Forcibly, he entered, even though not a soul was tending to the stanchions at the staircase of The Majestic, but still, he found reason to jump over it as though it was the Olympics and his heart was set on that coveted medal. To say that this is a strange way to go up to the mezzanine, wouldn’t be any stranger than the truth that his life depended upon doing so.
Four minutes earlier, a trio of spies was growing closer to him, as he was standing at the corner, rummaging through a resident’s trash recepticle. Six minutes earlier, he found a key attached to a note which gave an address and locker number.
But it was at five minutes before arriving at his high jump post, that he decided to go to that address with hopes of finding a gold bullion, as he knew the address at which he rummaged through the trash was that of a Rockefeller. It’s a shame that he had to die, unarmed, when the three men shot at him, for those men were undoubtedly undercover Interpol detectivess, running on a tip that someone in town had the stolen Ruby Slippers, that Judy Garland wore back in ’39.
.-dld November 10, 2010