Dating : The Time Hank Didn’t Know What Time It Was

It was Tuesday, or as Hank called it ‘Twosday’, even though nobody could tell he was making a joke unless he explained it or wrote it down, the sun was melting away the last remnants of white snow from the day before, and according to channel 8 it wouldn’t be long until it snowed again.

Hank woke up and stretched his back. There was something in the air, a sense of wonder, an itch for adventure, or maybe it was just a gas leak.

“It’s time to do something wonderful with my life!” Hank shouted to the clock on the wall. “Are you there? Are you even listening to me?”

Hank walked over and removed the clock from the wall, hoping to find what was the matter.

“Your batteries must be dead, buddy. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back! Literally! Get it? Because your batteries go into your back, so like, oh yeah that’s right you can’t hear me.”

He rummaged through the junk drawer but only found broken crayons, some rubber bands, packs of chalk, logs of walks, sugar packets, a thick winter jacket, rolls of paper towel, a sleeping fowl, twist-ties, googly eyes, expired milk, expensive silk, a list of his allergies, but no new batteries.

“Looks like I’ll have to go on a quick trip,” he said, staring down into the blank face of his clockwork companion. “Stay true to your heart while I’m away. If there is ever a moment when you feel you must betray the wisdom of your soul, just know I’ll always be with you deep inside that rhythmic crimson organ, or in your case, a copper gear or something, I don’t really know how clocks work.”

He drove. He drove until he could drive no further. The road took him until the ends of time. The road sent him to the darkest depths of his being. He parked. He parked and he got out of the car, looked around, noticed a lonely bird that missed his flight. Hank shook his head, knowing the feeling all too well, but then smiled thinking of the free breakfast he had at the hotel the airline set him up with.

“He looked up at the sun, the golden orb still beaming, still full of wonder and joy, wait, what am I saying?” he said. Wait, no, I said that.

There was a jingle above the door as it opened. The clerk at the counter was reading a magazine, or perhaps only looking at the pictures, there was no real way for Hank to be sure unless he asked, but he didn’t want to be impolite and imply the clerk was incapable of reading the articles in a swimsuit magazine.

Each of the aisles had a list above them explaining what to expect if you chose to traverse along the array of toiletries and snack food items.

“I don’t need chips, don’t need dips,” he tapped his chin as he stepped past the first aisle, “don’t need energy drinks, or a brand new sink.” He looked up at the sign for the third aisle. “Brand new house? Floral blouse?”

Hank walked up to the clerk and coughed, but it wasn’t a real cough.

“Excuse me, Sir. Do you sell batteries here?”

“What?” replied Hank. “I was going to ask you that.”

“Oh, that’s right. My bad. Go ahead.”

“Do, do you sell batteries here?” asked Hank.

“They’re kept behind the counter. What kind do you need?”

“They’re different kinds?”

“In all this time you never knew there were different types of batteries?” The clerk set down his magazine and gave Hank a puzzled look, but the puzzle wasn’t quite finished yet and it was clear a few pieces from a different puzzle had been wedged in.

“That’s the problem,” said Hank, looking up to the ceiling, a man playing a violin behind him, “I don’t know the time.”