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From the Editor (September 2005) Repent, Harlequin! Said the Ticktockman I entered Quik Mart #137 at 9:20 AM. The Cashier Chick stared at me for a second. "Aren't you late?" "Eh, 9 A.M., 9:20 A.M. What's it really matter when the end comes?" "What can I get you?" "Two sausages with accompanying biscuits." She glanced at the remaining breakfast items under the heat lamps. "We're out. Sorry. Want some lunch?" Lunch at this hour? Was she some sort of early riser who ate breakfast at 4 AM? What freak of circadian rythms was I negotiating with? *** I entered MegaFacelessInsuranceCoLLC at 9:25 A.M. My Bitter Co-Worker glared at me. "Aren't you late?" I slumped into a chair and ignored him. I stared straight ahead at the wall clock. He, however, was not disuaded by mere silence. "Punctuality is next to godliness." The mangled cliche got to me. "When the universe reaches maximum entropy, your concept of time will be meaningless. You'll also be dead. So, yes, I'm late, but that's really a moot point considering the impending heat death our universe will suffer. Where is your god now?" I still stared at the wall clock. *** The beer store clerk looked at his watch. "Hitting it before noon?" "Just give me the damn beer."
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