on the curb and looking down the street expectantly. At least the morning was warming up – she didn't really need her sweater anymore. She took it off and wrapped it around her waist, then sat back down to wait.
A few more minutes later, she got back up and went inside her house. She opened the garage door so that the mechanic could get at her car, then grabbed her phone book and looked for mechanics-on-wheels. There were several, and she didn't know if she wanted to trust any of them. She flopped herself down on her couch and turned on the TV. Hopefully, the guy would honk when he got there.
The network channels were off the air, and after flipping for a second, she wondered if her cable was down, but then she got the SciFi channel. It was a Twilight Zone she had seen before – of course, she had seen them all before – but it was something to occupy her mind. She sat there and let Rod work his magic over her.

“I said, get up!” Steph popped a waffle into the toaster and pushed the lever down. She set the plate with the waffles already done on the kitchen table and grabbed the syrup from the fridge. Her youngest, George, shuffled to the table and piled a couple of waffles onto his plate, then drowned them in syrup. “Hey, hey, Georgie, easy on the sugar, babe.”
Her daughter bounced in, saying, “Just some juice, please, mom.”
Steph sighed. “Joanie, I just made all these waffles.”
“You can eat 'em. You don't need to watch your weight anymore.” After a withering glare from her mother, Joan added, “Sorry.”
Steph picked up one of the spare waffles and munched at it. “Hurry up, OK? We gotta leave before the traffic to town gets too bad.”
The kids grunted affirmatively. George went back to his soggy waffles and Joan pulled a juice carton out of the refrigerator and poured herself a tall glass. Steph saw her casting hungry glances at George's waffles, and slid a plate over to her.
“Less calories if you don't put syrup on 'em.”
Joan picked up one of the unadorned waffles and gobbled it down. At least it's something on her stomach, Steph thought. After a few relatively silent moments of gulping down breakfast, Steph looked at the kitchen clock and started. “Hey, we gotta go.” They flurried about the small house, grabbing bags and books and rushing out to the beat-up old car outside. The kids fought over the front seat before Joan won and George resigned himself to the back. Steph locked up the house and climbed into the driver's seat and buckled in. “Buckle it, Joanie,” she said to her daughter, who always forgot to fasten her seat belt. The girl snapped her belt, then went back to the magazine she was reading.
Steph drove the car down the long driveway to the road and headed off to the highway into Austin.

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