The Clock Guy

The Clock Guy prose poem

Photo by A is for Angie

There once Lived a man named Mr McDocks, he loved one thing and THAT thing was clocks. He fixed them and sold them; he had his own shop, he treasured them always; it JUST wouldn’t stop. He had watches, grandfathers and cuckoos galore, even had wall clocks in his very large store. They’d tick, they’d Tock, they’d buzz and they’d chime; if you were running late, he had the correct time. But one day he entered his shop and he cried, all of them stopped, there batteries had died. Soon they were back to their tick tocking way, he was so happy what more can I say? he build some himself with springs and with gears, now he had been doing this for hundreds of years. Some clocks were quiet and others were loud, he was well known, which made him quite proud. He had many different colors from black to bright green, his designs were the prettiest you just have ever seen. At work he’d say that time had flown by, he didn’t really know how, so don’t ask him why. It started when fixing a clock for his Niece, he did so, just that; piece by small piece. His niece was so happy, she screamed out in Joy; she said “guys, come quickly and see this great boy”. he’d fix yours and get them all ready for you, he was so busy; he started going…..cuckooo. He decided to make some and sell them to fans, he was a genius, had many great plans. One of these plans was to open a store, so on his grand opening, had customers galore. Those clocks went lot hotcakes, the’d fly off the the shelf, even gave tips to fix them yourself. So when a watch breaks, don’t trash them and pout, if you to repair it, just figure it out. The end.

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