Play@YSDC

Terry, not one to miss an opportunity for anything decides to take the cufflinks and explore some more, heading to the large mahogany door and opening it very slowly.

Terry palmed the cufflinks and then opened the mahogany door. Outside the room was a balcony stretching to the left and right, overlooking a grand foyer. More doors could be seen in the same wall that had this door, on both sides, and the hall extended into the distance in both directions. Two lavishly carpeted staircases descended to ground level, one on either side; they turned a corner and joined at a landing just below the balcony about halfway between the ground floor and the upper floor on which he found himself. A huge chandelier hung over the middle of the great hall, and the floor below was made of white marble. The front doors were visible from here directly across from the balcony, and they were also made of mahogany. Both of them were very intricately carved. An elderly, bald man in an elegant black suit stood near the front doors, and he turned when Terry opened the door.

"Ah, Master Williams," he said with an English accent. "You're awake at last, sir."

Surprised at the voice of the man, Terry considered shutting the door and running back into the room, and part of his body was already in position to do so. But he stopped, remembering the words of the old man.

"Sir, I've had a small bump on my head after getting out of bed. Could you come up here, and tell me some things? I'm afraid I might have forgotten you. If you would...please?" Terry asked, keeping his eyes on the man.

"Of course, sir," said the man, slowly walking up the grand staircase. "I'm Jenkins, sir. Your butler? A 'bump on your head,' you say? Had a bit too much at last night's party, did we? No wonder you decided to sleep in today." He reached the top of the stairs and stood in front of Terry. "Will sir require his clothes laid out?"

Still becoming quite accustom to the whole situation, he could only imagine that this was all just a dream. A strange dream, yes, but the thought was swept away from him quicker than he could ponder more on it.

"Uh...I...Yes. Yes please, Mr. Jenkins. And..." Terry trailed, thinking of the right words to describe what he wanted to say.

"I know this might be a strange request, but could you imagine that I was a total stranger? And, I came up and asked you about myself? Not me, as a stranger, but me as myself, Terrance. Could you tell me about myself like that, A stranger asking your about me?" Terry chuckled, nervously, but he still found some humor in the words he picked.

Jenkins chuckled too. "I never tire of telling this tale, sir," he said, "but of course you have never heard it yourself, and I can see why you might want to hear it. Very well. Terrance Luis Williams is a true rags to riches story. He started off as a poor kid born on the wrong side of the tracks, but he built his fortune. After coming into a large sum of money, he invested it wisely and greatly enlarged his wealth. I asked him once what he invested in, and he said just one word: 'plastics.' I never knew if he was serious, or if he was merely making a humorous reference to 'The Graduate.' He bought this mansion here on the New Jersey shore with its own private beach. He decided that he wanted an authentic English butler heading up his staff, so took a trip to England, where he found and hired me."

Terry nodded along with his story, following along carefully.

"Can I ask you what year it is?" he asked, cautiously, as if he didn't really want to know.

"Sir did indluge a bit too much last night, I see," said Jenkins. "Perhaps you did hit your head as well. If this happens again, sir, you should spare yourself the embarassment and simply ask for today's newspaper. We have the Philadelphia Inquirer, the New York Times, and the Wall Street Journal downstairs, delivered daily as always, sir, and the date is conveniently printed across the top, including the year. But in answer to your question, the year is 1976. Today is July 2, to be precise."

Terry nodded, and started to walk towards the stairs, but paused.

"Jenkins, could you run down and get all three of them? I think I'd just like to stay in bed and perhaps chat with you some more. Is that alright?" he asked.

"Of course, sir," said Jenkins with a bow. "I'll fetch them right away." He paused on the grand staircase. "Would sir like brunch brought to him in bed as usual? I can tell Cook to prepare it."

"Uh...Brunch...I think I'll just have eggs. Over easy, with toast. Brown, buttered." Terry asked, before retreating to his room and laying down in bed. The one word what he couldn't believe, or understand, was plastics. Plastics? He couldn't understand it.

"Very well, sir," said Jenkins, heading downstairs. He returned a minute or two later with three folded newspapers under his arm, which he brought over to the bed and handed to Terry. "Your brunch will be here in a few minutes, Master Williams."

All three papers indeed said that the date was July 2, 1976. Terry began to glance over the newspapers. The front page headlines all told about a hostage crisis that was continuing at an airport in Uganda. The hijackers of an airplane had landed it there, and while their deadline had originally been July 1 for their demands to be met, they had extended their deadline until the 4th. Other articles had to do with the upcoming bicentennial celebration that would be on July 4th, marking the 200th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. The Philadelphia Inquirer had more details about it than the other two papers, as Philly was where it had originally been signed and where the biggest events would be held. There were also some articles about politics, as 1976 was a presidential election year. The incumbent president was a Republican named Gerald Ford, whose name Terry did not recognize. He was facing a tight primary challenge from Ronald Reagan, of whom Terry had heard. Reagan was a movie star who had become governor of California. That race was too close to call, but a man named Jimmy Carter, the governor of Georgia, had already gotten enough delegates to secure the Democratic primary. Terry hadn't heard of Carter.

Terry did not understand a lot of what was going on, especially in the news, so after going over the papers, he did what he could to remember from the reading. Patiently, he waited for Jenkins to return.

It did not take long for Jenkins to return, carrying a silver tray on a small stand, upon which rested the toast and eggs Terry had requested.

"Your brunch, sir," said Jenkins, entering the room. He placed the stand and the tray gently on the bed, so that it was positioned over Terry's legs. "Bon appetit, as the French say."

"Jenkins, have something to eat with me. I was wondering if we could talk some more." Terry spoke, impatiently, as he broke open the egg and let the yoke spill out, mopping it and the egg up with a bit of toast. "What do you think of this Jimmy Carter guy?" he asked, speaking after he swallowed.

"Of course, sir," said Jenkins. "I'll call Cook and have her bring my meal up here." He takes a small silver bell out of his pocket and rings it, producing a delightful tinkling sound. Then he returns the bell to his pocket and sits down on the edge of the bed. "I don't know all that much about American politics, but I do follow the news. Funny thing about Jimmy Carter is that almost nobody knew who he was until recently. His heart seems to be in the right place, but I don't know about his head. Of course, you could say the same about President Ford, I suppose."

OOC,[b]Terry[/b], roll History to see if you recall anything about Gerald Ford.

Terry thought for a moment, and then sharply remembered something and pondered on it before speaking.

Terry suddenly realized that he had heard of Gerald Ford, the man who was now President, before. He had only been a teenager when President Kennedy had been assassinated on November 22, 1963, but he remembered it vividly, as everyone did who had lived through it. The Warren Commission had been formed by Kennedy's successor, President Lyndon Johnson, to investigate the assassination, and it had concluded that Lee Harvey Oswald had acted alone, a conclusion that many people disagreed with strongly. The commission had been named for Chief Justice Earl Warren, who headed it up, but Terry remembered that one of its members had been a congressman named Gerald Ford.

"Right...Ford was apart of the investigation team for Kennedy's assassination." he spoke aloud, eating his eggs up. The bell was quite the curious thing, and he wondered if the cook could hear from so far away.

"That's an interesting bell, Jenkins." he complimented, pointing his fork over to it, casually.

"It's yours, sir," said Jenkins. "You got it for me to use." A plump, pleasant-looking woman with short black hair in her forties arrived at the door. "Ah, there you are, Cook."

"You rang, Mr. Jenkins?" she said. "How can I be of service?" She spoke politely, but her accent was clearly American. She had the look of somone who enjoyed her own cooking a bit too much. And it did taste good, Terry had to admit. Even eggs and toast created a party in his mouth. But how had she heard the bell and arrived so quickly? Had she been nearby?

"Tea and scones for me, please. You know how I like it."

"Right away, sir." With that, the cook left.

OOC,[b]Terry[/b], roll Idea.