I bet no one will read the whole thing

Alright kids, heres my 2nd story, give me some imput, it still had plenty of errors. Its long, but read it anyways. Its not finished yet, its only the first 10 chapters. dont bother to respond if you dont read it.

JUNIOR T. JONES


CHAPTER ONE: THE TOURTUS AND THE HARE.

William Tate Applied for His Baptismal Ministers Test two days before he turned 18. He received his certificate and card one month and three days after his 18th birthday. William was a senior in a Private Catholic High School. Therefore, due to his position as a minister two of his most orthodox teachers called him Father. His Father had a villa on the Vale of Kashmir, A plot of land on the island of Java and a poorly made cabin on the southernmost tip of Chile. Behind the cabin were three peach trees. The one farthest to the left producing very sweet, juicy peaches.
William Tate’s brother, Livingston Tate after acquiring a doctorate in advising from Loyola College was framed for an anti-Semitic Nazi leader in Israel. When the republic of Israel realized their mistake, they freed Livingston Tate sending him home with a basket of Chilean Peaches, Supposedly the best peaches in the world.

It was the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November. Livingston decided on this day to move to France for two reasons. First, he had always wanted to go to France. As a boy, he encountered a French man who had a loud, bright scarf; it was summer. The idea was simply astounding to the young Livingston. Livingston always had a soft spot for fashion. Second, he had grown sick of the American Culture over the last ten years. Being in College, he was unable to travel as much as he wanted. America ate away at him daily. The thing that bothered him the most was the fact that people were mean to each other and their parents.
Livingston Tate is drawn to Europeans. He being German and Irish, and born in America did not have much in common with natural born Europeans. Yet he loved them. He had developed a strong camaraderie for them and vice versa. They would commonly be talking down about American society and praising Europe. Seasonally, the small group of aristocratic foreigners would take holiday in Europe. Always of course, in some lavish, over-priced hot spot. For near two weeks every summer they did this tradition, basking in their pride and culture. Gawking at the common place American home. Nevertheless, for Livingston, this simply was not enough.
Therefore, it was set. All the dominoes in Livingston’s head had finally fallen. The final domino was when his good French friend offered him his Villa in Southern France for $16,000. Livingston jumped at the offer with all his might. He embraced the offer with a full heart. He would finally become what he always wanted. However, a dilemma came. His accent and name were American. The accent was easy enough to fake, but the name needed to go.
He called his German grandmother in New Jersey. 'Hello?' she said 'grandma?' he said 'yes dear?' she replied. 'What is your maiden name?� 'It’s Shultz dear' 'okay thanks bye' CLICK.
So, it was. Aldor Shultz soon to be French citizen. He liked the name Aldor, Livingston always had. His child hood teddy bear is named Aldor He planned to fake an accent until it became habit. He thought it completely through.
He then called his friend Thaddeus Morose, who was the person who would be selling Livingston his cottage.
Thaddeus spent his Tuesday evenings at café moonlight. He was a self-proclaimed intellectual; however, he was not an intellectual. He said he read magazines, books and the paper daily. When in fact, he maybe read any of those once a month.
As Livingston Tate awaited Thad at the other end of the phone line, a quick thought of “Maybe this isn’t a good idea� Went through his head. He let it go and ignored it. He had wanted nothing more that to leave the country for years now. The conversation is as follows:
“Hello?�
“Hey Thad, it’s me Livingston.�
“Oh Hello Livingston, How are you?�
“I’m doing well. I am calling regarding the details of the villa in France. You still are interested in selling that to me right?�
“Yes of course, well I will be going there in Friday for two weeks to clean it and visit with some friends. You know last minute goodbyes. Maybe towards the end of my stay you could come up with a portion of your luggage and we’ll make things final in France.�
“That sounds excellent. I have needed to get away for a break for some time now, and out of this country for much longer.�
“Alright then, I’m off to coffee.�
“Tata Thad!�
“Take care Livingston.�

CHAPTER TWO: MEXICANS AND THE CLOUDS

IT was the first Tuesday after the first Monday at St. Jonathan High School was a warm October day. William Tate was in his ceramics class. He molded an alligator named Todd and now had just entered it in a wood burning stove to dry. The stove was a 1922 O’Duffy iron stove with a later built department for drying ceramics. However its first objective was to keep the room warm when there wasn’t any gas heat. The art/ceramics department used to be a wood shop, which the only heat source was the 1922 O’Duffy wood burning stove.
A very creative, intelligent man named Connor O’Duffy founded the O’Duffy Company. He was the first cast iron stove maker in Connecticut and built a successful business until he sold it for 200,000 dollars in 1947. Afterwards he retired, wrote two books, and lived a fruitful life with a beautiful wife and seven kids in a large Victorian house in East Aurora, New York. To the left and Back of his large Victorian house was a red barn where to the far right was a cast iron stove he built in may of 1937. It was the largest cast iron stove in America being 7ft by 10ft. It was surpassed in size in June of 1973 by a modern company in New Bedford, Massachusetts.
The stove Connor built, fully loaded with freshly cut logs got to be so hot that no one could stand within a ten foot radius of it. He only brought it to that level a dozen or so times. The smoke and flame would singe the wood on that side of the barn badly.
William Tate thought nothing of the stove. He had always subconsciously addressed the stamp on the handle of the stove door and it had been in a couple of his dreams. It reads as follows:


O’DUFFY-1922


Three minutes after William put Todd the ceramic alligator in the oven the school bell rang. William Walked out to the back lot to his grey 1983 BMW 525 CI. He had it for one year and three days. He kept it in spotless shape. On the hood of his automobile sat his two closest friends, Nate and Jay. He politely asked them not to sit on the hood of his car. Jay remarked that it was an old vehicle anyways. William replied,
“That’s why I don’t want you sitting on it.�
William and Jay argued often. Mostly it was petty and useless things. It was so commonplace to Nate, he always ignored it.
Being it Tuesday, Being them male high school seniors, they had but one objective. To get drunk. They had that down to a science. There destination was the basement of Jays house. It was approximately 1.7 miles away from the rear parking lot of St. Jonathan High School. Jay’s house was empty.
It was completely vacant for their intoxicating pleasure. Jays basement held two couches, a television, a love seat, and of course a full bar.
Jay’s full name was Jacob McAlister. He was large, insecure, and competitive. He had a great relationship with his father. They would go on ventures in the woods, and have talks about society and history. However Jay’s mother was disliked by Jay and his father. She was an alcoholic, depressed, angry and had raging inferiority complex. Jay blamed his portliness to her. Jay’s mother would have friends over every Friday night for a cocktail and conversation.
William Tate, Jay and Nate drove slowly in William’s BMW. William was a terribly slow driver. If you were to drive behind him, you would justify his driving characteristics with that of an old woman in a snowstorm. William did not understand why people drove so quickly. He was never in a rush. He gave himself lots of time to do simple objectives. Jay on the other hand was very impatient. He wanted to take Williams BMW to its maximum expectations.
Approximately 5 minutes and 27 seconds later, they arrived at Jay’s house. Jay’s mother and father had left the previous day for Barbados. They were expected to return the following Monday.
Jay’s mother would buy expensive hard alcohol by the box. She received a catalog for alcohol stores in which she ordered alcohol monthly. The flavor of this month was grey goose vodka with a special of raspberry bourbon.
To Jay’s mother this common beverage was Childs play. To Jay, William, and Nate it was a tall peak in which they would climb, see, and conquer. Slowly but surely.
They three young men used the bars most expensive crystal glasses, two ice cubes in each, filled with vodka to the top. Straight, no chaser. On this afternoon everything had fallen into place, their afternoon and early evening was set. They had gotten drunk before but never had any of their experiences been as easy as this.
Two hours passes along with three rounds of scat, one round of charades, countless stumbles and laughter, and one bottle of grey goose. They all wallowed in a passive “nothing matters�, “I’m invincible� attitude. Their voices had grown lazy; their minds had begun to spin. They mutually agreed not to move on to the raspberry bourbon. They were still lightweights.


CHAPTER THREE: TEA TIME AND ANARCHY.

Livingston had been as busy as a beaver these past two weeks. Calling his immediate kin and friends, getting every thing planned exactly how it should be. He was exited and anxious. He was bustling with every aspect of his future journey, he could barley contain himself. He was due to leave for France in 6 hours. Livingston thought of his life. He remembered his mother, his little brother, his grandparents, his father, and all of his early life. He was now adding a new chapter to his life. He sat in his chair, still and quiet. Awaiting the futures choices
He had contacted all of his kin but one, his father. His father (last he knew)
was in his cabin on the southernmost tip of Chile. He never told anyone his thorough reasoning for going to these places. All anyone knew about it was that he would be gone for up to four months at a time.
Marshall Tate, (William and Livingston’s father) was born in Massachusetts General Hospital in Late October of 1947. His father, a lawyer gave Marshall and his mother the best life he could afford. He fitted a townhouse in Boston with expensive leather furniture, joined a country club outside of Boston and kept a Mercedes Benz in the garage.
Marshall’s Father wanted only the best for his young boy. At the age of seven he sent his to a private boarding school in Connecticut, and he would spend his summers at sailing school in Nantucket.
Marshall went to attend Fairfield Prep and go to Bard University for archeology. Three weeks after his senior year at Bard, Marshall began writing the book “Love, Zen, And Bones�. It was a fictional book about a wild couple who made scientific discoveries and encountered comical problems along the way. Two years after he wrote it the book was published in New York City by a small press. It sold 23 copies and was put out of print after 3 years.
He was 25 years old and renting a cabin in a small rural community when a salesmen named Eli looking for people to invest in Microsoft came to his door. Marshall knew nothing of Microsoft at this time. Being it 1975 the world had yet to experience the computer revolution. Marshall only had 300 dollars to his name.
Marshall Tate gave Eli 250 dollars. With only 50 dollars left, he was completely lost. He needed to start fresh. He moved back to Boston into his old room in his parent’s townhouse.
He instantly became very involved in the intellectual scene, a part of Boston he did not know. Marshall also acquired a part full time job at the Boston Museum of Natural History minding artifacts. He met a woman named Susan at a bookstore. They fell in love and were married 4 months later.
They shared a small apartment on the south side of Boston.
Their son Livingston was born in the heart of the great snowstorm of 1976. He was delivered by a male nurse named Todd who inhabited the apartment across and down three doors from Marshall and Susan Tate. Livingston was 8 pounds and 3 ounces. Three months after Livingston’s Birth Marshall got a promotion to manager of exhibits at the Museum. Two days after that Marshall, his wife and son moved into a ranch-style home in a suburb of Boston. With the help of their intellectual friends, it was a quick and easy move. They lived a happy life.
When Livingston was ten and his parents were in their thirties they gave Birth to William Tate. It was 1985. William was 9 pounds and 6 ounces. Susan had to have a C-section to give her son life. Unfortunately, Susan had a massive amount of blood loss. She died 4 hours after Williams Birth. William was kept in Massachusetts General Hospital for 2 weeks. Then he was moved to his grandparent’s town house in Boston. Livingston also moved in with his grandparents.
Marshall had collapsed. His parents understood his hardship and they agreed to take care of his children until he was healthy again. He gave notice to the museum of his tragedy. The people at the museum understood and told him to take as much time off as he needed. He went to his wife’s funeral, told his parents he needed some time for himself, then he fled. No one but Marshall knows his exact location. As rumor has it, he went to a church, moss, or temple and stayed with clergymen for 1 year and 5 months until he collected himself.
He then returned to Boston. His old intellectual friends accepted him. He was fresh again. Livingston had just turned 12 and Marshall gave him a baseball glove bat and ball. Surprisingly he got his job back at the museum. No one had ever done as good a job as Marshall at the museum. He had complete job security. He had a lot of work to make up.
He was overjoyed with young William. He took shorter shifts at the museum so he could spend more time with his sons. Countless times throughout the two boys childhood they played baseball in a field around the corner from their house. Both of his sons went through public school. He did not like the way private school turned people out.
On a Thursday in May of 1992 when Marshall came home, he picked up the mail and looked through it. One letter had a very expensive envelope. He opened it. There was a Post-It note attached to it. The note read:



Marshall,

Things worked out for Microsoft. All is well that
Goes well! Your $250 went a long ways. This is just
The first check of now annual checks.
-Eli



Along with the letter from the Microsoft Company was a blue chip certificate for 2,500 shares. In addition, there was a check for 600,000 dollars. Marshall gasped.

CHAPTER FOUR: AUGUST TUESDAY EVEING BARBAQUES

William Lived with his grandparents, and with his father when he was home. William was very independent. He would stay with his father when he was home. He would use the house regardless. However, he would only use it in context. William had one key to the back door. He would have friends over, three in number at the most. He seldom spent nights there, most of the time he slept at his grandparents, about 20 minutes away. Williams fathers house was basic, Couches, bed, fridge etc.
His friends could not understand why someone with an empty house was not having parties all of the time. For William Tate, parties were overrated. They were mere interactions and intoxication centered and concentrated together. He got his mere interactions and intoxication daily. William was mellow. He kept things in the laid-back side. None of his friends completely understood him. Yet in William’s mind, he understood them.
William Tate and his father would spend their time together going to movies, go on hikes, playing frizzbee and eating at restaurants. They both did a fair amount of reading. They would talk about literature at their dinners. They were the closest people to each other.
Livingston on the other had had strayed farther and farther from his kin. He wrote brief E-mails to his brother weekly. Most of the time the E-mails described his current events and thoughts, seldom insight to his emotions. Livingston would attend holidays at his grandparents for a meal and conversation. No one had said they loved each other in the family in the last ten years.

Marshall Tate, on the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November was on the Vale of Kashmir. With his fortune from Microsoft, he decided to get back into writing. His greatest literary inspiration had always been the natural earth. So he thought if he surrounded himself in a foreign and unique place his writing would he better. Marshall was not a good writer. It was a miracle that he got “Love, Zen, And Bones� published.
Marshall spent his time thinking, cooking, and observing. He got little writing done. He had not been back to his home in America in three weeks. He would be leaving for his home there in one week. He woke up at 1:00 PM. He glanced out the window nearest to his bed. It was raining. He slept most peacefully when it rained. He was absolutely miserable when it rained during the mornings he had to get up for school in his youth. He stretched out his limbs and brought himself to a sitting position on his bed. He brewed some tea, made some oatmeal, and sat himself at his desk.
In front of him was a blank notepad. He starred at it mindlessly for near two minutes before he wrote something. He wrote: “get the first one right.� He did not think about what he had written. He stood up, still half-asleep and completely naked. He sat on his bed. He was relatively large, 265 pounds, hairy and at the moment: dumbfounded. He did not understand how he had once written a book and how now he was completely unable to. He decided he needed some advice. He thought he should go and find the oldest wisest person he could, tell them his life story and do what they say. So it was. He put on some clothing and a rain jacket and left for the center of town. The rain had drawn to a mere drizzle. As he grew nearer, the sun came out. Children started playing in fields. Many artisans came out and were selling their goods. He walked about for near 30 minutes before he found his person. An old man sat stern watching silently all than went on in front of him. Marshall's and the old man's eyes met. They acknowledged each other as if they were old friends who had known each other for all of their lives.
Marshall sat beside him, eager to begin sputtering his tale. “Hi� he said. The old man nodded. Marshall began telling the man why he was talking to him, and then laid down his whole life story. They held intense eye contact the whole time. 43 minutes later when Marshall had finished he said, “So, what should I do?� The old man responded in a very remote dialect of Hindi. He did not know a word of English.
Marshall, puzzled as ever got up. He was so surprised and weirded out at the same time he could not process thoughts. He went home. The old man giggled as he disappeared in the busy marketplace. He was the kind of old man who enjoyed a nice day more than anything else.

CHAPTER FIVE: ELEVEN THOUSAND DOLLAR DINNERS

Livingston had been in France for two days and one night now. He was staying at the hotel chalet. He was to meet with his friend at 3 o’clock for a late lunch, then go to the villa. He would leave in 20 minutes. The previous day he went into the nearest shopping center to get his mind off the villa. He had not thought of anything else since the day he decided to leave. He knew four people that lived in France. Two of which lived reasonably close to Livingston’s soon to be home. He had not contacted any of them yet. He was planning to throw a dinner date with all of them when he was settled in. Livingston was lively, more so than normal. He thought about making his appearance, finding work and whatnot.
When Livingston met Thaddeus Morose at a restaurant, they both started talking in French. They each ordered sandwiches speaking French. They had a meek conversation about literature in English. Livingston had started speaking French in sixth grade. He had taken it all through out Middle School, High School, College, and Graduate School. He took one summer abroad between his sophomore and junior year in High School.
The Villa was in the town of Nice in Southern France. It was gorgeous. It was relatively small but furnished with expensive things from around the world. Thaddeus was an aristocratic entrepreneur whom found his fortune in sound recording. He had no reason to buy or sell the villa in the first place. He took no shame in spending lots of money. He made sure to take care of his friends.
Livingston registered the deed in the name Aldor Shultz that day. It was under the co- ownership or Livingston Tate as well.
Livingston Tate paid Thaddeus the $16,000 in cash. Thaddeus spent 11,000 of it on a meal for 20 people (including Livingston) that night.
Livingston and William Tate had access to their father’s bank account. He knew his father did not care about that money. They both would only use the money in context. They felt guilty for taking too much. Marshall Tate had instructed them to use the money for school, books, food, living supplies, and shelter when they needed it. In 2003, the Tate fortune could be estimated around 1.7 million dollars. Livingston whispered “god bless you Microsoft� every time he withdrew money.
During the dinner at Cuba de Verde in France, Livingston had just started with his appetizer of shrimp cocktail. He would continue to have a Greek salad and a Chilean Sea bass with a Chilean peach glaze. Throughout the duration of the meal he drank three glasses of red wine. He got a ride home from the person sitting next to him named Daniel in his Mercedes Benz. Daniel found Livingston to be humorous and witty. Livingston had yet to acquire a car.
Livingston had it made. He was more content then he had ever been. He had fallen so in love with his little villa, town and France.
Three days after he had been living there Livingston went to a corner store in the center of town. He was driving a German motorcycle that he rented for the week. He left the corner store with a full backpack of groceries. As he was leaving town and going on a back road he saw some police cars in the distance. As he approached them, they stopped him. The conversation goes as follows:
“Hello, what is your name sir?� the police officer said.
“Aldor Shultz� he replied
“Are you a French citizen?� the police officer asked.
“No, not yet.� Livingston said.
“Where are you staying?� said the police officer
“17 Paella Drive, Nice.�
“Okay, hold on.� The police officer said.
(The police officer went off to talk to another police officer.)
“Your all set Mr. Shultz, have a nice day.� The police officer said.
Livingston drove off worried. He thought he should have said his real name, rather than his fake name. He wanted to know what the one police officer said the other.
He called his friend Daniel. Daniel had given Livingston a ride home from dinner three nights ago.
“Daniel?� Livingston said worried.
“Hey, Livingston? You sound worried.
“Yeah, I was just stopped by police officers, I was so used to telling people my name is Aldor, I didn’t tell them my real name.� Livingston said.
“That probably wasn’t a good move. But I would not get too worried. A child was probably abducted or something. They’re just doing their job.� Daniel said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right; I’m going to take off now.� Livingston said
“Okay take it easy Aldor.�
“Bye Daniel.�
As soon as Livingston Tate had put down his phone 13 police officers broke into his villa and held him to gunpoint.

CHAPTER SIX: MOUNTAIN

William was with Nate, Jay, and their friend Samantha in his Dad’s house. William was drawing a tortoise with a pink colored pencil. After he finished he passes it to Samantha, She laughed, approved and passed it to Jay. Jay was not impressed. William was not surprised.
William then left for the kitchen. Jay followed. William was going to make Tang. He was extremely meticulous about making Tang. He would put the regular amount of flavored sugar in, then half the normal amount of water. He would stir intensely. Then put more water in, stir again, and then put two ice cubes in. Jay was very quick and clean with his personal Tang procedure. He said to William:
“Why do you take so long to make your Tang?�
“It tastes better this way.� William remarked.
“Yeah, but when your making it, I’m already being refreshed, thus doing what Tang is meant to do.� Jay said.
“Well mine is done so much better, that the satisfaction lasts longer.�
Jay surprisingly agreed.
As they walked down the stairs back to the basement where Nate and Samantha were Jay made sarcastic sounds to prove how satisfied he was. “AHHH, SO GOOD!� No one in the room acknowledged him. Samantha had added a bear drinking a beer to Williams’s picture of a tortoise.
The phone rang.
Samantha said, “Let me pick it up.�
William gestured to where the phone was.
“Hello? Huh? No thanks not interested.� She hung up.
“Who was it?� William asked.
“Someone trying to sell me something from Israel or something I think.�
“Oh whatever.�
They were both completely oblivious that the person calling was a prison guard for the Republic or Israel who had been paid by Livingston to inform any other of the Tates that he had been abducted and framed for being a Nazi leader. Livingston had not been allowed any communication. He was intensely questioned for five hours a day. A short example of the questioning goes as follows�

“How were you planning on attacking The Republic of Israel.?�
“I WASN’T! IM FINE WITH ISREAL, IM NOT A NAZI!�
“Where are the remaining Nazi forces?
“I DON’T KNOW! I’M AMERICAN!�
“How many Nazis are in your organization?
“ORGANIZATION? WHAT ORGANIZATION? YOU HAVE MADE A MISTAKE, I AM NOT A NAZI. I AM AMERICAN, MY NAME IS LIVINGSTON.�
“Aldor, where are the other Nazi Leaders?
“MY NAME IS LIVINGSTON TATE, I AM NOT A NAZI!�

And so on. Livingston was in a cell on the third floor of a prison that was 200 years old. The Republic of Israel would be charging him with terrorism, genocide, manslaughter, and fraud. They thought he would be a mastermind terrorist, therefore, they thought the American accent was fake.
The prison was cold, wet and Livingston only had an Israeli army-drab blanket. The toilet had never been washed. The sink had been doing a constant drip for the past 137 years. He had been there for two days.
On the way to the prison he was alone in the back of a police van, the most important thing he had in was his gold chain. He figured they would take it from him and hold it, so he miraculously managed to take it off and keep it in his rear. Of course, when he arrived he was strip searched.
There were two guards on his floor,one was middle aged and rarely spoke to anyone. The other one was 18 and was at college. He was an English major and was due to leave for America in 3 months. He worked the security job part time to pay for school. He spoke decent English but carried a heavy accent. He knew he was not supposed to speak to Livingston.
Livingston was very social and due to his lack there of, and general miserable surroundings he spent his time in the cell sulking, whimpering, crying and moaning. He would plead with the guards to talk to him because he needed real human interaction.
For the first day, they both ignored him. The 18-year-old guard named Benjamin knew nothing about Livingston or why he was there. All he knew about him was that he was taken out for five hours a day between 1:00 and 5:00 P.M. In addition, William received three meals, one at 8:00 A.M, one at 12:00 P.M. and one at 6:00 P.M.
On the second day of Williams stay, Benjamin gave in. He recognized Livingston’s perfect American accent as genuine. Yet the guard was hesitant to believe Livingston’s real story.
Livingston was miserable. He had a last thought of hope. If he could get his brother and father in Israel with all of their American Documents, and the American governments backing Livingston would be freed. He ran the idea by Benjamin, who had a skeptical look on his face. He asked Livingston:
“How do you plan to contact them?�
Livingston replied, “You can call them for me!�
“No, if I got caught I would get fired and in a lot of trouble. I couldn’t risk it.�
Livingston and Benjamin had grown on each other. When you spend 8 hours a day in the company of the same person you cannot help but talk. Their small friendship had led to Livingston saying this:
“I will give you my gold chain. It is worth six thousand dollars. That is plenty. All you have to do is write down my brother and father’s names and phone number, and tell them everything I told you.�
Benjamin then realized that Livingston had been framed, he would be an excellent resource in America. Benjamin agreed to do it.

CHAPTER SEVEN: REMARKS OF AN OLD MAN

John Hooper awoke Marshall Tate on a plane over Mexico to ask him if he wanted steak or fish for dinner. Marshall said steak. He was in a tired haze, he did not know whom or where he was for a few short seconds. He looked out the window and saw the sun setting over the Gulf of Mexico. The view reminded him of the old man whom he told his life story too. Marshall was still unsettled by that situation.
Then it hit him.
“Maybe the old man noticed how much of an off centered, insecure person I am� Marshall stated in his mind.
He knew in the deepest chamber of his soul that the old man understood him.
“Maybe the old man wanted to show me something about how I need to sit back and relax or something. I wonder if I am going to be like that when I am that old.� He continued in his head.
Marshall was realizing that the old man was rightful in his actions of silence, giggling and listening. He could not pin his finger on it, but he was now at ease with the old man situation. Marshall’s mind was racing through his head; it was making links and remembering things closest to him.
A tear rolled down his face.
His meal came.
It was a small steak, snow peas, carrots, mashed potatoes and a brownie. It was given to him by John Hooper. John noticed the tears and swelling upon Marshall’s face. He asked:
“Uh, excuse me sir, is everything alright?�
“Yes, just thinking of my kids.�
“Oh, okay, Can I get you anything?�
“No thank you.�
“Well if you need anything don’t be afraid to holler for me.�
John Hooper was from Georgia. He had a little southern twang in his voice that was relieving and comforting. He had been a flight attendant for two years.
Normally when he noticed passengers in distress, he would ask them if they needed anything. Most of the time the answer was no. On occasion, he would bring someone a warm cloth or refreshment upon request.
Marshall was still in a teary haze. He had attracted the attention of several other passengers. He heard faint whispers in his regards yet he did not listen to them.
He knew what he needed to do. He needed to stay at home with his family for a while.
Shortly after he finished his meal, he fell back asleep. There was anther eight hours of flying, luckily Marshall did not get much sleep the previous night and he was a deep sleeper. However, he was caught in a lucid state for a while. He imagined the old man was in his house cooking pasta for Marshall and his family. The dream continued with the old man walking out side to a motorcycle. Right before the old man got on the motorcycle, he recited the prologue of Canterbury Tales in perfect Old English. Marshall had not said the prologue in over 30 years.
When Marshall awoke, the plane had just landed in Boston Airport. He was in a unique mood. Marshall walked through the airport slowly. Observing all the interactions going on. A woman about 35was walking quickly pulling her two small children with her, one in each hand. The children could not be more that eight years old. The child on the left of his mother asked her:
“Mommy why are you going so fast?�
The other child commented, “Yeah, slow down.�
Their mother replied, “If we go any slower we’ll miss the flight and we won’t see daddy.�
Neither child commented. They only proceeded to move quickly.
Marshall thought about where they were going and what their father looked like.
“Everyone is always in such a rush,� he thought to himself
He left through the main entrance and took a shuttle to his Cadillac. He left his car keys on his desk on The Vale of Kashmir.

CHAPTER EIGHT: TEN FOOT RADUIS

Jay and William were visiting St. Bonaventure College near Buffalo New York. It was just starting to become winter. They took a student-led tour of the school from 10:00 A.M to 11:00 P.M. On the way home, they had missed the highway entrance and got very lost in Western New York. They were going down a remote, scenic road when they agreed to pull over to a house and ask someone for directions
They noticed smoke coming out of an iron stove chimney in the barn behind the house. The door to the barn was open. They drove behind the house to the barn. As Jay and William walked into the barn, they noticed an old man working on a truck. There was an extremely large iron stove against the left wall. The old man noticed the two young men and walked up to them.
“Hello, I’m Connor O’Duffy. Can I help you two young fellows?� He said
“Uh, yeah. I noticed the smoke so I figured someone was home. We’re kinda lost. I was wondering if you could help us find our way.�
“Of course. Where are you heading�
“Massachusetts.�
“Oh, no kidding. See that stove over there?� He pointed to the large wood burning Iron stove. Jay and William nodded.
“That was the world’s largest wood burning cast iron stove until it was surpassed by a company in Massachusetts. I used to have a stove company.�
Connor O’Duffy had lit a corncob pipe with a unique tobacco inside it. All the while talking to Jay and William.
Yeah I tell you what. When you get that thing cookin’, full of wood and all it gets so hot no one can stand with in a mile of it!�
“No way, a mile?� William asked.
“Well, not a mile. I was exaggerating. Probably about ten feet.
“That’s still a lot,� Jay said.
“How do you think these back panels got so singed when the stove is two feet away from it?� Connor asked.
“I have to see it to believe it.� William said.
“Okay! I haven’t got it up to full heat in a long time though.�
Connor O’Duffys tobacco had a strange aroma that is smoke put the two young men in a very happy mood. Connor offered it to them. Jay took a couple of drags from the pipe (he smoked the occasional cigarette). William did not have any.
“Let’s go around back and start to carry some of them logs around. Just throw them in the stove. Make sure you get the dry wood, it’s toward the middle of the pile.� Said Connor.
He had a massive pile of chopped wood behind the barn. Jay and William took four loads each. While Connor took seven. As directed by Connor they poled the logs in a very unique fashion as directed by Connor. After about ten minutes, the fire was ridiculously hot. All three of them stood at the other end of the barn, approximately 38 feet away.
“Now both of you go and try to stand with in ten feel if it.� Connor said.
Both of them walked stride in stride slowly approaching the inferno. They started to feel the hotness around twenty feet away. By fifteen feet, it got to be very hot. And to no surprise neither of them passed the ten foot barrier.
Connor O’Duffy was chuckling away.
“See, I could tell you two guys couldn’t do it.�
They both laughed too. Partially because the old man had a contagious laugh, also because it was a very awkward situation.
“Man that stove is really hot!� Jay said.
“Well thanks for showing that to us. But we better get going. How do we get on the interstate going south?�
Connor pulled out a map from the truck he was working on. He spread it out on the hood of the truck and showed William and Jay exactly where to go. He also wrote directions on a napkin, but it wasn’t very helpful. Connor wrote in very sloppy cursive.
“Alright guys you have a safe trip now. And if you ever see an O’Duffy from East Aurora doesn’t hesitate to ask them if they have ever gotten with in ten feet of that thing.� Connor said.
“Okay, Bye. Thanks again!� said Jay.
The two of them drove off having no trouble finding their way home. When William Tate came home, he noticed his answering machine blinking. He had two messages. He pressed play.
“William this is your Father. I left my car keys in The Villa in the Vale of Kashmir. I am at the security office at the airport. The number here is 796 5543.�
“SECOND MESSAGE�
“Hello, my name is Benjamin; I am a prison guard for the Republic or Israel. Your brother Livingston is being held here and is to be triad for a Nazi-Leader on several different accounts because he switched his name to Aldor Shultz when he moved to France. You can contact me at- BEEEP
The second message did not finish.
“Stupid prank callers.� William said.

CHAPTER NINE: SEIMPO TAI

It was a grey day in Israel. It was cloudy and there was a gentle rain in the morning. The rain matched what Livingston was feeling. He mind was clouded with grey thoughts and he was emotionally drowsy. He would not go into trial for another eight days. He had not gotten word from Benjamin the guard. He had been in prison for six days now. Benjamin did not have his regular shifts.
Finally, when he saw him Livingston asked Ben if he contacted his family. Ben said he left a message. Livingston politely commented:
“You know with all this free time I’ve done some thinking. And if you proceed with calling my family in America you ought to mention that if they come here, not to mention your contact.�
Livingston said this for two reasons. First because he meant it. Second, he wanted to ensure Ben would not bail on him.
Six days passed. Benjamin had is floor changed by his boss because he had heard him talk to Livingston too much. Therefore, there had not been any contact between the two.
Benjamin, strong to his word called the Tate residence daily. Every time he was hung up on.
Livingston was assigned a lawyer who did not believe anything he said. He said to Livingston:
“Mr. Shultz, you are a terrible person and a criminal. Your best chance is pleading insanity. I am sick of you trying to convince me you’re American too.�
Livingston Tate was lost and confused. He had lost all perspective hope of contacting his family. He would be forced to present a case in front of a judge and he did not know what his punishment would be.

CHAPTER TEN: PEOPLE NAMED CHRIS CULT

Marshall Tate hated the idea of taking a cab home. Leaving his car at the airport would only create another trip. He sat, feeling foolish and stubborn in the airport security office waiting for a call from his son. He had not talked to his son William in 7 days. William made no mention of the trip to St. Bonaventure to him. Luckily, he got the message within forty minutes of the time sent. William called the security office.
“Hello, airport security office.�
“Hello my name is William Tate. I am trying to reach Marshall Tate, my father. He left me this number. Is he anywhere around?�
“Uh, hold on a second.� The security guard at the other end replied. The security guard kindly told Marshall Tate that William Tate was on the phone:
“Marshall Tate there is a William Tate on the phone for you.�
“Thank you so much.� Marshall said sweetly as he picked up the phone.
“William?� Marshall said.
“Hey Dad, How was you trip?� William asked.
“Oh it was fantastic; I did a lot of self-discovery.� As Marshall said that, he caught the eye of a security guard. They both awkwardly looked away.
“But I left my car keys there.� Marshall continued
“Could you drive down here with some spare keys? They are in the box on my bureau. I’ll be waiting here in the security office at the airport.�
“Okay Dad I’ll see you in about half an hour or so.�
William hung up.
He went into his father’s room, which he seldom went into. The room was neat and clean. It had a blue-haze init that symbolized how long it had been since it was used. William turned on the light on the ceiling fan. Accidentally on his first attempt to turn on the light, he turned the ceiling fan on. He corrected that accordingly.
He opened the box on his father’s bureau. He had always been aware of the box’s presence but he never had opened it.
When he opened it he immidiatley noticed a picture of his mother holding Livingston as a small child, William looked at it closer. It must have been summer time because in the back round was a green forest, vibrant in every aspect. He could sense it was his father that had taken the picture because of the loving look on his mothers face.
William put the picture down on the bureau. He saw the keys, put them in his pocket, and left. For some reason William drove there very quickly. He took the highway and stayed above 100 miles per hour most of the time. He had never experienced the rush of driving quickly. Also, he never knew his car preformed so exceptionally at high speeds. When he got to the airport he parked in a very remote parking lot. He did not see his father’s car. As he turned his car off he began to run to the airport front doors. He had not ran with that much freedom since his early childhood. As he entered the through the main doors he noticed a security guard standing in the lobby. He walked up to him quickly. He noticed the name tag “Dale� on his shirt. The security guard noticed that William was running. He asked:
“Sir is everything alright? Were you just running?�
“Yeah I’m fine, thanks Dale. I’m in a rush to see my dad. He’s waiting at the security office. Can you take me there?� William responded.
“Yes, of course.� The security guard replied. Dale was happy to help people such as William in this instance, he took lots of gratitude in his work and it showed in his perfectly knit and straightened uniform and his smiling face.
The security guard gestured to William to follow. William followed in accordance. Unfortunately, the security office was on the other side of the airport. It was a fifteen-minute walk. Finally, William saw his father. He was sitting reading a book comfortably.
“Dad!� William greeted him enthusiastically.
“William!� Marshall responded accordingly. They hugged each other for the first time in known history. Neither of them felt awkward about it.
William helped his father carry luggage to his car which was at the “long-overnight stay� section on the second level of the parking garage. William handed his father the car keys.
“Thanks a lot William.� Marshall said smiling.
“No problem dad, see you back at the house in thirty minutes.� William responded.
“Bye.� Marshall Tate said.
William left for his car on the other side of the airport. It was a 15-minute walk. After knowing how quick his car was capable of going, William could now never drive the same.
He got back to the house before his father. William and his father talked about what they gad done since Marshall had left. After they re-settled in, they decided to go out for dinner doe to the lack of food in the house. They went to Flingers on the other side of town. When they sat at their table, William urgently asked:
“Dad, what was mom like?�
Tears rolled down both of their faces.



-Timbo