Donatello stood with Cristiano in the garden. The one with the lavish fountain and the abundance of flowers and stone walkways. "Join us, Cristiano," Donatello said. Mystified, Donatello replied, "But why, Cristiano? are thou coming apart?" Donatello sniffed a rose and Cristiano drew his sword. He detested punsters and their dreary wit. "Have at thee, knave!" Cristiano shouted, lunghing for Donatello, who was armed only with a rose. Donatello sidestepped the blow and tickled Cristiano under the chin. but his lunghing blow had caused Cristiano's lung to he wasn't in a position to laugh when Donatello tickled him. When he ribbed Cristiano some more, he dislocated his Shoulder and ended up in a body brace. It was painful to see his black eyes.they should have known better than to do this on the subway. People stared at them, wondering, what are they thinking? At the same time, the other passengers stared right back and wondered what was going through their minds. Finally an accountant errant from Poughkeepsie stepped forward & unloaded on the lot. There was no need to wonder what he was thinking. He was laying it all out. His frenzied eyes took in the scene. He was terrified. "I'm not evil", he said, "just a little off-course." He turned around and faced the wall, the scared look seemingly plastered on his face. "I don't know how I got here though, it just... sorta happened." He stared, eyes seeing past the wall in front of him. Then suddenly it become clear. The shimmering glitter sea infront of him, the recognisable beach. He had been here before, in 1975.



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