The first indication that something was wrong was when Ed Chambers drove himself to the ER at Lakewood Hospital.
Ed told the admitting nurse that he mostly just felt out of sorts. Confused. Fuzzy. Except for his nagging suspicion that there was something wrong. Something very, very wrong.
While the ER nurse was drawing blood, Ed told him how he was grading papers after school - he was a history teacher over at Lincoln Elementary - when all of sudden nothing he read made any sense.
How he was sure that Penn Irving wasn’t the man who made the midnight ride in 1775, but a fellow named Paul Revere. That Revere wasn’t scouting for the British Army, but actually warning militia men that the British Army was on its way. And that he was actually a distant relative of Revere. That the blood the ER nurse was holding was, in some minimal way, a piece of American history.
When the doctor came to check on Ed, after a lengthy discussion with the ER nurse, who suggested a full psyche screening, the patient was nowhere to be found. A moment or two later, the doctor wasn’t even sure why he was in the examination room in the first place.
Ed Chambers. A distant victim of Onzore Vooly, a 17-year-old student from the 23rd Century failing his high school history classes so terribly, he finds himself on the verge of flunking out of high school. Not good if he wants to chase his dream of playing lead clank-guitar for the Brockian Ultra-Crickets and tour the Alteraian Circuit.
How to thwart this personal tragedy? Steal his father’s chrono-bubble matrix generator and rewrite all of history to fit the answers on his semester final.
The first person to notice a change in the space-time continuum is Dr. Emmett Brown. Brown, once known as Hill Valley’s resident science eccentric, is now often called on to solve mysteries of unusual circumstance. Especially those that involve history books that change their text as the reader turns the pages.
“This is hardly what I would call a science experiment,” Brown is heard to say while thumbing through a copy of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
It doesn’t take long for Brown to realize that there is something amiss along the common timeline. To both investigate the problem and repair the past, Brown will call on his best friend and fellow time traveler, Marty McFly.
Brown and McFly aren’t the only time travelers to notice growing instability in the space-time continuum. The 27th Century timecop Rufus becomes alarmed when the Great Ones write a ower ballad that doesn’t include electric guitar and synthesizer.
Rather than bother the 27th Century version of the Great Ones, Rufus travels back to the early 1990s, to San Dimas, Califorina, to recruit high schoolers Bill S. Preston, Esq., and Ted “Theodore” Preston to help save time itself.
Doc Brown and Marty track Vooly to Liverpool, England, in 1960. They chase him through rain soaked alleyways and into a dorm room at the Liverpool College of Art. There they encounter Vooly’s latest target.
“What’s all this then?” says a gangly 19-year-old, a six-string guitar slung round his shoulder. The young man turns to his mates, one comfortable on a couch, the other tuning the long neck of a bass guitar. “If you’ve come to try out for the Quarrymen, you’ll want to mind your manners a bit.”
Of course Vooly hasn’t arrived for any of that. He has history to rewrite.
Brown and McFly are a complication, but they won’t stop Vooly from his mission. But before he can lunge for John and skewer Paul (ultimately confirming Vooly’s World History thesis that Ringo and the Ringtones is the greatest rock band in all of modern history), Vooly is thwarted by a time-travelling telephone booth, materializing from the floor like an interstellar elevator, right in his path.
Vooly can do nothing but careen into the booth. The collision knocks the matrix generator from the pack on Vooly’s back, cracking the chrono-bubble on the floor. It sparks and sizzles like pop rocks and Mentos.
“Whoa!” Bill says, stepping out of the phone booth. “Watch where you’re going future dude!”
Vooly quickly snatches the six-string guitar from the ground and slings it around his shoulder. He points the neck like a rifle.
“Hey, Doc,” says Marty, holding up his hand. “I think this is a science experiment gone all wrong.”
A lanky teen in a T-shirt and black vest, a thick mop of hair bouncing as he speaks, says, “My most excellent friend, it is time for you to give up and allow history to be the most awesome story it can be.”
Vooly answers by smacking the headstock on the chrono-bubble, opening the fizzing crack wider.
“Great Scott!” says Doc Brown. “He means to destroy all of history!”
Bill and Ted look at one another. “Bogus!” they say in unison.
With a swiftness unlike anything Doc Brown and Marty McFly have ever seen or will ever see again, the Wyld Stallyns pull over their shoulders tricked out, glowing guitars and strike a chord so powerful, it sends Vooly crashing into the back wall of the dorm.
Ted then reaches down and picks up the chrono-bubble. Bill nods. He knows what his friend has in mind.
“You don’t have to do this!’ Marty says.
“Promise us one thing,” Bill says. “Be excellent to each other.”
“And party on, dudes!” Ted says, as the two step into the telephone booth.
There’s the sound of a bottle cap snapping, the whine of a leaking pipe, the crackle of popcorn, a bright light and then a popping bubble. The telephone booth bursts into a half-million strings of confetti - and Bill and Ted are lost forever.
Doc Brown and Marty round-up Vooly and drive him back to the future where he belongs. A future restored to the common timeline by the Two Great Ones.
One souvenir? A tricked out guitar and a message from Rufus. The future has two new Great Ones. And they have many excellent adventures ahead.