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  1. The Year We Ran Out of Fridays.(10)

    In Camera meeting; 10th March, late evening.


    Present : December, April, Tuesday.


    Venue : December's apartments




    I watched, mildly amused, as April rummaged through the humidor until he found my finest Cohibas, (which were given to me by Castro himself) then selected an even finer Napoleonic brandy and poured himself a very large one into my very largest balloon glass.
    There was a bowl of shelled plovers eggs on ...
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  2. The Year We Ran Out of Fridays.(9)



    Ad Hoc meeting : March 10th


    Present : The Months, The Yearling, the Chief Chronodog.


    Absent : The Calendarist, March.


    Chairman : The Eldest Month


    I was the last to arrive and I was in no mood to be trifled with by anybody.
    Which is why I walked straight up to The Yearling and punched him in the face as hard as I could.
    He went down like a whore at a stag night and took no further part ...
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  3. The Year We Ran Out of Fridays.(8)

    In camera meeting : March 8th


    Present : December, Tuesday


    " Which Month was Friday's father ? Why could he not be left alone in ignorance ? How did he become a Day ? And where is Cal ?"
    She was relentless, her eyes burning with passion. She had knocked on the door of my suite and marched in without so much as a "Good evening, pretty boy."

    Stalling for time, I replied," Which question do you want answered first?" ...
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  4. The Year We Ran Out of Fridays.(7)

    Hiatus


    Many things need explaining now, not the least of which is the Residence, where all Time is regulated, where all the Regulators live and beneath which lies The Pond.

    It isn't hard to find the entrance, but getting in is another matter altogether.

    On Marylebone High Street in London, there is a Greek restaurant called The Hellenic. Right next door is a small, rather seedy shop, which claims to sell "military antiquities", by which is ...
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  5. The Year We Ran Out of Fridays.(6)

    In camera meeting : 6th March


    Present : The Calendarist, December, Tuesday.


    As I looked at what Cal had become, I found myself pondering the idea of mortality for possibly the first time in my long existence.

    The events of the last week had reduced him to a mere shade of his former self ; weak, pale, shrunken.
    The three of us had convened in my suite, there to discuss what must be done, but it became blindingly obvious that Cal would ...

    Updated 12-02-2011 at 17:20 by Archangel

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