Marty dumped the gym bag in the back of the DeLorean and trotted around the corner.
If only Marty hadn’t been so curious about his own future, what was about to happen might never have happened. Even if Marty had merely looked behind him before starting forward, it might have been prevented. Because if Marty had looked behind him, he might have seen the flying taxi coming down, the same flying taxi that old Biff Tannen had flagged down a little while ago. Perhaps Marty might have even seen old Biff in that flying taxi. But Marty didn't look behind him. He walked forward toward his future residence. And that would prove to be a serious mistake.
‘There!’ the old guy yelled from the back seat. ‘Up there!’
Fred glanced over his shoulder to see the old guy pointing straight ahead. Fred turned back to look at the road. Yeah, there was the parked DeLorean. There was a kid kneeling in front of it, putting on a pair of shoes. At least, that's what it looked like the kid was doing. Fred wondered how many cars got stolen every night in a place like Hilldale?
Well, Fred guessed, he was glad they found the car again. The taxi driver had thought the old guy in the back was going to have a heart attack when he had stopped the cab outside Hilldale. Fred didn t really like to go into this kind of neighbourhood, especially after dark. But. with a choice of getting a fare, or having a dead guy in his back seat, Fred had decided to make an exception in this case, and had taken the cab into Hilldale.
Luckly for the old guy's continuing health, the DeLorean hadn't gotten very far ahead. Fred pulled up next to it as the old guy shouted 'You can let me off here!'
Fred noticed that the kid had disappeared. Maybe the teenager had really been doing something to his shoes after all.
The taxi driver glanced at the meter.
‘That’ll be 174.40.’
The parrot on his shoulder squawked. ‘174.50!’
Fred glanced back at the meter. Priscilla was right.
‘Oh yeah,’ he amended. ‘174.50. And I’d be careful in this neighbourhood, old timer.’
But the old guy didn’t want to listen. He hastily pressed his thumb to the payment plate, then scrambled from the cab. He moved with amazing speed for somebody his age as he hobbled with the aid of his cane toward the DeLorean, a silver bag clutched in his free hand.
He walked straight to the car, opened the door, and climbed inside.
What was the old guy doing? Was that his car? Fred decided he didn’t want to know. He turned the cab around and headed out of Hilldale.
Priscilla squawked chidingly in his ear. and Fred had to agree.
After all this time, why hadn’t he learned to listen to his parrot?
Chapter Eight
He wished his wife would get home. She knew Marty’s mother and father were going to be here tonight, but she was still off on one of her little errands. Nump! If both their teenaged children could get home in time for the grandparents, was it too much to ask for their mother to show up, too?
In the meantime, Marty’s mother was bustling around the food processors, getting everything ready for dinner. Grandma Lorraine always took over like this whenever Jennifer wasn’t here, which seemed to happen far too often recently. Where, Marty wondered, had he and Jennifer gone wrong?
Grandma Lorraine stuck one of those expandable pizzas in the Hydrator - a real four-incher! That was one thing you could say about Marty McFly Senior’s parents: They weren’t cheap.
so I thought,’ she continued cheerily as she distributed the plates, ‘it would be nice if we threw a little party for him.’
The Hydrator beeped. His mother bustled happily back to the machine, pulling the now fifteen-inch pizza free. And she was nice enough not to mention that it had taken the Hydrator a full twelve-second cycle to finish their dinner - Marty wished he could afford one of those new six-second models.
But. as nice as his mother was, there were still a few things that she just couldn't be realistic about. Like this party she kept going on about.
'Mom.' Marty Senior replied patiently 'before we throw a party for Uncle Joey,
let's see if he makes parole.'
'Fumble!’ Junior screamed. The readout on his glasses read ESPN-Ch 211-D. He must be watching the Spacers/Bears game.
Grandma Lorraine brought the steaming pizza to the table.
'George.’ she added gently, ‘rotate your axis, please. It’s not good for your digestion to eat while you’re inverted.’
Marty’s father obediently pushed a button by his wrist. The ortho rig whirred into action, turning him sideways.