Sniffles, sobs and other general sounds of life accentuated the pauses in the priest’s sermon. The lights, surging now and then with electric pulses, made shadows gulp and lick at the multitude of black-clad people populating the pews. Confused tourists peeped in now and again, letting in foul odors from the street: sewage, sweating bodies, and exhaust. Louis was torn between leaving with the next gaggle of curious trespassers, but.. something held him back.
    Finally decided, he cautiously made his way to a secluded area hidden behind the imposing columns and tables of burning candles. As he settled in his new spot, he felt his heart, burdened with emotion, seize in his chest and drag him chest first towards the floor. Down he went and turned to look up at the vaulted ceiling; which did nothing to quell the feeling of the walls closing in on him. The murmuring and shoe-shuffling picked up again as the priest got down and the organist prepared for his moment of lime-light. Louis noted bitterly, if even just for a second, that the organist for all his bravado missed several notes and probably hadn’t bothered to check the tuning of the pipes since they had been installed.
    “God didn’t need another angel in heaven,” oh great, the priest was back, “but He got one. This man was an angel even among men. His friends on the field took the time to write me as such!” The sobbs, increased ten-fold, were now joined in harmony by pained moans and the creak of old wood under the stress of bodies rocking to and fro. Louis, himself, had taken to rolling back and forth across the stoney ground. His tears occasionally falling off his face and salting the floor beneath him. genuine, physical pain radiated from his heart to his fingers, arms, legs, stomach, everywhere. The sun, stained red as it lowered itself down the horizon, burned his writhing form. Tarnished gold fanned out of his rolling head, lashing his eyes after a particularly speedy movement. Hands clawed and ripped at his chest. Blood mixed with saliva running down his stubbly chin as teeth tore his lips to keep his voice, or worse yet his thoughts turned words, from escaping. When he could stand it no longer, he raced out of the chapel as the shrieks of a baby accompanied those of the organist’s: whatever was up there, aliens, Heaven, monkeys flying planes would be able to hear those two things.
    Running past generic drugstores littered with motivational posters, collection centers for soldiers overseas, and the dour face of Uncle Sam, he collapsed behind a pile of Red Cross boxes bound for Europe.
    “You really loved him didn’t you?” Louis’ heart fairly stopped. How had they, whoever they were, found out? He had hidden it his entire life, and when he couldn’t...his father had made sure nothing good came of not hiding it.
    “Yes, he...he was my world. What am I going to do without him?” Peeking over the top of the crates, Louis spied a woman huddled on the street corner; shrouded in black and veiled by shadows. Presumably, she had come from the service as he had, but the black figure looming over her and obscuring her face didn’t seem to have run after her. It didn’t even seem human. No distinguishable features, except for its intimidating size, could be made out. All the light around the creature seemed to be dimmed. The woman’s sobbing suddenly changed from emotionally pained to physically. Equally horrified as he was interested, Louis watched as the figure waved a black rectangle back and forth over the woman’s body. Slowly all of her features, shape, color, even her rather distinctive style of crying, was drained out of her; leaving nothing but a white blob on the side of the road. A startled gasp made its way out of Louis’ mouth before he could think. Faster than the eye could blink, the creature turned its head towards him.
    Once again, Louis found himself tearing down the streets of New York. This time he was fueled by terror, and yet, he had enough time to think: Even was I was forced to be on the track team I didn’t run this much. Puffs of foul smelling steam erupted like urban geysers from under sewer covers obscuring him from the creature’s view and vice versa. Blindly turning now and again, Louis only slowed down when he felt his lungs were about ready to explode. Hoping against hope that he had lost the thing, he felt his heart drag him once more to the ground in dread. The lam above him flickered once...twice...snap! Out it went. There it was, in all its non-distinguishable horror. It slowly made its way towards Louis, stretching out its hulking arm and strange rectangular object. Never one to fight, Louis closed his eyes and hopped for someone to help him. A strange numbness spread its way through Louis’ toes to his ankles. Louis looked on as his black loafers bleached, almost as if someone left them out in the sun for a few years, in a matter of seconds.
    “YOLO!” was hollered from above him. Down plopped...the strangest man Louis had ever seen. A huge Indian headdress barely concealed his shock of red hair. His broad shoulders were cloaked in a janglin mass of orange mesh and gold coins overtop a Japanese yukata top. half of his face was painted like a child’s at the county fair and the other half seemed to be permanently covered in a ring of ashes that crinkled near his eyes. Plaid met floral as the man’s kilt flowed all the way down to his wooden clogs.
    “May I help you, dear sir?”
    “Uh…,”
    “Terribly interesting, but seeing as we’re pressed for time, I’m going to take that as a yes!” The man spun around like a ballerina whilst hefting a metallic and rather oddly shaped hand-gun. Without hesitation, he leveled the barrel with the creature’s head and pulled the trigger. This caused lights to flash and a wheezing machine-like sound to issue from the device before…,”Bubbles! You’re going to fight this thing with bubbles?” The creature was obviously much more terrified of the soapy orbs of terror because it gave an inhuman howl and slinked off to the nearest shadow.
    Holstering his weapon, Rag-tag man grabbed Louis’ hand and led his stupefied companion to a nearby trash can, opened the lid, and dumped him in. Instead of slimy peels, crinkly paper, or shards of glass, Louis found himself in an elevator; complete with awkward music and company to boot. Ding! The doors slid open and fairly blinded him with unexpected lightness. When he could take his hands away from his eyes, he was tempted to put them right back. The strange colors of the Rag-tag man were nothing compared to those of the people in front of him. They appeared to be in some sort of parade. Rainbows were everywhere: on the people, their banners, and even the street. Louis noticed, with some dread, that the streets were those of Times Square. However, it wasn’t the Times Square he was used to. The giant, illuminated billboards of his era were replaced with movie scenes. Yet, even those were different as they showed pictures in color. All the shops had been replaced with new ones. What was a Starbucks anyway? Feeling his brain start to hurt a little at the prospect of time travel, Louis looked at the people around him once more. Scantily clad, they marched down the streets blaring music and pausing every now and again to smooch one another; but Louis was rather surprised to see men kissing other men.
    “Wierd, huh?” Rag-tag man smirked behind him.
    “Uh..”
    “Still as sharp as ever, sweetie. Say, while I got ya here, whaddaya think of this? Eternity is in love with the productions of time?”
    “Well...there wouldn’t be eternity without the thought of time? So, anything that made time, produces time, would make...eternity happy?”
    “Not bad, not bad, not good, but not bad either. Since we’re obviously taking this literally, I’ll tell you what I think. The productions of time are more broad than just making more time. The productions are the changes that occur in human behavior at any given moment: the invention of the lightbulb, legalization of gay marriage, or videoing a panda sneezing, all of these things. Eternity loves them because it would get rather boring if we did everything the same for all of time.”
    “Now hold on, you shoot some creature with bubbles and whisk me away to a different time, and all of that just to ask and correct me when I answer a question!”
    “No, I was hoping we could get some lunch too!” Louis threw up his hands in disbelief and was just about to go back to the elevator, or  magical trash can, when he saw a hulking black figure standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Slowly it raised it arm and showed Louis its strange rectangle of doom. A loud, Photobomb, was yelled in his ear as Rag-tag man tackled him to the ground. Together, they army crawled through boa-feather rain and forests of fishnet limbs. “This is the most dangerous weapon of any generation ever. Use it wisely,” muttered the Rag-tag man.
    “A pen? A pen!”
    “No time to explain. Just remember that things always change, so just hang in there.” Louis was shoved back into the elevator and just had enough time to see Rag-tag man ‘reload’ his gun before the doors slammed shut and everything when dark.
    When he could see again, Louis noted that he was back behind the Red Cross crates that he’d first seen the creature. A poster, water-damaged though it was, caught his eye. ‘Animators needed for Walt Disney’s Dumbo,’ it read. Louis looked down at his pen with a hesitant smile.
    “Change, sir?” a squeaky voice asked. A ragged scrap of a boy, most likely an orphan, peered up at him through his mop of red hair. Louis’ smile broadened. A quick interview and legal papers later, Louis found himself with a new job and a new son; which was a rather pleasant change of events from before.
    “Eternity is in love with the productions of time, indeed.”