Thursday, 14 July 2011
The clock is evil. It's corrupting Time. It hangs on the wall, a little to the left of the TV, and laughs at us.
It has a face, doesn't it? And hands? Then it can laugh. And it can show us the two fingered salute.
Poor Time doesn't stand a chance, and we, as mere spectators, can only watch as she falls under the clock's wicked spell. We can't even begin to intervene, to try to prevent the corruption.. We're held by Time as firmly as gravity holds us to this planet, and there's not a jot we can do.
I think all clocks are evil. They run chasing after Time, speeding up its pace like hounds after Holmes, right when you just need those few extra minutes to finish that report, or catch that bus, or eat that bacon butty.
Oh how I'd love a bacon butty. Does slop come in bacon flavour?
And when you need that report, or need that bus, or are waiting for that bacon to crisp just the right amount, the clock catches hold of Time and drags her, screaming, backwards, extending those seconds into minutes into hours.
The clock is the second most watched thing in here. First is, obviously, the television. Second would have been the view from the window, but the clock, though it couldn't beat MTV or Eastenders repeats, attacked the view with a baseball bat and beat it into submission. After the window came the Sacred Spot of the Cornercopias, but that wasn't even going to try and reach the podium for fear of the same fate the view received. It was a spot, an empty piece of floor tile that held a group of asylum inmates rapt, but it wasn't stupid!
So the clock, evil, sly and deceitful, is corrupting Time. Once upon a... time... Time was forced into compliance by the dictatorial disc, but now I'm not sure that that's the case.
You see, I was told Time tiptoed by. But I can hear her footsteps running past me.
And I fear we may run out...
... of Time..