Kleinfeld's Wey

A Story by Abishai100

An Earth-prince mired in Hellmouths finds a 'wey' for escapist-truth in Windy-City lore for a Romanticism-expression concerning (actual) books.

A bright epic-adaptation of Carlito's Way (Brian De Palma). Hope you like it,

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This is the tale of a certain man named Kleinfeld (first-name: Amlan) whose exploits and misadventures in the Windy-City of Bulls-Bears markets made for quite an escapist-lore for blood-diamond darkness on the fare-rich Earth, and it drew some nifty capitalism-race 'chess-stalemate' commentary on social media (for the Ego).

KLEINFELD: These guys ('Red-Hood') stole our (Ion) gems from the Fed-boxes?

ASSOCIATE: We believe there's screw-tightening for your company-associations.

KLEINFELD: Me thinks to make a 'copycat' expression for an insurance-drive.

ASSOCIATE: Good wisdom, for comics and television, Amlan.

KLEINFELD: Hopefully only for me, associate (thanx).

Of course before Kleinfeld fled the scene of Windy-City blood-diamond darkness, he left an Ion-ring in the box for keepsake and insurance 'street' expressions to complete this grand chess-stalemate painting, and this was a replica/carbon-copy of the very-same one he'd gift to his darling waitress-lady Ezzy (Esmerelda). This was cool Facebook-poke(s).

ESMERELDA (Ezzy): We're not getting-out even, Kleinfeld.

AMLAN: Surely we are, Ezzy...for a windy bureaucracy-reading (your anime).

EZZY: We're making anime-studio interest in Scotland with wey-commission.

AMLAN: You're such a psychic (I can see the anime now, Esmerelda!).

BARON ION: A Thanksgiving memoir for sports-chess media IQ in chats/bread.

ASSOCIATE: I doubt Kleinfeld's gonna get-away through our patrolled metro-IQ.

ION: Ensure it does; I'm sure Kleinfeld's got his own Stafford-copy for media.

ASSOCIATE: Cleverness...for sportsmanship and bad journalism (insurance).

ION: This guy's getting Interpol-relation for this diamond-insurance sports.

ASSOCIATE: Damn (bureaucracy).

ION: Good (make some Super Bowl 'premonitions' posts for the company!).

ASSOCIATE: You got it (thanx).

Amlan Kleinfeld took-in one last city-sports 'diamond' en-route to his metro-getaway for his Euro-investment (wey) with Esmerelda, and during the game's Halftime-show (dance/lyrics), he'd recount the small-time American Dream ambitions that structured him as an Earthling 'prince' of dark fortune-readings (for social media or bureaucracy's arts).

AMLAN: What you doin?

EZZY: Microfiche readings of post-WWII Roswell Homeland-invasion paranoia!

AMLAN: Kind of like post-9/11 era Homeland terrorism-superstitions.

EZZY: Ever hear of Spring-heeled Jack (old-London)?

AMLAN: Wow, being my lady turns you into a lore-sleuth, Esmerelda.

EZZY: Doubtless (thanx).

Well, after using a toy acid rifle to swap Ion-stones at a store, Kleinfeld fled in mask/costume to the metro on Halloween Eve. That was the real superstition-tale for this Windy-City antihero-detective who simply needed a blood-diamond escapist-chess (stalemate).

KLEINFELD: I'll miss the park/night (Chicago).

ASSOCIATE: You'll love Edinburgh, Kleinfeld.

KLEINFELD: I know that (thanx).

EZZY: That iconic hub was a blood-diamond ditch, Amlan?
AMLAN: I didn't become Kleinfeld-the-Tiny without Reason, Ezzy!

EZZY: Whatever you say...bad-capitalism.

AMLAN: Temp (good).

Can capitalists find the mazes/branches for escapist-thinking in this world of darkness in fortune-readings, thought Mr. Kleinfeld? Surely there's a 'wey' for such consciousness, and that's what Amlan Kleinfeld needed (instantly). This was capitalism photo-synthesis (for a bureaucracy-reading!).

EZZY: You got-away from the Ion minion(s) at the metro, Kleinfeld.

AMLAN: Yes I did, Ezzy; and the guy found my souvenir in the locker-box.

EZZY: You must've swooped in in costume/mask and blended.

AMLAN: Something like that...I used to run cross-country (high-school).

EZZY: Right (good).

AMLAN: We're on our way to Facebook/marketing.

EZZY: Thanx.

What you don't know about Kleinfeld is his peculiar gift with making pasta (from scratch!). That'd come in handy for his post-escape daydream to become a hospitality-industry chaperone (legitimate). It simply required some vaudeville-acrobatics from Windy-City messaging, and a diner-plate chat(s) worth its weight in silver/wey.