Sunday

What did Aunt Wilhelmina want him to do this morning? Oh, yes – spring the clocks ahead an hour. Twice a year, Aaron could move in time and not bring out that pesky time machine. So he ran around the house changing the clocks. Didn’t understand why one of the servants could do the job.

He jumped out of his skin when he opened the door to the guest room. A mass of pink blubber and curly hair lay in the bed. His violin lay on the dresser.

“Hey, fat boy,” Aaron called out, “what’re you doing in here?”

“I hitched a ride on that machine of yours. You didn’t know I’d stowed away on it, did you?”

“So when do you come from?”

“And when do you come from?”

“I asked first. And you’re sleeping in my aunt’s guest bedroom.”

“Nice digs, buddy.”

“Fat ass, buddy.”

“Your aunt’s a dried-up old prune, Aardvark.”

“Your skin has the tone of dead whale blubber, fat boy.”

I liked him. This was the beginning of a great friendship.