Bonus: Redoing my Life, The Adler Hypothesis pt.1

The Son of Ice and Fire and Dragonborn Conqueror are next.

The Merchant Prince chapter didn’t work out the way I intended—I need to do more research before I can write it and that would take time and delay some stuff i have planned for the active fics.

Also, it’s very difficult to write with Big Bang Theory characters.

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Leonard, Raj, Sheldon, and Howard were gathered in Sheldon and Leonard’s apartment, preparing to leave for a comic convention. Howard sat on the couch, flipping through a meticulously bagged and boarded collection of Invincible comics.

“So, Daniel Adler is finally making a signing appearance,” Howard said, carefully pulling out an issue and inspecting it. “About time.”

“Yes,” Sheldon interjected without looking up from his own collection spread out across the coffee table. “But Adler is forgiven for his lack of public appearances due to his obvious contributions to modern cinema and for bringing back DC movies.”

Raj, perched on the arm of the couch, clapped his hands together. “Oh my God, that Batman trailer was amazing.”

“Well, Adler is a genius,” Leonard added, rummaging through his convention bag to make sure everything was in place.

“Let’s hope he ends up writing for some DC comics too,” Raj said.

“Agreed,” Sheldon said with a dismissive wave, still focused on his task. “But that is not the issue at hand. I am in a quandary. I cannot decide which issue of Invincible to have Adler sign—Issue #1, which is the logical choice as it marks the inception of the series, or Issue #30, which is the most recent issue and represents a significant narrative turning point.”

Howard groaned. “Oh no, here we go.”

“Let me outline the pros and cons,” Sheldon said, holding up both issues like a lawyer presenting evidence to a jury. “Issue #1 is a collector’s item, with significant monetary and sentimental value. However, it is already signed by artist Matt Gates, and I fear there is no room to add another signature.”

“Sheldon,” Leonard said, his voice already tinged with exasperation, “just pick one and be done with it. We’re going to be late.”

“I can’t decide under duress, Leonard,” Sheldon replied, his tone sharp. “Now, Issue #30. Pros: It’s the newest issue and marks a turning point for the story. Cons: It lacks the prestige of being the series’ inaugural issue.”

“Why don’t you just flip a coin?” Raj suggested, though his voice lacked conviction. He knew better than to believe such a simple solution would sway Sheldon.

“Preposterous,” Sheldon said. “The fate of this decision cannot be left to chance. No, I shall simply bring both.” He smiled, satisfied with his own ingenuity. “This way, Adler will have the opportunity to decide which is more worthy of his signature.”

Howard rolled his eyes and stuffed another issue into his bag. “Ah, of course, because nothing makes a celebrity’s day like being asked to weigh in on a random fan’s problems.”

Leonard looked at Sheldon. “Sheldon, promise me you’ll behave this time. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”

“I behaved perfectly last time,” Sheldon replied, his voice indignant.

Howard snorted. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘fan appreciation’ like being told your work is wrong.”

Sheldon shot him a withering look. “My only goal today is to acquire Daniel Adler’s signature. Nothing more, nothing less.” He paused, his lips twitching slightly.

Leonard immediately caught on, narrowing his eyes. “Okay, Sheldon. I know that look. What’s going on? What are you planning?”

Sheldon straightened his posture. “If you must know, I do have a higher purpose for meeting Mr. Adler.”

The group collectively groaned.

“Oh boy,” Raj muttered, shaking his head.

“All right, Sheldon, I’ll bite,” Leonard said, bracing himself. “What’s your ‘higher purpose’?”

Sheldon put down the comic in his hands, his tone becoming even more self-important. “As you’re all undoubtedly aware, there’s a persistent rumor circulating on the internet—thanks to a highly reputable forum post on Comic Geek Nexus—that Daniel Adler intends to feature Wally West as the primary Flash in his upcoming DC movies.”

The group looked at each other in silence for a moment before Raj asked, “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

Sheldon gasped. “Because, Rajesh, Wally West is not the definitive Flash. Barry Allen is the quintessential Scarlet Speedster. Wally is merely a derivative character, created as a sidekick and then forced to take the mantle under dubious circumstances.”

“My plan is simple. I will reason with Daniel Adler and convince him to rethink this catastrophic decision. I’ve already prepared a bullet-pointed list of arguments, complete with references to the seminal comic arcs that prove Barry Allen’s superiority.”

Leonard rubbed his temples. “Sheldon, no. Just get your comics signed and leave. He’s not going to change his supposed plan because you want Barry Allen instead of Wally West.”

“Nonsense,” Sheldon retorted. “My argument will be so persuasive that he’ll be forced to acknowledge the error of his ways.”

“I’m calling it now—we’re getting kicked out,” Raj said, glancing at Sheldon.

“Highly unlikely,” Sheldon replied. “I’ve crafted a plan so foolproof that it guarantees success. Daniel Adler will listen to reason.”

Leonard sighed. “Sheldon, please don’t do this. Adler probably knows more about the Flash than—”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Leonard,” Sheldon interrupted. “Adler may be an accomplished writer, but I am the foremost authority on all things Flash-related. Did you know I’ve written three unpublished essays on the subject? One of them details the inherent superiority of Barry Allen’s characterization compared to the morally ambiguous arc of Wally West.”

Howard laughed. “Sheldon, for the love of Krypton, don’t do this. Please. We’re finally going to meet this guy. Don’t ruin it by…well, being you.”

Sheldon looked indignant. “I assure you, I will behave with the utmost decorum. However, the future of DC movies is at stake. Imagine a world where Flash fans are subjected to subpar storytelling because Wally West was chosen over Barry Allen. I am merely a voice for the voiceless.”

Leonard buried his face in his hands. “Let’s just go. We’re already late.”

As they all walked out of the apartment, Sheldon suddenly stopped and spun around. “I forgot something. Wait here.”

“What is it now?” Leonard muttered, exasperated.

A few moments later, Sheldon emerged from the apartment carrying a massive folder.

Leonard stared in disbelief. “Sheldon…what is that?”

Sheldon patted the folder as if it were a beloved pet. “This, Leonard, is my comprehensive set of notes on the Flash and my suggestions for the future of the DC movies. I intend to present it to Mr. Adler.”

Howard’s jaw dropped. “Do you know how crazy this looks?”

“It looks like a document of great importance,” Sheldon said. “Adler will undoubtedly appreciate the level of effort I’ve put into ensuring DC’s success.”

Raj shook his head, muttering, “Yeah, we’re definitely getting kicked out.”

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The group shuffled forward in the line, now about halfway to the table where Daniel Adler sat, signing comics with a polite but clearly tired smile. Sheldon glanced at his watch and announced, “We’ve been standing here for precisely 47 minutes and 26 seconds. Isn’t this exhilarating?”

Howard groaned. “We should be done by now.”

Leonard shot Sheldon a look. “We would be done by now if someone hadn’t dropped their so-called ‘documents of great importance’ and made us pick them all up.”

Sheldon adjusted his folder with a hint of pride. “Because I hold in my hand—”

“Yes, yes, the ‘Save Flash Manifesto,’ we get it,” Raj interrupted, rolling his eyes.

Leonard sighed deeply. “Sheldon, please, I’m begging you. When we get up there, just get your stuff signed and leave. Don’t… do whatever it is you’re planning.”

“Sheldon,” Howard added, “I read somewhere that Adler isn’t even thinking about The Flash right now. He’s focused on the big three.”

Sheldon’s eyes widened, horrified. “That’s even worse.”

They moved closer to the front, the table now in clear view. Daniel sat behind it, signing a steady stream of comics, posters, and memorabilia. His expression was polite but weary, and his attention occasionally drifted to the massive line still snaking through the convention hall.

Finally, it was Sheldon’s turn. He stepped forward with his folder in one hand and two comics in the other.

Daniel looked up, his eyes briefly narrowing in curiosity as he spotted the stack of papers Sheldon was carrying. “Hello,” Daniel said, his tone polite. “I hope you’re not expecting me to sign all that.”

“Oh, no, no,” Sheldon replied earnestly, handing over two copies of Invincible. “Only these.”

“Ah, good,” Daniel said, taking the comics. “And what’s your name?”

“Dr. Sheldon Cooper,” Sheldon declared.

Daniel paused, raising an eyebrow. “A doctor, huh?”

“No, not that kind of doctor,” Sheldon clarified. “I’m a theoretical physicist with two doctorates and a primary focus on string theory. My research encompasses M-theory and the holographic principle, aiming to understand the fundamental nature of the universe itself.”

Daniel blinked, visibly trying to process the explanation. “Ah, I see.” He chuckled nervously.

Howard, Raj, and Leonard exchanged looks of growing alarm. Leonard nudged Sheldon lightly.

But Sheldon held his ground, gripping his folder tightly. “Actually, Mr. Adler, while I have your attention—”

“Sheldon!” Leonard hissed, trying to push him aside.

Daniel finished signing the comics and handed them back to Sheldon.

“Sheldon, move!” Raj whispered.

“Gentlemen, please,” Sheldon said, waving them off. “I need only a moment of Mr. Adler’s time.”

“If I may,” Sheldon began, his tone serious and his posture upright, “there’s another matter of grave importance I need to discuss with you.”

Daniel, already weary from the day, raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

Sheldon leaned in slightly. “I’ve heard credible rumors that you’re planning to use Wally West as The Flash in your upcoming DC films.”

Daniel blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… honestly, I haven’t even thought about The Flash yet. We’re still in the early stages.”

Sheldon’s eyes widened in horror. “You haven’t thought about The Flash? Sir, I cannot overstate the significance of this oversight. The Flash is not just a character; he is the linchpin of the Justice League, the personification of hope.”

Daniel glanced around awkwardly as the line behind Sheldon grew restless. Leonard buried his face in his hands while Howard said, “We’re not with him.”

“I get it,” Daniel said diplomatically. “But we’re still figuring things out. Maybe support Batman Begins first, you know, to show the studio that DC superhero films are still viable.”

“Sheldon, maybe we should let Mr. Adler get back to signing. Look at the line behind us,” Leonard urged, tugging at Sheldon’s sleeve.

Howard added, “Yeah, people are starting to look like they want to throttle you. Let’s go.”

“No!” Sheldon exclaimed, standing firm. “This must be said! Mr. Adler, imagine if you chose Wally West over Barry Allen—an act akin to choosing New Coke over Classic Coke, or Jar Jar Binks over Yoda.”

Daniel rubbed his temples, clearly exasperated but trying to remain calm. “Dr. Cooper, I get it. You’re a Barry Allen fan. But you’re holding up the line. We can talk about this another time, alright?”

As Sheldon opened his mouth to respond, a security guard approached, sensing the commotion. “Is there a problem here?” the guard asked.

“No, no,” Daniel said quickly, attempting to smooth things over.

“Yes, there is!” Sheldon countered, thrusting the folder of papers into Daniel’s hands. “This document contains my detailed notes on why Barry Allen must remain The Flash.”

Daniel hesitated before reluctantly taking the folder. “Sure.”

“Are you not going to read it now?” Sheldon asked.

Daniel sighed deeply as the people in the line behind him began groaning loudly.

Someone shouted, “Get him out of here!”

The security guard looked to Daniel for confirmation. Daniel gave a small nod, his exhaustion evident. “Sir,” the guard said to Sheldon, “you’re going to need to leave.”

As Sheldon was escorted away, Leonard, Raj, and Howard had to follow, since the people behind them told security that they were with Sheldon as well—their protests drowned out by jeers from the line.

Sheldon, undeterred, called back to Daniel, “Read the document! Read the document!”

“That guy’s a scientist?” Daniel muttered before shaking his head and returning to his signing.

As the next fan approached, Daniel smiled tiredly. “Sorry about that. What’s your name?”

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Daniel POV

“So, what are we watching?” Margot asked as she settled on the couch next to me, cradling a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

I walked up to her with a grin. “Well, I promised you a ‘bad’ movie night,” I said, pulling out two DVD cases I’d been hiding behind my back.

Margot squinted at them, taking one from my hand. “Serial Ape-ist?” She read aloud.

“Yep,” I said, plopping down beside her. “This is supposed to be one of the worst movies ever made.”

Margot turned the case over to read the description. “‘When Science Goes Bananas—a mad scientist’s genetic experiment goes horribly wrong, unleashing a sex-crazed, bloodthirsty gorilla on a rampage through the city.’” She burst out laughing. “This is real?”

“As real as bad movies get,” I said, passing her the DVD. “Fun fact: the second one was directed by Wil Wheaton. He’s the one who recommended it to me.”

Margot grinned. “Let’s watch it.”

As the movie began, we found ourselves laughing at the ridiculous dialogue, cringe-worthy special effects, and questionable acting. The gorilla costume looked like it had been stolen from a Halloween store clearance bin, and the actors delivered their lines with all the conviction of people reading a grocery list.

The movie reached a scene where a half-naked hot blonde was attacked by the ape while bathing.

“She’s hot,” I said between bites of popcorn.

Margot playfully smacked me on the arm. “Behave!” she said, laughing.

She tilted her head, her giggles subsiding as she seemed to remember something. “Oh my God. This reminds me of something.”

I looked at her, still laughing. “What? You’ve been attacked by a guy in a gorilla suit before?”

Margot chuckled. “No, but the day I arrived in LA, this random guy approached me on the street and said, ‘You’d be perfect for my movie.’” She made air quotes with her fingers.

I raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“The way he described it sounded like porn, so I got the hell out of there,” she said.
“I think it was for this movie. It all makes sense now.”

I turned to her, trying to keep a straight face. “You mean to tell me you missed out on starring in the cinematic masterpiece Serial Ape-ist?”

Margot laughed even harder, tossing a piece of popcorn at me. “Oh, woe is me! What a missed opportunity for my career.”

Soon the first movie came to an end, and Margot was very eager to start the second one.

“I think the girl makes a return in the second movie,” I said as the credits for Serial Ape-ist rolled across the screen.

As the sequel played, it turned out the girl from the first movie not only returned but had inexplicably become part-ape herself. The sequel was somehow just as bad—if not worse—than the first one.

By the time the second movie ended, Margot stretched out on the couch, shaking her head. “That was… great. I rate it a negative two.”

I grinned. “Wow, high praise.”

Margot had a rating system for bad movies, and negative two was considered very high praise from her.

I chuckled. “Well, you’ll love this—did you know Vince Gilligan wrote the second one?”

Margot gasped, nearly spilling her drink. “What?!”

“Yep.” I nodded with a smirk.

Margot’s jaw dropped. “Vince Gilligan? …Breaking Bad?”

“That’s the one,” I confirmed.

“How?” she asked, her voice dripping with disbelief.

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure Wil Wheaton has something on him,” I said, laughing.

Margot stared at me, still processing. “Breaking Bad and Serial Ape-ist 2.”

“Hey,” I teased. “If you want, I can probably get you a role in the third one. Just say the word.”

Before I could react, she grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me. It hit me square in the chest, and I scrambled off the couch, laughing.

“It could be a career highlight,” I said, dodging another pillow she threw my way as I ran from her.

“You better run!” Margot called after me, laughing as she chased me around the apartment.

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A Week Later

I took a sip of the drink Joe called the Fey Special. It was one of his latest concoctions, inspired by D&D—sweet, yet surprisingly potent. Joe had a habit of making drinks based on fantasy and other sci-fi.

We were gathered for our bi-monthly game. As I surveyed the room, I saw Wil Wheaton walking toward me, holding a drink of his own.

“Hey, Wil,” I said, raising my glass slightly. “My girlfriend loved your movie.”

Wil’s face lit up for a moment. “She did?”

“Yeah,” I said with a grin. “She loves bad movies.”

Wil’s face fell slightly. “Oh.”

I laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Come on, Wil, don’t take it like that. You made a movie that’s rare—one of those ‘so bad it’s good’ gems. That’s an achievement in itself.”

Wil shrugged, a small smile forming. “I guess I can live with that.”

“By the way,” I said, “Margot actually wants a signed copy of the movie. Any idea where the actress is these days? What was her name again… Penelope?”

Wil nodded. “Yeah, Penny. Funny you ask… the new guy I invited to the game? She’s his girlfriend.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, well, that makes things easy.”

Wil glanced over my shoulder. “Speaking of which, there he is.”

I turned around, my eyes landing on a short, spectacled man who looked familiar. His face turned sheepish as soon as he saw me, clearly embarrassed.

“Wait a minute,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes.

“I know you,” I said, pointing at him.