Prologue - D'oh Boy!

In a flash, a large bald man appeared in the waiting room of Project Quantum Leap. Of course, the only one who could see this man as he truly looked was Al Calavicci, the Project Observer and best friend of its time-shifting founder, Doctor Sam Beckett. To all others, including himself should he get near a mirror, this man looked just like Doctor Beckett.

Al made a move to initiate contact, the better to quickly find out where in time his friend had gotten to.

"Sir, could I have your name?"

The man sat there, looking dumb and doing a pretty good job of it, as well. Al tried again.

"Name?"

The man shifted his eyes about. What he was looking for, Al had no idea.

"Is the boy behind this?"

"Uh, sir---Name?"

The man looked at Al, quite suspiciously, yet still somehow looking very, very dumb.

"Is this a trick question?"

Al shot a look at psychologist Doctor Verbeena Beeks. She merely shook her head, and Al asked yet again.

"Sigh! Name?!"

The man chuckled for reasons no one could comprehend.

Ohhh....so you want to know 'Sigh' name? Wellll, 'Sigh' Name is Homer Simpson. What's Syours? Heh. Get it? Syours? Heh---You Don't Get It, Do You. I THOUGHT that you didn't look too bright. I can always.....aaaagagagaghhhhh!!!"

Al was now strangling this Homer Simpson, until pulled back by Dr. Beeks and Gooshie. Calavicci was fuming.

"Lemme at him! I won't kill him....much!"

Homer rubbed his neck.

"Imagine the nerve of strangling someone for no good reason. I'm just glad my son isn't here to see such behavior. Wait. Where's my wallet? BART!!"

Assuring the others that he was now calm, Al tried again.

"Okay, Homer. Now, where do you live?"

Homer seemed to panic.

"Oh, No! Is this a test? Cause I have a note excusing me, see?"

Al was unbelieving as he read the faded, crumpled paper.

"This is a 15-year old gym note, and it says that you are not excused, to boot. Now, where do you live?"

"Springfield."

Al hoped for more quickly, and so turned to someone besides Homer.

"Gooshie, see if you can narrow that down."

The oddball scientist shrugged.

"Luckily, Admiral, there's only one town named Springfield."

Al shook his head.

"One? There must be dozens."

"Not--anymore. Some moron in the only town that's still called Springfield mooned the pope during his visit. The others all changed their names in embarrassment."

Homer sat indignantly, with his arms folded.

"I only asked him if I could wear that cool hat. He didn't have to hit me with his sceptre. It even left a mark."

Al tried to finish this initial contact.

"Mr. Simpson?"

"Mr. Simpson?"

"HOMER?!"

Homer looked up, resentfully.

"Ah, geez. You mean I haven't woken up yet?"

Giving up on common sense, Al tried pure logic.

"Homer, this isn't a dream. You are standing in the middle of a Chronal Manipulation Chamber that utilizes the loop theory of time and space."

Homer's Brain took in Al's words.

"Ah, I see. Brilliant in its simplicity. Utilizing his own lifetime as the travel parameter, the subject leaps from life to life, seeking to put right that which once went wrong. Oh, how wondrously made are time and space."

Homer's Mouth considered Al's words.

"Its a time-whoseethigymawhatsis!"

"Homer--This Is The Brain. Try Again. I Repeat. Try Again."

"Its a time-whoseethingymawhatsis!"

The Brain had been prepared for this possibility.

"I'm gone. Call me during sweeps. Brain Out."

Gooshie stared at his readings.

"Admiral, you're not gonna believe this--but Mister Simpson's brain output just diminished radically."

Homer was punching himself in the head.

"Lousy elitist brain! Die!"

Al covered his face.

"Why would I not believe, Gooshie?"

-----------------------------------------

SPRINGFIELD

As Sam materialized, he found himself driving a car. A boy on a skateboard had just bounced off the roof, grinning.

"Somebody ought to speak to that kid's father."

While driving, Sam felt something burning his back.

"Feels like a curling iron, or a fork left in the sun too long. Boy, where these leaps will take me never ceases to...."

He studied the object, and recoiled in utter horror. As a scientist, he knew exactly what the thing was, and threw it out the car window, where it bounced into a sewer grating.

"That...was a spent nuclear rod. What kind of moron lets a spent nuclear rod fall onto his back without noticing?"

Sam looked into the rearview mirror, and got at least part of his answer.

"Oh, Boy!"

END PROLOGUE