“Sir, are you preparing for your speech tomorrow?” spoke the President’s secret service protector/personal assistant/babysitter, Bartholomew.
“Of course I am Bartholomew; I’ve been prepared for months. I just need to find my pen,” the president responded. “What pen sir? What will your speech consist of? Our country is in dire need of any encouragement or appointment at the moment,” Bartholomew asked.
“Looks like you’ll just have to find out tomorrow like everyone else!” the president said, searching high and low through the drawers of his desk for his beloved pen.
“Including me...” the president whispered, “Bartholomew, have you seen my favorite pen? The one we bought in Czechoslovakia, with the felt tip, black ink, gold clip on the side, and light up clicker that plays the national anthem that sounds like that one Justin Timberlake song? I can’t seem to find it anywhere!”
“Have you checked your pocket?” The president patted his jacket pocket on the right, left, inside and outside. Bartholomew continued, “Top drawer? Bottom drawer? Right shelf? Left shelf? Secret compartment 1, 2, 3-16? Secret box in the ceiling? Behind the picture frame? Other picture Mr. President… secret compartment under the rug?”
“IT’S NOT HERE BARTHOLOMEW! WHAT WILL WE DO!” climbing up from his hands and knees, the president, suddenly distraught, sobbed.
“Mr. President, sir, couldn’t you simply use another pen? Or we could ask their president to send you another one? Make up a potential war, and the pen becomes a peace offering!” Bartholomew suggested, gently pushing the president’s drooping head off his shoulder.
“No, he already sent me a baseball cap and a beach towel; it would just be rude to ask for something else!” the president said, standing himself back up.
“We must go back. I must have another.” He darted over to his computer and clicked quickly to ‘United Airlines.’ Because of the President’s franticness, Bartholomew decided to call for backup in his blue tooth. This wasn’t just any secret service back up though; this was a special kind of backup for only this kind of situation.
“Paul, I’m going to need you to head on down here, we got a code blue in the round house- repeat we got a code blue in the round house.” Less than a minute later, a figure, pushed hesitantly through the president’s door.
“Uh, yes? Mr. President, sir? I was called to come, uh, assist you in a rational decision…” he said hesitantly. Exuberantly the president answered,
“Paul! Welcome, my favorite secret service member! Well, a rational decision? There is no decision to be made… Bartholomew and I were just starting to pack for our trip to Czechoslovakia; I’m going to get myself another one of those wonderful pens. Would you care to join us? Our flight leaves in 3 hours, and customer service recommends we get there at least an hour before departure.” Hesitant again, Paul responded,
“Mr. President, sir, you have your own private jet that you fly in the air, uh, when you travel, so you, uh, don’t have to take commercial airways… uh, but do you think that uhm, leaving before a big presentation, uhm, like the one you have tomorrow, is the best decision? And don’t you have uhm, presidential duties to fulfill uhm, today?” Confidently, the president protested,
“Nonsense Paul! My double will fill in for me! Now make a snack list, we need crackers, juice, fruit snacks, and some candy! Ooh, and don’t forget popcorn, and candy did I say that! And those really good chips that taste like hot wings!” The packing list went on and on of use less things the team needed for their trip, beef jerky, red bull, twizzlers, paddle ball, ping pong balls, ping pong paddles, a ping pong table, (Air Force One was getting a bit of a renovation) the newest and most advanced camping gear, super soakers, dog leashes- in case the president wanted a puppy, matching jackets for the whole team, unicycles, a newspaper for any downtime, and finally a seismograph- just in case an earthquake were to strike.

“…and tell everyone the president is doing official business in his office if they ask, you got that Bart #2?” Bartholomew said, preparing his double for the day ahead.
“Bartholomew, shouldn’t we be leaving soon? I want to get to the pen store before closing hours. We’ve been waiting here for quite some time now!” The president said, stuffing three twizzlers into his mouth.
“Well, sir, uhm, maybe we shouldn’t have bought that, uhm, ping pong table for Air Force One, the movers are having quite a difficult time trying to fit it into the plane.” Paul choked out.
“Nah, You won’t be saying that when we’re in the air playing ping pong, now will you, Paul?” The President answered, grabbing Paul in a choke hold and scruffing his hair.
“Uhm, no, Mr. President, I guess not.” Paul again choked out.
“Alright, let’s get out of here! Bartholomew, grab the bag! Paul, get the seismograph!” The President directed. The three men said farewell to their doubles, climbed the stairs of Air Force One and took off for Czechoslovakia.
Surrounded by crushed up red bull cans, rock music blasted as the President and Bartholomew, planted firmly at the ping pong table, had been playing for hours. Paul, on the contrary, had been in the other room studying the seismograph. He always had a passion for plate tectonics, but was pushed by the pressures of being the youngest and nerdiest child in his family to become a member of the secret service.
“This is just fascinating. Never have I ever seen a seismograph identical to this in beauty or accuracy, this is just magical!” Paul woolgathered. Little did he know that this seismograph really was magical. The captain’s voice came over the speakers,
“Alright kiddos, we are due for landing in less than 10 minutes, the weather is about 43 degrees, happy landing! Mr. President I hope you get your pen.”
“Man! I just love that guy. Bartholomew, you’ll clean this up later! Make sure to put the beef jerky, paddle ball, and newspaper in my to-go bag, and the dog leash just in case. You guys ready to head out? Oh, and Paul, bring the seismograph.” The President said, eagerly waiting by the door. Bartholomew and Paul stepped out first, while the President energetically jumped up and down behind them, pointing to his favorite sights of Czechoslovakia and pushing through them to get started on their adventure. Before the men even got off the airplane run way, the whole earth began shaking. Instinctively the president hit the ground, and Paul and Bartholomew jumped on top of him. The buildings nearby began to collapse, but the only thing Paul could notice was the seismograph was going wild.
“THE SEISMOGRAPHHHHH!” Paul shouted! “IT’S DETECTING AN EARTHQUAKE!” Then, as quickly as it came, the shaking cut out and the earth was held solid again. Paul stepped back studying the seismograph precisely. Bartholomew studied his surroundings suspiciously, talking to himself saying details so fast no one could understand. The president continued to lay flat on the ground, his arms and legs spread wide. Kissing the ground, he sang ‘solid ground, thank God, it’s staying still, no more shaking, or rumbling, or moving, just still solid ground.’ Yanking the president up on his feet Bartholomew talked quickly,
“Mr. President, get up. We seem to have changed locations. The skies seem duller, I don’t know if this is accurate but it seems that there is a gray tint on everything, and our surroundings have completely changed. Also, there seems to be a hint of nuclear smell in the air.” Looking around, noticing Air Force One was no longer behind them, the president asked,
“Bartholomew, where are we?”
“I do not know.” He responded, desperately trying to pick up a signal in his ear piece. Suddenly, a roaring noise echoed above them, again they did the same drill. The president hit the ground, Bartholomew going over top of him. Until they realized they needed to quickly get out of the way of a plane coming in quick for a landing, on this plane was a symbol placed in a red circle, looked like a broken cross. A swastika! The symbol of the German Nazi Party!
“Bartholomew WHERE ARE WE?” the president asked, suddenly frantic.
“Mr. President, Sir, Bartholomew, This is just absolutely astounding,” Paul gasped, running towards them newspaper in hand,
“Look at this Newspaper, 1939- May, Do you men know what happened in this year? The Nazi’s annexed the Sudetenland! This newspaper is an amazing find! Especially compared to ours today,” comparing the two newspapers to each other, they looked similar,
“An artifact like this in such good of shape as our normal paper--“
“We just saw a Nazi plane land on the runway Paul, What is going on here?” Bartholomew asked.
“Ah, is there some kind of reenactment going on here? How neat!” The president exclaimed! Then, the three men heard a faint scratching noise.
“Oh no, THE SEISMOGRAPH AGAINNN!!” Paul shouted. Again, the earth began to shake violently. This time, the President desperately scurried for his to-go bag full of snacks. The concrete broke under their feet and split apart, the buildings near the runway fell into the earth and colossal trees sprang up from the cracks.
Finally shaking stopped, and the three men stood, unharmed, wide eyed and still in their new remade environment. The air felt sticky and thick, much warmer than before, and there were no clouds in the sky anywhere. The sun blazed hot and big with an unstoppable beating.
“Bartholomew, where we are now?” The President asked wiping beads of sweat from his brow, but keeping his eyes locked on the parched paradise before him. Bartholomew responded,
“Paul, do you know where we are?” Folding the newspaper neatly into the bag, and pulling out a bottle of water, Paul began observing the towering trees surrounding him.
“Well, uhm, after being in the middle of the annexation of Sudetenland, I believe uhm, anything must be possible today. So uh, if I were to take a guess, looking at the toughness of these leaves, this has got to be your typical Cycadophyte, and if you’ll look across the way you’ll see the infamous horse tail leaves of the Sphenopsids. Bartholomew, Mr. President Uhm, sir. I believe we have been taken to the Mesozoic era, Jurassic period to be exact, Age of the dinosaurs!”
“Paul, are you saying we have a magical seismograph that transports us to different places back in time?” Bartholomew questioned suspiciously.
“PAUL, ARE YOU SAYING THERE ARE DINOSAURS HERE!” The president hollered excitedly jumping around. “Dinosaurs were my favorite when I was a little boy! Paul, you’re a genius!” He began kissing Paul’s head, and then took off to explore the timber giants encompassing the men.
“Uhm, Mr. President Sir, I didn’t exactly make this odd extremity, but sir, I would be uhm, careful. This is an extremely uh, dangerous place to be.”
“Dangerous? Nonsense Paul, What is so dangerous about this?” The president said, revealing a small creature that had crawled onto his shoulder. This creature was covered in dark brown fur, with a white under belly. He had six long toes on each of his four paws, a long tail covered in fur that was now wrapped around the President’s neck.
“Come on Paul, can we keep the little guy. I think he likes me!” The President said as he began petting it. The creature grinned, showing his numerous rows of tiny sharp teeth. The animal’s snout then sniffed and searched the president’s head all over his face. Giggling the president again asked,
“Paul, we’ve got to take him home with us, we’ll give him to the boys in the lab to look after. He’ll be my little pet. We won’t tell anyone, we already keep so much from the public anyway!” Worriedly, Paul responded,
“Mr. President, sir, uhm, taking a 112-million year old animal from the past into our future as a pet cannot be a good idea. What if it brings new diseases, it could start a worldwide epidemic.” Cheerily skipping along with his new pal, the President responded to his ‘negativity,’
“Paul, you speak nothing but nonsense, He will be fine! I’ve already named him George. Hand me that dog leash we bought, he’s coming with us! Now, this has been quite the adventure, but I’m ready to head home. Find a way to make that happen will you, Paul?” The president continued on his way, now searching for Bartholomew. There Paul stood, with the seismograph at his feet. Staring down at it, he sighed,
“How are we ever going to return home? I cannot make this seismograph work; an earthquake has to do that. How are we going to make an earthquake happen, and how are we going to be sure it will return us home. The probability of us returning to the exact time and place that we need to be is infinitively indefinite, it’s impossible!” His thought process was broken by the consistent rumbling of the ground beneath him. Not enough to be an earth quake, but enough to make him turn around, only to see the president and Bartholomew mouthing the words, ‘PAUL!! THE SUPER SOAKERS!! DINOSAUR!!’ Running towards him, the President held George, his Triassic pet leashed in his hands, and behind him, Bartholomew ran pointing onward toward a large cave behind Paul. Following Bartholomew, a gargantuan Tyrannosaurus Rex pounded against the ground, roaring its ear splitting call. Paul picked up the seismograph and began sprinting; in his hands he could feel a familiar scratching.
“AH, YES! THE SEISMOGRAPH HAS COME THROUGH FOR US” he yelled to the men behind him, “WE AREN’T DINOSAUR LUNCH, WE AREN’T—“interrupted, Paul was flung on the ground, with the president falling on top of him and Bartholomew to the side of them. They looked up and saw the soaring timber shrink down into the earth, and the sky fall closer and closer to their heads. Ducking for safety, the secret service men jumped on top of the president, as if that would protect against the certain compaction that was about to take place. Where were they going next? The gates of hell, the worldly time of the renaissance, the non-existent, unknowing future? The shaking stopped, the whereabouts stood still. Looking up, the men slowly climbed to their feet. Around them, they noticed the recognizable desk and chair that The President knew so well, the rug that only he owned, the familiar walls with a secret door three paces left of the light switch, and the couch that Bartholomew loved to nap on so much. There Bartholomew, Paul, and the President slouched, exhausted by their most recent events. Gasping the president asked,
“Bartholomew, are we where I think we are?”
“Mr. President, I think we are in the oval office.” Bartholomew responded, lounging back in his seat.
“Paul, did we just travel through time using a magical seismograph?” Bartholomew asked. Paul sat speechless for a few seconds,
“Bartholomew, uhm, I believe we did.” Abruptly getting up from his spot on the couch, the president raced around the room,
“Bartholomew, Paul, Where’s George! We must find George, I know he’s here!” And from the inside of the President’s to-go bag, the friendly adelobasileus climbed out, and on to the President’s shoulder.
“Ah, there he is, he’s alright, Mission Accomplished.” Relieved again, the President moved to his desk to begin writing in his journal of his adventures to keep for personal belongings. Laughing slightly, he spoke,
“Ya know boys, I don’t even remember why we left in the first place.” Still exhausted, Bartholomew and Paul sat on the couch stretched out with feet on the table speechless. They just shook their heads, deciding not to remind the president of his lost pen and upset him. They heard only the sound of writing, then after a few moments they heard a click and the sound of the Czechoslovakian national anthem.
“Man, I love this pen. It writes so smoothly, lights up, and even sings the Czechoslovakian national anthem, kind of sounds like Justin Timberlake.” The President said to himself. Bartholomew and Paul suddenly sat up, and looked at each other, outraged.
“Now, if I could only find my specially engraved Peruvian hole punch… Bartholomew have you seen my favorite hole punch, engraved with the cool designs, It’s from Peru?” The president shouted to them, sounding mildly worried. Letting out a huge sigh, Bartholomew and Paul sunk back down deeply into the couch, closed their eyes, and drifted to a state of slumber to the sound of the president pacing around opening and closing drawers frantically.