Read My Shorts

Thief of Time

Thief of Time

"Hello, is that the Police?"

"Yes, Sir. This is Southsea Police Station, Sergeant Brian speaking."

"Good, I want to report a theft."

"Okay sir, if you'd like to give me some details, I'll see what I can do to help."

"Right: I've had an hour stolen and I want it back."

An eyebrow raised on the Sergeant's normally taciturn face and he sighed. "An hour, Sir?"

"Yes, the clocks went forward last night and I've lost an hour."

"Sir does realise that he gets the hour back in October? It's all part of Daylight Savings time."

"I know what it is young man, but what about the interest?"

Sergeant Brian paused, looked around the unusually quiet room, and motioned over a colleague, slapping the speaker button on his phone so that the Constable could hear. "Er... interest, Sir?"

"Yes, interest. I've lost an hour. Some bugger is going to keep that hour and get interest on it. If you assume 2% interest over six months, then that's about seven and a half minutes. Who gets to keep them, eh?"

The young Constable now standing next to the Sergeant sniggered and slapped a hand over his mouth at a warning glance from the senior policeman.

"Have you been drinking sir?"

"No, I haven't young man and I resent that allegation."

"So you're completely serious?"

"I am."

"Sir, it's been a long weekend, compounded by the fact that, as you so clearly state, we have all lost one hour of sleep. However, I'm not really sure I can help you. I've put your call on speaker, so my learned colleagues can listen in. Perhaps we can brainstorm a solution."

"Fine, but I want my seven and a half minutes interest!"

"You want seven and a half minutes?"

"Yes, for every year."

"So how much are you estimating this to be sir? Are you sure this is something your local police department should deal with? May I transfer you to MI5?"

"Don't be bloody facetious. Er... I mean no, thank you, officer."

"So what exactly can I do for you, sir? The rules of time and space aren't really in my jurisdiction. I only cover Southsea and Old Portsmouth."

"I want some bugger to promise to repay me the minutes."

"Um..."

"I know what these bankers are like."

The Sergeant slapped the mute button on the phone and punched his giggling colleague in the arm, the diminutive PC still snickering despite the pain. "Shut up Laptop, you're not helping."

"Sorry Sarge," he said, a broad grin still plastered on his face.

Tapping the button again, Brian continued as more policemen and women wandered over to listen to the call, attracted by the shaking form of PC Laptop who had stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth. "Er... Bankers, sir?"

"Aye, they're all swindling bastards, them and lawyers: wouldn't trust them as far as I could vomit them."

"And thank you for that lovely mental picture, sir. I'm not sure it's fair to blame all this on the bankers, especially as I don't think you're losing any time overall."

"And this is why you're sitting in a back street police station Sergeant. I am owed seven and a half minutes of time per year. If you say the average man lives seventy-five years, then that's almost six hundred minutes!!!"

The Sergeant shook his head; any conversation where you could hear exclamation marks lining up to jump on the end of a sentence was never good. "But sir..."

"But sir, nothing. I'm an old man. Nine hours is a long time."

"Okay sir, let's assume for a minute that I agree with you. What do you want me to do? Put yourself in my shoes, what form do I fill in for this one?"

"I've already told you, Sergeant, I'm reporting a theft. How would you like it if someone took something from you and you couldn't get it back? Time is precious."

"Well I'd certainly agree with you there, sir," Brian looked at his watch and raised his eyes. 'Why me?' he mouthed to another sergeant who grinned at him. "Well sir. How about this as a solution? I promise you you can have nine hours of my life. I waste plenty of time on the phone during an average day, you're welcome to any of those hours you like."

"Well, I..."

"And to sweeten the deal," said Brian plowing on, "all of my colleagues here will agree to let you have some time from form filling. Won't you folks?"

"Yes!" chorused the five colleagues now standing nearby.

"Mmmpf," noted PC Laptop.

"There we are, sir. Some time for you, with interest."

"You freely agree to let me have some of your time."

"If it keeps you, happy sir? Yes, absolutely."

"Thank you, Sergeant. I've always liked the Police service."

"Glad to have been of assistance, sir." Brian put down the phone and placed his head in his hands. "Tell me it's All Fools Day someone please... go and make me a cuppa Laptop, I think I need some caffeine..."

The old man grinned as he put down the phone. That had gone far better than he could've hoped. Giving a few policemen a quick laugh was fine if it meant he got what he came for.

He watched in satisfaction as the sands of time in the ornate hourglass on the shelf above his desk halted their ever-downward flow for a while. A few minutes of conversation: many hours of stasis in the flow of his personal timeline.

"I think perhaps we should target Radio next Arthur," he said, stroking a finger along the spine of his pet lizard. "They're even more cynical than policemen. Imagine if we could get a whole audience to agree to give me nine hours of their time..."

The End

 ~

This is what happens when I lose an hour due to the clocks going forward and have too much coffee to compensate...

And an appropriate little song from Blur - Out of Time