Philip pressed enter on the keypad before him. He ceased to be. As his eyes imploded, he saw the world disintegrate into a smouldering ruin. He knew it was his fault that the world had ended as he died. His time displacement device zipped back through the decades. He realised he wasn’t dead. There was a sound like a swarm of bees being sucked into a wind tunnel. With a plop, he was back again.
Despite feeling unfamiliar, he recognised the room from its layout. The colours on the wall were different. The smell was unfamiliar. Successfully, he’d travelled back through time. He checked the energy gauge. It was half full. He had enough to travel back to his own time. Leaving the building, he heard someone rattling a tin. It was a bum. "You've got a few pennies for an old man down on his luck," the down and out asked. He knew they always had money. Steeling himself, he began kicking and punching him until he was unconscious.
He searched the body and found the ten ruro the bum hidden in his underwear. No one was going to miss a black bum. He had a list of bets he was going to make. Now he had to find a betting shop. In this series of bets. A small stake could change his mother's life for the better. He walked into the betting shop with one euro; he left half an hour later with his betting slip. His mother would be a billionaire by the time she was eighteen. Eight long odd bets with one euro as payment
Now he had enough time to get to a solicitor to make sure the funds got to his mother when she was eighteen. He calculated the compound interest on the winnings. In ten years, she’d have two billion, two hundred and nineteen million, six hundred and forty thousand, and four hundred and twenty-three euro. He chuckled to himself. He approached a door with the words "Mackram, Murphy, and Smythe Solicitors" on the outside.
Breezing past a white, fifty-something secretary, He opened the door to the solicitor with shouts of, "You can’t go in there!" He sat in the chair in front of a startled older black gentleman. While his mouth was open. Philip said, "I have an extremely large amount of money I wish to get to a young lady in ten years’ time". The solicitor, still with his mouth open, then said, "Mary, thank you; I will see this gentleman. Now, sir, what is your name, and what is the source of these funds?" asked the solicitor.
"My name is Philip Barnes. In the last few minutes, I’ve made an eight-line accumulator bet with one euro as a bet. I wish the winnings to go to a girl named Isabella Johnson in ten years’ time".
"I see. Do you have any evidence that your bet will come home?" asked the solicitor.
"The first two races should have finished now," said Philip.
The solicitor checked his phone. The results read two hundred and fifty to one, seventy-five to one, and then seventy-five to one. After a quick calculation, he saw the winnings were over a million Euro. His mouth opened again. Philip looked blankly at him and said, "The next race should be finished shortly, in the USA." Philip was running out of time.
He required this to be done faster. "I’m prepared to give you ten percent of the winnings if we can get this done faster." Avarice was the key to getting things moving faster. Business complete, he made his way back to the building where he was. He knew it would still exist in forty years’ time, when he came from. Philip cursed. There were some police near where he’d beaten the bum. He wanted to get close to the spot where he’d come from, so he’d be safe and not seen. He snuck around the outside of the building. As he slipped around a corner, a man called out to him, "Philip Barnes, please don’t ignore me." Shocked, he stopped and looked at the man. He was black. He looked like he was about seventy years old. Philip asked, "How do you know me? Who are you?"
"I’m Philip Barnes. I’m your grandson. I came back to warn you not to make the bet. I also wanted to warn you about that solicitor". Philip checked the time displacement device. He only had twenty minutes left before he’d return. He said, "I have to get back to that building before time slips." His grandson pleaded, "Oh my God, am I too late?" Please, I’ve spent fifteen years travelling backwards and forwards trying to find you. You have to listen to me."
Philip looked at the timer. There were fifteen minutes left. "Okay, quickly, what are you needing to tell me?"
"The solicitor you spoke to dies in five years, and his son takes over the business. He has a grudge against the white man who killed the black man in the alley for ten Euro. In ten years, he will approach your mother to give her access to the funds. When he meets her, he finds her terribly attractive." "He won’t tell her about the enormous sum of money you got for her. He’ll pay her ten thousand Euro for unprotected sex with her every week for a year. Eventually, she became pregnant, and he gave her €500,000 to have the baby. Your mother soon after committed suicide."
Philip didn’t believe his mother would ever do such a thing, so he made to make off. "That’s not the worst. With billions in funds, he gets he causes a revolution, and millions die. His son carried on the butchery after he was finally assassinated. His son, my father, found his diary about time travel. There was even a description of how it would be produced. "
"Look, whatever your name is, you can see I’m white. The way time works is whatever happens stays happened. If I were the son of a black man, I’d be black. I came through time as a white man. Thus, where I am going, I’ll also be white, so your story doesn’t add up. "Souls don’t have a colour, grandfather."
Philip looked at the device with thirty seconds left. He ran towards the building. The old man was screaming at him not to do it. The cops started chasing Philip. Lack of sleep and food diminished his running ability, but he was ahead of the cops. He made it through the door as the device started beeping. Time slowed, the world began to blur, and then the sound of a swarm of bees sucked through a wind tunnel. He plopped back into his timeline. He chuckled. That crazy old man He quickly went to the bathroom, quickly unzipped, and took his penis out. Instead of the white penis he’d expected without thinking, he produced a black penis. He also realised his hands were black. His screams were pitiful.
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