Plunkett/MacLeane {Fanfiction}

Bright/intuitive fanfiction of the cool/wonderful '99 highwayman adventurism cinema about incomplete-arts of fortune/heist 'shorthand' for doubt.

Plunkett & Macleane (Robert Carlyle) adaptation. Happy Summer, all 

DISCLAIMER: This work of creative adaptation offers no ties to the referenced film of inspiration and all images/references used herein (therefore) comprise a purely 'personal' expression for social art (for 'open' views/translations/critique).

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"Friends, let me tell you my incomplete-distances tale of my great Euro-ancestor of highwayman adventure and bound-Romanticism for jewelry insurance gossip linked to 21st-Century varied capitalism 'troubles' like conflict-zone gems mining exploitations for Selfie-interest! I'm a Slovak-Algerian, and my ancestor, Mister Plunkett inspired me to make this time-capsule tell for future-archaeological comment (Facebook-like!)."

"Mister Plunkett left-behind his chemistry-journal of frustration of a lush Euro-aristocracy making premonitions of incurred God's wrath of plague (etc.) and became a masked vigilante highwayman, taking treasures for insurance-gossip on the roads of the Western world with the aid of his 'recruit' (the affably drunk Mr. MacLeane, an Irishman!). Well, this would become premonition for the 'special teams' work for my (own!) 21st-Century Selfie Blue Planet 'culture' of things of capitalism and consumerism integrity superstitions (or hyperbole)."

PLUNKETT: Can I trust a scarecrow, Mr. MacLeane.

MACLEANE: The Irish never quit, sir.

PLUNKETT: You're too drunk with that courtship of that princess of English, man.

MACLEANE: You stick to your acid chemistry safe-inspection magic-act for word.

PLUNKETT: Fair for fare, but I'm enlisting you (then) to make ballroom sideshow.

MACLEANE: The Irish never quit, sir (self-like).

"According to the bad news makers of that 18th-Century time of capitalism hyperbole and velvet, Plunkett/MacLeane managed to make much of jewelry insurance superstitions for Euro-currency story-write; but Mr. MacLeane was boundly in-love with an English princess with whom he sought to fly-away with to Brussels or something (Selfie-like). However, the 'scarecrow' like MacLeane and my cut-chemist ancestor (Plunkett) were tracked by the relentless Euro-inspector (Chance) who was (himself!) hired/enlisted by the princess' paranoid monarch-father who was something of a jewelry-market high-society comedian (hmmm)."

LADY GIBSON: This is a time of some light, friend.

MACLEANE: Fly to Brussels, and we'll become head chefs for money, love.

LADY GIBSON: Have you heard stories of these highwaymen, love?
MACLEANE: Have you met my associate, Mister Plunkett, a real gent, my-lady.

LADY GIBSON: So, a Belgian 'family' for fortune envisioned Euro-life, friend?

MACLEANE: Diamonds are forever.

"According to the journal left-behind by my great ancestor, Mister Plunkett, the deeds worth records/account/lyrics concerning incomplete-arts of diamonds and fare were for-deed making special premonition 'cleats' for my time of Super Bowl ads, Zales-sales Earthwide, and cinema for 'blood-diamond' hyperbole (or paranoia!). Wow, I realized I'd become Plunkett's anthropologist for superstitions (and perhaps chemistry reaction).'

GIRLFRIEND: You're adding this to your time-capsule account of Plunkett, heart?

ME: It's a crayon vigilante (comics, etc.) stick-figure for youth-IQ of heroics/Hell.

GIRLFRIEND: Well, are we darting to the Eagles-Chiefs game...with the Zales-co.?

ME: Hey, your dad got us great TV-culture box-image entry for football/gems, ok!

GIRLFRIEND: Life's beach...maybe heroics is anthropology (Robin Hood like).

"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)