There once was an old man., decrepit and soggy in sight. His back and body curled into question mark. He groaned and grumbled all day in his creaky rocking chair by the fire with his dry, stiff, weary mouth. He looked angry all the time, and he seemed to hate everything about everything. But through all his anger and crippled body, there was a softer, much gentler side to this old man. He had a passion bigger than any of the vast fields and farms in the country. He loved to make and collect clocks. They were the only things loud enough for the old man to hear. Not even his hearing aid could pick up any sound, except for that of the clock. It was a strange thing to only hear the sound of, but he enjoyed it so. Every day at midnight, every clock in the house went off at the same time. At this hour, was the only hour, that the old man ever smiled. Laying in his bed just before sleeping at midnight, he heard the thousands of clocks singing to him through the dead night air. He would just smile and go to sleep when the house went silent once again, never even opening an eye. One night, when the air was unusually cold, and the old man unusually tired, he had gone to bed early. All of the lights were out, and the house was silent. The man slept peacefully in his bed. In the midst of the night, there came a noise. A slight creek rang out through the still house. A burgler had opened the door and stepped into the old mans house. He snuck silently up the stairs to the old mans bedroom where he lay sound asleep. “This house will be easy to get, i know this old guy is deaf.” he thought to himself. The masked man tip-toed to the bed, reached his shaking hand slowly in to his pocket, and drew a knife. He watched the old man sleep for a minute or two and whispered, “Now you are mine.” He raised the knife high above his head. At this the burgler dropped his dagger on the old man’s bed, for there came a terrifying noise from the level below. Midnight had struck and he was trapped by the sounds of one thousand clocks, “Cuckoo, cuckoo! Ding, ding! Bong! Tweet, tweet!” no sooner had he turned his head from the noise had he turned it back to see the old man staring into his horrified eyes whispering, “Cuckoo, cuckoo,” which was the last thing the masked man would ever hear.