Rule: What is crackedcannot be uncracked.
Always hiding from morning sun under his grey-plaid covers, an 18-year-old Doug swung at one of his twenty-one cats, dislodging it from his pipe-covered bookshelf. "Uno!" he growled at it, as the cat had just knocked his favorite pipe onto his head. He had such a weakness for cats. Beneath a poster of Punky Brewster, Doug had another, showing the base of the Statue of Kit-berty. The sign read, "Bring us your spotted, your striped, your calico cats."
His long Lynyrd Skynyrd hair slumped on one side of his head as he stood and trudged to the bathroom, still as heinously hairy and suffocatingly smoky as Barry remembered. He didn't notice the two time travelers.