Time, ¡Stop!

They tried to shut down his mathematical operations through a gunshot aimed straight @ his noggin, but failed.

Father Time kept ticking ticked.

& he counted up so quickly that his would-be assassins collapsed in ol’ age before they knew what hit them.

¡Such memory!

But e’en such memory couldn’t see the assassin hid ‘hind him, aiming her gun not @ the hairy back o’ his head, but up @ the ribbon-shiny pavement-black top-hat resting ‘pon it.

She pulled the trigger, causing the hat to explode in mechanical shards all o’er the ground.

The rest o’ Father Time fell with them.


Dad, Mind, Top-hat