“With great power comes great responsibility.”
The following day, Voltaire left the hotel and sat down on the bench next to the road. He waited until he was approached by a small woman who had stepped out of a limo.
“Bonjour, mon ange,” said Madeline bravely. “My name is Mattie. You are my blackmailer, yes? Before you make me shave your back, do your taxes, and sing bad karaoke with you on Fridays … I would like to know the name of the man I am about to kill.”
“Why did you choose such an obviously false name, chérie?” Mattie asked folding her arms suspiciously. “It is as if I walked up to you and said my name is Bobbi-Jean Sing-Song La-la and insist on being called La-la, which is my mother’s maiden name because I don’t like my father’s last name. My father’s name would be Mr. Pickle Gross, of course.”
“I could tell you that I change my name because I am a fan of Voltaire and his ideas about rational religion.” Voltaire said smiling. “That would be pretentious though, and I assure you I am not that well-read. No, I picked this name because I can, and that motive reveals far more about me than the name itself.”
“It does,” Mattie said. “But we have different definitions of what is cool. I am pathetic, but I have a sense of pride in just how sad I am. You strike me as the kind of guy who just loves being nasty.”
“At least I was not being pretentious when I picked this name,” said Voltaire. “After I chose the name, I read that Voltaire once wrote that Shakespeare, the world’s most beloved playwright to date, did not know the first rule of drama. That was the moment I knew this name would be mine forever.”
“Poo, poo, big boy” said Mattie. “Either way you do not come out looking like an angel.”
“I don’t have to care about how I look,” Voltaire said. “I cannot see anymore.”
Disclaimer: This is an original story that is not based on any real people or events. It is a work of fiction that is purely for your entertainment.