Another one from last May from my notebook. This one was written because my lovely wife refuses to accept modern theories on dinosaur feathers.
"Of course," said Kelly, "velociraptors were a lot smaller in real life than in the film."
"Kelly," said Horace. "Stop ruining it. I don't care if they were smaller or not."
"Do you care that they were covered in feathers."
"They were not covered in feathers."
"Don't be silly. Let's enjoy the film."
"I'll show you."
"I'll show you. Come upstairs." Kelly stood up and climbed the three flights of stairs into the loft. Horace, begrudgingly, pressed pause and followed her.
"I've been working on it for months," said Kelly when he finally caught up with her.
"What is it?"
"It's my time machine."
"You've built a time machine?"
"Hopefully. Come on." Kelly skipped over to the contraption and climbed inside. Horace, begrudgingly (he did most things begrudgingly), followed her.
The door closed and without any sound, without any clicks or whirrs or futuristic pips and whistles, the contraption slowly faded into nothingness. A few seconds later, it faded back again.
"See? I told you," said Kelly, climbing back out of the time machine. "Feathers. Oh."
"What?" said Horace, who was struggling a little.
"We changed something."
Horace gave himself one final heave.
"What do you - Oh."
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