Random
Source Code
Random
An internet event in the same vein as "Throwback Thursday" or "Flashback Friday." But can also be for celebrating the future, or the present; rather than just the past.
Darius: Hey, Valentino!
Valentino: Yeah?
Darius: You know what day it is?
Valentino: Yes. It's Time-Travel Tuesday. Let's celebrate the future.
This guy:
commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Time_travelling_cool_dude.png
The clothing of the man in the middle of the picture is strikingly different from the surrounding persons'. Most outstanding are his radical hairstyle, sunglasses and his T-shirt, adorned with a large letter M on the front.
Although some explanations exist for the existence of this photo, none of them are particularly convincing or well-grounded. Most people dismiss the time-travel theory for the origin of this picture, one cannot easily shake the feeling once having seen it.
A: That dimension gate is sick, man. Imma have a look real quick and see what's on the other side
B: Radical, you the time travelling hipster, dude!
The action of taking a large (and rather unhealthy) dose of caffeine to speed up the conscious perception of time.
Bro, I really don't want to show up to shitty work today, I'm just going to do some caffeine time travel.
A method which takes the listener of a song back to when it was a hit.
Reality designer, Oulda Veyin, realized that listening to songs from her teenage years instantly took her brain and body back to those days and that the song time travel's effect lasted for days.
A poop where the pooper feels that little time has passed while doing the deed but in reality a long time has passed. or vice versa
Billy: Where have you been for the last ten minutes?
Joe: Has it really been that long? Must have been a time travel poop.
3👍 2👎
A man from the year 2098 who was much different than the rest of the people at that time, for he was only 3' tall. Everyone else in the world was at the shortest about 5' 2". This troubled Hector cause he was always picked on and people would throw him around much like a football. It being the year 2098, time travel had already been invented about 23 years ago. Hector thought about using time travel to change history so that there would be more short people like him. After acquiring the means to travel through time (which cost him $18.75 on Ebay), Hector travelled back in time many times, but was always thwarted in his attempt to make more short people. After many attempts Hector finally travelled back to the Primordial Soup. The goo that started all life sat before him. Sitting and pondering what to do to change history, Hector came up with the grandest of schemes. "Ah ha!", said Hector. "I will contaminate this ooze with my own ooze.", Hector shouted with glee. After an intense one and a half minutes of self gratification (Everything is shorter for midgets), he dumped his load into the soup causing a mass fusion of his "little" genes into the normal genes. After many eons of Evolution, thanks to Hector's deeds, we have been blessed with many small creatures. This is how the Pterodactyl became the chicken. Its how the shark became the goldfish. Its also how we got actors like Verne Troyer. No one knows what happened to Hector. My thoughts are that since he fucked with the timeline he never came to be. Poor, poor Hector. All this to make a friend and he never even existed. The moral of the story, I guess, is to not throw hair dryers into the bathtub.
Dude 1: "Man I hate that show Little People Big World. Who the hell came up with that shit?"
Dude 2: "Its all made possible because of Hector The Time Travelling Midget."
Dude 1: "Damn you Hector, damn you."
14👍 4👎
The year is 2033. The world is blanketed in chaos, as the war between man and machine heads toward a frighteningly close nuclear finale. Grown men cower with their women and children, hiding from the soulless creatures that move silently through the night. However, there is one who walks through the huddled masses, unafraid of the robot killers, instilling hope in all he meets. The world knows him as General “Gene” Snitsky, humanity’s last chance in The War To End All Wars. This is his story.
“I have a job to do.” The gruff yet monotone voice echoed throughout the warehouse basement. Unlike most basements, however, this one is made of 3,000 tons of stainless steel and titanium, contains a multitude of high-radiation areas, and has surveillance systems covering every centimeter within 4 miles of the building. Before the hard times hit, the building also had Guinness on tap. Now, only Pabst Blue Ribbon flows through the slowly corroding pipes, but this is not the time for drinking.
“Sir, you’ve established that. But I don’t see how traveling back in time to 2004 helps us in anyway. The machines will use their warheads anytime now, and the window for a preemptive strike is closing more with each passing hour. With all due respect, General, we need you here.” This type of insubordinate backtalk would normally be met by Snitsky’s stiff right hand, but Jeff Hardy was never afraid of taking risks. While not always the smoothest of performers, as Second-in-Command he knew the General better than anyone; one could argue that he existed simply to inspire him. Now around 60 years old, Hardy also knew the stakes were greater than ever, and that he had to ensure things ran smoothly and without error. Yes, at times the very fate of the world rested on Jeff Hardy not blowing spots.
General Snitsky paused for a moment and looked at Jeff’s face, the middle-aged man’s neon green streaks illuminating the near-darkness. Why was there a blacklight in the time machine room anyway? He turned around and put his hands on a nearby table, palms flat as he bowed his head and leaned like a runner unable to catch his breath after a sprint. A heavy sigh escaped his lips; he never thought that, at 28, he would have to explain to a middle-aged former pro wrestler why he was responsible for the downfall of the entire human race. Rubbing his chin, he gathered himself and faced his right-hand man. Yes, he did have a job to do. First the truth, then the sacrifice.
“Jeff, I’m…I’m not who you think I am. You see, you’ve known me for what, 10 years? And to you, I’ve always been General, I’ve always been Snitski. But I haven’t always worn this uniform and these tags…” He gripped the metal around his neck and stood entranced by the inscribed letters. Although it was only ten seconds, when he continued his voiced seemed ten years older. “These tags haven’t always said ‘Snitsky.’ They used to say…” He paused again, this time deliberately. He turned away again, closed his eyes, and lifted his head skyward.
“Jeff, my name used to be…” He swallowed, fighting to say the word. “Kane. I'm the son of the man who murdered your brother."
Give me your free time if you don't ****ing know what to do with it.
-Blackestmage from Gamefaqs
15👍 8👎