The Backwards Clock
Comedy
The clock had never been right. Sure, it told the time. But the second hand? It went backwards. And if there was one thing Arnold Snodgrass couldn’t stand, it was clocks ticking backwards.
He put on his medium coat. No need for the big one — it wasn’t raining. Stuck the clock under his arm and marched off to the second-hand shop he’d bought it from.
—Oi! You!
—Me?
—Yeah, you. Who else would I be talking to?
—Righto. What’s up? I’m busy, writing this.
—Two problems with what you’ve written there.
—Oh?”
—First — that ‘medium coat’ nonsense. What’s that about?
—Right.
—Second — are you taking the piss?
—About?
—A backwards clock from a second-hand shop? Really?
—Decent pun, I thought.
—No. Just no.
He arrived. Stepped inside. Mr Jenkins looked up from the counter.
—Arnold! How’s the clock?
—It’s buggered. I want me money back.
—What’s wrong with it?
—It ticks backwards.
—It what?
—Yep. Ticking backwards. Listen.
He held up the clock. Mr Jenkins tilted his head, listening hard, then shook it.
—Nope. Tick, tock, clear as day.
—Listen properly. It’s tock, tick. All the time. How can you not hear that?”
—I hear tick, tock, tick, tock. Like a clock.
Arnold sighed. —Hold it the other way round.
—What difference’ll that make?
—You’ll see.
Mr Jenkins flipped it over. Shook his head.
—Nope. Still tick, tock.
—It’s your ears then. They’re not right.
—My ears?
—Yeah. They’re hearing in reverse. Because that clock definitely tock–ticks.
—Right.
—What about your ears?
Mr Jenkins peered at Arnold’s head.
—Ah. There’s the trouble.
—What?
—Your ears. They’re on upside down.
—What?
—Yep. That’ll do it.
Mr Jenkins handed him the clock.
—Hang it the other way round. Try that. Let me know.
—Right. I will.
He marched out — right, left, right, left — like a soldier who’d forgotten which war he was in.
Mr Jenkins shook his head, glanced upward.
—Author?
—Yes?
—Please don’t let him come back. He’s an idiot.
Halfway down the street Arnold stopped.
—Oi! I bloody heard that!
The clock under his arm gave a small, defiant tock.
Then a tick.
Then silence.
It had finally given up and gone on strike.
Tock, tick.