Partly Cloudy, 64°
Time is an unstoppable force. Every man, no matter how great in life, eventually succumbs to the inevitability of time. Me, however, I’m different. Time’s waiting in the car for me, while I grab a drink and sandwich quickly.
Great artists, poets, thinkers: it seems like everything they create is a way to reconcile themselves with their mortality. The mortality that time is a midwife to. What all these geniuses don’t know is that if you’re best buds with time, he’ll be a little more flexible, especially when you leave the engine on so he can listen to the radio.
The sands of time spare no one, except for yours truly. Time is more than happy to take a few extra seconds as I decide what chips I’m going to get. Classic vs. barbecue. How do I decide? Maybe I should call time? No, that’s stupid. I’ll just get both, he’ll probably want some anyway.
That’s something you should know about Time. He loves chips. Always has. Always will.
Look at your watch. See that second hand tick-tick-ticking away. My best friend Time is doing that. Try to silence that ticking. You can’t. You know why? Because you don’t have Time’s personal cell phone number. I do. The area code is 212. Good luck figuring that one out.
Well, it seems like my order is ready. Guess I won’t have to keep Time waiting too much longer now. He’s probably pretty bored at this point. He gets lonely when I’m not around, even just for a few minutes. To be honest, he’s pretty high maintenance, but it doesn’t bother me because he’s one of my closest friends. You need to treat your friends right. I think I do. I hope so at least.
I love all my friends, but I love my friend Time the most!
