Foston Slacks - Time's Flies

21

The 'theme' of The Corridor changed several times as they walked back towards their destination. Sometimes the change came gradually, from day-glo colour schemes drifting into pastels. Other times the change happened in quite sudden ways. From stark, brutalist to an area where everyone had a pet pony, within the space of two doorways.

There was eclectic, there was downright weird and there was The Corridor. A place where 'mundane' just had no business even visiting. At first, right at the beginning, up to, and including the Hotel Schadenfreude, Clara had quite liked The Corridor. Now, she had had pretty much enough of the place and wanted to get whatever it was they were doing, over and done with. Sharpish.

"And here we are!" Foston held out his hands, presenting her a tattered looking door that had seen far, far better days. "Time's space."

"Are you sure we're welcome?" Clara examined the door that seemed to start changing as the lights upon the ceiling began brightening for the 'day' time. The door looked much more new and clean than it had only seconds earlier.

"Of course we're welcome! Me and Time? We go way back. Best buddies. Pals." He reached up to rap on the door with his knuckles.

"Well, you know how some houses have a rough mat outside to wipe your feet on and they have the word 'Welcome' stencilled on them?" The knuckles hovered above the surface of the door as Foston nodded. "This one says 'Bugger off!'. There's an exclamation mark and everything."

"Ah, that doesn't include me, though." He pulled his balled hand back and began preparing to knock again.

"Wait! Under those words, there's something else written. Smaller words, but I can make them out." Again, the knuckles didn't even reach the door. "Yeah. They say, 'Yes! That includes you!'. I don't think they want visitors."

"Nonsense!" Foston rapped upon the door and stood back grinning. "Oh, and, whatever you do, don't stare at his hands. He's self-conscious about how small they are."

Still standing before the door, still grinning, Foston began to fidget. It had been five minutes and no-one had answered. He banged on the door again, louder than before, and returned to his standing, grinning stance, clutching the lapels of his jacket for good measure.

"I think they're either not in, or ignoring you." Clara looked around, trying to find something more interesting to wait for.

"Ignoring me? Me!" Foston brought up his foot, adorned by the wonderfully crafted Italian shoes and brought the perfectly shaped, hand made heel crashing against the door. Twice. "Open up you miserable old/young git!"

Several seconds passed in which Foston returned to his grinning, stood a few feet back from the door, presenting himself ready for a happy reunion. The sounds of keys in locks being turned reached their ears, then around a dozen bolts could be heard scratching back and then, finally, the rattle of a chain could be heard as it was removed and allowed to dangle against the inside of the door.

"I told you, the last time, that if I ever saw your face again, bad things would happen!" A face popped out of the door. A clock face, with cartoon representations of a mouth, a nose and eyes drawn on the surface. Which moved.

"What? No! The last thing you said to me was 'I bet you I know what happens next'. And then you fleeced me out of three hundred pounds of gopher excrement. Because you're Time and of course you bloody well knew what was going to happen next!" Foston, despite sounding angry, held out his hand to shake.

"Was it? Well, when did/do I tell you the other thing? Has that not happened yet?" The cartoon eyes squinted, but the clock faced creature still didn't open the door fully.

"Can't have. And I can't wait to find out why you get so angry at me." He genuinely did seem to be excited about that prospect. "Anyway, Time, me old mucker, let us in and tell us how to fix the Breaches."

Time looked at Foston, then looked at Clara, then looked at the door. The cartoon eyes, nose and mouth were joined by cartoon cheeks puffing out in frustration. Then, slowly, Time began to open the door. As he did so, he pointed at Clara and she almost skipped her eyes away, before noticing that the hand seemed a perfectly normal sized hand. Then, she realised Foston must have meant the hands on the clock face, which were, she must admit, rather small. Before she started staring, she dropped her eyes downwards.

"Don't say it! Whatever you do, do not say it!" Time waggled his finger in front of her rapidly expanding eyes. "There have been, since you left your home the other morning, several billion universal variations arising from each and every decision you've made. In any of them where you say what you are about to say, nothing goes well for you before after that. Nothing! Everything hinges on those words, so do not say them!"

"Well, I think someone forgot to put the cuckoo away after it sprung out this morning!" Clara, not hearing a single word Time said, pointed down at Time's crotch, laughing heartily at Time's penis poking out of his flies. "Now, that's what I call a morning glory!"

"Oh, dear." Foston looked at Clara as she bent almost double, slapping her knees and giggling 'cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo' to herself. He had no sense of humour, she thought.

As Foston dragged her away from Time's doorway, Clara didn't know whether to feel aggravated or to humbly apologise. There was, after all, no Earthly way, not any variation of Earth, that she could have known what the repercussions of her finding Time's todger flopping around to be insanely amusing could be. It wasn't her fault that Time was a self-conscious git who took things far to personally.

"How would you have liked it if someone had made fun of you having one of your breasts hanging out? Hmm?" Foston was furious. Furious being the easiest word she could think of to describe the intensity of his ire.

"I wouldn't have minded. My boobs are awesome, thank you very much." She tried to pull her arm away, but Foston's grip was like a vice. "Also, I have, on one or two, possibly a little less than a dozen, occasions, been known to get brain manglingly drunk and my boobs may have, accidentally, fallen out of both my bra and whatever top I was wearing at the time. Through no fault of my own. It's not a big deal."

"Well, it's clearly a big deal for Time!"

"It wasn't that big of a deal. I've seen bigger deals than that."

"That is not the point, and don't think that I don't understand the innuendo!" He stopped dragging her, letting her arm go and holding up his hands in apology. She didn't accept it. "Have you any idea what just happened? An idea at all?"

"I laughed at a man's ... umm ... universal constant's(?) manhood? Constanthood? His willy. I laughed at his willy. He's just overly sensitive and a little embarrassed. He'll get over it." Clara really didn't understand what all the fuss was about. She was always embarrassing herself. Ask her mother.

"No, no! You don't get it! That is Time. That manifestation of a multiversal concept knows everything that has happened, is happening and will happen. He can never get over it because, to him, it is always happening. Time exists in a state of totality. He doesn't just exist in this moment and moves on, growing older as time moves on, he is, literally, existing, right now, in every single moment from the beginnings of the universe to its end!" Almost running out of breath, Foston paused for a few seconds, breathing heavily. After getting his breath back, he continued. "You just insulted him, yeah? But that insult is now an eternal, intrinsic part of his being. You have, literally, insulted Time for all time."

"Bollocks." Clara had to admit to herself, she had nodded off a bit during that rant. She probably didn't miss anything important.

"It's not bollocks, Clara! It's the absolute bloody truth!" Foston pinched the bridge of his nose. "He is the reason that the Breaches aren't working properly. And the reason he has stopped them working properly is because you pointed out his todger sticking out of his flies and laughed. Time holds grudges. For eternity!"

"Oh." Clara heard that bit. "Shit."