PART ELEVEN
New York City Hall,
New York,
31 May, 2014,
4:00 PM.
The grandness of New York's City Hall was a proud reminder of what the city stood for. It became a symbol of goodness, and of honorable men and women who were elected and served with a class of distinguished reverence that belied a duty that stretched back centuries.
I watched the massive front doors; I watched the people; I watched the limousines that stretched along 260 Broadway, in Manhattan.
I wore a blue shirt, blue tie, grey trousers, a black belt, red socks, and black shoes. Cindy wore a red dress, grey stockings, a silver Rolex watch, (like I had), and blue high-heeled shoes on her feet. Our hair was clean; our eyes focused on the politicians who were flustered now because of the feminist wars that spilled so much blood that it was tainting the fabric of society itself. America was sick; New York was sick; we were sick.
"Is the damage really...", Cindy said.
"No. Not yet. The time for protestors, mafia kills, online hate campaigns, et all, is a offence on how we eat, sleep, and go to walk each morning; how we go about walking in the afternoons; how we walk in the evenings with women like you, who keep me stable...and how democracy is coming together piece by piece...
..."We're here!".
~~~
Two African-American Officers arrived on the scene.
"Who are you?", one of them asked us.
"Daren, this is my partner Cindy. We're here to meet the Mayor. We're silver traders. We have info on the murders of the innocent men at the hands of the feminist killers". As they were padded down for weapons, they were taken inside City Hall, where Sandra Owineger, the African-American City Hall Mayor, greeted them with open arms in the privacy of the Office to talk about ending the urban violence of the apocalyptic killer babes of New York.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Page 21.