After Twelve pints of Guinness and a feed of soda bread in the Bleeding Horse bar in Dublin, Marty and the Doc decided it best to leave the Deloreon parked outside on Upper Camden Street street for the day.
Hey, fuck it! It wasn’t like there was much traffic wardens around.
Telling people in the bar that they were capturing their souls on magic boxes was a great way of getting free drink-they thought.
After each click of the I-Phones digital camera, Doc Brown would say: “POW! GREAT SCOTT MARTY! I’ve got another one! How many pints is this one worth….hahaha”
For nine long hours, the people of mid-twentieth century Dublin ran in absolute terror as the mad white haired man with the magic soul catching box chased them around their local pub, while the shaky teenager with the funny clothes guarded the door.
Marty wondered: why did drunk Doc always push it so far?