A Clothes Encounter

By Flaming Trails

A Back To The Future Story

Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, those DVDs would already be out in the US.

Prologue

This is another 1955 story. This goes with any of my Fan Fiction Series. Also, I feel compelled to apologize for the silly title.

Sunday, November 6th, 1955

Hill Valley, California

8: 29 A. M.

Doc awoke from a very deep sleep. He yawned, stretched, then sleepily looked at the clock on his night stand. It was just before 8: 30 A. M. "Strange. I usually don't sleep that late. Must be from those odd dreams I had last night."

He thought about the dream as he got up and started making his bed. "What an odd dream. A teen from 30 years in the future who is my future best friend. A car called a DeLorean which looks like a spaceship. My 80's version documenting the great experiment and having it run on a ridiculous amount of power. Our idea of using a lightning strike for the necessary 1.21 jigowatts. And Marty's brother being erased from existence." He chuckled to himself as he drew on his housecoat over his pajamas. "Emmett, your imagination is getting a little out of hand. I should stop hitting my head on sinks to get inspiration." He headed for the bathroom.

Meanwhile, on the couch in the living room, Marty stirred from his own deep sleep. As his mind was still very cloudy, he didn't immediately notice his surroundings. "God, did I have a funny dream last night," he thought, sitting up. "Doc showing me his latest invention is a time machine that runs on plutonium is wacked out enough. But of course I have to dream in that there's Libyan terrorists and I go 30 years back into the past. And if that wasn't bad enough, I get to meet my mom as a teenager in my underwear! And it all had to end with my brother disappearing from existence." He shook his head. "What a nightmare!" He stood up and scratched, ready to go to the bathroom and start the day.

Doc entered the room just then. "Hello, Marty," he yawned.

"Hey, Doc," Marty yawned back, stretching.

That's when it hit them. Both stopped dead in what they were doing. They turned and looked at each other again. For a moment, there was dead silence.

"Oh, no, it wasn't a dream," Doc moaned, flopping against the wall.

"My thoughts exactly, Doc," Marty agreed, sitting back down. "I figured I'd had a nightmare. I mean, what happened last night was really heavy."

Doc looked at the teen. "Well, now we know it wasn't a dream. Now what?"

Marty shrugged. "You're the doc, Doc. You tell me."

Doc suddenly remembered Marty's brother. "Marty, check that picture of your siblings and you. See if there's any change in what happened to your brother."

Marty pulled out his wallet and checked the picture. He sighed. "His head's still missing, Doc. And the tops of his shoulders look lighter too."

Doc came around to look. "This is serious! Once your brother disappears completely, your sister will start to!"

Marty went pale. "And after my sister?"

Doc nodded, grim. "Yes, Marty. After her, you."

Marty put his hand to his head, groaning. Why did everything have to be so complicated? "Jesus, this is heavy."

"I fail to see how weight has any effect on our situation, Marty." Doc leaned on the back of the couch as he spoke.

"How could this be happening?" Marty demanded of him. "How could Dave be erased from existence?"

"His name is Dave?" Doc asked with interest.

"Yeah, David, really, but we all call him Dave. He's-"

"I don't think you should tell me anything about him, Marty," Doc cautioned. "Time can be easily disrupted, as you're currently seeing. I don't want to jeopardize the entire space-time continuum."

"Huh? How could knowing stuff about my brother jeopardize anything?"

"It could affect our relationship in the future, which I don't want to know anything about. After all, if you and I never meet, you wouldn't be here in the first place. That could cause a major paradox. So tell me as little as possible about the future. No man should know too much about his own destiny."

Marty supposed Doc knew what he was saying. The guy had invented time travel in 1985. "Okay. But all I was gonna tell ya is how much older he is than me."

"Oh? Actually, I'd like to have that information. It could assist me in constructing a rough time-frame for fixing this temporal problem."

Marty couldn't help but smile. After all that talk, Doc needed that info. "He's 4 years older than me. My sister is 2 years older. I'm the baby of the family." He patted the picture he held, a fond look in his eyes. "They're not the best people to live with, but they are my family." He looked back at Doc. "Why do you think they're fading away?"

Doc shrugged, then recalled their conversation from last night. "Marty, you told me you had interacted with your parents. Is it possible you interaction with them caused a crucial departure from history, resulting in a changed temporal sequence in which they take separate paths instead of a joined one?"

"Uh - sure. Why not," Marty said, completely lost.

Doc noticed this. For some reason, talking to Marty like he had his own degree in quantum physics came naturally to him. It made him feel warm inside. "In your language, I'm wondering if you somehow prevented your parents from meeting when they should have. You'll have to tell me everything you did yesterday, down to the last detail."

"The very last detail?" Marty asked, remembering with embarrassment what had happened in his mother's bedroom.

"Well, not if you got into an extremely embarrassing situation, no," Doc assured him. Marty smiled, relieved.

"Good. 'Cause how I met my mom in the past was freaky." He stood up and stretched.

Doc examined Marty's clothes with a frown. "I think we should take a trip to the clothing store today and get you a more time-appropriate outfit. I'm sure you got a lot of strange looks because of that life preserver and those futuristic shoes."

"Life preserver? This is a down vest," Marty told his friend. "But you're right. I got a lot of weird comments about being a sailor."

Doc smiled. "Maybe you could borrow one of my shirts until I can get you some 50s clothes."

"Doc, you're 3-4 sizes bigger than me," Marty pointed out. "Plus, your fashion sense is - well-"

"Not that of a teenager like yourself, I suspect," Doc sighed. "Marty, you have no choice. The only thing even remotely acceptable in this decade is your jeans and maybe your denim jacket. It's only for a morning." He continued on his way to the bathroom.

Marty cut in front of him. "I gotta go first."

"It's my house," Doc said, stepping in front of him.

"I really gotta go," Marty told him, getting in front of him again. "Seriously."

"Oh, all right, go. I'll pick out a shirt for you." Doc turned back to his bedroom.

Marty suddenly changed his mind. "Actually, I don't need to go that bad," he claimed. "You go. I'll choose my own shirt."

Doc smiled and walked into the bathroom. "Those psychology classes in college did have some use."

9: 01 A. M.

When Doc finished his business in the bathroom, he found Marty wearing an old blue shirt covered in triangles. Now the scientist could properly see what Mary had meant by "3-4 sizes bigger." The shirt was draped very loosely on the teen's diminutive frame.

Marty looked upset. "I feel shorter than I normally do, wearing this," he muttered.

"It's not perfect at my altitude either," Doc told him, smiling. "You look good in that. The bathroom's completely free."

"No, thanks. I found the guest bathroom. You forget you have one of those, Doc?"

Doc had. "I don't get many guests," he defended himself. He looked with curiously at Marty's wallet, left on the table by the couch. "I really shouldn't, but can I have a look?"

"Go ahead." Doc opened it up and studied the contents. There was a large sum of money in the bills pocket, including 2 $20s. "Great Scott, a kid your age handling $20 bills!"

"Lots of teenagers handle them in the future," Marty shrugged, sitting down beside Doc as he rapidly flipped through the pictures. He noticed his friend frown as he looked at a picture of Jennifer. "She's my girlfriend, Doc," he said, sensing the question Doc wanted to ask.

"Ah." Doc found the picture he was looking for. Smiling, he carefully pulled the picture of Marty and 80s him in front of the amp free. He examined the expression on his 80s face. It was one of pure happiness. "A friend. I don't believe it."

"Believe it. I've got a bunch of pictures of us together. In fact, one of my - our - favorites is this one. Jennifer snapped it when she knew we weren't looking." He flipped the plastic sleeve over, revealing a similar picture of them hugging.

Doc looked at the picture, then at Marty. "I don't remember the last time I was hugged," he mumbled, feeling a little down.

"Happy to help out," Marty said, opening his arms. "You give great hugs."

Doc hesitated briefly. Then, slowly, he opened his arms and hugged Marty. It felt so - right, in a way he couldn't describe.

Marty automatically snuggled into Doc's chest. "Feel better?"

Doc pulled Marty very close. "A lot, thank you." He patted Marty's head tenderly. "This feels exactly right. I suppose that's why my older self likes you. You're like the family I never had."

"Uh - Doc?" Marty asked, voice muffled by Doc's shirt. "I really need some air. . . ."

Doc loosened his grip, looking apologetic. "Sorry."

Marty refilled his lungs. "It's okay, Doc. I don't mind. Are we going shopping now?"

"Let's have some breakfast first," Doc suggested, feeling his stomach growl. Marty nodded enthusiastically.

A bark of agreement drew their attention. Doc's dog had woken up while they had been talking and looked eager for some food. Marty's eyes widened. "Einstein?" he inquired of the puppy.

Doc looked confused. "Einstein? That's my new puppy, Copernicus."

"Oh, right, you told me you had a bunch of dogs before Einstein," Marty said, nodding.

"Marty," Doc said warningly. "I don't wish to know about my future."

"Sorry, Doc. Just that the dogs look a lot alike." Marty followed Doc and Copernicus into the kitchen.

9: 57 A. M.

After a breakfast of pancakes, Marty and Doc prepared to go out. As they walked out the front door, they passed the mind-reading machine. Doc glared at it. "Worthless piece of junk," he grumbled, hitting it.

"What's wrong with it?" Marty asked.

"It doesn't work, that's what's wrong with it," Doc grumbled. "You should know that. I tested it on you last night. The only one I got even remotely right was the 'great distance' one." Marty had to nod to that.

As they reached the car, Doc felt curiosity take over again. "Marty, what were you really thinking?" he asked as they hopped in.

"Last night. Even I'm not sure, Doc. Everything that had happened to me, I guess." Marty buckled up. "Jennifer, and the Clock Tower, and my mom and dad - I was thinking about time travel."

Doc became thoughtful as he started the convertible. "Hmm. Despite the fact my attempts to read your thoughts were just guesses, they were educated guesses. I was able to hear small portions of your thoughts. For example, when I heard the words 'time travel', I assumed you were from a different time zone, not a different time."

"What else did you hear?" Marty asked, intrigued. Doc's inventions always interested him, usually because they were so wacky.

"For some reason, the word 'newspaper'." Doc shrugged. "I don't know why you would think of newspapers, but. . . ."

Marty blinked. "Weird. I found out what time I was in by fishing a newspaper out of the garbage. And that flyer looks like the Hill Valley Telegraph."

Doc frowned and looked at the teen next to him. "You mean you were thinking of newspapers?"

"Maybe. What else, Doc?"

"The words 'donation' and 'Coast Guard'," Doc told him. "Any idea where those 2 came from?"

"Back in 1985, I made a donation to save the clock tower," Marty said. "Don't know with 'Coast Guard'."

"Forget it. I probably got that from your down vest," Doc said dismissively.

Marty felt the connection come. "I don't believe this! I actually said the words 'Coast Guard' while I was at my mom's! She thought I was a sailor, and it was the first thing that popped into my head!"

Doc nearly hit the brakes in surprise. "You're saying-"

"Yeah, that 'worthless piece of junk' isn't so worthless," Marty finished for him. "You just got the wrong idea."

Doc cheered up. "Well, it wasn't a complete failure at least. But unless I can fix it so that I hear more than the occasional word, I'm junking it. I want to move on to bigger and better things."

They drove into the town square. Marty looked around, still amazed by the differences between his home time and this one. "Man, look at all the stores!"

"This is where everyone shops," Doc said, not understanding Marty's surprise.

"Not in 1985. We've got buildings called malls which have a bunch of stores inside. That's where we were taping when this whole mess started. It's built on Peabody's farm, so it's called Twin Pines. You said so on the tape."

"That's right. Great Scott, Peabody's farm is gone? Was it destroyed by radiation?"

Marty gave him a strange look. "Huh? No, they just paved over it. There haven't been any atomic wars like you were talking about last night. That suit was just for the plutonium. And you didn't buy it, either."

Doc felt a weight lift off his shoulders. After seeing that tape, he had begun to worry about what catastrophes had happened in the future. Especially since they had elected 'Bass Bancroft' from those appalling Secret Service movies as president. "The future looks much brighter now," he mumbled, shutting the door to his car.

"Isn't that what you said when you discovered that 'Playboy' in your suitcase?" Marty asked mischievously.

"No, I said then, 'Suddenly the future is looking a whole lot' - Why am I even answering that question?!" Doc said, abruptly changing the subject. "Come on, you." They entered the store.

The man at the counter looked up. "Dr. Brown!' he exclaimed, trying and failing not to look nervous. "We haven't seen you in a long time!"

Marty sighed. "Why does everybody have to act like Doc is ready to explode or something?" He slid his arm around his friend, just to be friendly.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson," Doc said politely, ignoring the familiar look he got. "I'm here to buy some clothes for my nephew here. He just arrived in town." He patted Marty on the shoulder.

"Oh." Mr. Anderson regarded Marty with the same caution he had used for Doc. "What's your name, kid?"

Marty thought fast. Unbidden, the scene with his mother replayed itself in his mind. "Calvin Klein," he said proudly.

"Well, Calvin," Mr. Anderson said, not noticing Doc's surprised look, "I hope you find something you like in our shop."

"I'm sure I will," Marty said politely. He and Doc moved off into the racks of clothes.

"Who's Calvin Klein?" Doc asked in a whisper as they sorted through the shirts.

"Fashion designer in the 80s," Marty whispered back. "My mom thought my name was that because she saw it printed-" Marty swallowed and blushed "- on my underwear."

"Brand-name underwear? I don't understand the future at all!" Doc mumbled.

They went up and down the aisles of clothes, selecting 4 shirts, a jacket, 3 pairs of jeans and some sneakers. "Now you'll fit in," Doc said as Marty tucked the box for the sneakers under his arm. They went towards the desk to pay for their purchases.

As they left the long racks of clothes, the door opened again. Otis Peabody and his son Sherman walked in, Otis carrying his shotgun. Marty went pale upon seeing them. "Oh, no," he whispered. He shoved Doc back into the racks.

"What's the idea?" Doc protested.

"Old Man Peabody just walked in," Marty whispered, hiding behind Doc.

"So?"

"So I somehow ended up on his farm when I went back to the past! I crashed the DeLorean into his barn! I don't know how I ended up there, Doc, but one minute I was in a parking lot, the next in a corn field!"

"Marty, you're not thinking fourth-dimensionally," Doc scolded. "If the initial time-travel experiments took place at the mall, which was built on Peabody's farm, as soon as you left the time the mall existed, you were transported onto the original structure."

"Who cares! He came after me with that gun!"

Doc became worried. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but I'm scared shitless. Doc, does Peabody believe in aliens?"

"His children Sherman and Louise do. I'm not sure about Peabody himself. Why?"

"I was wearing my radiation suit when I smashed into the barn, Doc. And when Peabody shot at me, he called me a 'mutated son of a b*tch.'"

"Now I understand why you're hiding," Doc nodded. "Sherman most likely convinced his father you were an extraterrestrial. We'll stay clear of them until we leave."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Well, hello, Mr. Peabody!" Mr. Anderson said, sounding much friendlier than he had when Doc had walked in. "Come to get new clothes for Sherman?"

"Paw and I are on a mission!" Sherman stated proudly. He held up his comic Tales From Space. "We're looking for a space zombie!"

"That's me," Marty mumbled. Doc took his hand and squeezed it.

"Yup, that son of a b*tch wrecked my barn with his spaceship and tried to steal my wife's brain," agreed Otis. "And I want revenge!" He held up his trusty rifle. "As soon as I catch him, I'm gonna blast him!"

Marty pressed tight against Doc. "Jesus Christ, don't let him see me," he begged Doc. Doc shook his head reassuringly.

Sherman spotted Doc in the racks of clothes. "Hey, it's Lunatic Brown, Paw! Do you think he saw something?"

Otis looked hard at Doc. "Brown, you see anything last night."

Doc shook his head. "I was testing an invention last night, Otis. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."

"You sure? I'd bet you would hide an alien if it came to you." Otis waved the gun threateningly.

"Otis, I swear, I saw nothing last night." Doc folded his arms and looked steadily at him. "Were you drinking last night?"

"Uh-uh. The whole family saw him!" said Sherman eagerly. "Me, Louise, Maw, Paw - everybody! We even saw it mutate to human form."

Otis nodded. "Yup. A short thing with brown hair and blue eyes. Scared blue eyes."

"Your nephew has brown hair and blue eyes," Mr. Anderson said to Doc, just to be mean.

"Nephew?" repeated Otis. "Your sister finally have a baby, Brown?"

"No, Calvin is a teenager," Mr. Anderson said.

Sherman peered around Doc to see the terrified Marty. "There he is, Paw! Hiding behind Brown! I'd know him anywhere!"

"Hey, I don't want any trouble!" Marty yelped, sliding nearer Doc, if that was possible.

"You've got trouble, alien!" yelled Otis. "You wrecked my barn and ran over one of my best pines!" He raised his rifle.

Doc felt a wild, irrational need to protect Marty. He quickly shoved Otis's gun up as he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the ceiling, imbedding itself in the plaster.

"You're paying for that!" Mr. Anderson yelled, very upset.

"It's better than having a dying kid on your floor!" Doc snapped, trying to wrestle the gun away from Otis. "Ma-Calvin, quick, run out to the car!"

"What about the clothes?" demanded Mr. Anderson.

"You'll get your money!" Doc snarled, forcing the gun aside. "Go, Calvin!"

Sherman tried to grab Marty. The teen easily dodged and ran for the door. He dumped his 50s clothes in the backseat and ran back to help Doc.

Otis, furious at losing his prey, wrenched his gun from his Doc's hands. He pointed it straight at Doc's chest, growling. Doc froze, too afraid to move. Marty flashed back to when Doc had gotten shot by the Libyans back in 1985. His eyes widened in terror. "NOOO!"

Otis and Doc stared at him, surprised by his shout. Doc was stunned to see Marty looking so horrified. He immediately ran to his side to comfort him. "Marty, it's okay. I'm all right."

"Why the hell are you comforting it?" asked Otis, momentarily too surprised to shoot.

Doc glared at him. "Because I'm an alien too," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, he's the Supreme Klingon Master," Marty nodded, just as sarcastically.

Otis and Sherman looked at each other in pure terror. "Two of them?" Otis whispered.

"He must be directing the movements of the space zombie!" Sherman yelled. "If you shoot him, you'll kill them both!"

It occurred to the pair that the farmers hadn't picked up on the sarcasm. "Uh-oh."

Otis raised his gun again. Doc and Marty bolted, leaping into Doc's car. They drove away as fast as they could as Otis shot at them, shattering the glass in the door.

There was silence in the car for a moment as Doc and Marty caught their breath and came off their adrenaline rush. Then Marty slammed his hand against the dashboard. "Great, now I've got him thinking you're an alien."

"That's my fault," Doc told him. "I should have known he wouldn't understand sarcasm. I'm sorry for scaring you like that."

They drove in silence again for a bit. Marty had a thought. "What about my clothes, Doc?"

"I'll go back and pay for them," Doc said. "I'll probably have to pay for the other damage too."

"That isn't fair," Marty complained. "It was that wacko Peabody who was shooting."

"Nothing's fair." He smiled at Marty. "At least you had an exciting second day in 1955."

"If this is excitement, I'll stick with boredom."

Doc laughed. "I'd have to agree with you there. Why don't you start telling me what happened yesterday?"

"Okay," Marty agreed. "After I nearly got myself killed by Peabody. . . ."

The End