Only two things in life are certain, death and taxes.

Tiny Tim:

Tiny Tim did not die, and so witnessed the heat death of the universe and was around for the big bang countless millenia later.

Larger Tims have tried to kill him. Before the age of speech, before the Tall Ones had rooted and the maiden of the mountain still bound all the rivers of the world in her hair. In those days the stars were closer and more numerous and more colorful, shimmering with reds and greens and all the nameless colors before mankind named and limited them.

Under this close sky, fresh split from the earth by Zeus’s lance, straining to stand under this immense weight, heaved Tim. Before all things mentioned and unmentioned, before even the sky and earth, before there was even Tim, Tim was alone.

And so it came to be that Tim held the sky aloft and through the gap poured all of existence. The maiden untied the rivers and her hair, once black, fell white upon the mountain. The color of her was washed out to sea, and that is why still today the ocean depths are black.

Oh, right, Tim.

Yes, once there was a Tim.