“What’s a dunking donut?” Baz said, his head tilted quizzically. 

What’s a dunking donut? You’ve got to be kidding me. Everyone knew Dunkin’ Donuts. Were we the ones with the head-knocking or was it this guy? Oh wait. There weren’t any Dunkin’ Donuts in New Jersey in 1978. I needed to divert the conversation ASAP. 

I stepped in front of Bones and blurted, “He hit his head harder than I did. I think he’s just confused, still thinking about all those donuts rolling around in the street. Bones loves his donuts.” I laughed weakly. 

Baz and Slim stared at me, then they shrugged and went about their business, checking our pulses and vital signs and all that. When they finished, they told the sheriff we should go to the hospital, just to make sure we hadn’t gotten concussions. 

We didn’t have time to go to the hospital! We had to get out of this mess and figure out how to fix this time-travel disaster we were still stuck in. 

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