Last night I realised I had no clean socks. It was a dilema, because you need to wear socks really unless you want your feet to stink and for all your friends to stop talking to you. So I grabbed my laundry box (that's right, I have a laundry box) and headed up the stairs to the kitchen where my washing machine was sat patiently. This all happened at about 11:30, so I figured I'd stay up for another hour or so while the washing finished and then hang all my clothes out to dry, ready for me to wear in the morning and keep my feet smelling fresh and lovely. Time passed, as it does, and after watching last night's Apprentice on iPlayer the washing machine beeped three times to let me know it had finished. Yay!
I took my clothes out. They weren't that wet, really, at least they didn't feel it. I hung them over the banister rail that surrounds the top of the staircase and went off to bed, confident that everything would be just dandy by the time I woke up in the morning.
My alarm went off at 7am and I got out of bed, showered, had a moment of panic when I thought "Bollocks, I have no clean socks. My feet are going to stink and all of my friends are going to stop talking to me," before remembering what I'd done the night before and breathing a sigh of relief. I headed up the stairs still wearing my baggy pyjama pants that make me look like a rapper from the 90's and saw before me my clothes, still hanging there as I'd expected. Brilliant, I thought.
Then I realised I had frozen time. As I picked one of my socks up I noticed that it was still just as slightly damp as it had been the night before. What?!? It's been out drying for the past 6 hours, how can it still be a bit soggy?!? I was perplexed, shocked, almost angry. Why had science defied me so? Why did God hate me? Was it because I'd thought of science being responsible first and it made Him a bit jealous? How the hell am I supposed to not lose all my friends now given my lack of wearable socks?
It was a mystery. But I've learned now that it's also quite exciting. I can control time, bitches. Since that deduction I've been thinking about all the possibilities that this now presents me with, and for your viewing pleasure I have concocted a short list.
Ready?
Good.
- I'll go back a year and get a better haircut.
- I won't buy a Nintendo Wii the first week they come out because they will be a lot cheaper if I just wait a while.
- When, as a three year old, I asked my Dad, "Daddy, which football team should I support?" and he said, "Well you could either support someone good or you could support someone local," I'll chose the 'good' option.
- When the girl I really really liked started making out with another guy right in front of my eyes, I won't just take it like a mug, I'll punch that other guy square in the face, kick him in the balls so that he's no longer of any use to her and then spit on his quivering, battered body as he lies bleeding and cock-less on the floor.
- And finally, for now at least (I'll think of a tonne of others as my powers grow stronger) I will go back to the day my graphic design teacher for A-level told me I would never amount to anything and give him a letter. I will then say, "On the 29th of March 2012 you may open this letter," and when that date comes around, inside he will see pictures of me graduating, pictures of me on my Masters degree course and pictures of me sat in a top London ad agency looking smug, holding up a sign saying "Fuck you, sir."
Life's going to be good from now on. I can sense it. And if it isn't I'll just go back and change it.
