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(Startled, Time, a
bookkeeper, a meek elderly little rabbit of a man, looks up,
blinking, from his massive ledgers. The long-unpainted walls
around him are lined with rickety bookshelves filled with
huge battered old volumes)
TIME. What? Why, yes, I'm Time, In, on, and about
Any
old, sands of, spare, and over Stitch in, by the, quick, and
tide and, Solar, sidereal, mean, and standard.
Me? Yes?
An interview? Why, I don't, that is, I'm rather in a, you
know I have so little, that is, I am Time, but you know what
I —Do? Why, why, I, I pass mostly. Yes, I pass. Fly?
Oh no no. Yes, well I live so much in the past—or
is it the future? I forget. (getting up) But, really,
now, I have to (going outside to his waiting buggy)
My horses, Nick and Arrow
You see,
(climbs in)
I have an appointment.
(shakes the reins and drives off into the night)...
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