Hagstrom Time Travel Atlas
Current mood: 
chipper
Category: Travel and Places
First Volume
Ungracefully aging ex-altar boy, Darius ("Weasel")Wheeler III once considered a weekend with two women and a case of Scotch a solid long term proposition.
But it's been three years since this one time guitar slinger/jailhouse teacher/independent contractor abruptly abandoned the tri-state saloon circuit to take his place in the trenches of the real world.
Weasel's income is no longer a patchwork quilt from erstwhile employers like Norman the Neck and Dirty Poncho Friedman. Now he draws a steady if measly check from GSI, Guitar Systems International-Terrestrial Retail Music Division.
For the first time in his chaotic existence, Wheeler has consistently held one job, almost pays his bills on time, and knows what it means to worry about next year instead of last month's back due cut off notices. He's found resignation, if not comfort, in his new found routine.
Like most true musicians, Weasel`s a creature of habit. So now he's determined to remain a rat in the race of American retail labor all the way to the coffin, despite the best efforts of his current boss to terminate him.
Until now, this corporate world has seemed rock solid, if tedious. But someone's ripped a hole in the fabric of human time. And now, neither free market capitalism, nor retail can never be the same.
The phone rings early one workaday morning. It's the long missing, and optimistically presumed dead, Norman the Neck calling from a Teal Mercedes. Norman has a sure fire money maker, and is ready to put massive dollars in Weasel's pocket yesterday. All he needs in return is that Weasel travel to the past and pull a simple jail house hit on the mob informant who has already murdered Norm.
Later that day, Weasel gets a call at work from a beloved ex-girlfriend who marries Heaven and Hell in the bedroom,Monica! She wants to sleep with him again, but she needs bail money the day before yesterday, or she`ll get killed in a Brazilian snuff film next year.
Is it any wonder Weasel doesn't want to return the urgent phone message he's gotten from a horn player named Gabriel, who needs him for the ultimate gig?
The Sausage String Theory of the completeness of shriveling time, associated with the shadowy followers of rogue post-Pythagorean mystic Rasputin's Bastard, is rumored to provide a skeleton key to this time travel enigma. However, press releases from the closely knit group emphatically deny their own existence, as well as any sort of multi-dimensional String Theory based upon sausages. The stakes are too high, the pay is too low, and they all happen to be highly insulted Vegetarians.