Superstition: Stalker-Tampa

A Story by Abishai100

A man in need of urgent therapy has sudden-theory that the media-darling he stalks in Florida is a veiled Martian, requiring (incomplete) knowledge.

Stalker fiction. Set in the sunny Orange-State. Happy end-of-Summer, all

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Well, Mr. Amlan Satan had become anything but sane/normal in his Orange-State after reading varied science-fiction works about the jitters of invasion and alien proximity even in his Earth of sovereignty and manmade bureaucracy-arts of politics definition for cleats. A Slovak-Algerian immigrant/citizen Catholic, Amlan knew his love of ice-hockey media was insufficient for things of personal psychosis-catharsis and decided to start stalking a media-woman in his American Homeland, in Tampa (Florida). Follow along, friends (Selfie-like).

MEDIA WOMAN: I tell you the truth, sir.

DETECTIVE: Just hire a private-eye; you don't need a cop here, lady.

MEDIA WOMAN: This guy's already blogged that he thinks I'm Rapunzel!

DETECTIVE: Well, we can station a car in front of your Tampa-apartment.

MEDIA WOMAN: Will/can you do that, every Saturday's Eve, sir?

DETECTIVE: This is nuts...we'll see...meanwhile, you get a private-eye.

MEDIA WOMAN: Geez (Facebook-like?).

Amlan was feeling 'blessed' because the authorities didn't take-heed of the language of jitters reported by the darling media-lady of Tampa who had insisted that he had become a psycho-face for evil variety. He therefore proceeded to follow her around, any chance he got in his Orange-State. He didn't take photos or anything...but he did scribble notes in his journal about his Selfie age of things of traffic/pedestrian intuitions of sovereignty and fortune-superstition (for the Ego).

MEDIA WOMAN: Thanx for this (private) cyber-exchange, psycho.

SATAN: What do you want me to say, darling?
MEDIA WOMAN: Have you read of the modest witch-trials of Hamburg?

SATAN: Germany.

MEDIA WOMAN: We know of the Nazi-regimen and the Pied Piper.

SATAN: Famous images.

MEDIA WOMAN: Well, Hamburg had modest witch trials.

SATAN: Huh?

MEDIA WOMAN: The merchant-elite formed a council called Rat.

SATAN: What?

MEDIA WOMAN: You see, I'm here to study human-world idiosyncrasy.

SATAN: Doubting, darling.

MEDIA WOMAN: I'm an anthropology-surgeon, not from Earth (from Mars).

SATAN: You're a Martian?

MEDIA WOMAN: I was pleased you stalked me, fool...I studied you.

SATAN: So I'm a guinea-pig, you say?

MEDIA WOMAN: Check out some sci-fi concepts of sovereignty violation.

SATAN: Your 'Martian' edition of human psycho-therapy, darling?

MEDIA WOMAN: Does not matter your doubt...this is Selfie-like.

SATAN: I've no choice...but maybe I'll leave you alone (damn).

MEDIA WOMAN: Good (cinema-like).

Mr. Amlan Satan decided to get himself a nice zesty plate of breaded mushrooms with sauce on a given Saturday's Eve in Tampa (Florida) and cooled his heels for lines and thought deeply of the media woman's 'claim-hyperbole' that she was studying him now (wow). He wondered what brought him this outrageous fortune-intelligence for Selfie-note. Why didn't he 'select' a normal American media-woman...and not a (hypothetical?) Martian? What do you think (for leviathan/uncertainty)?

JOURNAL_NOTES: "This is my private laptop entry for Xmas-'25 in the Orange-State...I do think this stalker 'victim' of mine is actually from Mars (damn)...and I remain uncertain what to think to coordinate this (well) with my Catholic faith/principia of Earth-sovereignty psycho-therapy for the Ego...maybe I should've become a bank-robber (not stalker, wow)...I'm concluding I may cease this doubt inquiry and conclude that the darling is really a Martian disguised/veiled...but I'm forced to make a spiritual concession and resign myself to more (private) readings of the 'qualia' of Orange-State keratin (for sportsmanship!)."