Chapter Two

 

 

Denise saw a long-haired young man walking by and asked him, “What year is this?”

He looked at her funny and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean what year is this? Just like I said.”

“Wow! Have you been dropping some of that righteous window-pane acid that’s going around?”

“No. Never mind,” Denise answered, and started walking away.

“It’s 1968, man,” he told her.

Amy and Denise stopped in their tracks and looked at each other in amazement.

“Are we at the Newport Pop Festival?” Denise asked him.

“Wow! You don’t even know where you are. There’s a bummer tent over there where you can come down off your high.”

“I’m not high. I’m pregnant, for God’s sake.”

“Yeah, man. I noticed that. You’ve been a naughty girl lately, haven’t you?”

“I’m a married woman,” Denise answered, defensively.

“Okay. Okay. That’s cool.” He checked out her body from head to toe. “Somebody’s a lucky guy.”

Amy seemed to have regained her composure enough to ask, “Why are people covered in mud?”

“The city brought in a water tanker and it sprayed water all over everybody.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t you noticed how hot it is?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“They ran out of water. And cokes. Whoever planned this concert didn’t do a very good job, man. People are passing out. People are getting ready to riot.”

“Bummer,” Amy answered.

“Yeah. Major bummer.”

Denise tugged on her little sister’s hand. “We have got to go find our husbands.”

He seemed amazed. “This little one’s married, too? What are you two in, anyway? Some kind of cult?”

“Bye,” Denise told him, as she hurried her sister away from him.

“He thought I was thirteen again, didn’t he?” Amy asked.

“I’m afraid you are thirteen again.”

“Are we stuck in some kind of time warp?”

“I hope not. We’ll get back eventually,” she answered, trying to reassure both her sister and herself.