Jerry was alone is his apartment. He was looking forward to a relaxing, quiet Saturday afternoon. He sat down on his couch & placed his freshly prepared bowl of cereal down. On the floor by his couch sat an old box filled with comic books. He reached in and took out a Superman one covered in dust. He wipped it off & exhaled over enthusiastically with a smile. As he opened it a bunch of old pictures fell out, he tossed his hands in the air at the mess, "oh what is thiis."
*BBZZZTT* Jerry's buzzer went off. He got up and went to his door.
He buzzed down. "Yea who is it?"
The angry voice of Frank Costanza came through the speaker "How the hell does this stupid thing work?"
"Mr. Costanza? Is that you?" asked Jerry.
A confused Frank came back, "It's Jerry. He's in the wall."
"Come on up." Jerry replied. He cracked his door open and walked back to the couch, but he could still hear Frank talking. Jerry realized Frank was still holding the talk button down.
Frank continued "It should have opened by now, it must be broken."
The shrill voice of Estelle Costanza screeched through "You hold down the top button!"
Frank disagreed, "No, you hold this button down and the doors eventually unlock. I saw it on an episode of Dateline with that Kip Mathews."
Estlelle yelled back "Just press the top button! It's the master button!"
"There's no such thing as a master button in a MANHATTAN APARTMENT BUILDING!" screamed Frank.
"Then how does everybody else get in!?" screamed back Estelle. "What's the point of all these buttons if they don't work!?"
"THEY ALL HAVE THEIR OWN SET OF KEYS!" screamed Frank.
Jerry was getting frustrated "Mr. and Mrs. Costanza! Just open the door!" screeched Jerry as he held down the buzzer.
"What is that buzzing!?" screeched Estelle.
"Sounds like a cheap fire alarm." Frank casually responded. "I don't trust this building. Let's leave, Jerry's probably dead in the fire." Frank let go of the buzzer.
"Mr. Costanza!?" asked a frustrated Jerry… Silence. Jerry threw his hands up in the air in defeat and closed his door.
He walked back to the couch and was about to reach down to grab the unknown photos until his door swung open. Kramer slid through gliding across the floor holding a large bag over his shoulder. His green shirt was as eccentric as his hair, complete with a pipe between his grin. "Hey buddy!"
"Did you see the Costanza's?" asked Jerry aggravated.
"No, why - OH!" He popped his pipe out of his mouth pointing at Jerry. "Frank's been looking for you."
"Why?" asked Jerry curious.
"He's a bit… well… P-O'd." said Kramer fiddling with his pipe.
"What the hell did I do?" complained Jerry.
"How should I know, he just had that crazy Costanza look in his eye." said Kramer as he plunked his bag off his shoulder onto the table. A few newspapers, some markers and glue sticks fell out onto the floor.
Jerry watched Kramer scramble to pick them all up as they rolled around the floor. "Do I even have to ask?"
"What? Oh, the time travel project?" asked Kramer picking up one of his newspapers.
"Time travel?" asked a condescending Jerry crossing his arms.
"Yea, it's, well, a bit of an experiment." replied Kramer unsure of himself.
"Oh I'm sure it is." replied Jerry.
"See we're gonna drop off these newspapers to apartment buildings, with our ads in them for a time travel group meet up." said Kramer enthusiastically.
Jerry stood there staring at Kramer. "A group? Why don't you just post flyers around the city?"
"No, Jerry, you don't get it. We're gonna hand out these newspapers… dated 50 years from today. So if time travel is possible in the future, the people will have already talked about this event for 50 years, and already be at the event tonight!" Kramer said excited.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." said Jerry sternly.
"No, Jerry, we're being inventive." replied a smug Kramer as he walked to the couch.
"We?! There's only one other idiot dumb enough do this with you!" mocked Jerry. "Where is he? Finger painting a flux capacitor?!"
Kramer scooped a spoonful of Jerry's cereal into his mouth, "No. But that's a pretty good idea."
Suddenly, out of the corner of Jerry's eye, he saw a large, round figure appear. Jerry's heart sank. Newman! he thought snapping his head to the round mass.
"Helloo, Jerry... Trying to steal my ground breaking business idea?" mocked Newman standing in the doorway.
"This is not a business, nor is it ground breaking and it certainly isn't a good idea!" screeched Jerry.
"What is thi - Jerry!" Yelled Kramer by the couch. Kramer flung back, falling onto the couch in shock holding one of the pictures.
Jerry walked over to Kramer, "What - what is it?" he asked.
Kramer hesitated. "Yoyoma." Kramer responded still staring at the picture.
Jerry snatched it out of his hand and looked at it. It was Elaine. Naked. Dated about 5 years ago.
"How the hell did these get in here?" asked a breathless Jerry.
Kramer popped his pipe back into his mouth, walked out Jerry's apartment and straight into his slamming the door shut. Jerry stood there motionless, staring at the naked, younger Elaine in the photos. He bent down and started grabbing them up into his hands before Newman could see. But it was too late. Jerry looked up to a salivating Newman standing over his shoulder.
"Oh would you get the hell out of here Newman!" Yelled Jerry embarrassed.
"I… was just planning on that…" managed a sexually nervous Newman as he widened his shirt collar around his sweaty neck. He started walking backwards slowly "I'm going.. back in my bedroom.. I mean… apartment."
"Scram!" Yelled Jerry. Newman scattered off down the hallway.
Jerry stood there staring at the photos, aroused yet extremely confused. I don't remember ever getting these! he thought.
Elaine was downtown at work waiting for a meeting that was suppose to start a half hour ago. She was already frustrated about having to be at work on a Saturday, but she found herself increasingly irritable that no one else had to be subjected to Peterman's stories. She sat across from Mr. Peterman's desk as he flipped through an awkward Spanish boating magazine. She sat there uncomfortably, rubbing her face in frustration.
"Elaine, have you ever owned a boat?" Peterman asked.
"What? No, I haven't. Are you sure the others know what time this started?"
"Why, when I was just a young lad," interrupted Peterman. "I found myself boating the Urubamba river."
Elaine dropped her head into her hands.
Mr. Peterman continued "I came to a village on the banks of Peru and was befriended by a young boy from the BaGoGo tribe. And -"
"Oh, Mr. Peterman!" Elaine's head shot up with an idea. She reached through her bag and pulled out a magazine with seafood on the cover. "I almost forgot, that Japanese Cuisine magazine you've been waiting for came in! Why don't you read it and I'll go find the others." She said enthusiastically handing it to him.
"Perfect Elaine!" Peterman said immediately flipping through the pages ignoring her suggestion. "I was beginning to think they didn't receive my Ying!"
Elaine cleared her throat, suppressing her need to saturate Peterman's stupidity with her sarcasm, "It's Yen, Mr. Peterman."
Two hours later, Elaine still found herself in Peterman's office. George wasn't any better off. He was sitting hostage miserably in Queens at his parents table.
Frank sat at the opposite end reading the newspaper, his hair tasseled and curled like an angry box of yarn. He picked up his cup of hot coffee and took a sip. George sat there in the seat with a furrowed brow, staring at his father in his custard and brown striped shirt.
"Dad, what's wrong with you hair?"
"Forced to take the subway to get my magazine back from that thief Jerry."
"Why would Jerry have your magazine?" asked George confused.
"Because it's missing. He and that woman took my TV Guide before." He flipped the newspaper to the next page. "I will not be made a fool again."
"How do you know Jerry took it? When was he even here?" asked George.
Frank continued to read. He took a sip of his coffee and placed it back on the table. "This coffee is disappointing."
Estelle stood at the kitchen counter and opened the lid of a crock pot, "Georgey, are you hungry?"
"No, ma, I already ate."
"Well why didn't you say so? I made it because you were coming over!" she said getting flustered.
"He didn't know you were cooking," said Frank still reading the paper. "If he did, he would have rung in."
Estelle put the lid back on, "A phone call, a simple phone call would have helped!"
Frank lowered the paper "well maybe he wasn't around a PHONE." Frank said sternly.
"How could he not be around a phone? There's pay phones all around the city." she screeched back.
"Maybe he didn't have 2 quarters in his pocket!" said Frank getting angrier.
George rubbed is face.
Estelle shot back "HE COULD HAVE CALLED COLLECT!"
Frank threw the newspaper on the table "I WOULDN'T HAVE ACCEPTED A COLLECT CALL FROM MY 40-YEAR-OLD SON!" yelled Frank.
George corrected depressingly, "Dad, I'm 44."
"Even worse!" replied Frank.
"Alright that's enough!" shot Estelle as she unplugged the crock pot. "Nobody is getting meatloaf." She exited the kitchen "Georgey I'll get your laundry."
Frank straightened his glasses out and picked the paper back up continuing to read it. "Her meatloaf tastes like squirrel anyways."
George still sat at the opposite end of the table, examining the boldness of his strange, angry father. He exhaled a depressing sigh as he waited for his laundry.