Kleinfeld's Western*

A Story by Abishai100

A mod-Homeland 'misadventure' of escapist proportion(s) for an antihero mired in gem-insurance 'darkness' but with a view for (incomplete) bishop-chess.

A bright adaptation/fanfiction of Carlito's Way (Brian De Palma).

DISCLAIMER: This work of movie 'fanfiction' offers no ties to the referenced film and all references/images comprise a purely 'personal' exercise in creative hyperbole (for 'open' review).

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KLEINFELD: I'm to take the swapped-gems (rumored/insured blood-diamonds) to the Nevada bus-station locker-box and flee with Ezzy for our Brussels-sprout enterprise (Belgian) for a social-media 'examination' (or commentary!) concerning future(s) of media/movie arts review (for the Ego).

Kleinfeld hoped to escape that hellmouth-world of blood-diamond insurance veils which he'd fallen into after first intending to create overground diamond-marketing chess-excellence in the post-9/11 era Homeland (Nevada) and had become fond of Ezzy's son (Damian), from her first-marriage, and gifted him a toy-silencer (Japan) with the promise, "When there's a will...there's weight (even for the chess-forsaken)."

BARON ION: I want that damn 'lawyer' (Kleinfeld) to know/appreciate escape from (my) Nevada ain't basic toast...we'll send Fred to the bus-depot to nab him after he thinks he's sent-off his darlings (Ha).

Fortune favors the resourcefulness, and Ezzy/Damian made it on-board their bust-trip en-route to their flight to Europe, and Kleinfeld had only now to get his swapped blood-diamonds from the bank (with the acid-gun he used to make the masked box-burn with the claim he was sent for a media-stunt for insurance-commentary/news by Ion's rival-company) hidden in his Nevada apartment to the bus-depot box-locker for the portion-storage for (Interpol-relation?) commission and then dream of Ezzy as his Euro-handshake media-art production view for social-media 'examination' (or commentary!).

EZZY: Just wanted to text you, Kleinfeld; Damian/I are en-route (now).

KLEINFELD: Excellence; taking-out last-pieces (of the plan) at my abode.

EZZY: Good luck (good for social media).

KLEINFELD: You said it (thanx).

FRED: Seems this bad-guy turned Catholic-dreamer will return to his 'shack' before the bus-stop for those diamonds, and I'll wait with an acidic-splash, lest he show-up in some horrid disguise to evade my claw(s)...only a matter of real estate bread.

How'd Kleinfeld escape Ion's Fred (gargoyle) at the Nevada bus-depot you (maybe) ask? Well, our protagonist prince 'antihero' managed to detect some minion message at his last-turn for this tale of escape from the underworld and showed-up in a wig and mustache/beard and cowboy-hat costume, complete with sunglasses and boarded the bus-depot looking like 'any-old' fat-baron investor of the American Homeland in his post-9/11 era of 'incomplete-distances' to traffic/commercial bread (and readings).

WAITRESS: Here's that 'exotic' (Indian) luchi-bread thanksgiving-brunch plate.

KLEINFELD: Thanx, darlin'; it's what I need before my 'great' escape!

WAITRESS: What...are you some oil-man or gem-investor (or someone)?

KLEINFELD: You guessed it, darlin'; I've got a luchi-business in view (now).

WAITRESS: Good fortune (and enjoy).

Our poor-fellow antihero (Kleinfeld) made it all the way to Europe and hooked-up with Ezzy/Damian in what'd become a Western (faerie-tale) 'image' of great distances to self-made (Catholic?) daydreams. Fortunately for Kleinfeld, there'd be a social-media 'friendly' bread in his (otherwise) radian future(s).