Tomorrow Star Looking For Answers

During the past two years Holloway Boy was trying to figure out exactly what life was all about and suddenly a magical thought labeled him ‘Tomorrow Star.’ Receiving a royal ascot as a gift to look like a winner from a sponsor, the future prospect deemed a long shot strutted using a good firm fashionable style.

“My boy would you like to play chess for a ham steak,” a stranger sitting on the city street hollered with sculpted game figures displayed.

“Do I want to play chess for a ham steak?” Holloway Boy repeated the question.

“Yes, my name is Chesham and that is what I am offering in this market town, a chess ham steak to someone who looks like a winner,”

“I think I will pass and breeze on by,” Holloway Boy responded knowing more opportunities should be developing soon.

Understanding the noble truth, molded winning reality Holloway Boy continued the high-profile journey only to encounter a trio pondering the world.

“My dear Holloway Boy, there is no reason to put your jersey at stake for this fantasy where competitive talent is judged,” one explained.

“No, you will not find the proper path in a second,” another continued.

“Maybe the Dubai poet could show you an answer,” the third concluded, “yes, track down the Dubai poet.”

Listening to the rhyme and reasoning to this advice Holloway Boy departed the conversation having a little bit more maturing wealth from those in group three.

A little later Holloway Boy saw the sign “The Empire State” and this made him ask, “has anyone seen the Dubai poet?”

“He should be back in his stable,” an image appeared, “my name is Rubibbi and I have been down and under the boardwalk in life.”

“But you have this scenic beach and ocean,” Holloway Boy stated, “how could anyone be down under the boardwalk?”

“Her name my dear Holloway Boy,” Rubibbi explained, “was Kimberly, she told me she controlled a whole region.”

“A whole region, Rubibbi,” Holloway Boy was impressed, “that meant a lot of people.”

Rubibbi in a kind affirmative gesture shook her head, “For four years we were a group of two before it turned into a Hardwick experience herding a crowd where our life was at stake, I would sit in my room and ask, ‘who could it be now’ I was a winner, yet I had to change my name from Broome to Rubibbi, all do to Kimberly and her region.”

Hearing the downside to mass success Holloway Boy returned home and right in time to have a good piece of meat on a silver platter. Sitting down at the round table there was a military leader at the other end resting in peace.

“Excuse me, sir?” Holloway Boy inquired, “I am a two-year-old on this day looking for answers in being a ‘Tomorrow Star’,”

“Well, young lad, my name is Artorius,” the well-dressed uniformed individual decorated with medals touted raising his head, “I was enjoying a Platinum Jubilee Steak with this delicious Irish pasta campanelle, it had a nice presentation show when served but when it was over, I ended up in a dead heat.”

“Nice to see you well fed,” Holloway Boy noted, “but is that is what being a champion means?”

“No, that is what tied for third means,” Artorius laughed, “it only takes a second for a creative force to secure a peaceful place.”

“Creative force?” Holloway Boy innocently asked.

“Yes, Holloway Boy, to be respected on top wearing whatever hat, you have to be creative,” Artorius lectured, “it only takes one group to make an artistic statement and donning an imaginary fictional author Naval crown makes a rich winner.”

“Naval crown?”

“You see, Holloway Boy, when we are on the seven seas looking for trouble, our soldiers spin legends, stories, and these creative forces can sooth any fights peacefully.”

Taking that last point in stride Holloway Boy walked away a winner on the day filled with ascots, top hats, and platinum jubilees.