Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling.
Escoger is amazing, inspirational, and somehow gets sucked into everything I write these days. Who woulda'e thought? Anyway, this piece is partially in thanks to him!
This piece is based off of a tragic summary that I saw in Just In. Apparently it was about people traveling back to 'Tom Riddle's time', but the lack of apostrophe and capital R made it 'Tom riddles time', which made me laugh so hard I had to do something about it. Purely humorous.
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Tom Riddles Time!
There was once a very particular bloke named Tom. He wasn't a very happy bloke, but then again, he was neither a very unhappy bloke. He was simply a bored bloke.
So, he decided to bother with the complexity of time. He wanted to just plain old screw it up...or, as some people would put it, riddle with it.
At first, he wasn't quite sure to go about it. After all, it wasn't every day that one had the initiative to do something so potentially catastrophic as to mess about with time. Time was so important! One always had to be on time, one had to abide every day by breakfast-time and lunch-time and dinner-time and bed-time, to a very stringent degree, one had to deal with the common concurrence of time to go to the bathroom and time to go to class, and one had really so very little time in the course of the day that one never had the proper allotment of time to do anything that anyone truly wanted!
The matter of the fact was, Tom desperately hated time the more he thought about riddling with it, and thus he began to engineer very clever ways with which he might make his riddling very efficient, and nasty.
He realized that he should torture time. Since time was an entity that, as he realized, was ultimately obsessed with controlling others, he would make it want to hit its head against the wall by completely disregarding it.
So, he went a whole day without paying the slightest of attentions to a clock of any sort. When confronted with the temptations of a sundial, he knocked it over.
When Lucius' mother said, "It's time for some cocktails!", he had smashed said sundial over her head. (Her extermination should have been dealt with a long ago, but he'd rather liked the old ninny, until Tom realized that she had got involved with that traitorous desperado, Time.)
When someone said, "In due time, m'lord, we ought to clean up this mess," in conjunction with the old grandfather clock chiming in the hall, Tom accioed said clock and smashed the nasty little bugger's head in.
But, as Tom soon realized, there was simply no way to make Time lose its temper. It had too many obedient servants serving its every whim. Tom's defiance was no more than a metaphorical drop in the proverbial bucket, which happened to be placed under the hyperbolic hose-bib.
So, how else might he riddle with time? Surrender was not an option, Tom decided, though the options of bargaining with time or allying with time did cross his mind.
The question perplexed him for quite a bit of (ahem) time, until he realized that he was simply enabling time to function because he was not disabling the multitudes who followed it!
Thus, a two-part plan came to his mind.
Part A: Destroy the concept of time in peoples' heads.
At first, Tom thought that by simply destroying clocks, he would defeat time, but the mental picture of a poor family in China saying "It's morning, time to harvest the rice-paddies again," made him shudder in horror, and he realized that he would have to destroy the movement of the planet (along with all the rest of the planets in the solar system) to accomplish this.
Part B: Destroy all numbers.
Tom was quick enough to realize that much of the basis of time depended on numbers, namely because of their capacity of linear representation, so he aimed to destroy every vestige of them.
Then again, perhaps his ambition to stop time was not the whole reason of this; he'd never been very successful at maths, and had carried a vendetta against them for quite a long time after his elementary arithmancy course.
In any case, he carried out this plan flawlessly. He obliviated every person's mind in the whole of England so that they would never remember what times they supplicated to (such as 'time to go to work', 'time to feed the children', etc.), therefore freeing them of all obligation to that terrible tartar.
He destroyed the purpose of all the clocks in the nation, casting a charm that would command each clock to reset to its factory settings, thus rendering all the digital clocks to a blinky-blinky mode and all the traditional geared clocks to a stage where the second hand moved back and forth between three numbers because its factory-installed battery had nearly worn out by the time of purchase.
However, he ran upon a stumbling-block and flipped over it, smashing his skull, when he commanded his death-eaters to destroy all concepts of numbers.
"Erm, how many numbers ought we destroy, sir?"
"Now is not the time to ask questions!" Tom roared, throwing a quick avada kedavra at his too-inquisitive henchman, but then gasped.
While he was such a crusader against time, he still was not free of it.
"Oh, curse you, Time!" he cried in horror, sinking down to the ground with a sob. "You have yet gotten the better of me!"
"I'm sorry, I'm a bit distracted; my watch has stopped," replied Greenwich plaintively. "What did you say?"
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(Greenwich being the primary time upon which all other time in the world is based...set in England...get it?)
Anyhow, hope you enjoyed this little farce, do review!