Celebrity: Special Teams

A Story by Abishai100

Portrait of overground veils for escapist-romance between Chicago/Paris for magazine universe phenotype.

A celebrity/magazine culture fantasy tale, sort of the opposite of the rather worldly realistic film Notting Hill (Hugh Grant), but with similar colored/fun escapism. Thanks so much for reading (and enjoy!),

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

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Ms. Magazine had found much work in Chicago but grew tired of making those sports films and pages-ads after seeing a special screening of a major sports (football) film in the American Homeland and decided she'd disappear altogether from the overground 'universe' of fortune/fashion (Selfie-like).

Quiet at her new hostel-station (Inn-Express) watching, of all things, football on the hotel lounge-TV on a given Sunday in the American Homeland, Ms. Magazine decided her next move would be for French-toast (to become a writer).

MS MAGAZINE: I'll be here for some time, making my special images/tales.

CONCIERGE: We're so pleased and shall keep this special project a secret!

MS MAGAZINE: That's really fantastic...and to say, I'm curious about a man.

CONCIERGE: Lonely, miss?

MS MAGAZINE: Just a tad curious about some fellow always in shades here.

CONCIERGE: Mr. Amlan Satan...he's some travel-writer staying for someone.

MS MAGAZINE: Staying...for someone?

CONCIERGE: All we know of him is that he's making some diamond-ad tale.

MS MAGAZINE: For some company or film-studio or government (what?).

CONCIERGE: We don't know, and if I may say...he's as secretive as you.

MS MAGAZINE: Listen, if he's down here drinking coffee, ring my room.

CONCIERGE: I can do that for you, cool-lady, and connect (Facebook-like).

MS MAGAZINE: Cool...maybe this fellow's got a diamonds-ad for my stories.

CONCIERGE: Facebook-like!

Ms. Magazine grew increasingly fascinated with this mystery guest at the George-V hotel (Paris) who'd been sitting frequently in the lobby/lounge sipping coffee in shades, scribbling feverishly on papers, and she wanted to meet him and ask him what his diamond-ads mission concerned; and she got a special wood-doll toy in Paris to gift to him, finding herself drawn to his incomplete-arts world of completely invisible personality (hmmm).

MAN: I'm here.

MS MAGAZINE: Told the concierge to signal me (ha).

MAN: What do you want?
MS MAGAZINE: I want to know what's your story, Earth-man.

MAN: I'm a diamond-thief, maybe a psychopath, hired mercenary.

MS MAGAZINE: Ha.

MAN: No, seriously...I just maybe a psycho...and you're a media-girl, no?

MS MAGAZINE: I'm from the overground, escaping, to be a writer, ha.

MAN: You want to write about me?
MS MAGAZINE: Can't do it...if you don't tell me about you here/today.

MAN: Over coffee (Facebook-like!).

MAN: Will you help me with a bloody murder (French toast)?

MS MAGAZINE: What?
MAN: I'll let you write about it...and you'll be perfectly immune, ok.

MS MAGAZINE: This is what you get when you wish for something offbeat!

MAN: Oh, nevermind...it's a fantasy I had (Selfie-like).

MS MAGAZINE: Cool.

MAN: Or, we could retire to Brussels together with my money!

MS MAGAZINE: What?

Retire to Belgium they did! Mr. Amlan Satan and 'Ms. Magazine' got married and became a villa-couple of writers, and well, Amlan told him of his world-trek adventures of the bizarre quality and Ms. Magazine (the now-writer) penned special stories with a pseudonym which won much praise (ha). This was a great faerie-tale of an odd-couple with newfound/shared love of Belgian chocolate eggs in Brussels (wow).