A Disservice to Public Society 🎸

another day, another marty congregation.

in the middle of doc’s garage stood three whole marty’s. marty was talking to doc about something, probably what they’re gonna do about the mysterious popping up of three other variants of him. the other two were just bickering every five seconds.

sat in the furthermost corner from everyone was mcfly. right on the floor with his legs against his chest. ironically, he was thinking about how he should interact with his other selves more, but which one?

marty? no, mcfly was a disaster last time he talked to him. tannen? no. mcfly was scared of slipping up and pissing him off, also if he called him tannen to his face, he would probably get punched into a whole new timeline.

this left mcfly with only one option; martin. jesus christ.

martin wasn’t terrible, mcfly actually kind of liked him, making him the only marty to actually do so; he was just extremely boring company.the watching paint dry kind of boring.

well, it’s either this or looking like a complete anti-social outcast. he stood up quick, too quick. after nearly stumbling into everything in doc’s garage, mcfly got a hold of himself and walked—stumbled, really—over to martin, who was busy sulking post argument number ten with tannen. he tapped on the geek’s shoulder a couple times with a nervous smile on his face. “hey, martin..” he said with a twinge of forced confidence.

the other turned around, scanning mcfly up and down like a robot before greeting him. “you. i forgot you were even here,” his voice was blunt, “greetings, clint.”

mcfly frowned, his attempts at coming off as confident fumbling within the span of a few words. “i’ve told you i don’t wanna be called that.”

“what do you suggest, then?”

“i’ve been using mcfly.”

“that would be confusing. clint is easier to distinguish.”

“i don’t like it, though.”

martin shrugged, “my apologies. anywho, what do you want, clint?” this guy can’t be fucking serious.

‘clint’ pulled his hat over his face for a brief, slightly dramatic second, loudly groaning into it. no; the hat didn’t suppress it all that much. “i– just wanted to, erm,” he placed his hat back on top of his head. there was a good thirty second pause between each half of his sentence, conversing is not one of mcfly’s specialties, “talk. i just wanted to talk to somebody..”

“color me surprised.” martin’s tone made it hard to tell if this was genuine or sarcastic. “you’ve been sitting god knows where ever since we got here.” he adjusted his glasses which mcfly could see slipping off in real time.

“i was in the corner. the right-hand corner.” mcfly pointed to where he was sitting, “i’m quite..”

“anti-social?”

“yeah…!”

“i’ve noticed.” martin said, staring at the other with a tight-lipped smile, “you’re always away from the others. whenever you speak, you sound like you’re being electrocuted with the constant stutters. yet you’re not that far off from that square,” mcfly didn’t know which marty the word ‘square’ here referred to, but he assumed it was marty, “what is your deal?” martin tilted his head, placing his hands behind his back.

“what’re you, my therapist?” mcfly laughed nervously. “i-i’m just not much of a social guy. that’s all.”

martin raised a brow, “you’re a disaster, physically and mentally. you’re not gonna get anywhere if you hide your woes.”

genuinely, what the hell is this guy’s issue? is this really another timeline version of himself or mcfly’s therapist in a skinsuit? “c-can we talk about something else? i was thinking we could talk more about our day or other selves.. not, this.” mcfly itched the back of his neck.

“okay. how has your day been so far, clint?”

“...fine. it’s nothing special.”

“okay.”

“how about yours?”

“good.”

“..okay.

riveting conversation. this was when mcfly realised that martin is, too, terrible at conversation. first, he talks like a robot. second, he immediately started psychoanalyzing the other the second he got a chance. third, he somehow makes small talk boring. this was a lot more awkward than mcfly’s last interaction with marty; and he genuinely asked if marty was gonna kill him there.

the two painfully awkward boys stood there in a painfully awkward silence, between them anyway, there was noise coming from marty and doc’s conversing and tannen’s humming.

after a good minute-and-a-half, mcfly spoke up. “this has been a … conversation.”

martin nodded, “totally.”

“very short but … i think we should end it here.”

"agreed. we’d be stood here for hours saying nothing otherwise.”

“see ya, martin.”

“goodbye, clint.”