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Sam gets run over and suddenly it’s 1973! Aww crap!

He gets used to it: the brutality, the petty corruption, the little girl and her creepy clown doll. He gets these awesome chops and a bomber jacket and a muscle car just right out of Hell.

Later he wakes up and man, I guess he was in a coma? But the present is all “professional” and “meetingy” and “blue camera filtered” so he kills himself right back to the Seventies.

“Turns out being a florist in 1973 is perfect!” he tells his boss.

“Go beat up those orchids,” his boss grunts.