Good Shepherd

Narrated 'faerie-tale' of true romance and dark forebodings in America/Europe for a 'good-fellow' with the look-of-adventure in his eye(s) and a 'beautiful' mark.

A 'bright' fanfiction of one of my fave American films True Romance (Tony Scott). Here comes Halloween (thanks for reading!), 

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I was happy in my social-house on my Ivy-campus and thought of a post-grad adventure, to Europe, to sell graffiti/comics-doodles on the streets to pay minimal rent to simply write short-stories online and wander around Monte-Carlo/Monaco (good for social media!).

I decided to get some very nifty sunglasses en-route to Monaco, when I drove down to Tennessee for Xmas and visited the lit-spectacle of Gatlinburg en-route to Graceland where I procured those magic-sunglasses for my Euro-retreat now that I'd (finally!) earned my college-degree (cognitive-sciences).

I got to Monaco and started selling my doodles/graffiti in the streets and especially in the park(s)-areas and thought of the varied culture-exchange deeds of transit/Wanderlust but I still craved an adventure of some-king but didn't feel it's come-upon me, until I met Ezzy (in the parks)

EZZY: I'm a telephone-girl, working to become an (American) mail-bride.

ME: Marry me!

EZZY: You're no prince or aristocrat with 'bearings' for class-examination.

ME: Nope (not me!).

EZZY: What's this adventure on your mind, for an affable street-art(s) fellow?

ME: Can't say; I know you're part of my life (now), Ezzy; marry me.

EZZY: You're pretty cool (I'd post something 'nice' on Facebook or somethin).

ME: Cool; it's true-romance (ok).

Ezzy had a hideous dilemma. Struggling to sell her music and working as a 'call-girl' in Monte-Carlo after finishing high-school, this lovely-lady was working to make some-kind of dream work (for herself!), but she came up empty, as her 'benefactor' was extracting payments for her music-tape production charges as well as compounding her rent-schedule(s), and he wouldn't pardon this highway-chess on her behalf, lest she become his personal...studio-maid (hmm).

ME: "This is no music-deal; you're going to destroy this little-girl.

THE BOSS: "Who the hell are you to care (now)?"

ME: "See how I'll shoot you with my water-rifle filled with acid (your hand)?

THE BOSS: "What?"
ME: "Ezzy/I are retreating, after a bank-box swap of your blood-diamonds."

THE BOSS: "What?"
ME: "You can claim a 'mild' insurance media-theater 'romance' gesture or destruct."

THE BOSS: "Alright (good for social media); go on, lucky one (artist)."

The deed was achieved, and the dice was thrown, and Ezzy/I swapped the boss (rumored/insured) 'bloody-treasures' from the Monte-Carlo institution (west-bank) and fled to a Swiss-dream (chocolates/toys/art).

EZZY: This is for me (a 'squirrel' girl)?
ME: It's cute and politically correct too; you can use it for your music art?

EZZY: Sounds cool; it's almost feminist (with a 'spice' for humors).

ME: Thanx (good for social media then --- for us).

The magic-beauty of my short-tale concerns one of 'wrought' adventurism found through the street-chess of activated true-romance, and it's how I met/rescued my Earth-damsel of this capitalism-race 'world' of hellmouth(s) --- the little Ezzy (my wife!). We'd have a son, and I'd hoped to teach him (someday/somehow) to play the marvelous accordion he'd get for Xmas (in Switzerland).

THE BOSS: "I bet that artist-slazenger's at the Hawaii football theater for true romance."
ASSOCIATE: "We'd made-out (nicely) with that diamond insurance 'fiasco' (Monte-Carlo), no, baron?"

THE BOSS: "Good for social media (ok)."

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)