I had been waiting around for Father Time all day. He was late once again. I hate it when people are late. It's like they're saying, "Hey, my time is more valuable than yours."
Finally, Father Time strolls in, acting as if nothing is wrong.
"Hey Time," I said, mad enough to dispense with the 'Father' part. "You're late."
"Well, I'm very sorry, son, I..."
"Yeah, you're like two hours late. It's like comedy, it's all about ti- ti- timing. Isn't it pretty much the duty of Father Time to be, uh...on time?"
"Well, yes it's preferred, of course," Time was back pedaling big-time. "It's suggested, obviously. But, in this situation, I..."
"No more excuses dude," I interrupted. I didn't have time for Time's excuses.
"What you need is one of those Hamilton watches. You'll never be late with a Hamilton."
"But, aren't they expensive? Even Time is feeling the recession, you know."
"They're very affordable. And do me a favor? Stop talking about yourself in the third person. It's annoying."
"Oh. Sorry. I thought you liked it."
"Not this time....Time."
Even Father Time needs a little tough love now and then, I thought to myself.
Next time he'll be three minutes early. Just watch.
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