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Chapter 14: Aphrodisiac
6.16.2002 Edited by Ben, every Sunday.

As though deciding if Bjorn was a man worth revealing the unwinding of the past to, Ben's deep set eyes penetrated into the very depths of his soul. To Bjorn it seemed that the undoubted years of Medieval-styled torment gave Ben the wisdom to read a man's soul from just one look, or perhaps it was the layers of eye puss that had gathered from many years of the unsanitary dungeon lifestyle that gave the speculated depth. Bjorn felt like he was naked and on display. He didn’t like it, not one bit.

After a few minutes Bjorn could no longer take the silent tension. "So, are you going to explain how the world went gaga or..."

"Hold on," interrupted Ben, "I haven’t finished my token penetrating stare."

"Ummm....okaaay..." Apparently Ben had been in similar situations with other prisoners. Bjorn was beginning to think that Ben was a bit of a loony, but was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, who wouldn't go a little nuts after years of being locked in a dungeon run by Canadians, the absolute cruellest of all nationalities. Crueller than Attilla and the Huns, crueller even than the malevolent Mormons of Utah! Bjorn gagged when he thought of the trials that poor Ben must have endured. If he didn't find a way to escape, Bjorn took comfort in the fact that his fate was that of a quick and humiliating decapitation rather than years of Canadian torture.

After a few more minutes of staring Ben straightened up and said "So, you want to know how the world turned into a madhouse, do you? Because it just so happens that I'm exactly the right person to tell you.”

"Yeah, you... uh... said that already. Can you please carry on with the explanation?" Bjorn felt slightly impatient. He wasn't sure how much time there was before he would be taken to have his head removed and he wanted as thorough of an explanation as possible so he could eventually get back to his time and set the future right.

"It all started in the autumn of 2001..."

Bjorn felt his insides shrivel into nothingness. Autumn 2001 was when he took that first pill that sent him spiralling into his time travelling adventure. Could his departure have somehow led to this freakish present?

“... Those bastard Canadians had produced a new drug entitled ‘adseropnol’. Made from polar bear testicles, whale blubber and maple syrup, it was advertised as an aphrodisiac that would both raise the sex drive and increase the romance in any relationship. Made exclusively for American’s, the drug was a complete success. American’s bought them by the truck load.”

Bjorn’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Had he not plummeted into his time-travelling catastrophe he would never have allowed the FDA to approve such a drug! “That explains why McNoHart wanted to get rid of me!” thought Bjorn in a plot-thickening fashion, “He needed to approve his drug so he could take over America! And now he wants me dead because he knows I can eventually return to my time and prevent his evil scheme! Huzzah! How mind-bogglingly simple!”

“At first the drug worked relatively mildly. People seemed satisfied with it and relationships always improved. I avoided using it due to my rare and lucky allergy of polar bear semen. Just one drop of it and I go into anaphylactic shock.” continued Ben, “Slowly, those conniving Canadians increased the potency of adseropnol. Soon Americans became a combination of horny sex-fiends and romantic buffoons.”

“Which is why there is such a high content of pornography and an emphasis on Elizabethan costume!” contributed Bjorn, feeling very smart.

“Correct. Canadians continued to increase the potency of the drug until Americans became slaves to their loins! This gave Canadians the perfect opportunity to infiltrate America. Americans have become addicted to this drug. Since Canadians have complete control over it, Americans have, pathetically enough, become slaves to Canadians.” sighed Ben. “Because I was unable to take the drug I could not be enslaved to the heartless Canadians. Thus I was banished to this tower and have been held prisoner here ever since.”

Bjorn suddenly caught a glimpse of the real Ben Piper. The one behind the ragged clothes, natty hair and layers of eye puss. He saw him as an innocent victim of a cruel fate. Bjorn swore that he would get back to his time and prevent this mind-numbing future. Bjorn would never let the Canadians get away with this!

"I always knew Canadians couldn’t be trusted but I never thought it could come to this. Tell me Ben, is there any way I can escape past Mackenzie Larwill and his troupes?”

"I just don’t know,” replied Ben. “There are guards at every corner, booby traps (no pun intended) everywhere and the only way out of the tower leads directly into Larwill’s courtroom. That Larwill is one sick, sick bastard, eh?”

At that last syllable Bjorn raised his right eyebrow. “Did he just say ‘eh’?” thought Bjorn. Suddenly the mask was lifted and Ben's true identity was revealed!

“That two-faced SOB!” Not being able to control his indignation Bjorn hollered “You’re one of them! You’re a… a CANADIAN!"

Suddenly a change came over Ben, he unveiled a venomous glint in his eyes and an evil leer on his face. “Yes, yes I am a Canadian, and I’ve been waiting for you, Bjorn Lincoln!”

“How do you know my name? Allergic to polar bear semen? How could I have not seen through your charade earlier? You work for him don’t you… that small man with the uni-brow and his strange silent friend!”

“Ahhh… I see you have met Master McNoHart and his servant Dionne. No, I am no longer in their service. Many years ago I made the unfortunate mistake of challenging one of Master’s decisions. He banished me to these dank cell walls to ponder my foolish misery for the rest of my long, wretched life. It has long been known that you, Bjorn Lincoln,” Lincoln he spat with particular distaste, “would one day stumble into this cell. I am aware that my Master wishes you terminated. I will fulfil the job that his cronies cannot accomplish. Then my master will gladly welcome me back into his service. Bjorn Lincoln, prepare to meet your destiny!”

With that, Ben withdrew a long blade from the pleats of his rags and slowly began to approach Bjorn.

“Wait!” shouted Bjorn, desperately trying to stall his seemingly inevitable death, “You seem like a pretty decent guy. Why would you, of all the decent people in the world, join the legions of this McNoHart? He sounds like a big dumb jerk, if you ask me.”

The knife was inching its way closer and closer to Bjorn’s heaving chest.

“You too would gladly join his legions” Ben sneered, “if you were offered a lifetime supply of those delicious delicacies which are neither chips nor crackers…”

“You joined an army of evil historical figures, became the slave of a midget with a uni-brow and banished yourself to a lifetime of medieval misery for chips?” Bjorn, hoping to further stall his death, subtly reached into his pocket for his time-travel pills, hoping it wasn't too late to escape.

“They are not chips!” cried Ben in a sudden blind rage, “Nor are they crackers!”

The blade, now mere millimetres from Bjorn’s heavily palpitating heart, was violently shaking with a snack induced wrath. A second more and Bjorn would be done for.

“Well this is it,” thought Bjorn melancholically, “Goodbye cruel world!”

Abruptly the door to the cell swung open just soon enough to distract Ben from the task at hand. Suddenly an electric blue volt ran through Ben's body, making his eyes roll back in his head and his body convulse violently. Blood squirted out of all his orifices. Finally, as he let out a dying gurgled shriek, his eyeballs shot out of his head and exploded on the wall behind Bjorn, followed by a train of runny brains. All in all, it was not a pleasant looking death. Bjorn fumbled through his satin pockets for his time-travel pills, fearing that whoever shot Ben would aim for him next. As Ben's corpse crashed to the ground Bjorn was shocked to see that the figure who shot Ben was none other than the little robot boy he had met earlier in the carriage.

“Come on!” he shouted.

“But...aren’t you…”

“Hurry up, we haven’t got much time!”

Having no real choice in the matter, lest he wanted to share Ben's fate, Bjorn jumped up and followed the strange robot boy out of the cell and into oblivion.

By Stephanie Avery

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