“For Whom The Bell Tolls”

I decided to kill time today. Not for any particular reason, it just felt like the right day. I started with the clocks. There were quite a few. A sledgehammer should do the trick. My alarm clock was the first victim. I set him right on the bedroom floor, reeled back, and let momentum do the rest. I missed it. Again. This time, I hit him. Good. I used a dustpan to clean up the mess and put the remains in the trash.

“This is going to take forever, going one by one,” I said to no one in particular. This time I gathered as many of the clocks as I could and set them in a line. There were a few wall clocks, an old watch my grandfather gave me, my smartphone, and one of those dippy birds that rock back and forth. I hate those things. I placed both hands on my sledgehammer, leaned back, and swung. And swung, and swung, and swung. I missed a few times, but I smashed that dippy bird on my first try.

There were a couple more remnants of Time left in the house. The oven and microwave, for example, were a bit too hard to move into line with the others. But don’t worry, I took care of them just the same. Guess I’ll be eating out for a while. Standing in my kitchen, I breathed a sigh of relief. Closing my eyes, I made sure I couldn’t hear that repulsive rhythmic ticking. That was the thing I hated most about time, it wasn’t quiet. It seemed to scream at me, telling me to do this and do that, all while maintaining its perfect, unstoppable rhythm. I stood and listened. There were other sounds, a dog barking, a lawn being mowed, but at least they weren’t rhythmic.

I headed for the living room, which connected to my kitchen through a narrow passage to the left of the dishwasher. Adorned across the wall were pictures of my ex-wife and son, all remnants of time that I would have to destroy, but there was no harm in saving them for last. Squeezing through and into the living room, I turned on the television, and slouched onto the couch, crunching some leftover chips that missed my mouth on the way down. My sledgehammer remained at my side, my sole brother-in-arms. What no one seems to get is that it’s not like I wanted to destroy Time, we were quite good friends for a long time. I would go to work exactly on Time, pick up my son from school at the appropriate Time, and kiss my wife Time and Time again. Yet, all those years of commitment and loyalty amounted to nothing it seems. Time has abandoned me, so he will pay the price. It is kind of like in the mafia stories you read about. If you mess with the mob, you get your comeuppance, you know? I focused on the television. It was the news. A lady was talking about the weather.

“It’s a bright sunny day here in beautiful Prescott, Arizona. Though that’s usually the case here after all. Let’s take a look at this week’s forecast.”

A scene transition occurred and now showed seven blocks representing a whole week, each day’s highs and lows shown. I didn’t much like the idea of days anymore, that implied time still existed. I then noticed the actual time in the bottom left corner of the screen. It read 3:56 PM. That sealed the deal. I grabbed my sledgehammer and destroyed time. Guess I’ll need to pick up reading.

I sat back down on the couch. Even though the TV was destroyed, I sat and watched as if it wasn’t. I’ve seen plenty of movies and shows at this point anyway. I imagined one of my favorites playing, “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”. I laughed along with the jokes and antics. It really was pretty funny after all. Ferris and his friends just tried to reverse the car to get rid of the miles on it when I felt my stomach rumble. I thought about the microwave and oven. It was time to go grab something for dinner. I got up off the couch, grabbed my sledgehammer, slipped on some shoes, and made my way outside.

I haven’t had a car since the divorce, so I made my way over to the bus station. I didn’t see anyone on my way there. It had always been a pretty quiet area. Sitting down at the bus station, I looked at the setting sun. It threatened to disappear behind some mountains and the blue sky began to shudder in response. I warned him not to unless he wanted a taste of my hammer. Finally, the bus pulled up. The bus driver opened the doors and eyed me suspiciously as I approached.

“What’s with the hammer buddy?”

“It’s a sledgehammer, I use it to kill time.”

“Alright buddy, well don’t be swinging that around in here alright.”

I started mounting the bus steps.

“Don’t worry, people aren’t time.”

I walked up the steps and looked down the aisle. There were a few other people. I strut down the row, headed for the back. As I passed the other passengers, I took note of their wrists. No watches. Good. Taking my seat in the back, I strived to get comfortable, setting my sledgehammer right to my side. The ride continued as bus rides usually do and I looked forward without thinking much. Thinking never seemed to do me much good anyway, at least that’s what my ex-wife used to say. One person got off at some point, then another, and another. Eventually, I was the last one. 

“Time to get off buddy,” the bus driver said, looking back at me with an eyebrow raised.

Time huh? I looked to the driver’s side and noticed a clock to his side. He seemed eager to get home. Must be quittin’ time. 

“You got it, buddy,” I mumbled while grabbing my sledgehammer, and walking up front.

“Now you have a good one, alri-”

I slammed my sledgehammer into the clock on his dash. It shattered into little shards of plastic and glass. I got off the bus, and he started to yell things at me, but I ignored him. No one understood the battle I was fighting. Time rules our lives, dictates our every move, and eventually kills us. We had every right to fight back. I continued my walk, hoping to happen upon the nearest fast food joint. My sledgehammer dragged against the concrete, making a gross sound, but I was famished. People shot glances my way, and whispered amongst themselves. They need to learn to mind their own business. So what if I want to drag a sledgehammer into town, show me the law against it, and I’ll happily oblige. I finally saw a McDonald’s in the distance, thank god.

Making it to the entrance, I slung the sledgehammer over my shoulder. Dragging the sledgehammer around indoors felt disrespectful, although I am certain there is no law against it. I went to the front counter and ordered my usual. A Big Mac and 10-piece nuggets. No sauce. The girl at the front counter didn’t seem phased by my sledgehammer, maybe she understood my struggle. I noted the clock behind the register but chose to eat my meal first. After eating my fill, there were still a couple of nuggets left. What a waste. I grabbed my sledgehammer, wasted 2 nuggets, then hopped the counter and killed some time. The workers screamed, but I took those screams to mean that they understood how scary time really was. I walked out, feeling full of hatred, and McDonalds.

I looked up, the sun had ignored my threat, that bastard. I bet he and time are in cahoots. Night had come, and with it, the moon had come to take over his shift. The moon was full tonight and had just hopped over the mountains, accentuating its vastness. I hardly ever notice the moon to be honest, but tonight she induced in me a feeling of the sublime. It was as if Time had put a spotlight directly on me as if to say, “Here’s the rebel, get ’em!”

“I need to run”, I said to myself

And I did. Slinging my sledgehammer over my shoulder, I sprint in the opposite direction. I ran past quite a few people. Thankfully, they all had the sense to not wear watches. That was until a businessman appeared. He seemed in a hurry. Walking with that brisk, purposeful pace that most in his profession do. He looked straight ahead, not seeing anybody. Then, he pulled up his wrist and checked his watch. I felt pity for him. I stopped in my tracks. The moon wouldn’t catch me that quickly.

“Hey man, let me see that,” I pointed at his watch.

He took a second to process my request, staring blankly into my face.

“You mean this?”, he pulled up his wrist and pointed.

“Yeah, that.”

“Fuck off man.”

I tightened my grip, reeled back, and aimed for his legs. I hit him on his left kneecap. My aim had improved since the beginning of the day. He belted a scream unlike the food workers, it was loud and piercing. It pissed me off. He writhed in pain, but he really should’ve listened. I aimed at his wrist and propelled forward, smashing the watch and his wrist. He screamed even louder this time. I think people were looking but I didn’t care. I looked closely, the hands were still ticking. That really pissed me off. I swung again. And again, and again. It felt like I was tenderizing a piece of chicken, though the crunch of bones differentiated it slightly. My breath quickened, and I threw my hammer over my shoulder, taking a short rest. I looked closely, surely that rhythmic ticking must have stopped by now. And it had.  His wrist was now a lump of flesh, metal, and glass, congealed into a singular mass.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I said to the man.

He screamed, once again, presumably because he also realized how scary Time truly was. I walked on. I thought I would feel satisfied, but something was wrong. Something inside me was wrong. I closed my eyes, trying to figure out what exactly that might be. That’s when I heard it. The pulsating, rhythmic beating of my heartbeat. Then I looked up, the moon was above me now. She showered me with her luminous white light, creating a spotlight effect. She had caught up to me.

“You bitch.”

Time had finally shown me its true colors. It wasn’t just numbers on some stupid clock. It permeated all things, the rising sun, the falling moon, and even my own heart. In trying to kill some time, I had accidentally picked a fight with a god, one that had bent all of humanity to their whim.

I fell to my knees, embracing my role in the spotlight, this was my only chance. They were all watching. I thrust my sledgehammer into the air vertically and opened my mouth as wide as I could. Slowly but surely, I lowered the wooden shaft deep into my guts, deep into my soul. Eventually, all that wouldn’t fit was the metal head, which sat by my teeth. Then I screamed. I screamed a scream which stemmed not from me, but from all of humanity, from all of the lost soldiers in the eternal war against time. It was guttural, a blood-curdling scream that expressed all of humanity’s sorrow, misery, and strife. The scream reverberated up the wooden shaft, through the metal head, and clattered against my teeth. I had become a bell, one who tolls for all of mankind. 

I rang for as long as I could. Yet inevitably, my throat became dry, and my vision blurred. Was this all a single life could muster? Had the stars above heard my cry? I sputtered up a bit of blood and collapsed to the floor. Though, even through my blurred vision, I think I saw a dash of crimson splattered across the surface of the moon.