Message from the Future – The Bizarre Adventures of the Quirkston Family

Dinner at the Quirkston house was about to become a full-blown nutritional disaster.

Paula Quirkston had invited guests over — a big deal in their part of the suburbs — and boldly promised them a traditional delicacy: boneless fish stew. Never mind that she didn’t actually have any fish, or money to buy fish, or the slightest clue how to cook said stew without setting off the smoke alarm.

"We'll figure it out!" she declared, as if confidence alone could conjure up carp.

Unfortunately, their bank account looked like a desert in a drought: dry, cracked, and utterly hopeless. So George, ever the problem-solver (read: professional hopeful), grabbed his ancient fishing rod and headed for the nearest pond — determined to catch dinner the old-fashioned way.

Several mosquito bites, a mild sunburn, and four hours later… he returned home victorious.

With one fish.

The size of a toothbrush.

His daughter Crystal took one look at it and handed it to the dog, Buzz. “Here. You’ll get more use out of it than Mom.”

Defeated and smelling like swamp water, George did what he always did in times of desperation: he snuck into Arlo’s room and tried to contact their futuristic descendant.

“Z3/X? You there, buddy? Emergency. No fish. No money. No stew. Guests incoming. Send help.”

Z3/X buzzed onto the screen in his usual glow, looking suspiciously like he’d just rolled out of bed in a neon jumpsuit.

“No... dough? I don't understand,” Z3/X frowned. “What do baked goods have to do with fish?”

“Not bread dough. Money! You know — cash, coins, moolah! We’re broke!”

Z3/X’s holographic eyebrows furrowed. “Is this… some sort of ancient seasoning ritual involving fish scales and fermented plant liquids?”

George took a deep breath and tried to explain that dohány, guba, lé were all slang for money — not ingredients in some horrifying marinade. Eventually, Z3/X got the point: the Quirkstons were broke and hungry.

“Aha! Say no more, ancestral unit,” Z3/X beamed. “I’ll send you something better than fish. Meet: the NutriBerry™ 9.7 — future-certified miracle food. One berry contains a whole week’s worth of optimal nutrition.”

As Z3/X was about to explain the one-berry-per-week part, the time-expander in Arlo’s setup began to short-circuit again. Sparks flew. The connection died. No warning. No instructions.

The package arrived a minute later: a tiny container full of small, glowing, jellybean-like berries.

Dinner was saved.

That evening, the guests arrived: Paula’s forever-skeptical Uncle Oscar, nosy Aunt Josephine, George’s intimidating boss Mr. Crabb, and of course, their neighbor Mr. Marlin, who still smelled faintly like popcorn from the previous evening’s mass movie viewing.

George, in a flourish of futuristic generosity, poured the contents of the container into a crystal bowl and proudly declared:

“Enjoy our special imported delicacy! Just like candy — but better!”

Everyone helped themselves.

And within seconds, chaos erupted.

Aunt Josephine puffed up like a soufflé in fast-forward, her dress bursting at the seams. Mr. Crabb’s suit split open, revealing plaid boxers that would haunt Crystal’s dreams forever. Uncle Oscar’s belt gave up its will to live. Mr. Marlin tried to squeeze out the front door, but got stuck halfway through.

The Quirkstons watched in horror as their dinner guests inflated like parade balloons — groaning, panicking, rolling, and eventually fleeing out into the street in search of air and dignity.

Realizing what had happened, George, Paula, Arlo, and Crystal sprinted out of the house to chase after them and try to reverse the caloric catastrophe. Meanwhile, Buzz the dog darted happily in circles, thinking it was all some elaborate game of tag.

Paula, panting mid-run, clutched her side and shouted the words she always seemed to land on in times of crisis:

“I knew I should’ve married that nice Hufnagel boy!”

Next Time on The Bizarre Adventures of the Quirkston Family:

Chapter 3: Car Trouble Torture