The clattering thump on the roof woke her.

It wasn't Christmas, which nixed the possibility of cousin Murphy setting up the landing lights. He never did accept Santa as an imaginary creation. Her section of the house slanted rather low to the ground, Jet blearily squinted at the digital clock on her bedside. Not much help, since the clock was on the fritz; the blurred red lines flickered and sputtered in rapid succession before the clock's internal wiring went off with a sharp pop and a curl of smoke. That woke her up.

She lifted herself on her arms, wincing at the taste of ash and tequila in her mouth, a chaser to the throbbing hang over knocking between her eyes. I'm never going drinking again, she promised herself, gritting her teeth as she struggled against the sheets tangled around her legs. It was a battle she lost, flailing and sagging in a sad bow half hanging off the bed.

"Bugger," she said. Another thump sounded above her, or rather a series of them, skidding thumps as if something was trying to gain its footing. It rained the other night, and if the New Year's party of '09 proved anything, her roof was notoriously slippery. She stared up at the ceiling, debating whether it was worth the effort to go another round with the bed sheets when there was a tremendous thud, followed by a rolling clunk, clunk, clunk down the roof. Something flew past her window and hit the ground with a soggy splat that made her wince in sympathy for the poor idiot.

She'd just decided to go back to bed when the oddest sound yet made her pause. It should a bit like a whale choking on a percolating coffee maker. "Ugh, I am that person in the horror movie," she muttered, dropping to the floor and to inch worm her way to the window. The movement made her head feel like a midget was tap dancing atop her skull but Jet managed to heave herself up on the sill and shove the screenless window open with a well aimed bump of her chin. She poked her head out, grateful for the cool night air to clear her head as she peered at the ground.

She blinked, giving her eyes a good rub with her shoulder. She looked again. If not for the incessant pounding in her head, she'd insist she was still drunk.

Sprawled on her front lawn was a creature. Eight legs stuck out straight in an almost complete pinwheel, emerging from a bulbous body flopped over on itself. Bronze plating covered the thing, knobs and cords gleaming in the street light. And inexplicably, what looked like a bronze top hat sat at a jaunty angle atop its ...head? Was that a head? The creature broke her confused train of thought by unleashing another dreadful burbling noise. As she watched its legs curled inward, revealing rows of suckers. There were several odd wet pops that almost sounded like a contortionist, covered in bubble wrap, performing in a vat of petroleum jelly. Yes, that was the sound exactly.

The bulbous top flopped the other way, revealing one big yellow eye covered by an orb of glass. A horizontal slit pupil shifted in her direction.

"Shit!" Jet fell backward, rolling in her blankets until she hit the legs of her bed. What the hell was that? An armored octopus in a top hat, obviously, her hung over mind supplied. "Shut up brain, you're still drunk."

You wish, said her treacherous brain.

A metal clad tentacle slapped over her window sill. Jet squeaked, worming her way under the bed as the creature clambered into her room in a graceless heap, bronze plated limbs clacking over her floor boards. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as it shakily got to its feet, its limbs wobbly as a newborn deer but it managed to get its footing and move toward her. Its legs moved in a mesmerizing undulation that would have been hypnotic if she was scared out of her freaking mind.

The creature stopped a foot away from her, tilting its head left and right to look at her with both goggled eyes set just a bit to the side of its head, not quite facing forward enough to get a good look at her from one angle. One tentacle lifted toward her as the creature emitted a series of wet squelching noises. Jet's mind was blank with terror, her face twisted in a mask, mouth open, eyes bugged out. The tentacle brushed her face, the bronze cool against her face. A small strained squeak fell from her mouth as she flexed her throat.

The creature paused, before it reached up with another tentacle and adjusted a few knobs on the upper half of its suit.

"Squelch, squelch, squelch —am terribly sorry about that, Miss, I fear I miscalculated the century. Must have been speaking an entirely different dialect. You must excuse me, I didn't expect to come face to face with an ape. I seem to be rather off course. I certainly didn't mean to emerge in the year," the creature paused, glancing around her room, the walls thoroughly covered with various punk and ska posters and a few favorite flicks. "....beg pardon what year is it?"

Jet moved her mouth, no sound emerging.

"Are you well, dear girl? Oh bother, have I input the wrong language again? Or–" the creature percolated a bubbly gasp. "Are you mute? Missing a few faculties perhaps?"

Jet's eye twitched. "Why do I feel you just called me stupid?"

"Good heavens no, though I am delighted you regained your senses. I have made a serious re-emergence miscalculation in the linear continuum." Jet blinked at him. He made a delicate bubbly noise that might have been the equivalent of an awkward cough. Hard to read the social cues of a cephalopod. "I can't get a bead on what year it is."

"Uh, it's 2016," said Jet, shrinking further into her blankets as the creature jolted, wobbling on its eight legs. Octopus, it's a bloody octopus Jet, just admit it to yourself. "Whoa, there, you okay, uh- dude?"

The octopus made a distressed fart sound as it swayed, two of its tentacles waving wildly. "2016! Blimey! How could I have gotten so far off course! This is Jenkins fault!" Another string of squelching pops. It occurred to Jet those pops were cusses, which didn't translate.

"Uh," She gave the octopus a nervous grin, "where were you aiming for?"

It waved a flippant tentacle. "Oh, 2610, the year you lot made a mass exodus of the planet. It was a great step forward for my kind. We no longer had to hide in the seas. Took us decades to clean up the mess. That bloody fool Jenkins, he probably got a good laugh sending me here."

"Um, uh....huh" said Jet. No wonder the octopus called me an idiot. Pull it together Jet, species representation here! "Excuse me–sir–are you...are you-" She couldn't even say it, couldn't even think it.

The octopus turned an eye on her, patiently waiting for her to speak. Damn.

"From the future," Jet blurted, flinching as the words left her mouth.

"Indeed, dear girl." Those tentacles gave another excited wave. "Good gracious, my manners are atrocious. I've not even introduced myself. Beg pardon, for I am Doctor Godfrey --Squelch Squelch Pop Slurp-- Esquire. Master of the transit arts and time traveler extraordinaire."

Jet took a moment to herself for her internal existential crisis concerning time traveling octopi and realized she had to pay up on a long standing theoretical bet with her roommate Andrew. It was while she was silently bemoaning the loss of her Boba Fett action figure, still in the box, that she realized Dr. Godfrey--Esquire was inching closer. In fact he was making an extremely not subtle examination of Jet, wrapped up in her lumpy comforter.

"I say do all humans wear this confining coverage? It is honestly a bit impractical. Even by the sedentary standards of humans in this age."

Jet huffed as she wiggled her way out of the blankets, kicking herself free so she faced Dr. Godfrey like a dignified person in their jam jams ought to.

He was silent for a long moment. "Are those uni-horned equines propelling themselves with multicolored gaseous expulsions?"

Jet tugged on the hem of her cami, trying to translate his speech in her hung over brain. "Yes, they're unicorns farting rainbows."

"How odd. What does their diet consist of?"

"Happiness and sprinkles." Jet shook her head. "Why are you here?"

"Because my intern is an opportunistic prankster," said Dr. Godfrey.

"No, I mean in my room. Why are you in my room instead of back to the 31st century or whenever you popped out from?"

"Oh." There was another uncomfortable pause, filled only by the clinking sound of metal as Dr. Godfrey tapped his two front legs together. "My transit apparatus appears to be wedged on the roof of your domicile. I had hoped to see aide of this building's inhabitants to dislodge it but I didn't count on being so far off course. Tell me, have your people discovered anti gravity pocket devices yet?"

Jet stared at him. "Fraid not. Why don't I climb up there and see how bad it is?"

"If that will help you devise a solution, then by all means, lead on young lady. Anon, I must find a way to delay the temporal engines or I fear I'll be stranded in this time."

She yawned, scratching her rat's nest of hair while she translated his words. "Who the heck uses 'anon'," she muttered to herself. She yanked a sweatshirt over her head, thoroughly tangled in the material when his words hit her. "Delay the engines? As in they are set to blast off whether you're in the ship or not?"

"Yes, I fear that is the case," said Dr. Godfrey, his tapping tentacles conveying his anxiety.

"Bother," said Jet. "Come on, this way. Oh, and, um try to keep it down with the tappity tappa, okay? My roommate Andrew is asleep."

Dr. Godfrey clanked after her with all the deafening grace of a drunk ostrich covered in strings of spoons, made all the worse by his obvious attempt at 'tip toeing'. Well, least Andrew was a heavy sleeper. Jet lead the way to the pull down ladder, ascending with a cringe as Dr. Godfrey clambered up after her. She grabbed the plank they used as a jerry rigged walkway to the roof, eyeing the octopus out of the corner of her eye. "You wouldn't really be stranded here, would you? I mean, your intern would realize he screwed you over and they'd send another pod or something to pick you up?"

"Possibly," said Dr. Godfrey, but there was an odd burble at the end of the word that Jet suspected was his version of hedging.

She squinted at him over the plank. "What are you not telling me?"

More nervous tentacle tapping; Jet was learning to read the octopus's expressions. Not exactly something she'd put on her resume under special skills, but it was helping her wade through the situation.

"Possibly they would arrive in timely fashion as I am traveling on sabbatical," said the octopus, dropping slightly.

"You're on vacation?" Jet hazarded a guess.

"Righto."

Jet sighed, afraid to ask her next question as she inched her way out on the plank to the roof. "So, how long is your sabbatical for?"

"Oh, ten years or so."

She nearly toppled off the board. "Ten years? TEN YEARS?" A couple of the neighborhood dogs took up the shout, echoing Jet with a rousing round of frantic barking. She took a deep breath before the woke up the whole neighborhood in the early morning hours. "Who takes a ten year vacation?" She hissed at the octopus over her shoulder, wobbling as she found her balance on the slippery shingles.

"It was meant to be a journey of learning and exploration through various notable points in the linear time- OOF!" Dr. Godfrey fared even worse on the shingles, sliding into a complete three sixty eight legged split. Jet winced in sympathy.

"Sit tight for a sec buddy, let me see what we are dealing with..." Jet trailed off as she turned around the jutting point of the window and caught sight of the time traveling ship.

It looked like one of those old timey rockets, the sort you saw in picture shows from the 1920's, like a cardboard facsimile of itself. It was a kindergartener's art project. She half suspected it was made of macaroni if not for the elaborate looking operational panel visible through the open door.

"Huh," said Jet, slowly crawling toward the rocket. It looked structurally sound, for all that it was impaled through her roof. Well that sucked. She suspected their insurance didn't cover accidental temporal travelers.

"Hurry, hoo-man, the temporal engines are set to re-engage anon," called Dr. Godfrey, valiantly battling the forces of gravity and mossy shingles to her side.

"Well okay is it going to singe my eyebrows if I stand too close? How 'anon' is 'anon'? What does that even mean?" Jet jumped as the ship rumbled to life, emitting an escalating hum that made her back teeth buzz. "Oh, guess anon means soon."

Squelch Pop Pop, Dr. Godfrey cursed.

"Do we have time to get you aboard, I mean how much time does it take for the temp-whatevers to en-"

It happened in seconds. Or perhaps minutes. Jet wasn't too sure afterward. The air pressure plummeted, causing her ears to give a painful pop. A burst of energy rippled from the ship, setting off every car alarm in the neighborhood and dog for miles. Everything appeared to slow down and grow muffled. She could hear the barking and wails but they were distorted, low, and distant. As if heard through deep water. Jet tried to reach up a hand to touch her ear, watching as the movement dragged a line of hands through the air. The echoes of her hand. They faded one by one.

There was another sound, louder than the alarms and dogs, a long note like a sad trombone. She tilted her head toward it, trying to puzzle it out, when she became aware of the fact she was blurring around the edges. She glanced down, the action slow, so slow, and saw pieces like crumbs of her skin flake off, flying toward the funny looking rocket ship. Jet had enough time to think 'Oh shit' when something slammed into her with the force of a freight train, demolishing her, flinging her up and away and out of the sphere of deadly influence surrounding Dr. Godfrey's ship.

She was falling.

She had an octopus wrapped around her torso.

At least the ground was soft from the rain.

They hit the mud with a teeth rattling thump but Dr. Godfrey's metal clad tentacles kept her head from smacking against the ground. She'd have a few bruises in the morning but she'd be alive. Jet blinked up at her roof, watching as the ship gave another pulse of energy before poofing out of existence with a soft short mewl.

"Well, that was anti-climatic," said Jet. She had hoped for a least a small implosion. Instead all she got was a lousy little puff and a gaping hole in her roof. She was also certain she'd just given Death the stink eye before the octopus tackled her off the roof. The implications hit her as she glanced down at the despondent Dr. Godfrey. "I think you save my life."

He made a wet snuffle. "You were beginning to disintegrate into the temporal vortex."

"Then you most definitely saved my life," she said. "And you're stuck here because of it."

Dr. Godfrey unwrapped himself from her to give an eight armed shrug, which if you have never seen one is just damned impressive. "Ten years is but a drop in the bucket. I will simply have to find a way to survive in this time."

She frowned at him, not quite able to imagine spending ten years anywhere as an adult. "How long is your lifespan?"

"Oh, we live somewhere between 800 to 900 years."

Jet whistled appreciatively. "Well, I can't promise any permanence until we talk to Andrew, but you can bunk at my place for now."

Dr. Godfrey peered up at her through. "You would do that? Offer me sanctuary within your domicile? Me a stranger from another time?"

It was Jet's turn to shrug. " Yeah sure why not? Maybe you could help fix the roof."

Dr. Godfrey cocked his bulbous noggin at the hole. "I fear carpentry is not among my skillset."

Her shoulders slumped. "Least help me put the tarp up."

Three piddly hours of sleep later...

Jet glared at her coffee, wondering how far the extent of personal favors went. Particularly for octopi who made wet burbling snores all night.

Her roommate hadn't come out once, though he surely must have heard something....

The far bedroom door opened. A gangly youth with a flop of copper red hair shuffled from the room, scratching his three day scruff. He stumbled as his forehead caught on the low hanging tarp. He backed up a step, peering at it a moment before he continued on down the stairs. He mumbled a 'Morn' to Jet, surreptitiously scratching himself as he poured a cup of coffee and dumped in six spoonfuls of sugar. No cream.

He didn't say a word until he sat down across from his roommate and took a deep gulp of syrupy coffee. "What happened to the roof?"

"A snafu with a time traveling macaroni rocket," said Jet.

Andrew took another sip of coffee. He frowned at the bowl of soggy looking fruit loops, not because it was in front of Jet, but because it was to the side, in front of an empty seat.

"Andy, would you be open to a new roommate?" Jet asked over her mug.

Andy made a face, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, suppose so. Long as they do their share of the dishes. Who'd you have in mind?"

Jet nibbled her lip. "You can come out now."

There was a clicking sound. The air shimmered.

Andrew stared at the armored octopus in a top hat as it continued it enthusiastic consumption of soggy fruit loops. Andrew took another deep gulp of coffee and set the empty mug down.

"Told you Cthulhu would crawl out of the sea any day now. You owe me your Boba Fett action figure."

The End

Host's Note: These have been the ten stories of Humor. How did the team do? To show your support, vote on these ten chapters (7.1-7.10) between now and Wednesday 12:00 pm EST. That gives you 24 hours. All votes in this day will count toward a special "reader's choice" award for the team with the most star clicks. So tell your friends to check them out and good luck team Humor!