Doc got up from the couch, wandered over to the television, and studied the image of Bernie Sanders frozen on the screen.
“It’s uncanny!” he declared and then rummaged through the pockets of his lab coat.
He pulled out his reading glasses, put them on, and then stared at the Senator from Vermont once again.
In putting on the glasses, Modern Philosophers, he made them look almost like twins. Separated at birth, perhaps. And brought together through politics and Time Travel.
“I can’t say for certain that we don’t share the same blood and extremely similar DNA, but I’ll only know for sure once I’ve taken the DeLorean back in time to investigate,” Doc answered distractedly.
It was clear that his mind was in another place. Another decade for that matter.
The sight of the man at the podium, the one giving Hillary a run for his money, was causing my dear friend, hero, and the blog’s most generous financial supporter, to pace wild across the hardwood floor of my living room.
“It’s uncanny, Marty! Just uncanny!”
Doc had a tendency to call me Marty when his mind was too busy to focus on basic facts.
And after he’d apologized for calling me by the wrong name.
Truth be told, I didn’t mind being confused for Marty McFly.
“I can’t believe his people haven’t approached you yet,” I admitted.
Doc raised and eyebrow and scratched his head. “It’s quite possible that Bernie Sanders, a Senator, a very public figure, and a man running for the highest office in our great nation might not know who I am, Austin,” Doc informed me humbly.
I just laughed.
“Everyone knows who you are, Doc,” I assured my friend. “What are the odds that not a single person involved in his campaign has ever seen Back to the Future?”
Doc got up to pace. He was doing the mental math.
“4.7 trillion to 1,” he answered with a smile of satisfaction on his face. “Factoring in, of course, that Americans watch far too much television and that the Back to the Future trilogy is repeated on cable unnecessarily often.”
What could I say? The guy was great with numbers.
“I’m tempted to take a trip to the next Inauguration to see if my political doppelganger ends up on top,” Doc admitted with a smile. “I could probably get into the ceremony by passing myself off as a relative of Senator Sanders.”
“You could get in simply by telling them that you’re Doc Brown,” I scolded him.
Doc often forgot how popular and beloved he was.
“I’m not sure if Bernie’s political views match mine, or are very supportive of Time Travel and Theoretical Science in general, but he is a very compelling speaker,” Doc observed.
“And a damn handsome man!” I added as I held up my Snapple bottle in toast.
“That, too,” Doc agreed with a chuckle and tapped my bottle with his.
We both laughed at what sounded like the perfect Halloween costume.
“I bet you’ll win the costume contest at every Halloween party you attend,” I gave him my totally biased opinion.
“I’ll be going to several Halloween parties as is my tradition. One of the great benefits of having a Time Machine and a sweet tooth,” he added as we walked to the DeLorean, which was parked in the driveway of The House on the Hill.
“You should really give some thought to endorsing Bernie,” I suggested. “It would be a real boost to him campaign.”
“That’s the power of Doc!” he sang to the tune of that very popular Huey Lewis and the News song from Back to the Future.
We exchanged our goodbyes, and moments later, the DeLorean was rocketing off through time. My guess was that Doc was going to find out once and for all if Bernie Sanders was his evil twin…