"Family meeting! Family meeting! Family meeting!"
After shouting such so as to rapidly draw in the loose threads that were, on Earth at least, his "family"...two from somewhere outside, one already standing in the cramped kitchen!...an angry Dick glared hard at a comically confused Tim O'Hara...
"Your not family!"
"Uh, I'll, uh, b-be in th-there," nervously stammered Tim, like someone especially spastic!, to the comically coquettish Sally, whilst gesturing toward the equally small living room. "W-with, uh, Uncle Martian. Martin!"
"Dick!" exclaimed, also angrily, a snarlingly scowling Sally Solomon of her pseudo-brother, even as Harry and Tommy remain more or less perplexed. More for Harry...less for Tommy.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I'm not about to simply stand around like an idiot...like Harry!...while that 450-year-old Lothario from Mars hits on my girl!"
"But, Dick," Tommy pointed out, just as any Information Officer should!, "you're older than that."
"Thank you very much for reminding me of that, Tommy!" sarcastically shot back Dick Solomon, his face an exaggerated mask of Comedic emotion.
"Okay, Commander," an impatient-to-be-with-Tim Sally said in a sardonic silliness all her own, "what's the 'family meeting' for?"
"I already told you, Lieutenant!" exasperatedly, and overtly animatedly!, replied, a little too loudly!, Dick to Sally. "It's about that Martian trying to make it with my girlfriend!"
"So what do you want us to do about it, Dick?" Tommy lamented with a self-certain shrug. Especially so since the purple tube inside the still-so-young Tommy Solomon was immensely old. "Kill them?"
The murderous grimace coming over Dick's always amusing, big-headed puss said it all. Causing Tommy to reiterate something that had to be said once before about three years earlier in this, their mission to Earth.
"You know we're not allowed to terminated any Earth life-forms, Dick."
And, exactly like that other time, Dick's twisted countenance intoned stupidly, "All right...I've got another plan."
Meantime, in that little living room whereupon Tim clumsily reentered after being so rudely rushed out of the little kitchen by Dick...
"I had no idea," gushed a smiling-with-intense attraction Mary, as she and Martin now sat in the two overstuffed chairs. "You really know a lot about archeology."
"Yes," Martin stated in true tongue-in-cheek elocution. "It's as if I actually lived during those past time-periods. Ah, Tim! I'd like you to meet Mary Albright. A beautiful lady whose knowledge of ancient Earth rivals my own. Mary, my nephew...Tim O'Hara."
"Oh, uh, hi," Tim said as he shook, a bit too anxiously it seemed!, the hand of Dick's lady-friend for a least the past couple of years. "Uh, U-Uncle Martin, have you, uh, figured out how to get your, uh, homemade 'mechanical calendar' to work again? Because, uh, I have the feeling we're, uh, no longer welcome in the Future."
Having slipped up so idiotically, causing his pseudo-uncle to glare hard via the eyes of the Martin-bot within whose head sat a tiny green-skinned Martian from some as-yet-unexplored-via-man-made robotic rovers, even in the early-21st Century!, Mars...
"Oh, uh, I, uh, meant 'welcome in Rutherford'!" nervously recovered the overly-nervous Tim O'Hara, so as not to arouse suspicion within a woman from Earth unknowingly dating, and mating?, with an alien-within-Human body from far further away than Mars.
"Oh, I'm certain that's not the case, Tim," commented Mary, then added in an unconsciously sexual fashion, "a little Dick goes a long way."
As both Tim's and Martin's eyes flew wide at what was, in actual probability, an innocent statement meant to make reference to an often strange Dick Solomon...
"Incoming message from the Big Giant Head," announced an entranced Harry, knees bent into a half-crouch and arms-and-hands held in true Transmitter sending/receiving fashion. "The information you seek shall be sent straight into the CCTBS device described, and a small charge will appear on your next statement. Transmission ending in three...two...one...ah-choo!"
"Did it work?" innocently asked Tommy, as all four crowded together as if expecting the ceiling to suddenly collapse.
"Damn!" loudly, and quite comically!, exclaimed Dick, as it seemed his Harry-transmitted request had, in fact, not been granted. At least, not yet. Then...
As if someone were rapidly rewinding a DVD presentation, instead of Real Life in Rutherford!, everything that had already happened, prior to the arrival-from-the Sixties Tim and Uncle Martin, suddenly and swiftly found the four arguing, as usual!, whilst climbing the inner apartment stairs.
"And I told you that it wasn't a parking space, Lieutenant!"
"C'mon, Dick, you were the one who whipped into that spot like it had shoes for sale! Pretty shoes."
"And never even bothered to notice the wrecking ball dangling nearby."
"Neither did you, you squint-eyed bonehead!"
"I'm no more a bonehead than any other Human, Tommy."
"Wait a minute!" Dick quickly called out, stopping so suddenly that the other three ran into him in an amusingly Comedic manner.
"What?" Sally asked with a scowl as screwy as Dick's.
"I, uh, just had a strange feeling that we'd just done this exact same thing a little earlier," Dick pondered with a perplexed pout.
"We did," harrumphed Tommy. "It's what we do every time we come back home."
Shrugging it off as simple deja vu, the four purple tubes-in-borrowed bodies clumsily continued into their cramped kitchen.
As, some four decades in the Past, in an apartment-over-garage somewhere in the Los Angeles, California area...
"What's the matter, Uncle Martin?" Tim O'Hara casually asked of the red-haired robo-carried being that, utterly unknown by Tim, was a smallish alien-sitting-in-head, ala a future film to be named "Men In Black"...
"What?" he managed, seemingly bewildered for one of the few times in any of the centuries such as he had visited Earth. The Cathode-ray Centrifugal Time BreakaScope situated on the table before the sofa upon which sat the normally cool-as-a-cucumber...which was somewhat greener than the real him!...Uncle Martin. "Oh, uh, I was going to use my CCTBS to take us close to the end of this century, so I could obtain important parts for my spaceship that can't be found at the present time."
"Really?" a suddenly-smiling-with-exaggerated excitement Tim said, as he sat upon the edge of the little table. "Sounds like it'd be a gas, Uncle Martin! So, uh, what's the trouble?"
"I don't know, Tim," Martin replied a little less enthusiastically, in regards to traveling into a Future Now, as opposed to seeming seconds earlier. "Suddenly...it just seems like a bad idea. Plus there's something in my mind-reading head that seems to say...'courtesy of the Big Giant Head'. And there seems to be some sort of financial charge involved!"
Screwing his countenance into incontestable confusion, which bordered dangerously close to the Truly Stupid!, Tim said, just as he stood to stiffly walk away, "Well, Uncle Martin, all the advice I can give you is...if you didn't order it, don't pay for it."
Such a surprisingly moronic comment from his pseudo-nephew, brought about a growing grin to the faux face of the red-haired head in which sat the teeny-tiny Martian.
"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to hang around a little longer. Tim's starting to grow on me."
With that, the CCTBS device was simply left where it was, as all desire to set it for a Future time-period no longer tugged at the high-IQ thoughts of a bot-carried being from Mars.