I Still Don’t Understand Super Markets

I have been here for almost 30 years now, waiting and watching all you people from the my past live their boring little lives. Everyone is just so damned worried about the little things.

For example, why are you all so worried about the food you eat. It’s embarrassing how much time you spend prepping and eating food all day long. It’s worse than being stuck drifting in space for 90 days, and that is pretty bad!

Let me tell you a story. Sometime in 2175, the number of people requiring food overruns the ability to produce it the natural way. So scientists came up with two solutions. One was the replicator unit that used proton energy displacement to replicate food items from computer memory. The other was what I grew up on – Glunk.

Glunk was a synthesized food product that manufacturers made in a clean environment. They designed it to be a perfect food. It came in two flavors. Red and Black – each one more satisfying than the other. A single GlunkPack would replace a single meal – and there was no prep required.

See – now isn’t that easier!

No more, what are we having tonight? Well I don’t like broccoli, and I don’t like bread. Things we’re just easier. You ate your Glunk – and that was it.

Now how does that make you feel about how much time you waste shopping for food?

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Well, I guess I’ll start here

I’d like to begin by ranting just a little bit. If you can imagine with me for a second, I am a little bit angry at having been lift here in the past as a practical joke. And now 30 years later I am old, tired, and just a little bit of a cranky future man.

I mean seriously. For 30 years I have lived 300 years in the past without any of the comforts of the future. Have you ever traveled by car? I mean what is this silly invention you guys putz around in. Spewing filth everywhere it goes. And talk about slow!

And the people! All so old fashioned and cranky. All worries about every little thing! I’d like to see any of you fend of an Ecklminian Plasma Grunt with nothing but your bare hands and a pocket pen light phaser.

I guess I will just have to keep trying to rebuild my Mendlivian Echo Transmitter to communicate with the future and get back home.

Until then – please don’t bother me,

Frank