Back To The Future || Part Zero

Chapter Ten

Marty stepped into the malt shop the next day, his eyes on Eileen and Madge, both sitting at the same table as they were the day before, once again talking and drinking ice cream sodas. He crossed the room and sat down with them, to Eileen's delight.

"How ya doing, Eileen?" he greeted her.

Eileen smiled. She and her friend exchanged a glance. "Hi, Marty!"

"Listen," Marty began, his hands under the table top, "Professor Brown told me you called last night and gave me your message...." He carefully taped the micro-cassette recorder to the bottom of the table and pressed the record button. Neither girl seemed to notice anything. "...and if you're still available, I'd like to take you to the dance Saturday night, so I'll pick you up around 8:30, okay?"

Eileen smiled and nodded as Marty stood up to leave. "Okay. See you later, Marty."

Marty gave her a cheerful wave as he left the malt shop. He pretended to walk away, then ducked behind a nearby building. A few minutes later, Eileen and Madge came out. He waited until they were out of sight before running in the shop and prying the recorder loose.

Later that night, in the Professor's garage, Marty played it back for the both of them. Professor Brown had been welding sheet lead metal into a large Philco Refrigerator. The time machine was now resting in the bed of an Army truck. The Professor had also modified the top of the refrigerator to hold the beam focusing unit so the time beam would shine directly into the fridge.

"...so I'll pick you up around 8:30, okay?" Marty heard himself say on the tape.

"Okay. See you later, Marty."

He heard the sounds of him walking away and leaving the shop. Almost as soon as the door shut behind him, the girls started talking about him. "Isn't he a dream?" Eileen asked with a giddy sigh.

"Boy, I've never seen you fall for anybody like that before," Madge said.

Eileen sighed again. "I know. I've never felt like this about anybody before. I really don't understand it, but I just feel like -- like mothering him."

Marty and the Professor exchanged a look.

"But what about George?" Madge asked Eileen. "I thought you wanted him to ask you."

"He did ask me....but I turned him down."

"Why?" Madge asked, sounding surprised. "You always thought George was cute because
he was so shy."

"Well, that's what I thought. But he really isn't shy. He's just chicken."

The Professor suddenly grabbed the recorder from Marty's hands and rewound the last sentence.

"He's just chicken," Eileen said again.

* * *

"Come on, George," Marty said Saturday morning, facing off with him in his backyard. "Don't be such a chicken. Hit me in the stomach. Right here, go ahead." He held his arms away from his body, making himself an easy target. Behind him, a duffel bag packed with clothes swung from a tree, as a homemade body bag.

George didn't make a move. "I don't want to hit you in the stomach," he said meekly.

"You're not gonna hurt me," Marty insisted. "Just hit me in the stomach."

"Look, Marty, I'm just not a fighter," George said, shaking his head.

Marty rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to explain it to you?" he said patiently. "We know you're not a fighter. You know it, I know it...but she doesn't know it. That's why we gotta make you look like a fighter, somebody who'll stand up for her, somebody who isn't chicken. And you're not gonna look like a fighter if you can't hit me in the stomach."

"But I've never picked a fight in my entire life!"

"You're not picking a fight, you're coming to her rescue," Marty corrected. "Maybe we'd better go over the plan again. Where are you gonna be at 8:55?"

"At the dance," George replied. "And where am I gonna be?"

"In the parking lot, with her."

Marty nodded, glad to see that he had been paying attention. "Okay. So right around 9:00 she's gonna get very angry with me -"

"Why?" George interrupted.

"Why what?"

"Why is she gonna get angry with you?"

Marty hesitated. "Well...because...." He had a hard time getting the words out. "Well, nice girls get angry at guys who...who try to take advantage of 'em."

George looked at him in disbelief. "You mean, you're gonna --"

"George; it's not your concern. Don't worry about it. Just remember that at 9:00, you'll be strolling through the parking lot and you'll see us" -- Marty gulped -- "struggling in the car, you'll run over, open the door and say....?"

Marty waited for George, but he didn't say anything. "Your line, George," Marty reminded him.

"Oh. Uh... 'Hey, you! Get your damn hands off her!' " George paused. "You really think I should swear?"

"Yes, definitely, George, swear." Marty continued with the plan. "Then you hit me in the stomach, I go down for the count, and you and Eileen life happily ever after. Now," he added, coming back to the original purpose, "hit me in the stomach."

George took a deep breath and tentatively threw his fist into Marty's stomach. Marty shook his head.

"No, George, put a little emotion into it. A little hostility, a little anger."

He tried it again, this time making faces. The second punch wasn't much better then the one before it.

"Anger, George," Marty reminded him. "Anger."

George hesitated. "Maybe if I used my left...."

"No, George, just concentrate on the anger. Anger."

The third punch George tried was a little bit better. But still not what Marty was looking for. He sighed. "Well, I think you're starting to get the hang of it. Just keep practicing. I'll see you tonight. Remember, anger, George. Anger." He walked away, leaving George alone in the yard.

George stared at the body bag, trying to think of something that would make him really angry. "Anger...anger...." he muttered.

He hit it, the punches coming harder and harder each time. George smiled, finally getting the hang of it. He pulled his fist back, ready to sock it to the bag. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance and his fist slammed into the tree trunk.

"Yeeeowww!" he shouted in pain. "Goddammit!"

With his left fist, George attacked the bag with everything he had -- and knocked it completely off the tree! He stared at it for a long time, shocked.