[WP] In a drunken state, a scientist accidentally creates a time machine and throws himself back to mediaeval times. Being confused for a wizard, and not remembering how he made the machine, he plays along to be left alone

Merle groaned as he saw the peasant horde approaching his castle.

"Come on guys, really?" He muttered as he dropped the freshly baked loaf of bread on the dirty counter. He glanced down at the bread and lifted it in distaste. The Chlorox wipes were just no good to get the pig's blood out! What he really needed was to sand it down and re-finish it. However, he doubted that his present-day copy would spend the much-desired product back in time when he needed toilet paper and gasoline to feed the generator.

He downed a shot of vodka from his flash and went to the shelf beside the door. Conical hat? Check. He grimaced, pulling on the absurd garment. Long robe? Check. He looked ridiculous. At least, he would if his damned present counterpart could send back a decent mirror.

Unlocking the deadbolt, he stepped outside onto the patio. Ooh, ripe tomatoes! He thought, glancing at the leafy stem.

Refocusing, he stepped out of his gated yard and spoke into the microphone wirelessly connected to many concealed speakers about the area.

"BEHOLD MORTALS!" He screamed, "I AM MERLIN THE MIGHTY!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the smart phone also connected to the speakers. Opening the sound effects app, he fired off a bunch of thunderous roars and horrified screams.

The peasant horde was afflicted with sudden fear and began to retreat, but for a single man. The populace shrank back to the copse of trees to watch the lone man advance against the scourge.

"Excuse me!" The long man shouted, his tongue struggling around his fear. "Foul wizard, the church has taken notice of thy crimes and demand that you immediately surrender-"

"Fuck you." Muttered the wizard as he shot the man dead with his .45. "HE THROWS FIRE AND THUNDER! THE ELEMENTS ARE HIS!" The horde screamed as they fled with great trepidation.

Merle glanced at the body of the legendary King Arthur, who thought that plate armor could resist the almighty wrath of Colt.

Fuck, I need a drink. The wizard said as he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the mythical keys to the backhoe parked behind his castle.

/r/WritingPrompts Thread