Prelude (2018)

In the year of 2018, there was a man in his house. He was on the lower end of middle aged. He was 44 years old this year. His name was T.K., and he was sitting in his house. As he was sitting in his house, he was pondering what he should write about for his next book. He was a professional author who had been making books and publishing them on a regular basis so that people could read his products. His first full on published book was in the year of 2000 at the age of twenty six. Before then, he had odd jobs that he worked in to give him some form of income such as the movie theater and the fact he was trying to get his own college degree. The novel was just his way of getting some money at first but then it had turned out to be a bestseller and as it had became a bestseller, he was able to get enough money to make his next book and it slowly had gone from there.

Finally, he had covered almost all genres at least once to some extent of success and failure, depending on the project. He had made about one book a year and despite public reception, almost all of them had been at least some form of best seller. He now decided that he needed to write a book that was about him and his real life experiences. There was no real need to publish yet another book on a genre or series that he might not have been entirely invested in.

It was at this point when he realized that if he wanted to fully cover his life story, he also needed to cover some of the more important events. That way people might be able to get more invested in his life, not only making him more successful, but also avoiding any boredom of his readers. He concluded there was one adventure that he had gone through when he was about 12 years old, in the year of 1986, that he thought people would be interested in. When he thought of it, he began having memories of his past.

This defining moment was when he had finally made his choice. He grabbed the phone and called his friend Joe. He and Joe had had a strong friendship ever since the adventures of 1986. Admittedly, they were forced to get along, but as soon as they crossed that barrier, they were able to have many good conversations about life. When they were having one of those aforementioned conversations, the two never really turned back to how things were once. Maybe Joe would be able to help him out with a lot of these stories and the writings of the stories - after all, Joe had been a part of them.

Joe was five years older than T.K., making him forty nine years old. T.K. couldn't believe his once youthful companion was nearing old age with him. This passed his mind as he had called his friend. He didn't have much of a chance to ponder on such things, for Joe answered his phone quickly.

"So T.K., what are you doing?" Joe asked. Despite initial thoughts, he was just asking since his friend had never asked him for help before. T.K. explained that he wanted to make a book on his adventure and he wanted Joe's help doing so.

"I guess that I will help you out. Just give me some time to get to your house. Once I get there, then we can start." Joe had said. T.K. found himself sighing in relief. Not only would he have some help in a lot of the storytelling, but he would also not be forced to go through this past adventure alone. With that, T.K. thanked Joe, hung up, and waited for his friend.

About an hour or so passed before Joe made it to the house. As T.K. was waiting, he brought out his journal and started to write on it a bit. He thought of what he should write. One thing came to his head right away.

George HW Bush had died two days ago, it was a fact. As a life-time Republican, T.K. was devastated over the fact that the president who had helped make him decide his political views was dead. Incumbent President Trump, who was also a Republican and on the second year of his term, had made a public speech giving his sympathy of the president's death. Trump said the country should be united for their common mourning of George Bush. He was at the time the longest living president, being just two months shy of 94 years old. But since he was dead, Carter now held the title of longest lived president. T.K. had been really sad over this whole event and there was nothing that he could do to express 5his sadness. Mostly due to the fact that he was living in a place that was largely democratic. T.K. hated to live in that area since he had not wanted to be called a stupid racist just because he had different political views compared to others. T.K. had never voted democratic because even if the candidates for the Republicans were largely terrible as people - such as Donald Trump in his eyes - he always went by their policies and their ideas, not who they were as people. Obama was a nice person in his view, but Trump did share his policies more, same as Romney, McCain, both Bushes in all the elections they ran, and Bob Dole. And for that reason, he went Republican every single time. This included Donald Trump due to the policies and ideas. Despite T.K. voting for Trump, he hated him as a person. The only time T.K. considered voting democrat had been John Kerry in 2004, but in the long run it didn't matter.

T.K. decided to stop thinking politically for a bit since him thinking about it always made him angry, to be considered a minority in his place. So instead of thinking politically for the time being, he looked at the pictures in his living room. There were three pictures that stuck out to him. One of him when he was in his adventures, one of his wife when he had met her at the age of nineteen (he had been 36), and one of their son Trent, who was five years old by this point.

Before T.K. could think too much more on that, he heard a knock on his door and got up as fast as he could. He started to walk to the door but stopped to take a deep breath, knowing with about a 95 percent certainty who this person was. But he opened it just a couple of seconds later and greeted his friend Joe with as much excitement that he was capable of when he was just about to start talking about the hardest experience of his entire life.

"So T.K., when do you plan on getting ready for this?" Joe had asked.

T.K. nodded. He decided that there was nothing else that he could really do that would make putting this off worth it. So he just led Joe inside the house - the very house that his friend had not been inside of for almost six fucking months. They hung out every other week, but rather at the college that T.K. taught at.

T.K. taught at a Community College for creative writing during his spare time to make money while he was working on his books. He taught his class every weekday for 75 minute sessions - the class was worth four credits. The reason he did daily classes was because he was wanting to get the idea into his students' heads that you can't take a break from your writing or else the characters and story start to feel more like that - just characters - not like real events or people. Something that doesn't happen when you write every single day. It was a quick and easy job for some quick and easy money and he enjoyed it.

"I think we should probably just get started with this as soon as possible so we don't just stall out." T.K. had said. When he said that Joe decided T.K. was right. Both of them agreed that when they would write this story, they would just write the stuff that came to their head and that they would not force themselves to write in a linear order since that would be too hard to do.

Once they had come to that agreement, they had decided not to put the writing of the adventures off any longer and that they would start to get ready on it. The two felt like in hindsight that they should have done all of this so much sooner so that way they would have been able to get all of this out there for the real world to finally read.