Having gone back to the future with Doc Brown only to discover that the Earth has been overrun by human/Konglek hybrids, we have traveled through space and time back to the place where I originally met the Kongleks in a last-ditch attempt to put things right. If we fail now, then we will have to face the possibility that there will be no more fetch, no more flyball, no more agility. But there will be plenty of Kongs to chew on, so either way it will not be a complete disaster, at least, not for me.
After being betrayed to the Mark-Downers by Logan, I have found myself carted off to a desolate warehouse that apparently dates from the 20th century, a relic now here in the 23rd. This moldering, vacant space seems like the perfect spot for the harshest interrogation imaginable. I can only wonder what ruthless torments the Mark-Downers have in store for me …
After interminable hours of driving through the featureless desert, we have arrived in what’s left of California, where, right on the border, we find exactly what Logan said we would: The last Target of the 23rd century. But if Target is some sort of fabled promised land here in the realm of Wally World, why is it completely deserted? I have a bad feeling about this, and am beginning to wish I had simply gone back to the Doghouse of Justice instead of agreeing to help Logan escape from the Mark-Downers. But, as they say, in for a bit, in for a kibble.
Finding the Target parking lot empty, Logan does what any good shopper would do, and parks as close to the entrance as possible. The door to Target yawns open. An invitation? Or a hungry mouth waiting to devour us? We are about to learn which.
Upon discovering that he was about to be marked down, my new friend has decided to make a run from Wally World to the legendary land of Target. But can we even make it out of Wally World? And does Target even still exist? Only time will tell … but time is the one thing that we don’t have.
After an incorrect setting in the control panel of the Doghouse of Justice caused me to arrive in the 23rd century, I decided to investigate how culture had changed over the course of a few hundred years. Little did I suspect that while this society seemed a glossy paradise, it was at rotten at its center as … um … something glossy but rotten.
Having escaped from the Planet of the Stuffies using quick wit and sneakiness, I have set the Doghouse of Justice on a course for earth. I am looking forward to returning to my office in the archeology department at the university, where the only stuffies I need to concern myself with are the ones that graduate students bring me as presents. Too late, though, I realize that I have accidentally set the Doghouse of Justice to arrive in the 23rd century. Perhaps I will do a bit of sightseeing of the technological marvels that no doubt await, before returning to my proper time. After all, in two hundred years, society will, no doubt, be perfect.