Jonathan Time was a grumpy man. Throughout his life
people would mock him: correct answer – the Time is right; wrong answer –
wasting Time; a little whiffy – Time is ripe; walking in front of someone –
behind the Time(s). I won’t even begin
to explain “doing Time”.
Jonathan Time was a patient man. He knew that one day, he would win. They had
it coming. All in good time.
Jonathan Time was a troubled man. He heard whispers.
“Killing Time.”, and darting eyes.
“Time flies.”, and small titters.
“Hit the big Time.” and large exaggerated swinging
motions.
“You’ve got too much Time on your hands,” said another.
“Ew, wash that off.” and they fell about, laughing
Time passed. It was donkey’s years before the time was
right.
Jonathan Time was a man on the clock. Time was ticking.
He was up at the crack of dawn, busied himself like there was no tomorrow. At
the eleventh hour on the dot he left the house. He was painfully aware that
there was no time left to lose and there would be no turning back.
Jonathan Time waited for his tormentors. In the blink of
an eye, Time was upon them. His plan worked like clockwork. Before they knew it
they had their arses whooped into next week.
Jonathan Time was a pleased man. In the nick of time, he
paused and they grovelled. “Sorry,”, he said. “That boat has sailed. You are
too late. But I’ll call it a day. You may go.” Their parting was swift and he
never saw them again.
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