Tim left for work that evening, still mulling over the chewing out he had been the victim of.
Tim wasn't his job. Tim had goals and dreams beyond stats and spreadsheets. He slumped onto his sofa, still replaying the scene. (Sometimes in different styles; film noir, cartoon and musical being just three)
After dinner, he ventured into his garage. He whipped the cover from his invention. Tim had been building a time machine in his spare time and, as he took a big swig from his bottle of Liver Kicker, he decided that tonight would be the night to test it out.
With his bosses dressing down ringing in his eras, he stepped into the machine, hit some buttons and vanished in a flash of brilliant blue-ish light.
Returning to work the next day, Tim had a spring in his step. He had made everything better.
As he sat at his desk, he smiled to his new boss who greeted him with a warm smile.
Unknown to his colleagues, Tim had travelled back in time, to a few years prior, and ran over his future superior with a big car.
"Job done" Tim said to himself. Next trip, he would go back in time and punch Hitler in the face. First, it was time for a vending machine coffee.
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