The Time Travel Chronicles
500 BCE; Spotlite as Siddhartha Gautama
Written by Quantum Human(500 BCE, somewhere in what is now Nepal. Spotlite, who is now the familiar round-bellied Siddhartha Gautama - Buddha - sits on the grass under a swaying pipal tree. He is unmoving, meditating silently, the folds of his trademark coat shimmering slightly in the sun. A young man approaches to talk to him.)
Man: Oh mighty Buddha, what is the secret to your happiness?
Spotlite: I have attained nirvana.
Man: How do I attain nirvana?
Spotlite: By following the Eightfold Path.
Man: What is the Eightfold Path, oh great Buddha?
Spotlite: Killing, maiming, slaughtering, destroying, ass-kicking, having a cool name, carrying large weapons, and wearing a black trenchcoat.
(The man stands in stunned silence for a moment.)
Man: That sounds like an excellent philosophy.
Spotlite: It is, friend. It is. Go, and may Death walk with you always.
(The man departs. A few minutes later, another young man walks up to Spotlite.)
Man 2: Oh great Buddha, what is the ultimate goal of life?
Spotlite: To find nirvana.
Man 2: What is nirvana, Great One?
Spotlite: A grunge rock band.
(The man is now thoroughly confused.)
Man 2: Great One, I am confused.
Spotlite: I know. The narration said that already.
Man 2: How may I find fulfillment?
Spotlite: Drugs.
Man 2: No, I mean, what must I do to find nirvana?
Spotlite: Obtain a chemical imbalance, become addicted to heroin, and saddle yourself with an ugly, strung-out, vengeful rock-star whore.
Man 2: Great One, what you say is incoherent!
Spotlite: If you could understand the words, it would not be nirvana.
(The man puzzles over this for a few seconds.)
Man 2: Why does that make sense?
(This man walks away, only to be followed immediately by another.)
Man 3: Oh mighty and powerful Buddha, how may I rid myself of lust?
Spotlite: Tape a picture of Margaret Thatcher to the ceiling above your bed. Next.
(He walks away, and another man approaches. Spotlite looks up and realizes that there's a huge line of young men waiting to talk to him.)
Man 4: Oh great and all-knowing Buddha, how may I rid myself of worldly attachments?
Spotlite: Lure all your family and friends into the basement, slaughter them, and bury them in a giant pit along with all of your possessions.
Man 5: Oh wise and wonderful Buddha, how may I find my ultimate purpose?
Spotlite: Go north past the baobab tree on the edge of town, hang a left at the river, and go straight. If you walk off the edge of a cliff and die, you've gone too far.
(Several hours pass.)
Man 96: Oh strong, powerful, and enlightened Buddha, should I be modest or tell people of my righteousness?
Spotlite: You're deluding yourself if you think anyone listens to you.
...
Man 273: Oh great, wonderful, wise, all-seeing, all-knowing Buddha, what is the preferred beverage of enlightened ones such as yourself?
Spotlite: Bawls.
...
Man 1,614: Oh amazing, omniscient, all-knowing, stellar, wonderful, rocking, kick-ass, and all around nice Buddha, how may I rid myself of painful bunions?
Spotlite: Cut your foot off.
...
Man 12,972: Oh excellent, wise, strong, wonderful, killer, triumphant, all-powerful, bodacious...
Spotlite: Shut up and ask your question.
Man 12,972: Which brand of toothpaste will make my teeth the whitest?
Spotlite: That's it! I'm done with you idiots and your questions!
(Spotlite throws back his coat and produces a pair of big-ass automatic weapons. He advances on the crowd.)
The next day...
(Spotlite sits on the grass under a swaying pipal tree. He is unmoving, meditating silently, the folds of his trademark coat glistening shades of red in the sun. Spent casings litter the heavily treaded ground. There is only silence, save for the wind and the sound of a nearby river, its deep red waters lapping at the brick-red mud confining it to its path.)
Spotlite: Ahhhhhh. I am at peace.
(A bird chirps in the tree above Spotlite.)
Spotlite: TASTE MY DEADLY WRATH, FOUL BIRD-ENTITY!!!
(Spotlite ventilates the bird. The end.)