In a Genghis of Time
Introduction
Walking across the plank into the times old history block can only escape the rivers edge unto this embanked curvature of time. These moving bricks a lot the presence that sees its casting take place and away from this god forsaken journey rests assure the casualties of life ever after. From apart this withering tree rests the concubines anchor that overstates the moving cents of time that appears rendered by the showcase of lights. The lights over hills tell only the sad tale of Roman adventure unto the burrowing landscape flickers in the wind and sunset. There! There! Yelled anonymously the mad man of strange streets calling out his mesmerizing ludicrous calls to the states play of adversaries. This is where the two people cried out luminously asking for debate sanguine fortitude to take apart their call of apparition. Seen by the leveling embargo the seas rushed and waved in amongst the growing attention of soulful speakers looking to rarely acquire a sense of judgment. In amongst the heavy iron statues sits the Idol sipping his bright blankent ice water. It is he who destitute the abolishment of slavery and appoints all land owners king. Without prior judgment I make no clerical union my God and wish betterment upon the public name. This is a form of servitude onto the ages and remains plebiscite to all kingdoms comes. And that is me order yelled Genghis Khan!...
“Really Grandpa, you know the story and met Genghis Khan?” asked Timothy
“Well yes, and you remind me so much of him Timothy.” Replied Grandpa Thomas Berkeley.
“Then how was he with story telling himself Grandpa?” asked Timothy exuberant with wanting the details spoken.
“He told stories very slow so every one could hear him, although he wasn’t that loud but spoke with enthusiastic boldness. He once told the story of the wicked fierce dragon who nearly blew fire and put out the Sun, my fair lad.” Said Berkeley orally.
“Cool Grandpa, did the Sun fight back?” asked Timothy
“No, No Son, he gave up for Genghis Khan had immense power.” Replied Thomas chuckling at kids exciting humor.
“We will get back to this book secret another day Timothy, for Grandpa can’t tell you the book of The Dead Sea yet, for you are far too young to hear about reincarnation.” Said Thomas.
“Reincarnation? What the heck is that Grandpa?” asked Timothy.
“I’ll tell you when your older, now go brush your hair and teeth its time for a nap.” Said Grandpa convincible.
“Ah Fine Grandpa, but I do love talking to you about stories.” Replied Tim
“I know, I know.” Said Grandpa Tom.
Chapter 1
Between the ceremony and I was a taxi ride. Going to the show relayed an ephemeral sound judgment in the way I represented the play on Broadway. Like the Taj Mahal this theatre known as Aston Mills presented the bounty declaration to the sources. Through and through the unity of the festival represented love as though no other kind existed. The common ears to a listening situation opened at the back of the auditorium on Broadway. I had just entered the stage of modern theatres to be forewarned by my friend that the act was a marvelous display of hope conducting the tragedies of Shakespearean novelty. Over in the corner of the theatre laid the soundman, oh how I wanted to be this man wondrous in all his joyful works of art. The masterpiece created extreme love for character as once the beginning took stage and apprehended the focus of the audience. There and Out, yelled the characters frolicking around the stage looking for our undivided attention.
I turned to my friend with extravagant detail pointing out the costumes. “How isn’t that modern civilization in a nut shell transposed in antiquity?” I said. As he leaned over the shoulder of my ear pointing out the function ability between his Dad and Grandpa, chuckling possessively. We were entertained and seemed enjoyed for transgression of heart to the classic nature of modern day renaissance re conceived in exerts acts. This was the beginning to an impromptu between my brother and sister who hadn’t undergone the study of culture to a tea, like sipping Che Guevara lasting anointment until he was accused of tyranny. Between the stage and me were about 250 people and they all seemed affluent and transposed by concentration for the latter half. As they finished the play all cheered and clapped enthusiastically pronouncing an undivided attention throughout that complimented the entire works. Walking out unto the wilderness again breached the promise I had to make renaissance a new modern day reality, but back to the old bullish centipede of sorts laid my life at a crossroads for exciting dereliction. Asking my friend to take me up the street to the fifth of Broadway organized the ability to oversee the states men ship to getting across the barrier of lonely empowerment. The road less travelled never bothered Jimmy, as he aggravated the heart of me saying, “You ever think of meeting a special someone or not convincingly possible? Litigating something innocuous.
“Oh Bewitched our all you ‘reality’ goers, the tendency of love is more than perfection is, it is unflouous you bastards.” Replied I.
Gaining an imperative on the actions of love disembogued the enlightenment that only shone on the West and South so to speak incongruent to the abstinence in heart sowed guarantees. We laughed at the thought of you meeting someone all the adults of the neighborhood thought for that implies a sense of gravity unable to stand lured in calculation to your own mass in finite personality to succeed in order with the world.
“Funny how though I submit myself as a great person who sees over the influence of seeing past eye-to-eye Jimmy, for aren’t though to old to worry?” I questioned him.
“But isn’t the laughter like in the play something of hilarious to impiety in the laurels of youth forever, like Picasso’s favorite quote, or for that matter Matisse’s entire formal and secret life.” Refreshed Jim, conventionally oppressing the stomach’s understanding.
They got back to the play, individually outlining the imperfection that loomed Shakespeare’s mind.
“He must of dealt with the odds and sods of incomplete parental madness, for aren’t they forever poking at the inceptions of love and dealing with cheats as if it is a proven 99% of the time action committed in folklore.” Stated Jimmy convincing me that he was entirely old.
“Fact is non-fiction, but didn’t Shakespeare get married 5 or 6 times and leave every one of them after each ‘visiting’.” Replied I understanding his abidance to casualties of love and tragedy.
“I don’t see the aptitude in knowledgeable intercessions to succeed leaving 6 woman for the basis of experience do you?” asked Jim volatile to his reaction.
“Like I know a thing about True Love. You’re asking the wrong person, advertently.” I replied admitting my wisdom to searches, yes searches we would call them.
As they entered the footsteps of his Manhattan Apartment, He ignored the Love duality of exit implying that he’d be fine alone and as a friend it was the best entertainment acted out. They left the facts of question un-loomed for answer separating the likes of the play as a mere tragedy of something that could have been avoided. As the two walked alone the narrow path they thought about the casualties of love and tried to convincingly come up with the quest of challenge to meet that special person that admitted their hearts desire.
Getting up in the morning wasn’t too hard for Timothy as though a million times or more you would rest in your life. Its’ Breakfast time the Grandparents yelled again, avoiding the need to refresh their brains on what was for eats. The same thing as usual and always, the breakfast of champions, toast eggs (sunny-side-up) and the glass of milk and slice of cheese that kept them going throughout the harvest until 12:00 lunch, I repeat 12:00 lunch, right on the dot or else? It appeared to be a bright sunny day they thought barely rubbing their eyes. Today was to be the exactitude of yesterday so everyone wished displaying a factor of appreciation for simplicity of life? Living through the turmoil’s of lost parents gave Timmy the key to adversary living with his Grandparent indefinitely, as though his brother played the wide-open bachelor living downtown Manhattan as we believed Seattle was the best option for us, so he travelled afar to take on work as a News reporter taking on the fights of the world ring competitively.
“A walk seems right today my lad” said Grandpa vigorously contemplating his legs, although.
“Grandma has to stay home we have company tonight for pie to discuss the plans of going to Manhattan to meet up with Adam.” Said Tom sadly, but not too sad.
“Okay Grandpa, lets hit the Seaborg to see them dolphins a float, I got to touch one before I grow up, to tell the other kids at school.” Replied Timothy.
“Alright Dude, but be careful they connect life to the water life, which means you might turn into a sea creature.” Said Grandpa.
“Really, well is that alright if you just keep me in an Aquarium Grandpa.” Giggled Tim.
“Oh be quiet Sonny, I was only poking fun at the facts, you’ll be fine, it’s like rubber.” Replied Thomas chuckling.
“Well let’s go, get ready you two, you better be ready for a great day.” Stated The Grandma of both of them.
“Let’s go come on hear I got a print job that needs to be done, get this article pumping blood it is time for action people, time for action.” Said the Manager of New York Times.
The printing press never stopped It always contained the action that appeared ridden by temporal power to provide information for the people. Taking two steps back I recognized the ability to escape the stress and be right hear at home with the finding. Just last week the barrier to the Zoo had been opened and escaped wild herds of animals convicting the need for astonishment. They had caught a few and reestablished them in the property but still on the loose were a Giraffe and an apparent wild bird, which in Egyptian times was called Iwiw. I had reported on the issue two days ago down at the State Zoo and heard that a masked robber had opened the cage to the Zoo by stealing a key from the sleeping attendant around midnight on a Saturday night when all the animals who are nocturnal are full of spunk with their eyes open. Apprehended by judgment my boss loved the story and said it would get third page from the top, which was my highest showing in a year’s work, which made me proud. This was the job and hard it was to keep interested the public, so this story led the way unto the future I hoped.
“Going the distance on a petting Zoo extravagance are we Adam?” shouted from across the cubicles was his friend in business competing with him on the finer styles of life in fashion but had his own section to worry about, although, important reach and frequency was his competing nature.
“Yeah and there’s still more action, I guess the bandit who let them free was dressed up as a state Guerilla, what a joke showing.” Replied Adam laughing at bizarre people.
“I bet he thought he was in Planet of the Apes and was really just Harrison Ford in A Trek for NY Times Stardom.” Said his partner in crime, so to subject.
“I don’t believe it for a second, they say he’s been up in the Soho watching plots of Animal Kingdom over shots of Fish Oils in the desert of Sahara every couple other months with his Girlfriend.” Replied Adam impacting the stories fortitudes.
“He must be a real Avid entertainer if he thinks its his call to the wild, with animal children, so to speak.” Spoke the other reporter, behaving heavy to the work campaign.
“Well I got to get back, this work is daunting my creative juices.” Said Adam.
“Well grab an apple Juice, it’s the Big Apple my friend, and news business is the fashion of passion in peoples eyes.” Replied the reporter.
“Ha-Ha Bias you little poser of details, just kidding my friend, lets get back at her.” Spoke the distinguished center of Adams, behavioral vows to himself and his fellow colleagues.
They judged the atrocities of news forever more always competing for top spot, or the most attention in public buzz. As they got to the details it was another hard day, the altruism of work that led to the entire New York Times paper, and this was their moment again, day-after-day to shine. Then the wooden drawer to the filing cabinet had escaped men that could only amount to the army of news stories that supersede the fiery debate in public. Against a coming of doubts the newsroom fazes from its burst of air molecules it sees in the vision of the best story yet. I have gladdened the times of many magicians in reporting and the stories of great buzz have arrested the time of casted brains for now. Again the yawn mashes the systems glance into reading space but the shadow of every story has deepened our hearts vision into the space between the lines. Yet there are still changes in the public and natures paths have come to meet us in the earths wide open staircase to walk up to the New York Times and meet the reporters behind the great big deal stories like us gentlemen, which our world created out of nothing at first artificial, now stories retold perfectly, like a friendly game of operator.
The prevalent facts told me why according to the New York Times all media replayed the roots of history. On the idea of loose strings I approached the reporting meeting spot for a luncheon. Upon the meeting we discussed the ability to get better results. According to our manager we were still number one. As though entertainment achieves wondrous calamity it also represents a peaceful sacrifice to sustain realities relationship with society. “As the creation of news changes so too does my showcasing, so may you apprehend initiative, please?” Jeff said ending the meeting. As we all went back to the floor we developed an aptitude for embellishing our stories with gussy advantages and perks. As I dwelled on length the excess material caught my eye. I was provoked by detail noticing that the Zoo story submitted worth, by the altruism’s of design to a cities wide-open landscape in the inner downtown. In my hands was the figment of introspect in just a moment of past time but in my adopters and readers it is just a figment of news certainty that lasts a feasible amount of time in attention, which is great, and what I want. Upon understanding my article I underwent the conviction of spread from my point-of-view devouring a sense of attention to detailed facts.
Chapter 2
The ending ceremony began to forfeit the right to a list of sideshow events, as we had gathered are belongings into the crowd waiting the times of cheering. It was the third event we had been through for the New York times and reminded me why I loved this job so much. The ceremony was another one of those wine and cheese time events where the people go sour after about 45 minutes of entertainment, until something obnoxious happens which has the whole crowd talking about it.The coming of new situations in this event has saved us and redeemed us from our devastation of the dinner table. Anointed in one of these drinks is the power that has created life in many forms of this party to be brought and ordained in the news tomorrow. The Kingdoms of different social classes have risen in light to be separated from our well-dressed and blessed speakers in the showcase. The mystery prevails the person who drank that special glass of wine known as the entertainer as I ponder the questionable creations of this event. The paradox of mystery and secret is the fact that one is known and one may never be known in this case, I’m assuming the Boss drank it, cause He looks a little tipsy in the corner talking to some beautiful woman, who actually is his wife. By the presence of the staff there still lingers discovery so that we may understand the possibility of finding answers to questions on why we come to this event still every year and play these ‘onlooker’ games. The power to create looking glass options gives light to news sources I guess but this light is unavailable to many reporters and we ask why? Beyond comprehension are these mysteries to giant stories and giant events and too me many secrets still linger the New York Times because knowing still can’t solve the mystery of what creates Buzz at these historical get tog ethers, other then the people or crowd who just knocked over the nearest table, again.We closed the exit to the signing book release before 10pm as though the crowds would get ridiculous which they did, but never mind that. The ceremony gathered enough people to fill a stadium ending up leaving the newscasters left behind with nowhere to drink their wine, which was our unfortunate problem. They both hampered into the washroom for a second laughing at the penthouse debate over the bosses right-winged wife who anticipated a fight in the sports section of the paper every weekend. Peering through the looking glass mirror approached the right wayside of men, telling me I looked good at these events. Subordinate to the fact it was Fred and I who played the stories of regular city news day in and day out. Leading to the stories of last week told me how disarranged people exit the zoo in search of a happy meaning to life. And speaking of that the bosses wife has got it going for her, did you see her $10,000 blouse, my goodness sakes, take her home and spoil her. They exited the washroom looking for the fashion glitz police that apprehended the judgment on this Saturday night. Going into detail for the ones who cared didn’t really matter to me, for I knew that Fred and I knew every duck in the showcase and to me, the boss decided who would get the promotion from the story in the news not the dress at the event although his wife showed off differently. Although the night turned out grey the better half of the event ended up drudged by the effects of rich wine snobs pouring down their $10 dollar glasses effectively due to sour vividness. As we closed the event for the night around 1 am the crowds poured out of there, achieving the summer blues that made up the nightly bashes of parade. We didn’t stay to clean or anything but walked down to the pizza joint for a late night snack. At the Pizza place there was huge commotion and a giant set of drunks wandered in aimlessly complaining about a bar fight that sent the whole crowd leaving the nightclub. I turned my money waste side ordering a full out large to devour in about 4 minutes I was so hungry, as these people turned to me and said wait your turn, asshole. I couldn’t believe it New York is nothing like Seattle, the people are arrogant and snobby as shit and entertains the calm presence out of me, excessively. Waiting my turn I handed the money to the cashier who ended up dropping the change, as she couldn’t find it, she asked me to repay, I thought to myself, ‘you got to be kidding me’, as I took no harm and handed her the extra $1.25 in change. Luckily the pizza was good and Fred stayed and had a slice before taking off early to catch some sleep and rest before the big news day tomorrow. Before exiting I paid my homage and cleaned up the act of denouement scouring the table with my tongue so to speak I was famished, although dealt with worst during a busy week. Walking home I stumbled along way peering through the shops in Soho awaiting my purchase of clothing’s next week or the week after payday.
“Look, Look Grandpa, A Sea Shell.” Yelled Timmy convicting.
“Wow, isn’t that strange, that’s Grandma’s ancient artifact Timmy, just kidding.” Said Grandpa
“I bet it is, it fits right at home with the rest of her furniture.” Repeated Tim
“That is true, however isn’t it a shame we don’t already have one, would you like to bring it home?” asked Thomas remarkably intriguing.
“Sure Grandpa.” Said Tim with enthusiasm
They walked up and down the beach ranting and raving about the weather, as we stopped to watch some big kids play volleyball.
“Hey you old man, get that ball for me.” Yelled a kid from the court to Thomas.
As Tom grabbed the ball and gave it a big spike, telling his grandchild he use to be a pro.
“Nice spike old man.” Said the kid.
The complete traversing details around the volleyball net told me I’d have to watch Timothy growing up so that he didn’t get a demeanor attitude about him that didn’t fit in or was truly out of place. Taking a few steps back I think Timothy looked a little timid from these big guys as he repeated double guessed himself walking away trying not to pay to close attention. We walked away down the coast to go say Hi to the dolphins that swam up the ocean side close to the shore vividly attainting the perfection of low currents.
“Grandpa, Can I touch one, Can I touch one?” asked Timmy
“Sure Tim, just don’t get to close, you’ll fall in and it will eat you.” Laughed Grandpa
“Sure Grandpa, those dolphins would probably be the nicest friends.” Slowly blurted out Timothy
As he reached in and grabbed one he jumped back.
“Ewe those are really slimy feeling.” Said Tim
As Grandpa Thomas chuckled and said I told you so. They moved along the side of the Pacific going on about its shade of blue as they left after that going on and on about the way dolphins swim and how they use their head to do all the motions. Beyond the stargazer was ornaments preceding this look of resentment to not leaving into New York. It bothered Thomas every once in a while that he never joined Adam, as nice as Seattle was. The turnover of sides gathered acquired steam leaning towards Timothy grabbing his hand gently saying;
“You understand someday you shall follow in your brothers footsteps?”
“I guess, but Seattle is the place to be, and I don’t want to leave you Grandpa.” Replied Tim
The situation faltered going beneath the vision of sentimentalities. For once Grandpa knew the monologue of fore sightings envisioning a subtle goodbye, but the admittance continued. For once in twenty lives this neo-platonic in sight told the story of Tim and Tom going on with general reality, forever they added is a must. As they returned back to the summerhouse, lunch was ready for them, and company was about to be coming over in an hour or so.
I rolled out of bed, barely breathing, and taking a big sip of water re-laid down my head. Taking on all these projects at once told me I was no savior and needed a stronger work force to battle the great details of getting the Headliner one time in my lifetime, come on the front page, I always tried to motivate myself. Brushing my teeth after the shower freshened up my attitude as I went down stairs and made a fresh pot of coffee, the beginning to every day looked like this and needed it congruently. Taking out the New York Times from the previous day of writing I noticed my Zoo story on the fourth page. The Fourth page, for gosh darn it, I thought it was the third page, disappointing me so early on in the morning was a fact and rolled that way for the last couple weeks, so it seemed. Daunting on me was this top story biz and it remained that way, as though I wanted it but knew it would never happen. Taking a deep breath I finished my two cups of early morning start-ups and made way for the subway to get to work. Along the way I’d always run into the same jogger and the same people going to work, but never noticed that they probably noticed me the same way, however that made me or them feel, I did not know, but noticed, yes noticed. Getting up the street to the subway car, I saw three crimes, per usual, theft, theft, theft, and more theft, giving me a stinking clue why I even cared to do this publishing reporting anyways. Leaving the subway station took me to fourth where I would eventually make it back to the New York Times again for another day of business. Over the path of uncertainty I travelled the way. Appearing from behind the shadows were two lonely people carrying their crates of belongings. From a different standpoint I preceded into their scope of recollection. Upon the fourth of the street were scattered chalk scribbles going on about Wall St. Protests and Occupy Trade. Around two thirds of the neighborhood paused to see a fisherman hook a car if that made any sense at all. Through the pliable end of the matter I tightened my grip on my briefcase carrying my next newspaper file. From beneath the start of the walk to work after the subway I straddled the foot underneath my head pushing back the abundance of excitement towards the exit of my sudden adventure. Leading back to the beginning of this work day led me to believe that the front page would get torn or sent over the edge, but I would make it, I knew I would. Back to work the story proceeded taking me above expectations that once believed I wouldn’t make it to the front page, or to work this morning. As I made it to work there were piles of rubble on my desk and co-workers trying to keep me busy so early.
“You been keeping up with the Zoo story Adam?” asked a coworker
“I’ve been trying, but there is news at the MOMA about a stolen Van Gogh that’s keeping me busy.” Replied Adam
The company had arrived. Enthused about a Sunny Day per usual. It had been nice for a week straight after two weeks of rain. They all poured Tea’s and sat for a while in front the newspaper. Talking about trips to Georgia, Timothy and his Grandparents were flabbergasted with their stories.
“In downtown entertainment we saw the buskers performing live stunts on stilts doing backflips and vertical spins.” Said their friend Jack enthused with adversity.
“Sounds interesting for 15ft flips sounds crazy.” Repeated Grandma Laura shockingly.
“Yeah and didn’t even screw up, I mean come on, that’s ridiculously entertaining.” Said Jack
“I suppose.” Stated Tom unaware of the distinguished fun demeanor.
As they sorted through the tea an Apple pie was brought out to drive the crowd nuts. Grandma had baked the pie early this afternoon.
“Now we have to tell you we’re going on a trip to New York City in two weeks to see Adam, friends.” Anxiously inputted Thomas.
“Oh yes, How is Adam doing? For such a little boy to be living in a big city, working where again?” stated and asked Mary
“Well New York Times my friend and he’s the big reporter in Manhattan local section, the face of the pre relevance state of NY.” Said Grandma all excited about her grandchild.
“The NY Times, Wow, that’s a big gig, so he’s the man who solicits the neighborhood, I won’t ask.” Said Jack sarcastically.
“Well yeah, and doesn’t mind it, finds the power to insinuate information thoroughly, you guys, adding sublime impact to peoples lives.” Said Grandpa as Timmy sat their quietly listening.
“So we’ll be gone for two weeks, going to do some city searching for Adams 29th and celebrating his latest big story.” Simply blurted Grandma
“Oh that’s great say, Happy Birthday to him its been 4 years since I’ve seen him.” Said Mary in salute.
“Will do, he must remember you for it was his last graduation that he saw you at.” Replied Laura
Going on with pie they stuffed themselves to the pits of their stomach going on about how Seattle seems nicer than New York for many reasons. Putting on the pressure Grandpa Tom asked when Jack and Mary would be getting married, as they smirked at each other and said no answer.
“What you guys can’t complete your relationship and agree on anything?” said Tom in a sarcastic tone, chuckling under his breath.
“You know how Women are.” Said Jack laughing hard
“Oh shush.” Said Mary also laughing
“You know it’s been a long time since I’ve not seen you together though.” Added Grandma movingly.
“True enough a solid 7 years.” Replied both friends.
Discussing odds and sods they moved into the living room pushing the table towards the center of the room. Going on about different trips and old memories the two friends told the stories of two waiters last week in Georgia who had got kicked out of their own restaurant for arguing over splitting tips. One had almost strangled the other with his tie complaining that the girl gave more because she was flirting with him. Showing the other waiter her number still didn’t prove the higher sum so he grabbed his tie and wrapped it around his neck demoting a higher sense of astonishment almost cutting off his own necks circulation. They struggled for 5-10 minutes before the Manager made them leave, working and serving the rest of their shift. “This happened downtown at a fancy restaurant too, we were shocked.” Said Mary, snarky.
“Believe it isn’t so, as though money makes a grown man weary.” Said Tom
“I may do that for money.” Yelled Timothy, after an hour of silence.
“Oh Timmy, relax sweetheart, you have plenty of time before you have to worry about grown up things.” Replied Grandma transposing something deeper.
As they remember being Kids once and buying their first toy. The gathering led to more talking before announcing each other’s freedom fight. Leaving the friends in desolance again submitted translation to relational communication forking friendship to important discussions around Reality.
The vision grew apparent to Timmy’s wishes. Throughout the end of summer Tim twisted and turned his head cumbersome to the will of his grandparents environments. Turning the television on played on the intuitions that loomed giving him the sight of three eyes. Against the screen laid the given stare taking every sitcom out of context. With the bribery of forces the made insight broke free from heaven’s rainbow putting the pot of Gold right in Timothy’s lap;
“Here’s the converter your big enough now.” Said Grandpa
“Sweet.” Replied Tim
As the channels turned they giggled appropriately. Acquiring a sense of decency they provided assistance to the fact.
“Whoa. Wait a minute turn back is that Genghis Khan?” asked his Grandparents interestingly.
“Yay, Yeah.” Said Tim as he turned back.
The program continued providing a certainty to the apprehended judgment of mythological war.
As we all heard Genghis Speaking in front of Mt.Sinai;
Soothsayer been told that without my mighty tongue and breath of fire there is no use for the Sun as though we are both the same in body. Along the ocean lay my wondrous tub, so that it may be ordained with blessing for the children of the earth.
“That’s me.” Yelled Timmy
Going on with Genghis;
This by the fire of God and the elements of earth that together make up the universe of this worldly creation. Then within the span of my arms I grabbed the children in one swoop and carried them to heaven.
“Take me.” Yelled Timmy as his Grandparents and Company over laughed, stating that they love the story of Genghis Khan.
Chapter 3
Burrowing in on the afternoon blitz carried away this sort of refreshing act of decency. It had played on me why my Grandparents still lived in Seattle, although they’d be visiting in a couple weeks to get ready for my Birthday celebration, the lofty 29th. One year before 30 and I was so afraid to grow up years ago but now it will be a breeze. Going along the slick routes of entertainments played on me congruently everlasting the Soho buzz that loomed downtown New York culture. The patterns outline the prognosis to this ideal concept that enlightens the world. I got up to wash my face knowing I did not want to go into work, but admitted the secure output I’d wish to support on my way to a financial war with the art enthusiasts at the New York Times. I was an art collector myself one of the biggest in the world and admitted that I had only truly undertaken this responsibility as a way to advance my curriculum in the mission to obtain the greatest adoration to the public eye. Lifting the suitcase I had piled under my pillow showed the truth that borrowed this recumbent fact to state that I was under the influence of a business case. I had wanted to break into the Modern Museum of Art at night and capture a slew of paintings from the early days of Spanish monasteries. Meeting up with some art collectors at noon would be required as I situated the refusal to admit that I knew barely enough art history to get by, as I chose to report on the story of the famous and lost Van Gogh portrait of his cut-off ear in solitude and solemn praise. As the meeting prolonged its disaster it was time to secure the trading history I needed to inform the public of the latest know how to the coming cases on Rothschild and the stolen Van Gogh’s from year past. Opening the crates systemized the format I wished to pursue. “You seen that latest work up on the fifth of Maine by that street man, whatca call him super-dud?” “Nah, but he’s been doing a lot East Central.” Helping move the crates he commented on the super huge mural by Matisse followers in the corner. “Wow they’ve really been doing traits incessant to the fact, eh?” “Yeah, and the hopes are getting brighter with insight.” I better move into the case wilder and need to soon meet up at noon for the undertaking on finding the classic history of early 90’s modern art.
“Timothy it is time for some more stories on the late Genghis Khan, come on now.” Yelled Grandpa Tom from upstairs, downstairs.
“Sit on my lap sonny.” Said Old man Thomas cheerfully.
“I will start at the top, inspirational and happily ever after.” Stated Timothy’s Grandpa.
The boundaries are limitless may I add together we have combined the instincts of the Lord upon us. When the dividing nations connect all will be emancipated in light and to this evening we are one in body. The inside of nature is boundless like an endless book and need no reason to be opened other then by the spatial necessities of us. When all is met in the center of the ocean we will raise the gauntlet of stairs and touch the U mountain within these walls, which hold together the last of the nest of particles. These balls of joy round up the populations so that they will not fall or ever be brushed with out innocence or reason of doubt for the duration of time that is upon us so ever waiting. This is us and together we are one and from here the light of Mt.Sinai will be brought to rest in the mezzanine of all altar boys and praise for the dialect of questions and answers, oh please I ask for reasoning and need of awareness for the greater cause and why there is still the loss of such proven facts we search endless for, to answer existence. This is the time to be brought upon the riding waves and search till the ends of this story and reach the gaining power of future evolution in the particles around us that we wish to find. Said Genghis Khan powerfully.
As his mercenaries added;
The world watched passionately approaching a new fate from across the Seaborg we could see the risen lambs await salvation and offered mentions to the coming gods. Atop the highest curve were the graces of ice adhering to the new red moons. Across buttons of leviathans were polar time capsules coming to grips with their alternative debates with the far west into Agway’s. Amidst the stories of cliffs and hangars with steps were the crystal beads encapsulating the qualities of labored life within others and us.
The kingdom has fallen upon these gifts to be lifted up and arisen to the Tomb of the Adenine. Along with the moon I must go to be true in the names of all particle children in Gods world. As the Holy Lamb moves to Pallas to ordain the rest we clamped the cents of two parishes that could anoint the Devil in his fame upon us. As the motionless Sun gathered the seeds and seas the Zenith split putting our house at reach end proving to be a new in Christ’s commands, now known as the Doyniche. For all together the world reached Infinity continuum reaching the new earth under Zartodano in the sky. Repeated Genghis Khan superfluously.
“Oh man I love Genghis Khan Grandpa, he’s so cool!” exuberantly said Timmy.
“I know, isn’t he the greatest of all kingdom Gods.” Said Thomas
“Yes, of course, with his bold presence and powerful atrocity in speech and story-telling.” Said Tim
“I will get to the part about setting the Sun in the Heavens soon in order to build and someday destroy for the greater good of civilization Timothy, but don’t get to afraid or worried, alright?” Admitted Grandpa Tom.
“Alright.” Yelled Timothy with excessive happiness portrayed.
According to paper facts the name of the game is entertainment, so I chose my piece revival. On the basis of buzz the no how of stories supports my own interests. Getting back to my luncheon meeting with Rothschild separated the clearing of claims. Supporting an ancient Van Gogh painting portrait of his cut-off ear. The meeting spot had an eccentric vibe portraying the concept of a Romanesque feel set for a Queen. So I was down the alley going for my luncheon with Rothschild. Meeting up at the local café on 4th downtown represented the established folklore of acquiring a sense of decency to justify the realization that this was the authentic famous art collector. It took place in East Manhattan convincing me that the classical nature experienced dealt with a sense of integrity way past abstract modern aptitude. Between Rothschild and I we settled into high-end water discussing the valuable finer things of life like fashion and furniture and the cohesiveness of new politics in between. Remember my study of design at MOMA I pointed out the angular concept as a sense of protruding essence that symbolized emotion, relating to Henry with a tendency to suppose originality with enthusiastic European persuasion. As the conversation eluded deep personality and intelligent roots the bare bones necessity of the discussion twisted to psychoanalysis with fragmented speech correlation with the likes of Sigmund Freud remembering a letter from Einstein simply stating;
“Wow, well this is truly Oedipal weird and awkward.”
Going on and on about the creation of art represented the truly remarkable promising effects of famous collections that proceeded, so Van Gogh, yes Van Gogh. As we sat down and ate our pears and sandwich we sipped a tea latte with water, sparkling water I may add. Leaving the situation untouched led me to ask the lofty questions about art and Van Gogh’s career. Up until now I could barely ordinate the coming times of situations where I would I guess deal with the plot of following and making someone famous? But Van Gogh was a master and lost his career do to schizophrenia and the idea of followings once Dadaism took flight. Ordinance deals with a lot of steam but the idea of cutting off your own ear deals a lot with paranoia to the fact that his famous ‘offerings’ dealt with incessant facsimile worries that it in fact ending up creating more and more to offset the creation of originality which ended up killing off every famous artist after him, in which, nothing not even American history was then important to anyone. Then his European predecessors ended up beating through the bush launching abstract comparisons, which ended up drowning the art scene, forever, and forever. I leaned over to ask Rothschild to borrow a pen scratching in the surface a remarkable sense of decency to just ask the question?
“Who is Van Gogh? And what does he really consider his career to be?”
Rothschild smirked and said honestly that is the greatest question as though, who is I and who is I to be? Playing the devils advocate he said Van Gogh was the troubled man at midnight who worked until the morning hours prevailing artistry to the questionable yard marks of famous atrocities that capture the mind.
“Then why does he sound so devilish to compare himself to the greats and forget the rest as a mere illusive bargaining claim to appear ridden by distinguished authoritarianism?” said Adam questionably.
“I believe he dealt with his disease rather well, and bore significant defeat to others agitation in order to claim himself God to the fact of ‘followings’ in which he didn’t want to appear greater by any means, he was just loved so greatly for his creations, that he ended up creating the majority of western civilization in a whole two years of his career, half drugged, half ill-listening. But by the end of his life in retirement he had created a century long story that led the way to the new world.” replied Rothschild going on about his life’s story.
“True said, then where do you think this famous painting stands as a significant part of civilization, and why has the stolen monument yet to be discovered?” asked Adam exuberantly.
“The monument is yet to be revealed but will be found sometime in the future when it is essentially worth billions of extravagantly bound money.” Replied Rothschild going on about the uniqueness of Van Gogh’s famous ear portrait after he cut it off.
Walking away from the situation seemed worse. As Grandpa Thomas sounded the alarm of another dinner escapade the look on Grandmas face softened the mood. Timmy didn’t want to eat but wanted ice cream. Grandma always shrugged it off and gave him what he wanted. As Old Man Thomas always got cheesed off. The look of broken astonishment filled their face when Timmy finished three scoops of ice cream in under a minute.
“Full, Slim Tim?” asked his Grandparents, both exhausted with pleasing torment.
“Gracious.” Simply put Tim, smile cheek-to-cheek.
The great aspiration of children lived on contemplating the moods symbolic nature. Along the table sat the empty dish going on about cleaning them stayed put as they wished Timmy could clean them but asked him another silly question;
“What would you do if you had no mouth to feed?” asked Grandma to Timmy
“Well I’d be like Alice in Wonderland and go to Kansas.” Yelped Tim
They all burst out laughing, hysterically.
“You have to be kidding Timothy.” Laughing said Grandma
“You’re freaking kidding.” Yelled Grandpa hysterically
As the crowd went crazy, the continuation of laughter settled. Through and through life had its ups as moments turned into memories, and timeless extravagances paid for laughter on a MasterCard smoldering the deck of only childhood kings and aces.
The convincing part of Grandma and Grandpa was their unconditional care for Timothy. They impacted the prevalent facts of organizing everything for him color coordinated. Like me I used my bookshelves to offset temporal space leading to a definite creation of idealism. According to my parents I led a bizarre percentage of time pushing papers of mine to the back of the desks. Like people in Carnegie Hall my NY Times collection filled the upper part of my room with fabricated externalities. Looking through different settings created a sense of decency, which led me to search the Bronx for something new.
The swift embracing fall of footstep landed in front of me as I was thinking to myself. Across parallel visions the feel of air swooshed against my face. Feeling like Timothy as a child I panicked remembering the time he fell from the jungle Jim. The motion of cycles played on me like the scope of sunrays in the distance. Before the afternoon the begging of stories about Genghis Khan usually happened in Seattle with Timmy. As the changing views spiraled through bright sun binoculars I changed the entertainment to his following mercenaries. In amongst the lit candles Grandma always listened into the story telling and remained told by only one comment;
“Timothy always remember that the God of Earth is the Sun, and cherish its love and happiness.” Said Grandma sharply
“Will Do.” Replied Tim soft and subtle to the purpose.
Going on after discourses signified the duty of life’s preparation. By the time I separated the belongings from my room to do laundry, it was already 2 pm drifting away. Before the call of action appeared desired by the colliding sunlight all memories shifted into overdrive powering through housework. Within the moment of my destinations downtown the opportunities remained grandiose looking for an article to mark my history, before hearing the call of the Grandparents about their visit next week.
Chapter 4
The time was now, and this was when. Where the lights hit the landscape at Central Park is where I sat encasing the determined nuisance we called existence in the outer realms of deep space thinking about myself. Moving the barricaded stone monument sent the rushed atrocity to the main vein pursuing a difficulty in the heaven sent ways that appeared not so difficult to me. Rustling against a foreign backdrop in New York meant the new staircase dripped in elegant water what many believed to be the oceans escarpment to heaven in this park I spent my avid time in on lunch break. Before I would write the article on the art collectors to report on the Van Gogh Ear Drum piece.
Walking up the staircase I noticed a home, a bright tree home, like in secret settings and a giant tree outlined in crusading forms. The oak trees wormwood protruded the saying, splintering the facts of language to the outer woven crevices that held the sweaty palm of my nailed perfection. This secret home reminded me of Genghis Khan’s secret hideout, which my Grandpa always told me stories about as a child he was our favorite Mystical kingdom God. My lover never betrayed me before he use to say, as in high school for me, last, they laughed and my mother never let me weep but today was different, very different, and it was beginning to show that I had reached the mesmerized focal point that shown knee deep in acclimation. Bearing false witness wasn’t suppose to happen as I draped a linen cloth over my right leg as it bled the sacrificial anointment that held this key to the door of paradise. Opening the door left the public of news reporting unattained by promise to appear at the case of all withering trees and rose bushes that could only see the hope in lucks only leaving statue. The ladder I climbed to the top of the world held my promise and this was the never-ending beginning of a world inside the closed gate of an outdoors park that only had newspapers to read. The newspaper that made up existence and had the friends I would make my own through the words I seldom used to portray myself. Locked, locked inside this park forever, my mind thought as I travelled to the far corner looking for Waldo so it appeared, but I could not find him. He was my first friend and I could never understand where he went, it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy my company he was just a wanderer and never admitted his failure to sit. Searching the compass of space in Central Park next to me led me to a secret garden and within this secret garden was a snake, a pet snake, named Seayu and he knew I was in love with him as purely a friend. The truth of this dilemma was not the size of the mistake but the journey to the ending rows of flowers that made this story lush. I grabbed the missing numbers to this postal code and wrote a letter to the south stating that I needed a napkin to clean my face from this awful taste of black licorice that I gently enjoyed outside of the bush nearby. Well it was time to get back to work, the work I so promisingly enjoyed thoroughly. With a showing of depressed dialects to the winning story this week on a huge jewelry theft the coming of angels wiped the slate clean to a governed principle of law anointing the kingdoms of New York to come upon the cheek blushes to all the reporting staff this week. Where the satire read had opened the newspaper last elegant pages the bound of remembrance exuberantly encompassed the slaves torrential ambitions to work harder and faster for the truth was yet to be washed upon the shore for the plagues of weak stories had never dried against the Alpha loins as when the particle of hearts broke free into the nest of truth and wealth gaiety. There were many ways to earn this wonderful living and the coming of news reporters had proclaimed the honest dialect of good wishes upon the news for I had engaged in the outsole that provided reality to a governing outside world in New York. There was always a truth in the realism of communicated stories for my plot was not out of the ordinary for all things had become one in the traverse nature of cities diligent escape of arts and entertainment. The song of internal condemnation played over and over again and brought me to my sense equation where I had admitted the artistic bound of uniform papers and spiral notebooks to wear my heart felt stories on the publics sleeve and provide a new climax in the beginning of something larger and more appropriate. Then again I could not imagine the freedom of writing the honorary diplomas again and again until the last day where I was thrown out of communication to work on the final duality of truth and uniform citizenship that I so wanted and desired to win the huge prize of ‘Remembrance’ on the Front Page. There was always love for reporting and the needs to be washed clean of free will for the truth was set to realize that my bending of time and space had been met with the chosen few in this workplace environment that needed this life more than I indeed needed them yet stayed communicated through faith and openness to associate pain with the forgiving techniques of art and reading the New York Times everyday in and out, avidly.
The entertainment section was bumping this week, I said turning to my friend in business, and you know my partner in crime. He had just discovered a new movie on life in Egypt with the Elephants, except a 3-d version reminiscent of Jurassic Park. The movie had exemplar persuasion to excite kids baring the essence of new cataclysmic effects on children.
“Would you be centering out Mills theatre for the showcase?” I asked
“Maybe, but every theatre in the city is showing it, and I can’t get ahold of anyone.”
Said Mark
Then they imagined history in present day, ornamenting the idea of futurism through experience. Going through adventure in the NY Times was always just the thing. For now the present day activity seemed translucent and made us forget about the idealism that presented itself with evolutionary changes.
As Timothy turned to Grandpa, he turned the sour cheek.
“Ah come on Grandpa I was only kidding.” Said Timmy
He had pointed out the wrinkles in his cheek absorbing the narrow-minded separation of oldness to young. Through the stories of youth it never despised them why they’d been locked together in Seattle, but it played on with rhythm and finesse. Blaring through the oldies music again Grandma yelled at them both through the screen door,
“You two get some hair on your chest and come dance the blues away, you hum bugs.”
As they appeared ridden by the claims, they poured a set of beverages sifting through the nighttime shades. Against you or I said Grandma in a tango for self-preservation. Looking at each other with gladdened eyes they put up their boots so to speak, dancing the night away.
Adam broke away from the crowd for the night seizing the chance to enlighten his finding way home. Going through the shadows in the nighttime city played on his ulterior mind without the rush of humdrum on lookers. As he peered through the graven turmoil of the youth wasted at the side road, he played onto the street corners his swagger attitude rumbling in the city of Manhattan. Before not too long he’d been asleep like his neighbor worrying about the tunes of the broadcasting partiers going on about how the nighttime is meant for living. When they got to the bottom of the bed morning would be theirs’ draped in linen. As the night passed the morning came fresh out of the autumn winds.
Looking through mirrors staring at yourself tells me why things look subtle in a picture rather than bold in a straight stare. So my hair I thought, slicking it back, I must do something more fascinating with my hair. Pulling back the ears to a Monday Morning told me the necessities of existence with my coffee. In and around the beauty of my partner in fashion News, the critique always happens and salutes the ability to cease impression. Without the newspaper hit lists there would be no use for competition in beauty and writing skills. Supporting the reporter movement for recent news developed the cataclysm of unions in the informative gateways for two mornings I dwelled in production for work and knew I’d have to get out of this mind hole before my Grandparents showed up to visit in a weeks time. The yard mark for work seemed endless and needed a day off to breathe but knew my Grandparents would be expecting sometime, so it had to wait. Through the opportunity window the light shed on the Zoo story break reporting a sighting on the famous Egyptian bird in Central Park where I spent my lunches anyhow. But I had to find a special person at this park that stayed there all the time and was officially living there so to speak in order to get a full story on the issue. This would be difficult, but I would use my detective skills appropriately. Throughout NY time’s history the usage of news bounties possibilities and forlorn endless cavities of information, however I’ve myself never been able to find one. The distance reporters travelled was infinite and superseded the governance of news to adhere to wondrous greatness. Between my managers the Local News did well and remained top priority for decades in this business.
Remembering the ideas that Genghis Khan foretold enabled the story to unfold. There was once the infinite rope that circled the sun like a lasso but you couldn’t yank the Sun off its trajectory. Genghis Khan tried for millions of years but the Sun never fell from the sky like he hoped. “I don’t know Timothy, it is as if Khan wanted the key to the Sun rather than the Moon.” Said Grandpa.
“I know, but why did he want the Sun to fall on earth?” asked Timothy
“Tim, I believe Genghis thought the Sun would preserve earth for another 14 billion years.” Replied Old Thomas
“For isn’t that wonderful.” Said Timmy exuberantly.
The plays went on and on from Kubla Khan back then as though the beauty of storytelling is that it lasts for ages. Going about the promise of telling all the village people to forget about agriculture played on and on. Although the thought of mankind played facts of adventure the truth of life is that civilization can never end on earth.
Chapter 5
With the changing scenery we led Timothy to the Airport. Pleading for the arrangement of the seats they gathered their appropriate belongings and created a comfortable setting. On the verge of the lift off we turned on the TV and collected ourselves. Going through patterns of tethered plains conceded the facts of NY gateways. Although the world watched us take off, they wouldn’t be watching us in the Big Apple with Adam.
We got travelled through the airport getting on the plane within half an hour of arrival.
“Along the side of this plane is a logo Timmy.” Said Grandpa
“Cool, what does it have to do with flying?” asked Timmy
“It is aerodynamic and makes the plane fly faster.” Said Thomas
“Really.” Replied Tim
As they sat back and watched the scenery as the plane took off.
Going with the force they slouched. With the turn of the TV channel a movie came on. The reality of any movie is that the people enjoy it, well this was the deal, and they were all enthused. Along the jets floor were arrows leading each direction, which confused them when they had to go to the washroom. This was their first flight to the big city. Between the areas below was the fiery sun looking on top of the world. Without a bizarre environment it would look so out of place thought Grandma going on about its temperature. Looking onto the wings look belligerent to destroy thinking of the past movie to do with World War. Thinking about the seasons Grandma imagined flying out to NY in the winter but said it would be too cold.
The curl in my step changed rhythm.
I received the news about my Grandparents flight. It had been held up in Chicago for 2 days, so I had a change of plans. I gathered up my camera and notebook and went into town, the usual, Central Park. Going through the suburbs of Manhattan into the inner city always puzzled me, how is it so clean I pondered? As the tone in visuals changed the guarantee on evolving wonders amazed me. The thick of adversity was down-under and throughout the summer in New York the entertainment didn’t change from dress to idealism, everything varied. I turned down Marshall to see a storm of protestors; ah, my very first march. Walking closer I noticed it was about Animal rights, and the percentage of people toted a sign in majority. I walked down further for high traffic coverage. Bashing my legs and tripping slowly I got back up, sort of chuckling. Basing my ideas once very bias to fashion I granted the keys to my embellished fortitudes of animal furs. Covering the cast of specific branders eluded the change in my front step so-to-speak in grasping information pursuant. The ability to rectify the powerful insinuations being made enabled me to search the crowd further into Central park for the real game-changers, you know, the real opinion leaders with attitude. Getting to Central Park I sat down on the park bench taking in the business. And hype.
Under the park bench was a little container with a half ate sandwich, peanut butter and jelly so it looked. This sandwich in my mind was the answer to left behind mysteries in the park. Within the park of this so called museum I bet there stands the justification of power and strength in all populations to show the reality of what our life exists on, looking out towards the crazy parade. As I looked over my right shoulder I noticed people from the march running towards the center of the park, screaming. I was left puzzled and wondering what the hell was happening, so got up and stood on the bench to look out and above everyone. It looked like a big Animal trenching through the crowds disturbing the Animal rights parade, funny how appropriate. I thought fast thinking about the circumstance, grabbing my camera to take shots of what was occurring, thinking is this really happening. This is big; this is big, I thought for the article was transposing itself as I watched on. Going on through the filming it chased down thousands of people carrying a wooden torch from the early middle ages, looking closer I realized that it looked exactly like the Real Genghis Khan, but somehow seemed as though it was with Iwiw from the Zoo, that escaped only weeks ago. I don’t know if this escaped the Zoo for sure, or not but this story all combined was huge. Trying to keep myself contained in composure I went through a roll of film watching this thing walking closely. For me this was extraordinary and swallowed the esteem I needed for the front page story, crossing my hopeful fingers as I watched the Animal Rights parade stammer away screaming and yelling, with me standing on top of the park bench. The beats of my heart raced as the combination of cuneiform preceded. I tried quickly writing on the invasion, but not invasions as too see wrongdoing. In fact Genghis Khan strolled harmlessly through the park down and around. Through and through the traverse continued breaking down the barrier of recollections on early childhood stories. Within 20 feet of my apparitions Genghis left his form of public scrutiny. Before my eyes the beast looked towards the sun beating the visitude of aspiration, connecting everything to the imaginary world.
The yellow signs rampaged the taxi swerving throughout the road. Beyond the tail end of this cab ride Timmy could see his brother standing outside his home waving. The look on all their faces was extravagant as they stepped into Manhattan. Taking aim at presence excited the Grandparents. Before noon they had arrived, three days later than expected. Grabbing their belonging, Adam took them inside to show them around. As the day moved they were well flabbergasted by the look of his apartment.
“Ain’t that NY Times documentation gathering?” said Thomas as Grandma said, “Pick those up and tidy them!”
“Of course you two” said Adam telling Timothy he had a clipping for him of a dinosaur from the theatre.
The reeling sections convinced me to show Timothy, in order that he would get to see Genghis Khan in New York. Beyond grasping measures the seismic adventure would stop to seamlessly center out the width of generations around me. From the start of this journey the brazen attitude shifted shouting for joy vigorously. Throughout Timmy’s life the story of Khan remembered the essence of the Sun like collateral to a Godly universal myth, never betrayed by direct unrealistic understanding. Throughout envisions sequence the defined visitation of my grandparents settled to yet allow me another day of hard work.
On top of the news world I gathered my belongings and played out the showing. Going together with the reporters from the times leveled out the focus. In amongst the castings was the future headline within reading Genghis Khan hits the street. Focusing on the better side of the story, I repeated my outline of the cover by retreating into the conduction of land serendipity in Central Park.
The plot changed, the story thickened.
Through the NY Times was laughter at Adam they didn’t believe him as first that he saw a huge animal/monster in Central Park. And they couldn’t verify it without the proper sources.
“Well I have a source boss, I do.” Yelled Adam flabbergasted with their remarks.
“Alright lets see.” Said the Manager.
They went through valid informants and verified his alibi giving him due credit.
“Alright, we’ll run a test run close to the front for a follow-up, but I want a timely follow-up to this article, none of this three weeks later business.” Said his boss
“Two days boss, two-days, I promise.” Replied Adam effectively.
As the pre-run went out the following business day the combined interest related heavily to the public so they thought and imagined. Going through news approbated the claim to notify the public on perhaps the where about of Genghis Khan, but where it would end-up next we did not know.
Adam packed his belongings to leave work.
He travelled home, meeting back up with his family. So I have a bit of a story to tell you all, and don’t think I‘m crazy, all right? They laughed. So two days ago I was in the park taking articles notes on an Animal Rights march, and two weeks before that animals escaped the Zoo. So What Adam? Well I was at the park and out of nowhere a huge animal invades Central Park. “Lets Go See, Lets Go See,” yelled Timmy excited as heck. Yeah-well guys just shush a moment, well? It looked like it was a real live Genghis Khan!! “Serious Adam, Serious?” said Timmy. Well yes guys, and I might be getting front page of the New York Times for the Story!! “Lucky you” said his Grandparents flabbergasted.
“Can we got to Central Park Adam, to see?” said Timmy so happily.
Sure replied Adam, as they left the door wide-open searching for Khan at the park.
The detour proceeded.
Into the action they all thought waiting to see the character their life story mythological dealt with. Amongst Central Park the noise arose continuing on in Manhattan like a circus. Under the big trees they stood attempting to see their fantasy. I turned to see my Grandparents get out a camera sitting on a park bench waiting, just waiting. The commotion scattered as once we were alone we’d get to see our myth of entertainment. Then all of a sudden it came…
“Genghis Khan” yelled everyone.
“Whoa.” Slightly gasped Timothy
As it came closer they all tightened their grip, frightened but not snapping pictures. Then boom, bang, crash, it happened, Genghis Khan, swooped down and grabbed, Timmy in his arms.
“AHHH…” yelled Timmy
Adam leaped up but could not get him back. Adam was now in full effect, knowing with this he’d get Front Page glory.
His Grandparents shrouded with disbelief yelled, “You’ll be fine Timmy, remember you’re in good godly hands.”
As Genghis Khan walked away slowly into the distance telling Timothy he was the ultimate secret, saying I have a plan for you, as correctively in the distance he lifted Tim up and put him in the Sun, saying “I have finally conquered the World.”
Action, Action, as Adam walked into the NY Times Studio, pressing his boss up against the wall. I have it said Adam, Front Page please! I got full up close and personal shots of Genghis Khan in Central Park lifting up my brother and placing him in the Sun!! As the Boss and Staff cheered, you had it, in full effect, Adam had made the Front Page, in glory the NY Times was High, very high, as it had also like Genghis Khan conquered the World!
Extra, Extra in Hollywood people, Front Page Ending!