Tennis for Cat's Eye

Fictional portrait of the composition of manmade intrigue for a tiny-shell that would draw Martian envy for the stars.

A tale of escape and (dark) magic. Happy Holidays! 

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Mr. Amlan Satan had quite the predicament now after trading some expensive Brussels treasures (diamonds!) with an American tycoon, a Wall-St. fan/man (Ford) whose girlfriend had become Amlan's special tennis-pupil. You see, when Mr. Satan was younger, he was quite the avid tennis-fellow in high school; but he gave it up to become a world-trekking infiltrations artist and investor-relations 'go-to-guy' for odd-jobs that paid well, preferring the existential life of voyeurism and sportsmanship adventurism cleats, albeit as a practicing Catholic (Facebook-like!).

His bright and gorgeous tennis-pupil, Ford's lady, Shelbye O'Hara, was a struggling amateur who wanted to make some splash with her aristocrat-girlfriends at her fatcat hubby's country-club courts, and Amlan had become her special doll-man...but she was in love with him, determined to spite in secret her tycoon husband's senses of distances for a trophy worth its weight in silvery darkness (damn).

MR. FORD: You get my Shelbye to shine-out in that country-club she likes, and you're paid well.

SATAN (Amlan): Sounds like a density for social media qualia, mister (Facebook-like).

MR. FORD: Don't fail, idiot...I despise wasting money (Selfie-like).

SATAN: Good...Shelbye will think richly about feeling rich, sir (thanx).

SHELBYE: Geez, we make love, have great sex, in that motel of yours on Saturdays, sweet.

AMLAN: Look, if we're caught, your evil tycoon-man of a hubby will decapitate my life.

SHELBYE: You smoke too much...I told him ('Mr. Ford') that last week (ha).

AMLAN: You told him what?

SHELBYE: What...he won't suspect anything (between us).
AMLAN: He's already calculating...we have to fly-away to Brussels (I have angels there).

SHELBYE: To do what?

AMLAN: I'll manage a bistro through friends...otherwise we're both bloody murdered.

SHELBYE: Fair...for fare (cool).

MR. FORD: Where the Hell are they, minion?
EMPLOYEE: We checked the cemetery...Satan left some note to meet us there, bad-baron.

MR. FORD: And no sign?
EMPLOYEE: Apparently, they found some Catholic church work in Antwerp and Amsterdam, sir.

MR. FORD: Damn; I don't like making street-aura of fatso interfering with some religion-mission.

EMPLOYEE: Maybe Shelbye discovered your mistress book logs, baron?

MR. FORD: You're maybe right...but seems this Amlan Satan knows nothing or is silent about it.

EMPLOYEE: Good (Facebook-like).

This very unusual (or dark!) faerie-tale of contrasting personalities for will has a stranger ending; Amlan and Shelbye ended up in Belgium and were quite happy, and though they never officially married, they stayed together and were a very intimate and jolly old Earthling couple...something for Martian envy (arguably).

THE END

"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)