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Frazzled, ROB rushes into the coffee shop, immediately recognizes FATHER TIME on the opposite side of the café, sitting in a booth. Rob crosses to him quickly and sits.
Father Time: (glancing at the clock on the wall) They say Time waits for no man and yet…
Rob: I am so sorry.
FT: I suppose I can make an exception for the great Rob Perez.
R: I swear. I don’t normally—The kids are just… one did not want to nap. The other has to go to the bathroom the second we’re walking out the door. Twice. (then) I am really sorry.
Father Time grabs the large hourglass beside him and puts it on the table between them. The sand falls from the top chamber to the bottom one.
FT: I don’t have all day.
Hurriedly, Rob pulls his notebook from his backpack and opens it. Rob then places a recording device on the table between them.
R: (looks at hourglass) Is that thing pretty accurate?
FT: So far. (starts laughing) I’m just messing with you. I have all the time in the world. Literally.
R: Oh, I see. Good one. (exhales) So how does it work? I mean, where do you… where do you find the time?
FT: I just take it from people. Just a minute here, a minute there. But it adds up, you know. I love it when someone is like – Whoa, I’m fifty years old?! How the heck did that happen? That’s when I know I’m getting it done.
R: So, what do you do with the time? FT: I take naps. I walk a lot.
R: And where does the time go?
FT: Well, they say time flies.
R: Are you saying time flies, like in the air?
FT: Are you familiar with Einstein’s theory of Relativity?
R: Kind of.
FT: Let’s put it another way. They say Time is short. Do I seem short to you? R: Um…
FT: I’m just messing with you. I like a good height joke.
R: Oh. Ha ha. You’re a real kidder, huh?
FT: Well, it helps pass the… y’know.
R: Yeah, I bet. (checks notes) So, um, I’d like to ask you about the beginning of time.
FT: Taking us way back.
R: When was that? FT: Well, for me, it was the day I was born.
R: And how old are you?
FT: Well, I guess the saying goes – I’m as old as Time.
Rob rolls his eyes, notices the scythe leaning against the wall.
R: What do you use that thing for?
FT: I reap.
R: And what exactly do you reap?
FT: I reap what’s sown, brother.
R: Do you ever… (makes throat cutting gesture)?
R: I’m not Death. I do not harvest souls. Truth be told, I don’t harvest much of anything anymore. This thing is just a really heavy symbol now.
Father Time quickly glances at his watch.
R: Wait. You wear a watch?
FT: Yeah. And it’s always slow. Why do you think that is? R: That question is way too meta for me.
Father Time points to the hourglass. The sand seems to be falling faster.
FT: Tick. Tock.
R: Okay. Can we try a rapid fire thing? I’ll say a phrase and you tell me what it means to you. FT: Fire away.
R: It’s a matter of time.
FT: (shrugs) Sometimes.
R: Time heals all wounds
FT: Maybe not all wounds.
R: Time for a change.
FT: A good slogan if I ever ran for office.
R: Killing time.
FT: I don’t care for that expression.
R: Time is money.
FT: If that were true, do you think I’d be carrying my own scythe?
R: Do you think there’s ever gonna be a time machine?
FT: Time will tell.
R: Good one.
The final grains of sand fall into the bottom of the hourglass.
FT: Okay, that’s your time.
R: Wait. I thought you had all the time in the world.
FT: I do. You, however, do not.
R: Can I just have five more minutes?
FT: If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that. Remember, you were late.
R: I’m so sorry about that. Wait– Are you just messing with me again? FT: I am.
R: Have you ever been late?
FT: No. I am always right on, well, you know.
R: Well, okay. Then thank you for your, um… Time.
FT: You’re welcome.
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