I see you there, George R.R. Martin.

“Zounds! My ruse is exposed!”

Stop talking like that.

“I like talking like that. Don’t hassle me, varlet.”

Why are you in 1970? Who gave you access to Time Sheath technology?

“Phil really wanted to know what happens in the next book.”

Dammit. Y’know, I’m starting to think it may have been a poor idea to give the Grateful Dead a time machine.

“Ah, that reminds me of some intrigue within House Winterdingus. The scion, Scabbard Fanix, had recently forced his eldest son, Bung, to eat himself. It was part of an enormous banquet, which I’ll now describe for twenty minutes.”

Stop it.

“There were porked bellies and platters of buttered finch–”

STOP IT.

“Ah, bite me, y’jealous loser.”

Not wrong. This photo is labeled 5/3/70* from Wesleyan University. Did you go there?

“No. Northwestern.”

Uh-huh. So, why did you go to a random show in the middle of Connecticut?

“When Phil gave me the Time Sheath, his instructions were less than precise. I was trying to go to the Battle of Agincourt.”

Sure. Last question.

“Shoot.”

Why aren’t you wearing your usual get-up? Where’s your hat? You love that hat.

“I’m in disguise. Otherwise, I get mobbed by fans.”

Sure. Hey, George?

“My liege?”

Try not to start a Time War.

“I can’t promise anything.”

 

*Just a partial tape.