Universe Residue

It would appear that TimeLess is telling his story ahead of mine. But that does tend to happen in Time’s great dominion, when one is a Lord of the stuff, and the other finds it irrelevant. At my stage in life, my tomorrows are yesterdays and my next weeks are lost somewhere in 1965.
Still, I made a conscious note when I set off to follow him. Please excuse any ramblings and muttered rubbish, but we Two-Hearters are far from in the best of sorts when partaking in confusing beverages. Enjoy, this timeless note, TimeLess:

“Different. All of them different. That’s what I can never deal with, what I can never get this packed head round.
One human falls in love with me, others hate me, the rest are indifferent. I am never able to say or do the right thing to reach everyone’s level.

Then there’s the drinking. They spend so much of their time at the bottom of a bottle, while I run around in the background. Only time they speak to me is to ask for the time or whether I want “some”.
That’s another one. Some what? What can drunken humans offer me? I’ll take one of their mars bars, but I’m currently in a bar that doesn’t sell them. Or chewitts.

And difference continue. Angry drunks, sleepy drunks, chatty drunks.
Me? I feel like some soggy mixture of all three, though the sogginess could have been that delightful bloke arguing with a slot machine earlier. That wasn’t TimeLess. I think.
But we TimeLords, we don’t have a lot of time for differences. It’s why we invented regeneration; alive or dead, why not exist as a tentative bit somewhere in the middle?

Makes me think of TimeLess earlier. Without time, true. But something else. Does he too stand between Death and Existence? Like some white-flag holder in front of a nuclear missile and a bottle of elixir.
He led me here. I’ve found neither him, nor TARDIS parts. That makes both my mission to find him and leave here a failure. And humans drinks when they’ve failed, so I’ve given it a go.

The universe won’t stop swimming through my head, which isn’t anything new to be totally honest. But there is something different (oh joy) this time. There’s no feelings of lamentation, fury or exile from distant, dark corners of universes.
I just seem to be getting all kind of drunken memories that aren’t mine. My head’s turned into some weird love-child between a radio and a television.

Currently picking up:
Using a traffic cone as a jousting stick.
Throwing limes at people and calling it acid rain.
Dancing around a car park to songs that will never exist.
Picking up litter.
Whoa, now. Let’s tune back into that last channel.

Litter. Noun. (N) Found usually on streets, discarded waste products…
SHUT UP. Not the definition, the memory. It’s new, fresh. A distinct echo to it.
TimeLess. He definitely was here, drinking away. Recalling. Something about a chess game. Litter picking. And a sasquatch?
Going to have to ask him about that one. That’s one abominable sucker who’s always dodged my trails.

Still, this is new trail hunting. Without all that Western style stuff.
And I’ve been there before, really isn’t all it was cracked up to be. Clint Eastwood was way off, I spent most of my time trying to explain to a horse that maybe having metal nailed to your feet isn’t the way to go.
He just…farted, I think, and went off for some hay. Or maybe a lady horse.

Focus. Finding TimeLess, Mr ‘Watches are Irrelevant’. Tell that to…who invented the watch again? I had it in here somewhere before that last drink.
I’ve more than likely met the inventor. Or maybe his daughter.
Stupid, soaked brain. Really need the universe to settle for a moment, just to find TimeLess.
Smashed glass.
Then someone drops their glass somewhere across the room.

Alright, so we’re slightly ahead of things. Well, I say ahead. Time’s pretty against being compared to a straight line. Let’s just say, he’s working for me maybe a tad faster than everyone else in this place. Place of dancing. Singing.
Running.
Swimming.
Ooh, that’s a new one. Swimming. Mr Irrelevant TimeLess going swimming.

Wait, swimming doesn’t look like that.
Drowning? There does seem to be a lot of ‘down’ involved. And you can’t make ‘drown’ without ‘down’, so long as you have an ‘r’ handy.
What am I drinking anyway? Tastes nothing like wine gums or chocolate liqueurs.
Maybe something in the middle of those two. Wine gums floating in sickly chocolate.

I was thinking of something a moment ago. Let’s be honest, what’s a moment anyway?
Drowning TimeLess. Right, off we go.

As soon as I’m done getting closely acquainted with the floor.
I can only hope TimeLess isn’t too far ahead.”

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