Parking ticket

Sometimes he felt like he was diagonally parked in a parallel universe. It wasn’t supposed to be literal.

“All of my documentation is perfect,” he begged the officer.

The alien made a sniffing sound, but without a nose it was hard for him to tell what it actually was. “Nonetheless, you have parked your ship incorrectly.”

He looked at the signs around. There they were, in plain sight, telling him he had done everything correctly. “I don’t follow.”

In one fluid motion, the officer stuck the ticket to the dimensional traveler’s forehead. “Pay the fine without time travel involved. They’ll know. They always do.”

“I don’t have a time travel license-”

Perhaps it was a shrug. That was what the alien did. “Yet. Who knows anymore.”

That left him to look at his ticket as the officer walked away. He swore. Maybe he should get a time travel license and try, just for the heck of it.