A Letter to Father Time From His Boss


Dear Father Time: 

Permit me to say, my dear Father Time

In this letter I write you (that I’m going to rhyme)

It looks like the future’s a big disappointment

Take pimples, for instance, there’s still not an ointment . . .

 

And no flying cars, now what’s up with that?

And where is that pill that you promised for fat?

 

No robots to wait on us twenty-four seven?

No ray guns to use to send someone to heaven?

 

Oh sure, we’ve got lasers, but that point is moot

When you up and forgot: anti-gravity boot

 

And where, may I ask, are time travel machines?

On the junk heap, no doubt (with the synthetic spleens)

 

My dear Father Time, I’m  perplexed and chagrined

That you’ve fallen behind on the future therein

 

After talking it over with Jack Frost and Cupid

I regret to inform you (I really feel stupid)

It’s time to let someone else give it a whirl

You’ve just been replaced by the Calendar Girl

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5 thoughts on “A Letter to Father Time From His Boss

  1. What a great source of disappointment to you. I can understand your concern and call for someone else to ‘give it a whirl’. Though Calendar Girl does worry me as my reference to such a person comes from the English play where the ladies of the village dropped their gear for a photo shoot and calendar. So do I therefore expect to see you tastefully portraying natures bounty on your blog in the coming months?

  2. Hahahaha! I live this and especially the drawing of the future girl. She reminds me of a future version if “shut the hell up girlfriend!”

    It looks as though Father Time also forgot to give us futuristic shiny metal clothing that still somehow resembles the 1980’s.

    • Yes!! I am bitterly disappointed in the lack of shiny metal clothing that still somehow looks like it’s fresh out of 1980. Haha! And there’s not damn dirty apes either! It’s heartbreaking really . . .

  3. Yow, Yow, Yow!!! The Calendar Girl has totally done knocked me socks off, and sent ’em spinnin’ halfway across the galaxy into orbit around planet Gore-Gone-Zola, with its Funyun bag moons, and a planet surface like moldy pitted greasy cheese, very similar to a certain porky grainy complexion I could name!!

    Fantastic prose poem– Old Man Time had it comin’– he’s a lazy lout, and a dad-gum loser!! We need a brighter feature– and the incredible, mind-bogglin’ artwork of Calendar Girl shows we are going to get it– hurrah!!!! : )

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