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Reginald Jeeves had been through a lot in his life. He had worked at difficult jobs in his youth before securing a position as a valet, served in the Great War, and even dealt with the notoriously fierce Mrs Agatha Gregson. But he had yet to face his toughest challenge.
Californians.
It seemed an innocuous day when he first woke up. He washed and dressed, ate breakfast, and then prepared to wake his young master for his morning cup of tea. He too seemed perfectly normal (comparatively speaking) and after he had breakfasted he set out for his usual adventures in the fine city of London.
Jeeves did his duties inside the apartment. Jeeves did his duties outside of the apartment. Then Jeeves took a little time for himself to read a few pages of a new book before he had to receive his young master for the evening.
His peaceful respite was disturbed by Bertie Wooster - the aforementioned young master - bursting into the apartment in effervescent excitement.
"Jeeves!" he cried.
"Sir," Jeeves replied as he floated noiselessly out of his bedroom.
"I've brought guests, Jeeves. American guests. Pop on a pot of tea, will you? They'll have never had a good one, you see. Being American."
Jeeves dipped his head in accordance but before he could float back out towards the kitchen he caught sight of the American guests and rather wished he hadn't.
One boy with chin-length dark hair and a lop-sided smile stood at a similar height to Bertie, although it was hard to tell from the way he slouched. His clothing was dreadfully baggy and uncoordinated. The fairer boy beside him had the same sort of hair Bertie owned naturally unless he tamed it with oil. He was a little shorter and his clothing was also baggy and uncoordinated. His midriff was scandalously on display and Jeeves felt faint for the first time since his unfortunate meeting with a man that lived in his pyjamas all day. He wasn't sure which was worse.
Bertie remained blissfully unaware that his new friends were causing his poor Jeeves distress. "Jeeves, this is Mr Bill S Preston, Esq, and Mr Ted 'Theodore' Logan. Gentlemen, this is my valet."
The two Americans grinned at him, each lifting one of their arms and holding the other across their stomachs. "How's it hanging, Valet Dude!"
Jeeves stared blankly. He had no idea what other expression he could make.
"Hey, what is a valet?" asked the one with dark hair, who appeared by Bertie's indication to be the one named Ted.
The fair boy who by process of elimination had to be named Bill simply shrugged at him.
"I believe you would pronounce the word as 'val-ay' in your country," said Jeeves.
"He's one of those dudes that parks your car for you," Bill explained to Ted.
"Oh…" said Ted as he frowned in confusion. "But I don't have a car."
"I am Mr Wooster's personal gentleman," Jeeves clarified, though his words only confused them further.
"Sounds gay," said Bill.
"Yes, it is rather a jolly setup," said Bertie, wearing a winsome smile.
"Bill," Ted whispered loudly, "remember Rufus said we're going to unite the whole universe in peace and harmony with our music, and that includes the gays. We have to be cool with that stuff now."
"I meant it in a most excellent and positive way, my esteemed compadre", said Bill. "Dudes can be each other's personal gentlemen if they want."
Jeeves didn't fully understand their discussion but he garnered enough to work out their insinuation. He coughed politely in the hopes of derailing the conversation. "I shall make your guests some tea, Mr Wooster."
"An excellent idea, Jeeves."
"Excellent!" yelled Bill and Ted, doing the strange pose with their arms again.
Jeeves was relieved to escape to the kitchen. He hoped that Bertie might offer to take the two men out clothes shopping. His taste wasn't as refined as Jeeves would like, but it was far better than theirs.
He almost dropped the teapot when he heard a cacophony of notes from the other room. When he emerged from the kitchen he saw Ted hammering his hands across the piano keys.
Bertie looked spellbound. "What a fascinating arrangement. The song is called 'Touch Me' by The Doors, you say?"
"Yeah, but I didn't do it justice," said Ted. "My girlfriend's the real keyboard player in our band."
"Our girlfriends are the most patient of music teachers," said Bill. "Mine's on drums."
Jeeves coughed.
"Ah Jeeves, perfect timing," said Bertie. "I know it's more of a morning thing but could you do a little of your delicious kippers on toast. These two have never had them."
"We had anchovy on pizza once. It was totally heinous."
"Pizza," gasped Bertie. "How continental!"
"No, I think it was a Four Seasons."
Jeeves coughed again. "Mr Wooster, will your guests be staying for dinner?"
"I don't know if they can. Do the two of you have enough time?"
For some reason the boys found Bertie's question very funny.
"Sorry dude," Bill said once his laughter had died down enough. "We promised Rufus we wouldn't dick around too long here."
"Rufus? You are this man's wards?"
"Uh, maybe?" He looked at Ted, who didn't know what a ward was either and smiled goofily in response.
"Such a shame you can't stay," said Bertie.
If Jeeves were capable of skipping he might have done so in spite of his feudal spirit.
Bertie sighed sadly. "I was looking forward to taking you out to dinner and then on to the club for drinks."
"Won't we get carded?" asked Ted.
"Carded? I don't understand."
The boys grinned at each other ecstatically. "Dude, no ID!" They lifted their hands and slapped them together.
Bertie was enthralled by the expression of joy. "I say, what larks! Let me try." He gleefully smacked Ted's palms and then Bill's, and lastly turned to Jeeves. "Have at it, Jeeves."
The valet lifted his hands to his chest, slowly moved them forward to press against Bertie's, and then moved them away again.
"I don't think you've quite got the spirit of it, Jeeves," Bertie admonished.
"I apologise for my lack of enthusiasm, sir."
Jeeves's misery was lessened by the three of them leaving soon after having their tea (he couldn't help but notice the boys discreetly tipping the contents of their cups into a nearby plant pot which didn't surprise him as he'd yet to meet an American with taste). He sat down with his book again and breathed a sigh of relief.
This relief did not last.
Shortly after midnight he received a call that the young master and his guests had been deposited into a taxi cab outside of the Drones Club and he would need to help them upstairs when they arrived at the apartment building. At the doors he found Bertie - upright but merry as he was a more seasoned drinker - but the Americans were practically comatose.
Between them Jeeves and Bertie managed to bring the boys upstairs and stuff them into Bertie's bed, at which point his brain also decided it was time to check out, and when Jeeves returned with glasses of water for the guests the young master was fast asleep on the floor.
Jeeves manoeuvred him into his own bed and sat on the sofa for the rest of the night, sleeplessly fuming.
Morning came and Ted was the first to stagger out of the bedroom, gasping in thirst. Jeeves immediately put together one of his secret hangover tonics for him. Ted drank it without question, wheezed, blinked a few times and stared at Jeeves in amazement.
"I hope you feel better now, Mr Logan."
"Triumphant," he croaked.
Jeeves showed him the bathroom, and the basics of how to use it. Bill was hovering listlessly in the living room when he returned.
He gazed up at Jeeves with bleary eyes. "How's the air up there, my mountainous friend?"
Jeeves made two more of his concoctions. He handed one to Bill and took the other into his room for Bertie, who was still snoring into his pillow. Jeeves felt wicked for waking him when he looked so peaceful, but then he remembered he hadn't slept at all himself.
Jeeves pulled a few of Bertie's hairs from his head.
"Ah!" Bertie bolted up onto his elbows and looked around in confusion. "I say, this isn't my bed."
"No, sir," Jeeves informed him as he discreetly discarded the hairs behind his back.
Bertie rolled onto his side and stared at his surroundings. "This is your room."
"It is, sir. Your guests slept in your bed. I spent the night in the living room."
Guilt-ridden and forlorn, Bertie sat up and drank Jeeves's morning elixir. "Terribly sorry about the inconvenience, old thing," he said afterwards. "You'd think they'd never had alcohol before."
"I think perhaps that may be an accurate supposition, sir," Jeeves said curtly. "I shall now attend to breakfast - something light, sir?"
"Definitely not kippers."
Jeeves hid his amusement with a nod and shimmered out of the bedroom. Bill and Ted were slumped together on the sofa feeling sorry for themselves.
"Dude, there's no way we'll survive the rock and roll lifestyle," Bill moaned. "My head feels like I've been sleeping on a speaker playing the best of Megadeth all night."
"I feel non-non-non-non-heinous. Was that the right number of 'non's?" asked Ted but he only got a helpless groan in response.
Jeeves announced that he was preparing breakfast. The boys turned green at the thought of eating. By the time it was ready they had perked up, in no small thanks to Jeeves's restorative drink. Bertie was his usual self as well. The three ate and discussed the day's plans. Bill and Ted were apologetic but had to insist upon leaving as soon as possible.
"We will be in deep sludge if we don't get back home before class starts," said Ted.
"We were here to do a report on some detective guy but he turned out to be fiction-ous," said Bill.
"We totally thought he was a real guy. Untriumphant."
"A shame," said Bertie. "Will you need Jeeves to call you a taxi cab or anything?"
"It's cool, dude. We've got a ride," Bill said with a knowing smirk.
"If it's okay with you guys we'll go right now."
Jeeves felt like skipping again but he remained outwardly stoic. "I shall see you both to the door."
"No need, Valet Dude," said Ted. He looked over at the clock on the mantelpiece, squeezed his eyes shut and muttered to himself, "Remember to send the phone booth back to 9:15, remember to send the phone booth back to 9:15."
There was a crackle of electricity and a large glass cuboid appeared through the floor of the living room.
"Good lord!" Bertie yelped and almost scaled Jeeves in fright. "What is that?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Don't know?! Don't KNOW?! But you know everything!"
"I don't know this , sir." Jeeves stared at the strange contraption and felt foolishly ignorant. He didn't like not knowing something, not one bit. "It appears to be what Mr Logan said. A telephone box."
"Doesn't look like any of the ones I've ever used."
"It's a modern design," said Bill, sniggering behind Ted's back.
Ted shoved him. "C'mon, dude. We can tell them right?"
"What if they freak?"
"They're already freaking. Anyway, Frood got over it pretty quick and he's from the same time."
"Do you mean Freud, sirs? You've met Sigmund Freud?"
The two boys looked at each other and Bill shrugged in defeat. "Yeah," he said. "We met him the last time we had an excellent adventure."
"Whatever are you going on about?"
"Do you guys know about time machines?"
"Do you mean the book 'The Time Machine' by HG Wells, Mr Preston?"
"No, a real one. This booth is a time machine."
"Oh, give over," Bertie laughed. "You've come from the future, have you? Do you live on Mars along with those Chessmen chaps?"
"Uh no, we're from San Dimas."
"I believe they're speaking the truth, Mr Wooster," said Jeeves, not liking the implications.
Bertie saw the brighter side of the situation. "Please tell us something about the future," he begged. "Is there more of that music you played?"
"There's a butt-ton of different bands in the future. We like metal and rock, but there's all kinds," said Ted.
"Yeah, music got most diverse after the First World War."
"First World War?" Jeeves paled. "There are to be many world wars in the future?"
"Nice going, Bill."
"Shut up, Ted!" Bill ruffled his hair and looked sheepishly at Jeeves. "Sorry dudes, the one you just had was the first and there's gonna be another one. It'll be truly heinous."
"It'll be okay after the war. Kinda," Ted added brightly. "In the future Europe doesn't have any more wars."
"Yeah, they play soccer instead."
Jeeves found that hard to believe but made no comment.
"In America we prefer to just watch a lot of TV."
"Teevy?" asked Bertie.
"It's like a tiny movie theatre in your home."
"You mean akin to a mutoscope? How lewd!"
"Sir, I doubt such a thing would exist in a family home," Jeeves said primly.
"They exist on family piers," Bertie pointed out.
Bill shrugged at an equally bemused Ted and said to Bertie, "Anyway dudes, sorry to bail so soon but we gotta vamoose."
"It was totally excellent meeting you!"
"And likewise. Most spiffing."
"It was an interesting encounter," said Jeeves in his usual backhanded yet polite manner.
Bill and Ted opened up the phone box and stepped inside. "Later old English dudes!" they chorused in perfect unison before closing the door and disappearing in another cloud of smoke and electricity.
"Now they were a gay pair, weren't they Jeeves?"
"Indeed, sir."
"Obviously Americans become more tolerable creatures in the future. That's good news."
"Very fortunate, sir."
Bertie pondered deeply for a moment. "Should we take a trip to the other side of the pond? I feel inspired to catch up with some of my chums abroad."
"I shall book our tickets immediately after lunch, sir."
"Excellent!" said Bertie, cheekily strumming an invisible instrument. "Here's another good idea, I think I should learn the guitar."
"I would advise not, sir."
"I detect a hint of 'I'll hand in my notice' within your tonal cadence, am I right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Most heinous of you."
Jeeves didn't mind if he was any level of heinous. What was important was that - as with all matters in life with his young master - he was always most triumphant.