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Chapter Eleven
It was the fifth day of March when the cold of winter finally broke Peter Durant.
Hope is one thing, but all the scotch in the world and all the self-righteous back patting one can muster cannot deliver a man through the valley of being a complete shithead.
Don’t ever try it.
Peter’s words and actions were catching up to him in ways he could have never imagined, in the way words and actions always do.
The negative energy he had released into the universe had formed a time spiral, and then a dark matter squiggly, and then gravity took hold and all that negative energy began barreling back through the dark void of space right in his direction.
Not a single time traveler from any year in the future felt any inclination to witness what was about to take place.
If that doesn’t tell you how bad it was, nothing will, because, when it comes to time travel, paying to watch the shit hit the fan in some place within history is usually considered priceless entertainment. So, when everyone opts out of wanting to watch you get ass-rammed by karma, watch out. Because shit is going down.
However, let it be known that ticket sales in the eighth millennium were unmatched with regard to most all of Peter’s locations over the coming months.
Why?
Because no matter how hard you hate him, or no matter how hard you really want to hate him, Peter was about to change the course of humanity forever, and change it for the better, he would.