Recently due to some life changes, I was between jobs, and I took a temporary gig as a hotel bellman, and I can't say much about it due to a non-disclosure I had to sign. It's in a location that doesn't appear on any maps and that's not an oversight because it's very secretive. Anyway, I was a working the overnight shift. All of a sudden at exactly 1:30 AM, I'm just reading a book behind the front desk, and we get this room service request. They bring me this strange circular porcelain box with a weird symbol that I've never seen before, a very fancy metal spoon folded in a white dinner napkin. I couldn't tell what was in the box, but it was cold to touch.
They tell me to bring it to Room 143, which is ultra secret, I mean, this is a room that no one ever goes to. It is way down at the other end of the hotel, and there's a long, winding lobby with all kinds of dressed up men that look like they are out of a Bond movie. The security is off the charts. I get all the way to the end, and my hands are shaking as I knock on the door. This really deep, familiar voice calls out "Come on in." I try to open the door, but I have to wedge my way in because something is blocking it. I realize there is this giant mattress, incredibly high end, that takes up virtually the entire room. It's just this black mattress, nothing else. It is stunning in its appearance and craftsmanship. After really pushing to get in, I see this really handsome, tall guy just sitting on the mattress. He's really well dressed in a suit and sunglasses. I look around the room, and I note this man has no possessions, just nothing. There are no windows, no furniture, not even a pillow. He appears to be just sitting up, savoring the comfort of the mattress, which takes up the entire room. He takes off his sunglasses, and that's when my jaw drops. It's Tom Brady. I am in the presence of Tom Brady. My stomach jumps, my heart pounds, and I fall into a state of zen nothingness. Tom says to me "Hey, buddy. Thanks for bringing this. How are you doing tonight?"
We start talking, just me and Tom. He tells me that, unfortunately, I can't sit on the bed due to contractual reasons, so I sit on the floor between the side of the bed and wall. I am really crammed in, kind of jarred there lying on my side, and in order to fit, my head has to face the wall. Tom asks me about my family and asks me if I'm a good man, if I believe in God, just some very direct questions. I ask him about playing for the Patriots, about his family, about being a celebrity. He is a very down to earth guy. It is really a awkward with the wall right in my face, and my mouth hits it constantly as I speak. We talk for hours, although I get very tired because the mattress pressing against me and it so f'ing comfortable. Also, I swallowed quite a bit of paint chips from the wall, which doesn't help either. I must have fallen asleep.
When I awake it must be hours later, and he's still sitting there, completely serene. Staring at nothing. Without even looking at me (I presume, though I am still basically kissing the wall and occasionally being over to glance over with tremendous effort), he says calmly in my direction: "Concentrate and find the Mike, and then you'll see we're quite alike," and then I struggle to turn my head and see a sudden look of concern comes over his face. "You're not safe here" he says seriously and urges me to leave while I still can. I thank him for his time and stumble to the door, tripping over the mattress and finally push my way out. I shut the door behind me and turn to walk away, but I quickly remember that I should take the box and utensils with me and certainly should remove the trash from the room of Tom Brady. I open the door again, and as I open my mouth to ask if he's done with his food, I see only a black mattress. Tom Brady is gone.
On the center of the bed is the open porcelain box with the spoon; next to it is the napkin, folded like origami in the shape of a swan with angelic wings, and written on the napkin is the phrase "Revelations 16:12-16". The spoon contains the melted remains of this weird green substance that smells kind of like guacamole. As I run terrified back to the front desk, all around me, from every direction, I hear a god-like voice, echoing over and over. It's Tom Brady, as if communicating from another dimension and breaking the laws of known physics, and he is saying: "Red thirty-two. Set.".
Three days later at exactly 1:30 AM there was an anonymous envelope left for me, I presume was a tip from Tom because it had the TB12 logo on it. It contained, $14.73, and all of the bills and coins were from 1961. There were also small silver marks on the pyramid symbol of the dollar bills, little dots, markings, and arrows that were clearly a cryptic pattern. I was thinking maybe someone in this message board could decode them. Let me know if anyone is interested, though time is running short. They have found me, and I need to go away for awhile. Please, be careful.
