An 83-year-old time-slowing guru battles a hyperactive teen in a cosmic showdown of clocks, studies, and rogue toasters—featuring caffeine, Csikszentmihalyi, and a spinning ceiling sundial. Time bends. Laughter stretches. Toaster speaks.
Billy Woodfield was 325 pounds of Hollywood legend—writer, hustler, and the man behind Sinatra’s best line. He knew everyone, conned Howard Hughes, and once spent a night in a closet with Marilyn Monroe. True story. He never wrote it. I’m writing it now.
Hans and Liesel, a poor but happy couple, make a wish for eternal love. When Liesel mysteriously conceives, fear consumes them. They brand their child a trickster, spreading dread. Rejected, the boy vanishes into the forest, leaving only sorrow in their home.
I saw him hang by one finger, twist mid-air, and fling himself across a canyon like a steroidal bird. My job? Keep him alive between miracles. I was the brake pedal he never used.
