The Thin Fate

A Story by Abishai100

Can a man of American vanities endure/transcend a gypsy-imposed weight-curse creating (incomplete) distances for lifestyle-beryl?

My 2nd (more epic) attempt at a fanfiction of the dry-excellent film-adapted Thinner (Stephen King). Thanks so much for reading,

----

====

AMLAN SATAN (Journal): "There I was working through my troubled emotion-memory of dealings with my alcoholic father in Algiers while seeking an American Dream life in Vermont before reaching a gypsy-fare rich fair at which I 'crossed' a siren-lady (Esmerelda) who insisted I needed a 'weight-fate' examination for my vanity for transcendence of ambition-paranoia and sent me on a Selfie-culture 'mission' to find my true-value for capitalism 'race' consciousness, but without any (actual) diet."

Mr. Satan was excited about finding a new ornament-quest at a New England gypsy-fair of merchandising and arts/crafts and was well on his American-immigrant way to find some cool stuff and things for his Vermont abode and instead crossed the gypsy Esmerelda after insisting he was meant to purchase her special antique-carousel exotic sculpture, which she insisted was a treasure-omen 'trophy' for those conscious of capitalism's balance(s).

ESMERELDA: You're to go on a weight-crusade for your vanities with perdition-son American ambitions, Mr. Amlan Satan, and you needn't think it was all because of carousel-art (sculpture) ghost-magic (for the Ego!)."

Well, after thinking he'd simply find an American vanity for gypsy-ornaments and fashions in New England, poor Amlan was now sent on a thin-fate 'mission' finding himself losing weight at an exorbitant rate regardless of the manner/types of foods and cuisine he explored for personal comfort or happiness, and he began to think of Esmerelda as the Siren of Babylon, but he started regretting that gypsy-fair and wondered if he really was a 'bad' Bazarov (Turgenev).

FRIEND: This 'siren' at the gypsy-fair demanded some Selfie-consciousness.

AMLAN SATAN: You said it, pal; this is my nightmare; I'm to reorient my IQ.

FRIEND: How fast have you lost weight, buddy?

AMLAN SATAN: Too fast...perchance she's not a fan of American ambitions.

FRIEND: Geez; seems (to me) you need some escapist-thought for journals.

AMLAN SATAN: That's what I'll do, pal...adapt this 'crusade' into story.

FRIEND: Maybe that's Esmerelda's test entirely, Amlan Satan.

AMLAN SATAN: Good (Facebook-like, pal).

FRIEND: Good luck, thin-man.

Amlan went to the library in Vermont (UVM) and began doing some microfiche readings/study of post-WWII Roswell-invasion superstitions and paranoia and alien-abduction fears related/linked to the American 'culture' of obesity and convenience-consumerism. Was cholesterol some 'brand' for Western-world Homeland (American) vanities he'd have to explore through deep-thought writing to 'surpass' this curse-examination imposed by that siren-lady (Esmerelda) at the gypsy-fair (New England)?

AMLAN: My Facebook-friends will think me mad, but I feel like a Martian!

LIBRARIAN: You seem like mired in the 'smoke' of education/bureaucracy.

AMLAN: Perchance you're right (thanx I think!).

Amlan began composing his new American Dream 'compendium' to transcend this hellmouth-test imposed by that gypsy-curse and wrote and wrote and wrote, just about anything from American lore concerning identity and domain-placement curses and displacement and deformity and even steroids, from the Jersey Devil to the Incredible Hulk to Roanoke to Bugsy/Vegas. It was his 'Bazarov' treatise he needed to 'achieve' to get-over this thin-man fate created by the siren-lady at the New England gypsy-fair (surely).

FRIEND: You need some of this zesty Vietnamese noodle-soup (Pho).

AMLAN: I hope you're right; my American Dream compendium's right-stuff IQ.

FRIEND: You're going to get through this (all), Amlan Satan.

AMLAN: I hope you're right; my American Dream compendium's good-chess.

FRIEND: Stay away from all gypsy-contact(s), Satan.

AMLAN: I'm with you on that one, pal.

AMLAN SATAN (Excerpt): "Visiting that children's cemetery and thinking about plump or thin younglings crossed through that tragedy-veneer of lost-lifespan because of accidents or bad-medicine or failed curatives and hospital-depression, the prince of thin-fate curse-surgery had realized what he needed was a way hybridize consumption (food?) with actual bureaucracy-readings of American lifestyle-breadth...if only for a wrought humility affording him a final 'escape' from Earthling-inheritance superstitions."

GIRLFRIEND: A Gypsy-opal gem treasure (gift) for Valentine's (for us)?

AMLAN: You said it; I'm a new man; thin-fate contemplation for divine-IQ.

GIRLFRIEND: Your father (Emit)?

AMLAN: I've learned more about curses than a man ought to boast/toast.

GIRLFRIEND: Good (bureaucracy-materialism).

AMLAN: Thanx, darling (I just might make it through).

Did Mr. Satan get-through? Having become thinner and perhaps/arguably wiser (too), this man of thin-fate journals considered his new-consciousness for the flare/sportsmanship of wrought distances to life improvements. Perhaps he was just running to escape from the alternative reality that he was forever a man of omens and wonder. However, he couldn't give up easily now, since the alternative thought was...he'd become a simplified bookworm.