Death becomes She

A Story by Abishai100

Story of a man driving cross-country; he sees a specter in a cemetery who incites a gender-chat and draws in him Earthling jewelry.

A world metaphysics story about gender/compromise. Hope you like (and Happy Xmas December),

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Mr. Amlan Satan was in his borrowed white auto for a cross-country drive when he'd decided to make a stop at an American Homeland cemetery, which is where this tale of incomplete-distances readings to the leviathan/uncertainty concerning negotiations between males and females begins. Follow along (Selfie-like!).

At the graveyard, Amlan had thought to make some nice personal journal notes on the immortality-consciousness of Western world sports and how competition was a sign of life itself; and he surveyed the engravings on the tombstones on the cemetery where he made that fateful visit that day in the American Homeland, thinking-back on his boyhood-years of video-game view of competition (e.g., Madden football rivalry synthesis for sport).

LIZA: Greetings, Earthling.

AMLAN: You're quite beautiful, for a cemetery visitor, good girl!

LIZA: I'm no good girl, Earthling.

AMLAN: Earthling, you say?

LIZA: I'm not from Earth, fool.

AMLAN: What?

LIZA: I'm a Martian female.

AMLAN: With a human appearance, lady?

LIZA: I resembled human women in every way, but I have hidden claws.

AMLAN: I can guess such a claim...your claws are hidden and shrink/grow.

LIZA: On command, they do; you guessed it, but you doubt my claim, Earthling.

AMLAN: Why should I believe what seems like some odd cemetery-flirt, lady?

LIZA: What if I showed you my shrinking/growing claws (right here/now)?

AMLAN: Let's say I forego this proof-request and just ask you of your inquiry.

LIZA: I want to know what you think about your car (the one you drove here).

AMLAN: I borrowed it...it's a great '93 model, and I liked driving it (here).

LIZA: You men are obsessed with the reliability of cars, no?

AMLAN: We like the intelligence behind racing and transport, lady (so?).

LIZA: Would you let me keep your car, if I gave you $10K here/now?

AMLAN: It's not my car...I borrowed it...from a friend, lady (ok?).

LIZA: Would you betray your friend, claim the car was stolen, for $10K, fool?

AMLAN: Geez, this feels like an inquest for male-female fries (maybe Martian).

LIZA: You said it (Selfie-like).

"Liza winked at me and then to my amazing shock vanished into thin air. I knew then she wasn't lying about her unusual Earth-viewed identity, in that cemetery in the American Homeland where I drove to that day of fate" (Journal Note, Mr. Amlan Satan).

Amlan hopped into his borrowed white auto and sped-away from that cemetery as fast as he could. What did Liza, that stranger lady want with him? Why did she offer him $10K for a car-gift to create a false-boast for acquired vanities while he was brooding about sports and immortality at that cemetery on that fateful day? Amlan resolved to never-ever again take for granted the male heart's strings that draw the Earth-man to states of incomplete-bureaucracy arts for wrought self-image of confidence, arrogance, ambition, and prayers too (sure). This was Facebook-like (sure).