Alice
woke me up at 4am out of a dead sleep, saying that she wanted to tell
me what had just happened. For a chrononaut she had terrible timing.
Chainsaw Alice in Ooverdare
There
was a sad little man who lived a sad little life.
He
wasted his time hating. Hating everyone, hating everything. Hating
kings, and hating queens, and hating cats, and hating cards, and
hating secret breakfasts, and hating quiet sunsets, and hating games,
and hating fun, and hating love, and hating hate.
After
many adventures across many worlds, Alice had retreated to the
wondrous rolling hills of Ooverdare. Not retired, mind you. For a
chrononaut, the expression, "a time and place for everything"
was very, very literal. Right now, at this time, at this place, was
her everything. No past, no future, only right now. Retreat,
repast, recover. Unwind, don't rewind. She could change her past if
she wanted to, but you cannot. Besides, why would she want to? If
she did, then she would not be the she that she is today. Good, bad,
or sideways, she liked herself just the way she was.
Now,
the sad little man had taken to calling himself Fateweaver. And
everyone told him it was a very good name. A powerful name. A
meaningful name. A presentient name. But it wasn't, not for him at
least.
Fateweaver
hated time, thus he hated Alice. He believed, incorrectly, that
since she was a chrononaut, that she had all the time in the world.
He wanted to take all her time since he had wasted all his time.
Then he would have all the time for all the hate that he loved to
share with everyone.
But
how to steal time from a chrononaut? "Eureka! I will gather an
army of time trolls from the depths of all the darkest worlds, and
they will have the power to take all her time!" he declared to
himself. And so he did. Big time, small time, even trolls who
really had no time at all; they all made time, to hate with
Fateweaver. They marched under his false flag that flew low and
flapped frantically as they crossed the spidery-legged terrain, up
and down, over and around, a million creepycrawlies, predators of the
dateshifter.
They
hurled rocks, and axes, and barbed comments at her cozy cottage.
"Why must they always attack at tea time?" Alice wondered.
She slipped on her boots and walked outside.
With
a wave of her hand, time stood still. But with this many trolls, it
would not last long. Time was a slippery thing, and it marches on,
whether or not she or anyone else wants it to.
"The
price of peace is peace." Alice went to find out who was in
charge of this blunderous undertaking.
She
found Fateweaver. The little man in the big hat. His pride was not
hidden but displayed. She unfroze him. "Tag. You're it. Now
what is your game?"
"I
hate games," he replied. "And I hate time, and you are
having the time of your life, so I hate you. I will take all your
time."
"Did
you honestly believe that time trolls could harm me? I knew they
were coming before they did. I used their own time against them.
And it takes me no time at all. You see, I simply ignore them, and
they are not there. I have no time for them and they burn up all
their time." The trolls all vanished. Gone without a trace.
"What?!"
exclaimed Fateweaver in confusion. "Where have all the time
trolls gone?"
"You
cannot waste my time, but you are testing my patience." She
spun him around and he fell to the ground.
"I
have come undone." He sat bedraggled, moping.
"My
time is my own. No one can take it from me. But I share it with who
I choose. Good day to you."
"I
need to get some more-comfortable shoes," she thought to
herself. What was that phrase again? "With enemies like these,
who needs cupcakes?" This girl, that's who.
