Alter Ego

Everybody needs an alter ego. A foot soldier you can deploy in life’s situations when you’d rather not. Mine is named Ryan. He’s 34, German and norweigan in decent, and he just doesn’t give a fuck.

Ryan was in the Army. civilian negotiations for the Infantry. Baically, he bought gear for men in the field from the norms who were lucky enough to score a military contract. He was good at his job, which was the appropriate assumption from all who met him. Folks at cocktail parties get the impression that this is a guy who is good at stuff.

Ryan got sloppy, though, and got himself kicked out of the military. Army doesn’t take to kindly to R&R being spent in the bathhouses of Rome, so now ryan has had to step it up a notch.

Nobody knows where the money comes from these days, Sure, an appearance at a good party can go upwards of $100,000.00 but kid lives well. His home address is listed as that of his partne’s but he hasn’t seen mom and dad in eight months. When he’s not working (which, seemingly, is never) he stays with friends all over the world. Just a regular joe, embraced by an international community of men of means. Some would call him a prostitute. His mom tells friends he’s an actor. He settled on ‘playboy’ once when pushed for an answer, and hasn’t put much though to it since. A modern day playboy, I guess. Once uncle Karl moved on, a line formed and he’s been gone ever since.