Don't Eat the Water-Striders

Hilarious hijinks form this Earthling transit portrait of incomplete-inventions in Romanticism, perseverance, intolerable liaisons, and simplified field goals.

A world transit adventure-comedy drawn from varied media/comics. 

DISCLAIMER: This work of creative fiction contains images/references with no commercial/explicit ties to any person(s)/body (e.g., George V hotel, Paris) and is cast as purely a 'personal' expression for social art (for 'open' interpretation).

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There I was at a special Penn-state area hotel of Civil War reflections/memoir to escape the horrid divorce and discovered my twin brother (Ajay) was spending time at the same place with my ex-wife (his new lover!). I was devastates, especially because my brother and I had been estranged since childhood, with him being the wilder and more insane between us two (damn). I wanted this vacation-retreat of American history/journal-writing to be Facebook-like (for the Ego).

BRANDY (Ex-Wife): Who I spend time with at this PA-hotel is my business, ex-man.

ME: Hey, I'm over us...but Ajay is something that's a challenge to transcend/forget!

BRANDY: Look, you saw us flirting at your Xmas-gathering for your office-buds, ex-man.

ME: Damn, why can't I spend a hotel-retreat for Civil War writing without human cleats?

BRANDY: Selfie-like.

Well, I did the best I could to ignore the fact that my evil twin and ex were now courting their own Romanticism at the Civil War memoirs hotel in the Penn-state area while I was there (wow). However, my misadventure didn't end there; for I overheard in the room next-door some folks talking (liberally!) about some guerrilla maneuver tied with 'blood-diamonds' work in Philadelphia, Boston, and the United Kingdom. Then, they wondered if I was hearing them (damn). Added to this horror-show was that while I was in my PA-suite, I began seeing the ghosts of Civil War soldiers said to be haunting the place from an older-time, and I wondered if I'd become the subject of some comedy-cinema made by God (wow). Was this Facebook-like?

ME: What am I doing here (now!) in Northern Ireland, friends?
TERRORISTS: We know you heard us, so you'll be our mock-hostage for a bank-heist.

ME: What the Hell do I know about bloody diamonds, friends?
TERRORISTS: We knew of the PA-hotel hallways gossip about your twin/ex, buddy!

ME: So, you found some poor-soul to make spice for your troubles of cauldrons, eh?

TERRORISTS: You'll do this for us and adapt it into fiction for a Pulitzer prize, buddy.

ME: Sure (Selfie-like).

I did the deed for my new 'friends' of Earth and adapted the entire ordeal into a very unusual story making me the object of envy in my writers-circles (post-win of the Pulitzer). I was suddenly either a romantic figure or a bizarre character in my own comic line spun by angels or demons (wow). How I ended up in that hotel that season for Civil War meditation could continue to haunt me (maybe!).

CONCIERGE: Welcome to the George-V, monsieur (ha).

ME: I'd love some regular buttered French croissants and coffee for Saturday AMs, pal.

CONCIERGE: We'll do just that...for a Pulitzer-doll (good).

ME: Thanks for all this time for my consideration, French friend...I don't suppose you know of single ladies.

CONCIERGE: We may have a guest or two looking to mingle or meet dashing gents this season (maybe!).

ME: That's good news...you don't know what I've endured to get to an Earthling-station (like this).

CONCIERGE: Welcome to the George-V, monsieur (ha).

"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)