michael james is a mad man!
hello there friends. my next entry is gonna be pretty long. so i am putting this in another one. michael james wanted me to put his story on here, so i obliged.
The Break In at Manhattan Bank
By Michael James
contact him at :: mguruj@yahoo.com
yeah he told me to put that..=P
One a shiny Thursday morning in New York a man who would become terrified in the next few hours awoke. His name was Martin Smith. His wife was Lisa Smith. “Time to get up Martin”, Lisa announced. Martin moaned for a short while and began down the stairs. (yawn),”Aww honey, my big blue print is due tomorrow at 6:00 A.M,” Martin said. Then he ate the pancakes his wife had made. “Yummy!” Martin yelled.Then he trotted up the stairs.
He arrived upstairs, surprised to see that his brief case was not in place. ”Oh dear, oh dear, where could it be?” Martin muttered. He strode back and forth looking for his key to success as a rich man. As he searched, his eyes caught a flash - the buckle on his brief case.” Phew, that was close.” He began to search across his work. ”All here, all the prints.” Then he thought a while and began to check his work.
“Ok” he yelled. He began to talk under his breath. ”This there, that goes there, you there. “Aha! A mistake, no mistakes on my little key to success” He was relieved his work was complete. He yelled to his wife,” Do you think we can move to
Florida and retire after this? That is if it works. “Yep we will be rich Lisa”, Martin said.
“Well, it is time for me to go for a meeting at my office to let my co-workers see my wonderful, gleaming paper. They will feast their eyes on my masterpiece.” Just at that moment (ringggggggggg)”The phone, the phone, answer it.” One more ring came (ringgggggg). Now Martin was using every last bit of his energy to answer the phone. With one last leap, as if it were a leap for glory, he snatched the pitch black phone off of the white oak table.
“Hello, Martin Smith at your service,” Martin said panting.” Yes, yes Martin, this is your boss Thomas Young.” “Oh hello boss, nice to hear from you.” “I was calling to tell you that our meeting is canceled. Apparently, someone accidentally blew all the fuses in the building. We tried to call a repair man but none were available. So, I give you this after noon off, bye.”
“Oh this is splendid, absolutely wonderful!” Martin said. He rejoiced for a few moments although it seemed to last 5 minutes. He heard a young paper boy outside. Martin stumbled his way outside and saw the boy. His eyes where red as if they were full with envy. His clothes were torn. Martin could see the remains of what he had eaten last on his lips. It was a funny mix of foreign vegetables. Who ever he is, he must be homeless. The boy approached Martin with caution. Suddenly a bright cheery voice arose “Will you buy a paper from me? It’s 1 dollar.” Now, martin thought about it “Why not? Ok, here is your 1 dollar.” The boy handed him a paper. “Why thank you, you deserve a tip. Here you go.” Martin handed the boy a 5 dollar bill. Then the boy left skipping with joy. It seemed as if he could take on the world.
Martin skimmed through the paper. He found the news section. It said “special bulletin” there was to be an open house at Manhattan bank. “Oh yes, this is my chance to see it. I have been waiting a while.” He told his wife and ran out the door. It seemed as if he was obsessed with the bank.
He hollered for a taxi. “Taxi! Taxi!” One passed, then another. Finally one stopped. It was unlike the others. Instead of yellow, it was a blue checkered taxi. It said “Trillip” on the side. “It must be the cab company’s name,” Martin thought in his head. There were many other thoughts in his head. Some of the thoughts were of family, some of money. It was as if his thoughts were buzzing bees in a flower patch.
When he arrived at the bank it was not too crowded. There were many different people there. Some were white, some black, and some tan. It was of no matter to him. They were all here to see the master piece. Martin had brought along his briefcase, hoping to show it off. The time was now. It was the peak of the day. This is the time when it was hotter and brighter than any other time. This added to Martin’s excitement.
First, he saw the marvelous engravings on the wall. It seemed to him they must have been a copy of a finer work in Rome. To him, it looked like the original was engraved in the early Italian Renaissance. Perhaps, it was created in the time of the marvelous Michael Angelo. He could see some god, Greek or Roman, throwing lightning at wrong doers
Next, he moved on to the architect’s office. Martin thought that maybe he could get some tips to enlighten his boss. They chatted for a while then Martin said “Is the work on the wall an early work of Michael Angelo? The man replied “Oh, why yes it is. He is not so well known for it, though. It is one of his early works. Martin said a polite good bye and left.
Next, he moved on to the vault. It had an amazingly high section of papers, money, old things, blue prints at the top, and much, much more. He dropped his suit case so he could feel the rough surface of the material. The coverings on some of the boxes were shiny gold, some bronze, others silver, and a greenish copper just like the statue of liberty that gleamed out in New York Harbor. The top of the vault was 100 ft. tall. It seemed as if the ceiling was a million miles away.
Martin thought, “Well, the bank closes at 1 P.M. It is 12:30 now. I better leave.” He walked down the alley to a place called Fretters Fine Dining. He thought, “I’ll stop for a bite to eat.” He opened the door. The handle was made of one of the same materials in the bank. Martin thought it really made the diner come to life, as if it would come out and grab you.Martin ordered large fries and the specialty; a BLT. The waiter came. He had a strange white goatee at the end of his chin. It did not curl like others, it went straight down. He was rather short and looked in his mid 50’s. He asked “What would you like Sir?” Martin replied with his mouth drooling “large fries and a BLT.” The waiter jotted down his notes and went off.
During the time he was waiting, Martin could smell the greasy fries. The BLT smelled marvelous. The lettuce was fresh, and the bacon, oh the bacon was wonderful. It filled the air with the smell of grease. All of this made Martin’s taste buds grow 3 times bigger.
After a 20 minute wait he was surprised to see his food. Martin thought it was well done. The fries were absolutely wonderful, although he thought there was a little too much grease. It tingled his throat all the way down. Now, the BLT was great. It was perfect. The lettuce was fresh from the garden. It was still wet. The tomatoes were also fresh and perfect. The bacon was the best. When he bit it, it was not crunchy but juicy. The grease was perfect.
Martin walked to the counter and paid his bill. The bill was $8.00 in total. The BLT was $5 and the fries $3. Martin thought his meal was great. He walked out the door and saw the same old shack outside, but it was beautiful inside. He hollered for a taxi. This time it was a checkered taxi with the logo “Neble.” He got into the taxi and waited until he got home. There was a strange smell in this taxi. He could not place it. It was a minty, orange smell.
When he arrived at his house he paid the man $4 fair and tipped him $4. When he walked in the door his house was clean. His wife was at work cleaning. She did a good job. The smell was like Windex. The floors gleamed. The room and every bit of dust were dusted. Martin trotted up the stairs again. He went to his bed with his pillows all fluffed. His sheets were white and the material was somewhat silky. He got in bed and slept.
He dreamt of his visit to the bank. He remembered the engravings, the talk with the architect, then the vault. Suddenly he woke up. “Oh shoot! I left my suitcase in the vault. He thought, “I must get it back.” He made a plan. I’ll break into the bank and get it. If I get caught I will say my brief case was in there.
He got on his old army clothes. It gave him memories of the war; all the deaths. Martin thought, “This is no time to think about that, I must get my brief case.” He was ready. He had all his tools and his uniform. It was now 9 P.M. The bank was closed and wouldn’t reopen for another 12 hours. He set off for Manhattan Bank.
He walked all the way there. In the gloomy night it is pretty dangerous. You might get mugged. He walked carefully not knowing what might be around the corner. He strived to walk there. It took him one hour to reach the deserted Manhattan Bank. There he stood, Martin Smith, ready to take on the biggest challenge of his life.
First, Martin checked his surroundings. There was no guard. He also checked for cameras; none to be seen. He looked around for other people. There was 1 homeless man. He was Australian. He was sleeping in the alley next to the bank. Martin thought this could be a problem. After a while of thinking he decided that he would not be a threat. After all, he was dozing away in his dreamland.
Martin got out his climbing cord. It was a black cord with a steel hook at the end. He looked for a spot to throw it. He could see a rooftop air conditioning unit and an exhaust vent. Martin could throw his hook on the air conditioner and climb through the air vents to get inside.
He aimed for the conditioner. Bang! It hit off the rim of the building. He threw it again. “Ting!” It hooked onto the metal bar on the unit. He pulled and scaled the wall. Frequently, he stopped for a rest. Then he pulled himself all the way to the top of the bank.
He searched his pack for the screw driver. He searched around for a little while and pulled out the stainless steal screw driver. He unscrewed the vent opening. Bang! It hit the ground. He thought he could hear the homeless person on the street. The man had heard Martin. Martin had been discovered. Martin thought to himself, “Well, he might not tell. I might as well try."
He climbed in. The air was cool inside. It was difficult to move without making any noise. He crawled on the tin panels. After a few bangs he saw the room where the door to the vault was. There was no vent that went in the vault. He unscrewed the vent cover and hopped behind the service desk.
Now he had to crack the code. He got an old stethoscope from his bag. He put the stethoscope on the Vault door. He turned 67 to the left. “click” It was right. He tried 52 to the right. “silence” It was wrong. He thought. He remembered the architect say he was 67. Also the manger was 45 and the owner was 58. He tried all 3 of the numbers. Martin turned the knob.
“Creeeeekkkkk!” The door opened. Martin did not see his briefcase. “Achoo!” Martin sneezed. The mist let him see the infrared beams. They we all over the floor. The same flash as before caught his eye-- the buckle on his briefcase. It was at the top of the vault. They must have thought it was one of the banks blue prints. Now, Martin would have to climb all the way to the top of the 100 ft. vault. just to get his briefcase.
He started to climb the wall. He grasped on to the handles on the drawers. One by one he walked up. He had come about 50 ft, already. His head was red with exhaustion. His palms were sweaty. Up, up, up. Now he was about 75 ft. up. He climbed some more. Martin was pushing himself to his limit. He stretched as far as he could to grab the handles one by one. He was now in reach of the briefcase. As he reached his sweat ran down his cheack. It ran off his neck and desented off his body. “Noooooooooo!” The sweat dropped. Martin thought it was all over. Out of nowhere came a boomerang. Just before the sweat hit the ground it hit the boomerang.
It was the man. “The homeless man had saved him.” Martin thought as the boomerang bounced off the wall and the man caught it. “Thank you!” Martin yelled as he grabbed his briefcase and begun scaling down the tower of cabinets. “No trouble mate!” The man yelled. Martin scaled down the wall and hopped over the beams. Once he was out of the vault room, he closed the door and began to greet the man. They chatted for a short while. Martin introduced himself. The man did the same. The man’s name was Henry Prasion.
Martin and the man jumped on the iron service desk. Martin slipped once on the papers on the table. Some were thank you memos, some where meeting dates, and some where office notes. Martin folded his hands so Henry could insert his foot in the hand pocket. Martin could barely hold Henry. Sweat started to drip from his face again.
Henry hopped into the now icy cool vent. Henry held down his arm and pulled up Martin. Martin stumbled and fell. They tried again and again but could not pull Martin up. Finally, Henry ripped a bar off the wall used to hang coat. He placed it horizontally and let his feet hang on it like monkey bars.
The blood rushed to Henry’s head. His faced turned bright red. He grasped Martin’s hands and pulled Henry using all of his strength. Finally, with one large, vein straining pull they flew up into the vent. Then they began through the dark tunnel. If they went the wrong way they might end up in the heater or have fan blades cut through their flesh.
They could hear the furnace turn on. Whoosh! The hot air streaked across their bodies. The heat was too hot and the aluminum began to become hot. There flesh was burning. They started to hurry the pace. They were no longer organized. They were a two person mob. They were rampaging through the tin tunnel. It was as if they were being cooked for a feast.
Martin was the first to see the brilliant light of the New York street lights. It would be just a few more feet to the opening. Then “Ahhhhhh!” It was Henry. His legs were to hot to move anymore. Henry had saved Martin, now Martin would save him. Martin grasped Henry’s body and pulled. Martin’s knees were beginning to swell. He was so hot the world around him began to fade out.
Then with one final bound he managed to pull Henry and himself out. Martin shook Henry and in a few short minutes he awoke from his tranquil sleep. With a few oww’s and ahhh’s Henry was back on his feet. Martin was not fooled. Henry was now as fragile as a new born calf.
Martin searched in his pack. He saw a piece of tape. He also saw gum. Then he saw an old broom stick. He would put it on the wire and go down like a pulley. He started off. He put the broom stick on the wire. Henry got on his back and they pushed off Manhattan Bank.
The icy cool wind whooshed by their bodies. Then “crack,” the broom stick broke. They fell into the bank garbage can. The smell was so rotten inside. Banana peel and old sock smells filled the air. Martin pulled himself and Henry out of the bin. They had done it. They escaped from the bank. They started to walk through the gloomy night.
They walked a block and they picked up a cab and set off to Martin’s house. After a short while they were at Martin’s home. Martin told Henry he could stay the night. They walked through what Henry called “the clean palace”. Henry slept on a blow up mattress. They dozed off through the night.
Martin got up early that morning. He set off to work. It was a big success. Martin’s family became rich. They bought a house in Florida on the ocean. They worked together to find where Henry’s family lived. They sent him off to Australia where he was reunited with his family. All of them, Henry and The Smith’s, were happy. That is it how a man became terrified and used the peak of his senses to get back what mattered to him most.
The Break In at Manhattan Bank
By Michael James
contact him at :: mguruj@yahoo.com
yeah he told me to put that..=P
One a shiny Thursday morning in New York a man who would become terrified in the next few hours awoke. His name was Martin Smith. His wife was Lisa Smith. “Time to get up Martin”, Lisa announced. Martin moaned for a short while and began down the stairs. (yawn),”Aww honey, my big blue print is due tomorrow at 6:00 A.M,” Martin said. Then he ate the pancakes his wife had made. “Yummy!” Martin yelled.Then he trotted up the stairs.
He arrived upstairs, surprised to see that his brief case was not in place. ”Oh dear, oh dear, where could it be?” Martin muttered. He strode back and forth looking for his key to success as a rich man. As he searched, his eyes caught a flash - the buckle on his brief case.” Phew, that was close.” He began to search across his work. ”All here, all the prints.” Then he thought a while and began to check his work.
“Ok” he yelled. He began to talk under his breath. ”This there, that goes there, you there. “Aha! A mistake, no mistakes on my little key to success” He was relieved his work was complete. He yelled to his wife,” Do you think we can move to
Florida and retire after this? That is if it works. “Yep we will be rich Lisa”, Martin said.
“Well, it is time for me to go for a meeting at my office to let my co-workers see my wonderful, gleaming paper. They will feast their eyes on my masterpiece.” Just at that moment (ringggggggggg)”The phone, the phone, answer it.” One more ring came (ringgggggg). Now Martin was using every last bit of his energy to answer the phone. With one last leap, as if it were a leap for glory, he snatched the pitch black phone off of the white oak table.
“Hello, Martin Smith at your service,” Martin said panting.” Yes, yes Martin, this is your boss Thomas Young.” “Oh hello boss, nice to hear from you.” “I was calling to tell you that our meeting is canceled. Apparently, someone accidentally blew all the fuses in the building. We tried to call a repair man but none were available. So, I give you this after noon off, bye.”
“Oh this is splendid, absolutely wonderful!” Martin said. He rejoiced for a few moments although it seemed to last 5 minutes. He heard a young paper boy outside. Martin stumbled his way outside and saw the boy. His eyes where red as if they were full with envy. His clothes were torn. Martin could see the remains of what he had eaten last on his lips. It was a funny mix of foreign vegetables. Who ever he is, he must be homeless. The boy approached Martin with caution. Suddenly a bright cheery voice arose “Will you buy a paper from me? It’s 1 dollar.” Now, martin thought about it “Why not? Ok, here is your 1 dollar.” The boy handed him a paper. “Why thank you, you deserve a tip. Here you go.” Martin handed the boy a 5 dollar bill. Then the boy left skipping with joy. It seemed as if he could take on the world.
Martin skimmed through the paper. He found the news section. It said “special bulletin” there was to be an open house at Manhattan bank. “Oh yes, this is my chance to see it. I have been waiting a while.” He told his wife and ran out the door. It seemed as if he was obsessed with the bank.
He hollered for a taxi. “Taxi! Taxi!” One passed, then another. Finally one stopped. It was unlike the others. Instead of yellow, it was a blue checkered taxi. It said “Trillip” on the side. “It must be the cab company’s name,” Martin thought in his head. There were many other thoughts in his head. Some of the thoughts were of family, some of money. It was as if his thoughts were buzzing bees in a flower patch.
When he arrived at the bank it was not too crowded. There were many different people there. Some were white, some black, and some tan. It was of no matter to him. They were all here to see the master piece. Martin had brought along his briefcase, hoping to show it off. The time was now. It was the peak of the day. This is the time when it was hotter and brighter than any other time. This added to Martin’s excitement.
First, he saw the marvelous engravings on the wall. It seemed to him they must have been a copy of a finer work in Rome. To him, it looked like the original was engraved in the early Italian Renaissance. Perhaps, it was created in the time of the marvelous Michael Angelo. He could see some god, Greek or Roman, throwing lightning at wrong doers
Next, he moved on to the architect’s office. Martin thought that maybe he could get some tips to enlighten his boss. They chatted for a while then Martin said “Is the work on the wall an early work of Michael Angelo? The man replied “Oh, why yes it is. He is not so well known for it, though. It is one of his early works. Martin said a polite good bye and left.
Next, he moved on to the vault. It had an amazingly high section of papers, money, old things, blue prints at the top, and much, much more. He dropped his suit case so he could feel the rough surface of the material. The coverings on some of the boxes were shiny gold, some bronze, others silver, and a greenish copper just like the statue of liberty that gleamed out in New York Harbor. The top of the vault was 100 ft. tall. It seemed as if the ceiling was a million miles away.
Martin thought, “Well, the bank closes at 1 P.M. It is 12:30 now. I better leave.” He walked down the alley to a place called Fretters Fine Dining. He thought, “I’ll stop for a bite to eat.” He opened the door. The handle was made of one of the same materials in the bank. Martin thought it really made the diner come to life, as if it would come out and grab you.Martin ordered large fries and the specialty; a BLT. The waiter came. He had a strange white goatee at the end of his chin. It did not curl like others, it went straight down. He was rather short and looked in his mid 50’s. He asked “What would you like Sir?” Martin replied with his mouth drooling “large fries and a BLT.” The waiter jotted down his notes and went off.
During the time he was waiting, Martin could smell the greasy fries. The BLT smelled marvelous. The lettuce was fresh, and the bacon, oh the bacon was wonderful. It filled the air with the smell of grease. All of this made Martin’s taste buds grow 3 times bigger.
After a 20 minute wait he was surprised to see his food. Martin thought it was well done. The fries were absolutely wonderful, although he thought there was a little too much grease. It tingled his throat all the way down. Now, the BLT was great. It was perfect. The lettuce was fresh from the garden. It was still wet. The tomatoes were also fresh and perfect. The bacon was the best. When he bit it, it was not crunchy but juicy. The grease was perfect.
Martin walked to the counter and paid his bill. The bill was $8.00 in total. The BLT was $5 and the fries $3. Martin thought his meal was great. He walked out the door and saw the same old shack outside, but it was beautiful inside. He hollered for a taxi. This time it was a checkered taxi with the logo “Neble.” He got into the taxi and waited until he got home. There was a strange smell in this taxi. He could not place it. It was a minty, orange smell.
When he arrived at his house he paid the man $4 fair and tipped him $4. When he walked in the door his house was clean. His wife was at work cleaning. She did a good job. The smell was like Windex. The floors gleamed. The room and every bit of dust were dusted. Martin trotted up the stairs again. He went to his bed with his pillows all fluffed. His sheets were white and the material was somewhat silky. He got in bed and slept.
He dreamt of his visit to the bank. He remembered the engravings, the talk with the architect, then the vault. Suddenly he woke up. “Oh shoot! I left my suitcase in the vault. He thought, “I must get it back.” He made a plan. I’ll break into the bank and get it. If I get caught I will say my brief case was in there.
He got on his old army clothes. It gave him memories of the war; all the deaths. Martin thought, “This is no time to think about that, I must get my brief case.” He was ready. He had all his tools and his uniform. It was now 9 P.M. The bank was closed and wouldn’t reopen for another 12 hours. He set off for Manhattan Bank.
He walked all the way there. In the gloomy night it is pretty dangerous. You might get mugged. He walked carefully not knowing what might be around the corner. He strived to walk there. It took him one hour to reach the deserted Manhattan Bank. There he stood, Martin Smith, ready to take on the biggest challenge of his life.
First, Martin checked his surroundings. There was no guard. He also checked for cameras; none to be seen. He looked around for other people. There was 1 homeless man. He was Australian. He was sleeping in the alley next to the bank. Martin thought this could be a problem. After a while of thinking he decided that he would not be a threat. After all, he was dozing away in his dreamland.
Martin got out his climbing cord. It was a black cord with a steel hook at the end. He looked for a spot to throw it. He could see a rooftop air conditioning unit and an exhaust vent. Martin could throw his hook on the air conditioner and climb through the air vents to get inside.
He aimed for the conditioner. Bang! It hit off the rim of the building. He threw it again. “Ting!” It hooked onto the metal bar on the unit. He pulled and scaled the wall. Frequently, he stopped for a rest. Then he pulled himself all the way to the top of the bank.
He searched his pack for the screw driver. He searched around for a little while and pulled out the stainless steal screw driver. He unscrewed the vent opening. Bang! It hit the ground. He thought he could hear the homeless person on the street. The man had heard Martin. Martin had been discovered. Martin thought to himself, “Well, he might not tell. I might as well try."
He climbed in. The air was cool inside. It was difficult to move without making any noise. He crawled on the tin panels. After a few bangs he saw the room where the door to the vault was. There was no vent that went in the vault. He unscrewed the vent cover and hopped behind the service desk.
Now he had to crack the code. He got an old stethoscope from his bag. He put the stethoscope on the Vault door. He turned 67 to the left. “click” It was right. He tried 52 to the right. “silence” It was wrong. He thought. He remembered the architect say he was 67. Also the manger was 45 and the owner was 58. He tried all 3 of the numbers. Martin turned the knob.
“Creeeeekkkkk!” The door opened. Martin did not see his briefcase. “Achoo!” Martin sneezed. The mist let him see the infrared beams. They we all over the floor. The same flash as before caught his eye-- the buckle on his briefcase. It was at the top of the vault. They must have thought it was one of the banks blue prints. Now, Martin would have to climb all the way to the top of the 100 ft. vault. just to get his briefcase.
He started to climb the wall. He grasped on to the handles on the drawers. One by one he walked up. He had come about 50 ft, already. His head was red with exhaustion. His palms were sweaty. Up, up, up. Now he was about 75 ft. up. He climbed some more. Martin was pushing himself to his limit. He stretched as far as he could to grab the handles one by one. He was now in reach of the briefcase. As he reached his sweat ran down his cheack. It ran off his neck and desented off his body. “Noooooooooo!” The sweat dropped. Martin thought it was all over. Out of nowhere came a boomerang. Just before the sweat hit the ground it hit the boomerang.
It was the man. “The homeless man had saved him.” Martin thought as the boomerang bounced off the wall and the man caught it. “Thank you!” Martin yelled as he grabbed his briefcase and begun scaling down the tower of cabinets. “No trouble mate!” The man yelled. Martin scaled down the wall and hopped over the beams. Once he was out of the vault room, he closed the door and began to greet the man. They chatted for a short while. Martin introduced himself. The man did the same. The man’s name was Henry Prasion.
Martin and the man jumped on the iron service desk. Martin slipped once on the papers on the table. Some were thank you memos, some where meeting dates, and some where office notes. Martin folded his hands so Henry could insert his foot in the hand pocket. Martin could barely hold Henry. Sweat started to drip from his face again.
Henry hopped into the now icy cool vent. Henry held down his arm and pulled up Martin. Martin stumbled and fell. They tried again and again but could not pull Martin up. Finally, Henry ripped a bar off the wall used to hang coat. He placed it horizontally and let his feet hang on it like monkey bars.
The blood rushed to Henry’s head. His faced turned bright red. He grasped Martin’s hands and pulled Henry using all of his strength. Finally, with one large, vein straining pull they flew up into the vent. Then they began through the dark tunnel. If they went the wrong way they might end up in the heater or have fan blades cut through their flesh.
They could hear the furnace turn on. Whoosh! The hot air streaked across their bodies. The heat was too hot and the aluminum began to become hot. There flesh was burning. They started to hurry the pace. They were no longer organized. They were a two person mob. They were rampaging through the tin tunnel. It was as if they were being cooked for a feast.
Martin was the first to see the brilliant light of the New York street lights. It would be just a few more feet to the opening. Then “Ahhhhhh!” It was Henry. His legs were to hot to move anymore. Henry had saved Martin, now Martin would save him. Martin grasped Henry’s body and pulled. Martin’s knees were beginning to swell. He was so hot the world around him began to fade out.
Then with one final bound he managed to pull Henry and himself out. Martin shook Henry and in a few short minutes he awoke from his tranquil sleep. With a few oww’s and ahhh’s Henry was back on his feet. Martin was not fooled. Henry was now as fragile as a new born calf.
Martin searched in his pack. He saw a piece of tape. He also saw gum. Then he saw an old broom stick. He would put it on the wire and go down like a pulley. He started off. He put the broom stick on the wire. Henry got on his back and they pushed off Manhattan Bank.
The icy cool wind whooshed by their bodies. Then “crack,” the broom stick broke. They fell into the bank garbage can. The smell was so rotten inside. Banana peel and old sock smells filled the air. Martin pulled himself and Henry out of the bin. They had done it. They escaped from the bank. They started to walk through the gloomy night.
They walked a block and they picked up a cab and set off to Martin’s house. After a short while they were at Martin’s home. Martin told Henry he could stay the night. They walked through what Henry called “the clean palace”. Henry slept on a blow up mattress. They dozed off through the night.
Martin got up early that morning. He set off to work. It was a big success. Martin’s family became rich. They bought a house in Florida on the ocean. They worked together to find where Henry’s family lived. They sent him off to Australia where he was reunited with his family. All of them, Henry and The Smith’s, were happy. That is it how a man became terrified and used the peak of his senses to get back what mattered to him most.