The Times They are a Hangin'
I'm just waxing all sorts of nostalgic tonight. I remember my grandpa's
house had a huge grandfather clock in the hallway that would keep me up for
hours at night as it tick-tocked into the wee small hours. I would huddle
as far under the comforter of the big feather bed as I could, terrified
that the ticking of the clock would prevent me from hearing the soft toe
shuffling of red eyes and bloody bones as he would stalk through the house
looking for sleeping children to gobble up.
Lucky for me my grandpa was murdered in his sleep by a jealous lover and I
never had to go back to that awful place. My aunt Beatrice got the
grandfather clock and my pappa hated her, so we never went to visit. But I
Some artiste in Atlanta, Georgia, went the extra distance when he set out
to craft himself a timepiece to torment his granchildren with. This
artiste made his own grandfather clock out of sheet metal, surgical steel
and razorwire; and it came complete with it's own grandfather, swinging
back and forth, tick tock, from the end of a long coil of razorwire.
Sadly, the grandfather, one Dr. Malcolm Jardin, didn't live long enough to
see the masterpiece that he was a part of, I guess he didn't have time for
that sort of thing.
Reported by N. Formation, Clan Nosferatu, Morocco.