Fic: 'But Their Final Destination Was A Mystery' (Phil of the Future, gen, G, 1/1) Title: But Their Final Destination Was A Mystery Fandom: Phil of the Future Characters: the Diffys Word Count: 383 Rating: G Spoilers: 'Christmas Break', roughly. Challenge: Leap for Prompts (26/29): Phil of the Future, Phil Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: The Diffys on their last day of vacation.
But Their Final Destination Was A Mystery
Phil checks his Wizard one morning and discovers they've been on vacation for seven days, more or less. His internal clock is completely screwed up; it's harder than he thought to figure in time lag.
Yesterday they went to medieval times for his mom. She'd been begging for a nice sit-down dinner, ever since Phil's dad had insisted on 'hunting and gathering like our Cro-Magnon ancestors' and had tried to make them eat rocks. Phil wasn't sure how eating without utensils was that much better, but his mom had been happy, and the jousting had been pretty cool.
Today is one of their last stops before they head back home. Pim had insisted on dropping by seventeenth century France today; Pim had wanted to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day. His mom had enthusiastically agreed it'd be 'educational' and 'quaint,' and Phil hadn't had the heart to tell his parents that his sister was harboring strains of pyromania. Frankly, between the jousting and the pyres, Phil was beginning to suspect that Pim wasn't quite right in the head.
But even with his crazy sister and his slightly less crazy dad and his almost normal mom, Phil's having a pretty decent holiday through history. Educational, chaotic, bizarre, but fun.
"So this was a bad idea," Mr. Diffy announces, after wrestling Pim back into the time machine.
"I just love the little holidays," Mrs. Diffy coos thoughtfully, oblivious to the chaos happening outside. "Ooh, Lloyd, how about we go and see Saint Valentine?"
"Sorry, Barb, but it's Phil's turn to pick. Did you have anywhere you wanted to go, Phil? Keep in mind we can't keep the time machine much longer."
"I sort of have to do some Christmas shopping," Phil says. "Maybe something vintage?"
"Hey, how about the nineteen-nineties? All of those pre-Y2K panic sales!"
"Paranoid Neanderthals," scoffs Pim. "How come Phil always get to pick?"
"Because Phil isn't always trying to help people blow up Parliament," Phil retorts. "Yeah, Dad, that sounds great."
"I believe the word you're looking for is 'groovy,'" says Mr. Diffy, starting up the engine.
"Wrong decade, honey," Mrs. Diffy says.
"Oh, it doesn't really matter. Technologically, they're all the same. You definitely have an interesting idea of vacation, Phil."
Phil's just happy to be getting a little closer to home.