Mr NoTimeForNakedButts – 33 yo, FBI agent
Mr StiffTongue – 57, the Head of the Office
Ms WetSoreJaw – 33 yo, living in the real space-time-momentum
Time is not what it seems.
Newton knew that. He have pointed in his book:
‘we can’t ever measure the true time, but if we assume that it exists,
we can set up an efficient framework to describe the nature of it.’
It simply means, if we want to understand the world – we need to abandon the idea of time (we have now), because things change only in relation to one another. At a fundamental level – there’s NO TIME.
Winter. Park. Bench.
– …but I don’t want to go there, – Mr NoTimeForNakedButts tried to concentrate.
– You have to. You are the last FBI agent. You can save us! – Mr StiffTongue waited a moment. And when there was no answer, he waved a hand in the air as if he was talking about saving the humanity itself.
Mr NoTimeForNakedButts half-jogged across the lake, touching the goosebumps rising on his skin. It was the fear. He lost all the words he’d been planning to say. He even tried to hide in the bushes, but Mr StiffTongue politely showed him the clenched fist. Mr NoTimeForNakedButts pretended he is half-blind, then dropped his exhausted look on the ground and asked:
– Ok, so what’s the deal?
– You have to enter the house number 77 on the Rovelli street. There you’ll meet 3 beautiful women. They are living in some kind of ‘space-time-momentum’. The time is thick there. Really thick. And it is spreading. You’ll feel like everything around you is slowing down, but the truth is…at the end of the third day you’ll die. That’s how I lost all my agents.
The perspective to die in three days wasn’t the best option. Mr NoTimeForNakedButts tried to turn off the sick images in his head: the spooky house, the body on the ground, the eyeballs out and 77 wounds on the face. ‘You must keep an open mind,’ – he said to himself.
– One more detail: all three women love public sex. Good suckers. They also share one face. Pretty. Blonde. I’d say worth to die for… – added Mr StiffTongue.
Inside of the House.
– Do you mind if I go deeper? – the man asked.
Ms WetSoreJaw nodded. Her saliva was everywhere.
Life wasn’t bad after all!
Her jaw was sore, but she persisted. She could have done a lot better if he was ‘erected’, but… she did the best she could with his current state of Hardness and her tired Jaw.
Mr NoTimeForNakedButts woke up on the bathroom floor. It took almost 3 hours to open the zipper. He speeded up, but it took 18 more hours until he could finally relax with a cup of coffee in the hand. Ms WetSoreJaw entered the kitchen:
– Hey! What’s up? Looks like I’ve missed the fun.
– No. I just feel ill.
Mr NoTimeForNakedButts was silent. He wanted her on her knees, with that cute face in a ‘cummy mess’, while entertaining his hard, twisted, above-average-but-strong willy.
– Something is happening with me. I feel…like I slept for an entire year.
– 20 years. Your body is trying to adjust to the new environment and demands.
Mr NoTimeForNakedButts couldn’t feel the presence of the heart in his chest.
– Am I dying? – he smiled numbly at the woman, freezing in a help-me-please-pose.
– Yes, you are. It’s my favourite part of the day, – laughed Ms WetSoreJaw.
– What do you mean? – he blinked, with a spasm.
– I hate to see you upset. Do you want me to blow your Oyster again?
Mr NoTimeForNakedButts agreed, because her mouth were in the prime location, wide and 100% ready.
After 17 hours of instant climax she said:
– I love your enthusiasm. If you want to live, I could explain to you – HOW…
Mr NoTimeForNakedButts has pulled his silver-grey Oyster out and whispered:
– Please, save us. We are desperate!!
– Sweetheart, we are all desperate. Thats just the way the world goes around.
Ms WetSoreJaw instructed him how to stop the ageing and dying. She told him about 6-dimensional space/time: the only way to survive is to divide the soul in 3 -> Mr No, Mr Time, Mr ForNakedButts.
Mr NoTimeForNakedButts sat in silence, digesting her story.
What is the time made of?
The answer is simple: the gravitational field…
Sitting here and gazing, I find that endless
spaces and more-than-human silences,
and the deepest peace and quiet
are fashioned in my thought… #Democritus
– Hello, Mr StiffTongue! How are you? – the hand in the elegant glove touched the shoulder of the old man.
– Fine, I think. What day is it? Do I know you? You look familiar…you remind me about the hero of the year 2035, when the time has changed its course.
– The hero?
– Yes. Mr NoTimeForNakedButts. He saved us all. The world!!
The old man leaned against his chair, taking comfort from its resistance:
– How’s your name, young fella?
– Mr Time.
– Where are you from, Mr Time?
– The End of Infinity.
– Never heard of it…
Who can number the sand of the sea, and the drops of rain, and the days of eternity? Who can find out the height of heaven, and the breadth of the earth, and the deep, and wisdom?
Next post – Cool Writing Prompts
Living in Sweden. Awesome. Happy. Ayurvedic food. Healthy lifestyle. Dogs. Literature. Painting. Meditation/Yoga. I love my life.
"It does not matter how long you are spending on the earth, how much money you have gathered or how much attention you have received. It is the amount of positive vibration you have radiated in life that matters" A. Ray