Foston Slacks - Time's Flies

37

Time glared across the pristine white table, his cartoon eyes thin and squinting, his mouth a thin line with, what looked like, little parentheses at each end. To Time's left sat Time, a tall, elderly gentleman with a long flowing beard, holding a large scythe in one hand and a large hourglass in the other. He seemed kindly and not quite aware of where he was or what he was doing there. To the right, sat Time. A baby, naked but for a pink sash that had the words 'Old/New' written upon it. He carried a sprouting branch and had cute, curly blonde hair.

Clara had Foston sat beside her, his hands clasped at his waist, his legs crossed at the knees, one foot bouncing. He seemed neither happy, nor sad to be involved in the proceedings.

At the end of the table, the Entity Resources manager, or some diffuse glowing creature that looked very much like the ER manager, sat, elbows resting upon the table, staring at Clara, at Time and then Clara again.

"Shall we begin?" The glowing figure picked up a piece of paper and read from it. "Party of the first part, hereafter known as 'Time' and party of the second part, hereafter known as 'Clara' have agreed to these arbitration proceedings in order to put an end to current hostilities and restore the Breach network to its fully working order. I believe Clara has agreed to apologise for insulting Time's 'todger' and calling him a 'big baby' and Time has agreed to accept a genuine apology and will restore the Breach network. Is this correct?"

"Yeah. I suppose so." Clara twirled her office chair, disinterested.

"See! She isn't taking this seriously!" Time stood up, slamming his hands upon the table, only for Time, the elderly one, to place a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit once more.

"I am taking it seriously! If you ask me, he's just being a little cuckoo." Clara continued to spin her chair and Foston smothered a little snicker with his hand.

"I will not stand for this ... this ... insulting behaviour!" Time slammed his hands upon the table again, standing up, until Time, the baby, placed the branch on Time's shoulder, sitting him down again.

"Yes, well. Clara, if you would be so kind as to apologise?" The glowing figure held out a hand, giving her the opportunity.

"Of course." Clara stopped swinging the chair and put a solemn look upon her face. "I am deeply, unreservedly and candidly sorry ... that Time has no sense of humour."

"Clara! No." Foston placed a hand on her arm, shaking his head. Clara nodded her head slowly.

"Alright." She turned her attention back to Time. "I'm sorry that Time has a small ..."

"No."

"Fine! I'm sorry that Time can't take a ..."

"Clara!" This time Foston snapped before turning towards the glowing figure. "If I may take a moment with the party of the second part, your honour."

"Please. Be my guest." The glowing figure tossed a pen onto the table and smoothed down its face with its hands, clearly exasperated after only a couple of minutes.

Foston stood, grasping the back of Clara's chair and pulled her and the chair to the side of the room. Time consulted with Time, while Time sat, blissfully unaware, humming a tune from La Traviata. Foston glared at Clara, who kicked her feet playfully while doing a rather good impression of sweet innocence.

"What are you doing?" Foston crossed his arms and did an equally good impression of stern authority.

"I'm apologising." She sat back in the chair and fiddled with the lever that changed the chair's height.

"Very badly." Foston rubbed his eyes. For the first time since meeting him, he seemed genuinely annoyed with her. "Is it a pride thing? Do you feel weak if you have to apologise for something? Or are you just being a complete selfish jerk that doesn't care that hundreds of thousands of entities are currently unable to use the Breach network? Lost in time, space and reality, just like we were."