The front door of the house slammed shut. It was official: Jack was not allowed in the house the rest of the day. He sighed; the young schoolboy had just gotten home from school and wanted to play some video games, but his mom said he needed to play outside today. What exactly we were supposed to do, he did not know, not like he had any siblings to play with. He started walking the length of the property, looking for something to do looking at the fence that separated their property from the property next door. Going along the property for a half mile following the iron fence until he spotted a gap in the fence, just big enough for someone of his size to slip through. He thought to himself, “Well, it wouldn't hurt to take a peek.” He then went to the gap and slipped inside to see what was on the other side of the fence, and what he saw was very depressing. The Lawn of the estate was overgrown almost as tall as him. Luckily, the long driveway was not far from the fence. He made his way to the long driveway that was equally in a bad state, with cracks in the asphalt and the driveway crumbling. The house was once beautiful, a classic 50s Beverly Hills mansion that was now in disrepair, with vines growing on it and the large pool that had long since dried up, only leaving a concrete pit.

  As he got closer to the house, he could see a car in the driveway. Though it was not in any shape or form of a modern car, it looked like one of the 1950s. When he came close, he could see it was a black 57 Chevrolet Bel Air, though like all the other things on the property, it was a little worse for wear. It was rusty, and the interior had been baking in the sun for a while, making the seats crack. He looked around he knew that this was technically trespassing. He had to admit he couldn't help himself. He walked onto the patio of the house and peered into a ground-floor window. Inside, he saw a small room that looked rather cozy. He could see a fire going, a desk with no chair, and a well-worn couch. Inside, he could see several small gold statues and a few movie posters, but he couldn't make out what was on them. He could see something moving inside that approached the window, he flinched only to be revealed that it was just a brown Persian Cat that jumped on the window seal. The cat locked eyes with him and meowed and jumped back off the inside window seal.

  “He decided that while he was there, he would see if the owner was home. With the worst-case scenario being he would get kicked off the property, Jack realized his status as the son of a billionaire made it harder for him to get in trouble with the law. He went up to the large wooden door and rang the doorbell. After a minute, he heard the door creak open and an elderly voice say, “You aren’t my usual delivery boy, what are you doing here?” Jack was lost for words at first, he must have saw him from a window “Um... I’m .... Your neighbor, I just thought .. I would come greet you” The voice which spoke in an old fashioned Mid Atlantic accent “Is that so?.... Eh.. I could use the company, come on in close the door on your way in” Jack fully opened the door and came in and closed the door behind him, he looked and he saw that the man he had been talking to was in a wheelchair. The man said “So kid, you are my new neighbor? Good, I suppose I didn't like the last neighbor. So where are you from kid? I know that accent isn't from around here. “I am from Virginia” He nodded as he went through the hallway. I've been there a few times, I’m from Vermont myself, my father said that we are related to Ethan Allen, you probably don’t even know who Ethan Allen is.” Jack replied, “He’s one of the founders of Vermont and a Revolutionary War hero.” The man squinted his eyes “Well it appears they still teach something of worth in schools these days” The old man was at least 70 years old maybe even older. He had had a thin mustache and a receding hairline.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “So, what’s your name, kid?” Jack responded, “Jack McCoy.” “Ah an Irishman, I see, I am Jerry Mitchell... of the famous Mitchell siblings, perhaps you have heard of me?” Jack shook his head politely. “Ah, it’s okay, I haven't been in a film in a very long time.” They made their way to the sitting room that Jack had looked into the window of before. He was amazed when he saw the room; it was quite large and filled with movie memorabilia, props all over the room, from prop swords to prop guns. On the walls were several movie posters of classic movies with titles like “The Little Tramp,” “PT 106,” “The Sword of Zorro,” “The Legend of Robin hood” and many more. “Woah this is so cool, this is like some kind of film museum.” Jerry smiled, “Oh yes, and all of the films I have been in, back in my prime, from the silent era to the early sixties.” Jack smiled. He loved old stuff like this. Jerry smiled back and said, “Could you be a dear and get that bottle out of the cupboard over there?” He then pointed to the corner of the room where a tall cabinet was. Jack nodded and went over to the cabinet and spotted it on the top shelf. “Please grab a glass, my dear boy.” Jack did as he was told and brought the bottle of alcohol and a glass to the nearby coffee table and sat down. Jerry smiled and poured him a glass and took a sip “Ah, nothing like some brandy to spur conversation, now what do you want to talk about?” Jack replied, “I want to know about your career; it must have been fascinating.” Jerry replied, “Well, it all started in 1928.....”