From 1912 to 1917, Keystone Kops were the funniest act in Hollywood. 100 years later, not so much.
Benny Gondola was mortified after he opened the door on a Saturday morning. Expecting Jehovah’s Witnesses, and armed to pepper spray them if necessary, he was instead confronted by the dreaded Time Police. In unison, the two Time Policemen said, “You’re under arrest.”
Benny could not speak. He was beyond flabbergasted, yet he uttered, “For what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Headaches remind us of our mortality in the same way a hammer reminds us of throbbing thumb pain.
For the last eight years, Maynard Arthur’s waking hours were thoroughly and constantly overflowing with sheer disgust. So much so that he developed a permanent sneer. Unbeknownst to him, and fortunate for the free world, he owned it. If he had known of his potential strength, he would have certainly abused it. When he looked at anyone the right way, he would practically ghost slap them until they felt shame.
A stitch in time, time flies, time is like a river, time and time again, time heals, fuck you time, fuck you, you lousy fuck!
Let me make myself perfectly clear, time is not a racist and does not give two shits about you, whether you’re black, white, yellow, brown, red, or any combination thereof. Time will beat the living shit out of you and you can’t do anything about it. It just marches forward in calculated goose steps, never looking back. It will always disregard the courtesy of leave no man behind. If time shows prejudice to anyone, it is the elderly.
This is exactly what time travel looks like.
I have been drifting through time of late, and it is unsettling. What I did minutes ago seems like weeks ago, and what I just did hasn’t happened yet. It’s enough to drive one mad. This is what happens when you reach a time coordinate in which you did not exist. There are many rules to time travel, follow them or die.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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