And Twenty-four minutes,
Sorry, you’re err…
You’re one hour and fourteen minutes short…
Um, I don’t actually have any more time left,
It’s getting late…
Bodyguard creeps closer in the corner of my eye,
I won’t be able to let you leave,
Unless you can account for all of the time required,
If I can just pop home and get to sleep for a couple of hours,
I should have enough?
Sir, would you rather be dead?
Bodyguard creeps even closer,
I’m afraid there’s no time for that sir…
Sir, this is going to put you in debt,
But I’ll have to refer you to the debt collecto—
(Stop fucking saying ‘sir’),
Bodyguard pins my arms behind me,
All time has to be accounted for,
Sir, young man,
You must make up for lost time,
You’re not going anywhere,
Anarchy doesn’t work,
The books must be kept in order,
You’re going to fucking pay for this,
3 thoughts on “The Dreadful Accounting”
Robin, I am startled and flabbergasted!!!
I love how the last repeating lines follow by the tornado icon…it’s like being taken by the whirlwind……great piece, excellent depiction.