encoded notions

Roy

Julie stood, her face still red with tears, and composed herself. She turned to Harold and they exchanged an unspoken moment of understanding. Harold nodded and Julie approached him slowly.

She selected a steak knife from the table and tested it for sharpness.

She closed her eyes and thought carefully about what she was about to do.

Harold squeezed out another tear of sadness for Gloria.

Julie raised the knife and brought it down swiftly; it was over in a flash. Harold was free, his bonds cut. He stretched and tried to revive the circulation in his limbs. Bending over, he picked up the fatal screwdriver and rolled it around in his hands, letting the situation wash over him again.

“This was meant for you.”

“I figured as much,” Julie remarked.

Harold looked up at the ceiling, “It never should have gone this far. This job would drive any man insane, without the appropriate diversions. You were just one of many over the centuries. Weaker subjects never figure it out, and if they do, they don’t care enough to pay me a visit; you’re the first I’ve ever met face-to-face.

“But you were the one who dropped the card that led me to this address.”

“That’s irrelevant; you made the decision to pursue it.”

Julie thought about this.

“Everything that happened here today, from me ending up in the basement, to Bob being scarred for life (Scarred for life by Death: how ironic.), the kids destroying my home, and Gloria’s passing—all of the responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders.”

“I can’t accept that,” Julie threw at him.

“I’m sorry, but had I not chosen you to be my source of entertainment, none of this would have happened.”

Neither spoke for a few moments. The silence was meaningful.

Julie was the one to speak next, “So what do we do now?”

“You’re free to go. I lift my hands from your life. I will meddle no more in your affairs.” She felt a sudden absence deep in her subconscious. She hadn’t felt like this since she was a child. A smile escaped through her saddened exterior.

“Thank you,” she said, meaning every syllable of it.

“I need some time to mourn in solitude. I think it is best that we now part ways.”

Julie looked around at the table, and the devices of torture that she was so determined to use on Harold only a few, short hours ago; now they sat mocking her current state. She was not a killer, nor was she malicious. Most people are good at heart and only in the face of struggle does that veneer bend, but with time it flexes back, leaving that which is good and true.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she suggested. They ascended the stairs, one by one, letting the rhythmic footfalls sooth their troubled minds. At the top, Harold took a look around and sighed deeply. The house was such a complete mess that he didn’t even want to think about it. Time would replace the items in the house, but time could not replace people, nor heal the holes in his heart.

“I think I should consider doing some spring cleaning.”

Julie chuckled lightly and continued navigating a path through the wreckage of his foyer towards the exit. At the door, they shook hands and Julie stepped out into the real world again, where it was late afternoon, the sun starting its slow descent below the horizon. Down the sidewalk, through the gate, and then on down the road to her car. Simple.

---

On her way past Gloria’s house, she had reason to pause: someone had uttered a soft “hi” from the direction of the garden. She turned quickly and scanned the area, but she could not locate the source.

Maybe I just need some rest. I’m hearing things.

“Excuse me, miss,” the mysterious voice continued, “but do you know where Gloria went?”

“Where are you hiding?” Julie wanted to know.

“I’m not hiding, I’m right here. My name’s Roy.” The voice was slightly louder now, and was down by her feet. She looked down to find a squirrel. Am I going crazy? “Umm…I hate to be the one to tell you, but she had an accident today and she passed away.”

“Oh, no,” Roy whimpered and scurried off into the bushes.

I’m going straight to bed when I get home.

She continued down the sidewalk and then heard a muffled scream from under her foot. She jumped and snapped her head down looking for the source. A weed. She had stepped on a weed. This is really trippy. Perhaps Harold puts LSD in his water. One by one, animals started appearing in the garden; even the flowers seemed to turn towards Julie.

Scanning the area and the crowd, her gaze fell upon something that had changed since last seeing it. She blinked several times to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. Something was now very, very wrong.

Gloria’s mailbox now read, “J. Nature.”

What the hell? Julie sneezed.

No. This is not happening. She sneezed again.

No. I’m allergic to everything. Her eyes began to water.

Roy came to the front of the crowd and stated clearly, “In her passing, Gloria seems to have nominated you as her successor.”

Maybe this is a dream. Where are my ruby slippers? I’d really like to start clicking those heels together now.

“Welcome home, Julie.”

Fate, wherever you are, you can forget that thank you card.

the end

Hiccup

The door opened and sunshine flowed in. There was a pleasant aroma in the air. Gloria never entered a room without first bringing joy over the threshold. She was always welcome anywhere she went.

Which is why Julie couldn’t turn her away.

“Oh, you’re still here. Is Harold keeping you?” inquired Gloria, in an elegant singsongy voice.

“In a way, yes he his. We’re still quite busy.”

“Well, there’s just something quick I need to ask him about tomorrow evening, it won’t take but two moments of your time, dear.”

“But…” Julie tried, and failed to stall her.

“It’s okay. Where might I find him?”

Julie hesitated. If she finds out what I’ve done to him, I won’t be able to clock her over the head with my stick because she’s just too nice. For the same reason, I can’t lie to her. She swallowed hard, “He’s in the basement.”

“Oh,” Gloria said, sounding surprised.

They walked together to the basement door, and Julie let Gloria go first, just in case she changed her mind about the stick.

---

Harold heard the steps creak. Now was the moment. He concentrated on a single point in space, making a bond with it. He engaged it in a dialogue, convincing it to form the image he had in his head right now, coaxing it to do what he asked of it. The point in question was a particular spot on the stairs.

It complied.

And then something happened that he did not intend. A mistake. A hiccup in spacetime. The last time he caused a hiccup like this, was in Bern, Switzerland in the early 1900s. He was toying with a young boy in much the same way as Julie(The boy’s name was Eldwin Bauer. The tale of what happened to him that night, instead of being visited by aliens is rather uninteresting and it involves cantaloupes and one very unfortunate raccoon.) and he had convinced some extraterrestrials to land in his back yard. The only problem was that when the hiccup occurred, they landed in a young patent clerk’s backyard instead. Al—the clerk—and the aliens had a rather long chat, and then the clerk went on to become very famous because of the hiccup. Harold did not like making mistakes.

And this one was much, much worse.

Gloria was about halfway down the steps, with Julie close on her heels. Bob was in the corner. Harold was concentrating on the screwdriver that Bob had placed on the staircase. As soon as he saw a pair of legs appear in the stairwell, he forced a footfall to coincide with the location of the foreign object.

They were not Julie’s legs. Harold only took notice after it was too late.

Gloria began to fall. Julie’s mouth dropped. Bob was oblivious to what was about to take place. Harold tried to correct it, unsuccessfully.

Gloria toppled down the steps and lie unmoving at the foot of them. Julie carefully ran down to her. She was still breathing. She beckoned for Julie to come closer, then she spoke something softly into Julie’s ear. It was too soft for Julie to comprehend. Sadly, those were Gloria’s last words. When she finished the final syllable, she did not draw another breath. Mother Nature died, and it was all Father Time’s fault. Harold cried aloud.

Suddenly the room felt very cold. A voice spoke from the direction of the chill, “I suppose this is not what you had planned?”

Julie shook her head at Death. Harold didn’t even look up from his sullen mass of tears and pain. Death sighed, “I am not pleased with this turn of events. Consider our agreement invalidated for now, Julie. I have to consider the repercussions of today before considering taking Time’s job.”

With that, he touched Gloria on the shoulder and she faded away. With a nod to both Julie and Harold, Death vanished as well.

Julie, now also in tears, remained sitting on the floor, looking at the spot that Gloria haid lain only a few moments ago. Harold continued to weep. And Bob sat staring at the air that Death just vacated. His eyes were open so wide that it almost seemed like he didn’t have eyelids anymore. He was stammering, and pointing, and making funny gestures with his hands. He stood up, tried to say something, and then ran up the steps screaming at the top of his lungs.

I guess his plans for the day didn’t involve meeting Death face-to-hood.

Plan

Harold winced. His house was at the mercy of a swarm of anklebiters. He loved this house, it housed his vast collection of rare collectables that he’d acquired over the years in his rather unique line of work: mirrors from Louis XIV, a wine cellar lined with bricks from the Berlin wall, potted plants from the Garden of Eden, a paperweight made from the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs, and a dodo living in his backyard.

As each minute ticked by, he tried not to think about what would be left when he finally got out of this predicament.

“Bob,” Harold whispered. Bob stirred slightly in his slumber. “Bob!” he shouted as quietly as possible.

“Mmmrgh…” Bob groaned and opened his eyes groggily. “I was just having the most wonderful dream where I was a butterfly—”

“That’s nice,” interrupted Harold. Bob’s enthusiasm drained. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” CRASH “Oh…that…yeah.”

“That’s the sound of my house going to ruins. This is not a good day for either of us.”

“You’re right. My superiors aren’t going to like it when I tell them we have to broker a new deal with Death since Time will soon be out of the picture.”

An idea began to take shape in Harold’s mind. “What if you didn’t have to do that?”

Bob looked puzzled, “I don’t understand. The girl said—”

“I know what she said.”

“And she seemed so determined.” Harold nodded in agreement.

“I have an idea, but first I want you to stay perfectly still.”

---

Meanwhile, Julie was having a chat with Velma, the school teacher. They were sitting out on the front porch. The house’s frequent ticking was loud enough to mask most of the kids noises coming from within. Several times, a very loud sound would ring true through the air, and Velma would make a motion to stand up and investigate, but Julie coaxed her to stay put each time.

“But the house?” Velma would say.

“It’s okay. To tell you the truth (Not exactly the whole truth, but truth nonetheless.), I didn’t much care for the stuff in the house, and I was thinking of throwing most of it out and starting over.”

“Oh. Then the kids?”

“Are being of some assistance.” Julie couldn’t believe how gullible this lady was.

They talked about several things, while waiting for the tow truck to arrive, none of which mattered since they were all topics engineered to simply pass the time. Julie didn’t care; she was having her fun by proxy (Several proxies, in fact.). Soon the truck arrived, followed shortly by a replacement bus to take the children back home. Velma opened the front door and called for the children to come out. One-by-one, they ran to the open door of the bus, eager to get home and destroy them as well. Velma turned to Julie and thanked her for her hospitality.

No, it is I who should be thanking you.

---

Bob heard the kids leaving and quickly ran back to Harold, “Should I free you now?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Just go back to your corner and pretend that you’re still bound and asleep. This will all be over shortly.”

Bob did as Harold asked. He rubbed the sore spot on his arm. The next time Harold tells me not to move, I’ll take him a bit more seriously. Regardless, a little pain is fine when it comes in exchange for freedom.

---

Julie’s hand was on the doorknob to the basement when there was a soft knock at the front door. She sighed, feeling suddenly very tired, and trudged over to let in the next circus act. Who will it be this time Harold? The Easter Bunny? The Vienna Boys’ Choir? The President?

She peered through the peephole, and her heart sank. If it could have, it would have opened up a gaping hole in her chest and jumped out.

Julie panicked. It was Gloria. She had come back. Now what am I going to do?

Visitors

“I watched you, like I watch everyone,” explained Harold, “but you had some spark that spoke volumes to me.”

“Blech. Don’t get all touchy-feely with me.”

“Do not interrupt me again.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“As I was saying, you had that spark. The way you looked at life, your sarcasm was just begging to be poked and prodded. I toyed with your life solely to watch your responses; I must applaud you—though my hands are bound—you were very creative with your reactions; I have some of my favorites recorded for posterity.”

She scowled at him, her face was awash with hatred to her core. She fumed. Then she reached for something from the table.

Harold flinched.

And just at that moment, there was a knock at the front door.

Tersely, Julie said, “I will be back shortly so we can continue our…fun.”

Harold thought, that was far too close; I need to end this situation before I run out of visitors to call on for distraction.

Upstairs, she ripped open the door with the same fire in her eyes that she carried with her from the basement, and yelled, “What!? What do you want!?” On the porch stood a rather older woman, looking rather distraught. Julie’s eyes traced the path down the sidewalk, and over to the smoke pouring from under the hood of the bus parked along the curb.

A bus.

And pouring from it, swarming up the lawn like African killer bees—with equivalent, if not more destructive power—was something that she did not wish to see right now. The one thing that could bring ruin to this enjoyable day: A busload of screaming children; Julie did not like children. Sure they were fine once they reached a certain age, but prior to that, they just got in the way. They were a messy race of creatures. Kids are like anchovies. No one in their right mind likes them, she was known to say on occasion.

The woman spoke, “Our bus broke down, can we use your phone?”

“Of course, it’s in the kitchen…I think.”

“Can some of the kids come inside? It’s been a long drive from the museum and some of them desperately need to use a bathroom. We’re willing to compensate you for the trouble.”

I’m not blind, Harold. I see what you’re trying to do, but delays and minor annoyances only make your torture all the more appealing to me later.

“Sure! Come on in. Make yourself at home, ” Julie looked around at all of the rare and valuable—breakable—things in the house, “just don’t let the kids go into the basement, it’s not safe for them down there.”

“Thank you.” Turning to the kids, the woman—presumably their teacher—quieted them and said, “this nice lady has agreed to let us come into her house while we wait for the tow truck to come.”

The kids cheered and ran towards the house.

You ruin my life, and the least I can do to return the favor is to leave your house in shambles.

In the basement, Harold could hear thumping, running, squealing, and the sounds of very expensive things falling from high shelves. Damn. Today just keeps getting worse for me.

Upstairs, Julie smiled and turned towards an array of picture frames on the wall. In one she could make out a younger version of Harold, at his high school graduation ceremony. Standing beside him was a young lady of his own age. The caption read, “Fate and Harold make their mother proud graduating at the top of their class.”

Fate? So Harold had a sister, and her name was Fate (Are all of these supernatural beings related like characters in a daytime soap opera?). Julie pondered this new piece of information; she rolled it around in her mind as one would savor a fine candy. Harold’s comebacks weren’t working as well as she’d expected. If Harold and Fate haven’t been on speaking terms with each other since Gloria started spending the night here, then perhaps his sister was countering her brother’s plans, making them backfire out of spite.

Ah, sibling subversion at its finest. Julie was going to have to send Fate a thank you card.

Threat

“Lick your lips,” suggested Julie.

“Whmmf?” mumbled Harold, trying his best to say “What?” under a strip of Duct Tape.

“I said, lick your lips.”

With a swift wave of her hand, like magic, the strip covering his mouth was gone—vanished…along with a few very important layers of skin. He yelped.

She smiled. “If you’d have listened, it wouldn’t have hurt as much,” she said, still smiling. “So, where were we? Ah yes, question number two. Are you ready to play along, or should I use something else I picked up from the sale rack at the Evil Overlord Emporium?” She gestured again to the contents of the table, still looming at the periphery of Harold’s vision.

“Why should I listen to you?” he questioned.

“Because I have a certain threat that I can use as leverage if you don’t feel like cooperating with me.”

“I run all of Time, in what way could you possibly threaten me? You can’t kill me, because then who would run everything?”

“I know someone who is very interested in taking over your job.”

“Ok. I’m intrigued. Who do you have in mind?” he was beginning to worry.

“He who would enjoy running his own affairs for a change.”

Harold looked puzzled.

“You are the only person that can stand in the way of his fun and personal enjoyment.”

Harold continued to be puzzled, until she saw the click of recognition in his eyes; the cliché lightbulb turned on over his head, and he understood.

“No. You wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s a far better deal then putting up with your constant intrusions into my life.”

“But then he can do whatever he wants. Don’t you understand? You’ll have to worry about him every second of the day. You can’t make deals with him!” Harold exclaimed.

“Oh, but he’s a very pleasant and agreeable person, once you get over the chill you feel looking into his face.”

“Or lack thereof,” he added.

Bob, who had woken up a few minutes ago from his concussion-induced slumber had been listening to Julie and Mr. Time argue over something. He didn’t feel that he was part of their discussion, but he decided to raise a question anyway. “Excuse me,” he interrupted, “but might I ask who it is that you’re talking about?”

“Death,” explained Julie. “Without this joker here issuing him commands every so often, Death could rule over Time and bring people to the afterlife whenever it tickled his fancy.”

“But why would you want that? It sounds very bad for the living folk,” protested Bob.

“Death has offered to delay his ultimate fun until I personally come to visit him for orientation one day under my own volition. This, of course, hinges heavily on me delivering this clown as a birthday present.”

Bob sat in stunned silence, and Julie turned back to Mr. Time.

“So, are you going to play along like a nice prisoner or should I turn you over to the man downstairs and get it over with?”

“If you’re so set on my dethronement, why should I talk to you anymore?”

“Because I am still accepting offers.”

Downstairs

Harold groggily opened his eyes.

He was in the study in his basement. He found this odd, since the last thing he could remember did not involve stairs, but rather the intent to look for a soda and then pop, the lights went out.

And stranger yet, he was firmly attached to his chair.

And furthermore, why did the back of his head hurt so damn much?

“Ah, I see you’re conscious again. That’s great. Now we can begin,” cackled Julie from the adjacent room.

Harold gasped. Why hadn’t I seen this coming? he thought. How did she surprise me, of all people? Then it dawned on him, if she’s operating completely on unpredictable impulses then I wouldn’t have noticed anything. She’s a sneaky little devil.

“We’re going to have a revealing little chat. First things first: Do you admit to toying with my life for entertainment value?” asked Julie.

“What would ever make you think that?”

“Maybe because anytime I think something is going to work out, something happens that munches or mangles my free time to bits.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“Well it’s not the Tooth Fairy…that’s for sure. Besides, I found this outside my professor’s office last Friday. That’s the day when he assigned a ten-page paper due on Monday. Goodbye weekend.”

In her extended hand, was a business card:

H. Time
Father of Time, COO of Universe, LLC.
42 South Bend Road
Eternity, NM 87015
visits by appointment only
(To make an appointment, just show up. If you make it here, then I can see you. If you are detained, or otherwise are unable to complete the trip, then I was busy.)

“This is how I found your house.”

“I thought I was one card short, blast. Since I can’t hide the truth anymore, I guess you won’t mind me asking something.”

“Go ahead.”

“How’d you like what I did last Friday?” he chuckled.

“Oh, that was wonderful, if you associate screaming into a pillow for 20 minutes with things being wonderful. I really do hate you.”

He laughed again, and this time she reacted by picking up a fencing foil from a nearby table and poking him in the upper torso with it six times.

“Ow!” he shouted.

Julie spoke very clearly, “While you were unconscious, I took the liberty of doing a little unsupervised shopping.” With that, she removed the cloth covering the table and unveiled an impressive array of very nasty looking items. Harold shuddered.

“Let’s move on to another question.”

DING DONG! sounded the doorbell upstairs.

“Someone’s at the door, Julie.”

She sighed. Julie peeled off a fresh strip of Duct Tape and placed it firmly over his mouth and said, “Don’t make a sound.”

Up the stairs she trod and opened the door to reveal a FedEx exployee. His nametag identified him as Bob.

“Hello, miss,” Bob said as he stepped through the open doorway. “Where’s Harold?”

“Umm…I didn’t exactly say that you could come in yet,” Julie said sounding rather surprised.

“Ah, but Harold did. Since I made it to the house, that means I’m on time for the appointment I just made.” He showed her one of Harold’s business cards.

“He’s quite occupied at the moment,” she said, trying to encourage Bob to leave her alone with Father Time.

“I’m sure he is, but I must speak with him,” Bob insisted.

“About what? Can’t you just leave the package here?”

“What package? Oh you misunderstand the purpose of my visit. I’m here to discuss FedEx’s corporate future with him. You see, Mr. Time helps us get our packages delivered faster than our competitors. A few years ago, someone high up in the UPS heirarchy signed his soul away to Satan to speed up their deliveries. Instead of making a one-time deal with Harold, FedEx decided to draw up a ‘floating agreement’ with him that can change over time. We find it works much better than UPS’s strategy.”

“Did your marketing department get wind of this yet? Because if they do, then I can just imagine the slogan: ‘Ship your packages anywhere on the planet in just two seconds with our new Infinity Class shipping option’.”

“Fortunately, they haven’t heard anything yet, though people are starting to pry a bit too much. But I digress. I must speak with Mr. Time now.” As he finished his statement, he began to roam the house, looking for Harold. Julie was powerless to stop him, and when he reached the basement stairs, she took a deep breath, and held it.

“Oh, there you are Harold,” Bob said, sounding surprised. Then upon seeing the bonds holding him to his seat, he gasped, “What happened to—” And then promptly fell to the floor.

She lowered her stick for the second time today.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. FedEx Guy,” mumbled Julie as she began dragging him across the floor. She looked to Harold, across the room. He glared at her. She thought to herself, Something tells me that I’ll be needing more Duct Tape before the day is out.

Harold

“Would you like some hot tea? I have it imported, you know.”

“Where from?”

“Uhh…Boston,” Harold replied sheepishly.

“In that case, no. If you have some Cherry Pepsi, I’ll take one of those.”

“You’re in luck, I have some in the fridge that I bought especially for you.” As he turned towards the kitchen he had the striking feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.

Then a stronger striking feeling set in rather sharply at the base of his skull. Harold collapsed to the floor in a heap as Julie put away her beating stick.

I wonder where he keeps the Duct Tape.

Gloria

Consulting the map, Julie was sure this was the place. Looking up, she saw that she was standing in front of two architecturally intriguing houses. One seemed very sharp—edgy—lots of ninety-degree angles. Very precise. And it ticked, like a subwoofer with a glitch; every minute a subaural sound wave was emittled from the abode. Standing in stark contrast to it, the house next door looked much more homey. The garden in the front was gorgeous and well tended (allergic as she was, Julie didn’t fancy the smell but it still looked pretty through her watery eyes). The house was very earthen, almost organic.

Looking at the mailboxes shed some light on the subject: “H. Time” and “G. Nature”

Julie walked towards the ticking building, stashing her beating stick in her bag for later (to emphacize her side of any disputed points in a discussion). After ringing the doorbell, she could hear a combination of rushed commotion and hushed swearing from the open upstairs window. A few moments later, a lovely woman appeared at the door, dressed in a flower-print robe, looking rather flushed and a bit out of breath.

“Hello. How may I help you?” uttered the woman.

“Umm…I was looking for Father Time, but perhaps I have the wrong address.”

“Nonsense, he’s right upstairs.” Turning towards the stairwell, the woman belted out “HAROLD! Put some pants on and come down here. There’s a young lady here who wishes to speak with you.”

Julie felt like she was interrupting something, “If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”

“‘No time like the present.’ That’s one of Harold’s favorite sayings. Besides, I’ve been here long enough today, and I need to tend to my garden.”

Julie heard thumping, and turned her head to see an older man come bounding down the stairs dressed in some running shorts and a black button-up dress shirt with the tails hanging out. Taking one look at Julie, a flash of recognition passed over Harold’s face.

“Gloria, I think that it’s best if you were to go home now. Miss Julie and I have some things to discuss.”

“I was just on my way out, dear. I’ll see you tomor—”

“—or sooner,” he cut in.

Gloria scowled with a twinkle hiding in her eye. She bent down to Julie’s ear and whispered, “Be careful. He has a way of playing tricks with time and events. Watch out for him, honey.” With that, Mother Nature walked down the front porch steps, and crossed the lawn to her house next door, paying careful attention not to disturb any of the exquisite plants.

I always thought there was something to the whole ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’ thing. I wonder if they have any kids, Julie thought to herself.

“Welcome,” said Father Time as he motioned for her to come in. Stepping over the threshhold, Julie sensed that something was funny about this place. Of primary concern was that she could no longer hear or feel the ticking that came from the building.

“Your name is Harold?” she said, stifling a laugh.

“What? It’s a perfectly good name.”

“Of course,” still amused by the name.

“Do you have a problem with ‘Harold’?”

“No, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting you to actually have a name other than ‘Father Time’.”

“That’s just my job title. My mother named me Harold.”

“Dur? You have a mother?”

“Yes, doesn’t everybody? In fact, you’ve already met her.”

“When?”

“Just now. Gloria. She greeted you at the door.”

“Oh,” Julie said with all the speed of a tortoise and the pitch of an adolescent boy. She blinked, as that name entered her ear and set off a chain of synaptic firings that triggered some images to form in her mind that she’d rather not be thinking about.

She blinked again.

These supernatural beings sure are weird.

Stick

A stick. She had brought a stick.

She would rather have found something better: a flamethrower, a steam shovel, a rock—anything would have been better than a stick (Not everything. A stick is a much better weapon than—say confetti. Though if thrown at the eyes…). But alas, when Time’s against you, it is very hard to plan anything out more than a few seconds in advance.

For as long as she could remember, Julie and Father Time seemed to be locked in an unending battle for control of her life. Free time was never truly hers; if ever there were plans, nine times out of ten, something would interrupt them before fruition. And the other one time out of ten, when something did happen to fall through Time’s tight grasp, he made sure to taint it by something as simple as the onset of a cold.

Julie had come to despise Time.

In fact, she was on her way to his house right now. Hence the blunt object. She was going to have a few firm words with him. Very firm words.