By Clint McElroy
HQ 130 | SUMMER 2025
It occurred to me that 2025 marks the 25th anniversary of my “Last Laugh” column. So, for a little inspiration, I went back and looked at the column I penned in 2000.
As I perused the old issue, the words on the page began to swirl. Outside, a crack of thunder split the air. I ran to the driveway and smelled ozone. There was a huge flash of light, and a DeLorean fishtailed to a stop in front of me.
From out of the car stepped a wild-haired old man in a long yellow lab coat and a pair of multicolored sunglasses. “Clinty!” he exclaimed. “Clinty McElroy!”
I immediately recognized the bad Christopher Lloyd impression. “Me from the future?” I groaned. “What are you doing back here?”
“You remember me?”
“Yes,” I said. “I was just reading about you from the last time I used this cheesy time-travel gimmick.”
He pointed a gnarled finger at me. “That’s exactly why I’m here! I’m working on my ‘Last Laugh’ column for the 50th anniversary, and I came back in time for some inspiration.”
“Wait a second!” I said. “Huntington Quarterly is still chugging along in 2050?”
“Absolutely! JH-3000 swung a deal to have it beamed into every home via his own personal satellite.”
“Who is JH-3000?” I asked.
“Jack Houvouras,” he said. “He uploaded his brain to a computer and installed it in a modified 1964 Aston Martin DB5.”
“He always did love James Bond movies,” I smiled.
“Still does,” he replied as he fiddled with his flux capacitor (and no, Mom, that’s not something dirty). “I don’t have a lot of time…”
“Neither do I,” I said. “Carol and I have a reservation at a new place called Last Stop Sushi.”
A strange expression crossed his face, but it quickly passed. “Can you do yourself a favor and help me with this column?”
“Well,” I said, handing him a list I’d been working on, “I’ve already covered these topics over the last two and a half decades, so you might want to steer clear of them.” He scanned the list.
My dogs: 3 times
My parents: 3 times
My health: 3 times
My stepkids: 4 times
My kids-in-law: 4 times
My grandkids: 5 times
Food: 5 times
Theater: 6 times
Sports: 6 times
Celebrities: 7 times
Radio: 9 times
Marshall University: 9 times
My wives (Leslie and Carol): 11 times
My kids: 12 times
Huntington: 14 times
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Future Me. “No wonder I’m out of ideas!” A buzzer started to sound from inside the DeLorean. “I’ve got to run!”
He climbed into the car and fired it up. As it rose in the air I called out over the whine of the engine, “I must say, you look really good for a person who’s 95!”
“I’m not a person!” he yelled. “I’m an android! You got brain-swapped into this machine after you died!”
“I died?! When did that happen?!” I cried.
He shook his head as the DeLorean climbed higher. “I can’t tell you! It would break the time-space continuum!”
“Come on,” I begged. “Give me something.”
Just before slamming the gullwing door shut, he yelled, “Tonight, at Last Stop Sushi, don’t order the Spicy Tuna Roll!”
And the adventure continues … I hope.
